#she is not good with remembering names or faces

[sunrisetune]

[ID: A three-panel fanart of Dragon Age II, showing Aveline and Garret Hawke, and Hawke's mabari, in the Amell mansion.

Panel 1 - Aveline's petting the mabari with a smile. She says, "Ah, mabari! Valorous warriors and natural-born killers! And such a handsome man, probably, also has a suitable name."

2 - Hawke answers, with a grin that's trying to look suave, "Of course! I call him - Good Boy!"

3 - Aveline's still petting Good Boy but her expression is now unimpressed. She says, "What a fucking id--"

/End ID].

[lonely-moons]

⁀✶the bomb | bucky barnes x reader

title: the bomb

pairing: thunderbolts!bucky x avenger!reader (who is also a thunderbolt now yayy trauma bonding family)

warnings: established relationship tension ooOoOOo but then fluff, suggestive language

summary: things have been tense recently with your boyfriend bucky. but now it reaches a new high... when he blows up the limo that you're riding in.

wc: 1,811

notes: wrote this to try and suppress the urge to see the movie a 5th time. didn't work i still wanna go but my god the cinema is expensive

masterlist

you want to scream so badly that your throat hurts with the restraint of keeping it in. your entire body feels ablaze with anger, irritation pounding faster than your heart and infecting your blood so that all you can see is red.

or maybe it's just that you've been staring at the red guardian for the past five minutes.

it's a glare, really, but even though it's firmly set on him right now, he's not your end target. you think he probably knows this, since the two of you had taken a small liking to one another in the past hour. he had come to save you, after all, and even made you laugh with his crude humour. but he's the closest to you, and you're sure that if you let go of this restraint, you might just knock one of the walls down. which would crush all of your tied-up... teammates? acquaintances? you aren't quite sure yet.

what you are sure of is that you can't quite look at the man standing beside you. your boyfriend, but that's a little too endearing of a term for you right now.

you'd woken up in this dilapidated gas station the only one not tied up, other than bucky. the sharp ache in your head and pain in your limbs had demanded all of your attention at first, making you forget what had happened before blacking out. but then bucky entered your vision, all concerned and apologetic in your face before you remembered the events. you'd shoved him away, refusing to even glance in his direction, and thankfully his attention was directed elsewhere when the others began to stir.

you let them do the explaining, fully aware of the glances bucky keeps throwing you. you don't pitch in, not about following your friend yelena since you've been worried about her recently, not about the incinerator, not about the elevator shaft - not even about bob. but eventually everyone's caught up, and you can't be left to scowl in peace for any longer.

bucky says your name now, soft in a way you haven't heard in a while. it reminds you of sleepy mornings, of late nights tangled in sheets and whispers so light they could just be breaths. it used to melt you, but this time it burns.

"look, can we talk? please?"

you try not to react but can't help the scoff that breaks free. so now he has time to talk to you? figures. apparently blowing up a limo with you in it shouldn't deny him the privilege of talking.

"i think i'm good, barnes," you say.

your first words since waking up are accompanied by your first steps towards the others. you head for yelena since she's the only one you're really sure about, but before you can reach her, bucky's arm grabs your wrist. it's not painfully tight, but it is a warning, and you can't help but notice he's used his flesh arm, despite the fact the metal one is closer to you.

it had taken a while, even in your friendship, before bucky became comfortable enough to touch you with it. that almost started anew when you got together. he'd said that it was a symbol tainted with blood and destruction, that he hated the thought of any of that reaching you. you'd taken ahold of his metal fingers, bringing them to cup your face and shifting your head to place a kiss to his palm, effectively beginning your process of wearing him down.

he always refused to let it near you if either of you were angry at the other. said that he would never hurt you, but he didn't want to risk even the slightest possibility of a too-tightly-clenched fist or exasperated hand movement.

it'd been a while since he'd intentionally kept it away. now you feel a sting in your chest but try not to let it move your features.

"oh-ho," alexei laughs, looking between the two of you. "it is lover's quarrel, yes? i had fight once with one of my loves, too. she was beautiful, beautiful woman... the teeth, the hair, the thighs... but she always telling me, 'alexei, you can't keep coming in shower with me if you are going to go toilet -'"

everyone erupts into noises of protest, yelena the loudest of all. alexei looks around, mouth open slightly as if shocked his story is not being met with enthusiasm.

ava, who sits beside him, drops her head. "throw me back in the incinerator."

"what?" alexei asks, offended. "it is lovely story about -"

"i'd even take falling down the elevator shaft," says john, shaking his head slightly.

"we don't have the time for any of this," yelena protests. she looks around the group, but her eyes land on you.

"agreed," you say forcefully, ripping your arm out of bucky's grasp, but you don't make to untie the others again either. you hold eye contact with him when you add, "i think getting blown up knocked us off our schedule a little."

"you know i never would've done it if i knew you were in there," he says immediately.

his eyes are soft, but there's that crease between his eyebrows that deepens the more worried he is. you nearly hate that you have so many times to compare it to, because with a quick glance you can easily tell that this is the most worried he's been in a while. more than the night before any congress meeting, more than waking up sweating from any nightmare. this time he knows that it's not just a job or a few hours of sleep that he could lose. it's you on the line, and the panic bubbles so forcefully that it has his blood pounding in his ears.

it manages to evaporate a little of your rage.

"oh, thank you," says ava, sending a sarcastic nod to bucky. "it's good to know that you have no problem with blasting other people into the sky, very nice."

bucky sighs, running a hand down his face. "please," he says to you again, "just... hear me out. one minute."

your eyes still blaze as you stare him down. while that doesn't crack, something in your heart does, and you find yourself giving a stiff nod. "fine. one minute."

his lips twitch, eased a little by hope, and he guides you to another section of the abandoned gas station, much to the protest of the other four. you give yelena a quick apology, promising to get her out after this, but then hurry up your steps as you hear alexei begin another story about young love. they become background noise by the time you reach the door at the far end.

"i'm sorry," bucky says after you turn to him expectantly. "no, that doesn't cover it, you don't even know how sorry i am, i -" as if sensing that he's about to ramble, he cuts himself off with a sigh. "i never would've done anything to that car if i'd known you were in it. i was always planning on getting the others, but you didn't answer your phone all day, and i thought they might've -"

"shot at me?" you supply pointedly.

"well, i was gonna say known where you were, but... yeah. that too." his smile is small, sincerity preventing it from tipping fully into hesitant. "but i'm not just sorry for all that, i... i miss you. i miss us. and maybe that's not fair since i've been the one not making enough of an effort, but i just..." his arm moves, like he's about to reach out to touch you before he thinks better of it. "i just miss you."

it's as though the tight ball in your chest gets unravelled with each word. you knew, of course, that bucky would never hurt you, would never have blown up the limo if he'd known you were inside. but you've been missing him too, for a while now. with his job in congress and your job as a kinda-avenger, there'd been a lot less time together and a lot more time working. neither of you had managed to quite figure out the work-life balance of the relationship, and the tension of that had finally snapped when you saw bucky coming to save you, only to end up pointing his gun in your direction and shooting.

"i miss you too." you look up at him, into the blue eyes that look different now. they're still tired, evident by the dark circles beneath them, but they have some of that warmth back. you smile, then one side tips higher into a smirk as you say, "but, you know... i think talking about it is a much healthier way than trying to blow up your girlfriend. maybe we should get dr. raynor back, go over some old notes about healthy coping mechanisms..."

he huffs out a laugh. "well, i am planning on making amends."

"oh, are you?" you raise an eyebrow. "and what does that entail?"

"i have a few ideas." he grins at you in a suggestive way, widening when you laugh. knowing he's now in safe territory, he steps forward to cup your face with both of his hands. when you lean slightly more into the metal one, he receives your unspoken message, thumb stroking your cheek. a moment of contemplation soothes his expression into something more tender, and he rests his forehead against yours. "but mostly i'm putting you first. i need you. and i need you to understand how important you are to me."

your hand comes up to his wrist, finger skimming over his pulse. "i do know. we're both just shitty at time management."

he snorts. "yeah, can't argue with that. but i mean it. maybe it had to take throwing a bomb at you..." you smile and, as if it's an automatic trigger, so does he, "but this is a wake-up call."

and then his lips are on yours, slow but strong, like an assurance all on their own. you return it immediately, trying to convey the same unspoken promises.

"i love you," you say when you part, and the words are so familiar on your tongue even though they haven't been used in a while. neither of you part too far, so your lips brush his as you say it.

"i love you, too." then a soft smile graces his face. "hey, on the bright side... i'm definitely getting fired."

you can't help but laugh. "oh, that's a bright side now?"

bucky shrugs, like the answer is obvious. "means i get to spend more time with you."

you're about to reply when alexei's laugh booms from the other room, followed by a shout that finally manages to reach you:

"bucky, we'll give you whatever you want, just please make it stop!"

[rafeslvbug]

paediatrician!rafe finding out singlemom!reader has no support…

“alright then, i’ve given her her medication, we’ll wait a couple minutes and she should be good to go,” rafe murmurs, settling aurora into your arms again, watching with a smile as she sleepily looks up up at you, gummy grin and chubby fingers stretching out to you.

you let her close her fingers around your pinkie, her body still small as she’s only three weeks old prematurely, still not reaching how big she would have been at full term.

“thank you,” you tell him, voice a bit hoarse from having lost it to the past few nights of trying to shush her, and handling phone calls from the temporary hotel manager taking over from you, unsure on what to do and bothering you even more. tiredness had caught up to you, washing over you with each appointment and hour that passed.

concerned, his brows furrow at the sound of your voice, asking, “lost your voice?”. he takes a seat opposite you, resisting the urge to stretch a hand out, fingers tapping against his knee.

you nod, stroking back aurora’s hair and repositioning her head while you lightly laugh, “yeah, i’ve had to yell over her wails and try to get through to this temporary hire who’s taking over my job. they keep calling me thinking i’m just on sick leave or something.”

you hoped he would laugh. you hoped it would ease the pinch in his brows but it only deepened it. “you could get your husband to do it- or sorry- aurora’s father?” he corrects himself, not wanting to make an assumption.

lips pursed, you shake your head. “no husband. dad’s not in the picture, didn’t want a kid i’m sure,” you mutter bitterly.

“oh..that’s shitty, he’s an asshole..” realisation dawns on him, how you were alone during labour, alone when he came to see you the first time, alone when you came in crying about aurora’s restlessness. you’ve always been alone. “parents?” he asks, praying that you had that at least, but he felt the answer you were about to give gnawing at his chest.

offering him a soft smile, you shake your head, “no..they uhm, they really liked my ex. thought i should have got an abortion but i wanted kids so..is that selfish?” you don’t notice how his eyes darken, focusing on the guilty look that flashes across your face.

“no.” he grits out, shaking his head firmly. “don’t think for a second that you’re selfish, you’re not, and they’re all jerks for leavin’ you,” he continues, running his hand over his face.

letting out an appreciative hum, you keep on admiring aurora, noting every little feature and how special she is.

“see? how could that be selfish?” he murmurs, causing you to snap your head up with a confused look, letting out a little “huh”.

“you’re only thinkin’ about her, you care about her. that’s not selfish, you’re riskin’ a lot just to have this girl in your life,” he walks over, slowly taking her from your arms to check how her medicine is working.

he glances down at you, glittering blue eyes and a shared soft smile, before handing her back to you. “all good,” he mutters, before moving to his computer.

“just out of curiosity,” he calls out before you leave through the door. “what’s his name? your ex?” he raises his eyebrows, looking up from his computer.

you cock your head, stepping closer to him, “why?”

he grins and shakes his head, typing something down, “no reason.”

wary, and beginning to let a fatigued giggle escape your lips as you walk a bit closer, setting aurora’s carrier down with her in it and trying to get a glimpse of what’s he’s feverishly typing. “rafe what are you typing?”

“nothing! you can’t look at the doctor’s computer,” he laughs, hiding his screen as his hands come to your shoulders, softly spinning you around and handing aurora to you.

“rafe..” you warn over your shoulder and he only shrugs coyly, opening the door for you and giving you a little wave as you leave. not before calling after to you, “hey! remember though, you have me to help, if you need it.” you smile, mouthing another “thank you” to him before you’re leaving through the double doors, out the hospital.

when he returns to his computer he opens up the watch file he was creating, for a certain baby daddy who left his beautiful girlfriend and cute daughter - a man about to be banned from the premises.

taglist: @starkeyjoseph @rafesbabygirlx @slut-4-rafey @lanaslushworld @littlelamy @rain-likes-purple @sunny1616

[papayainsectorone]

Pregame Paddock Entertainment.

summary: what starts as playful jealousy simmers into something hotter, dirtier, and undeniably possessive. a little tension. a little show.

content: 18+!! smut, nsfw, friends-to-lovers, smut, public sex (semi), jealousy, possessiveness (playful), oral sex (f receiving), dom-ish lando

word count: 2.5k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader walls are way too thin - series - a´s masterlist

The paddock hums with its usual chaos—cameras clicking in rapid bursts, pit crews weaving between garages, lanyards swinging with purpose. Nothing’s changed, not really. Same crowd. Same noise. Same familiar rhythm of race weekend life.

But you feel different.

You’re still playing your usual part—half a step behind Lando, fingers curled around a cold bottle of water, sunglasses perched high on your nose. You smile when people greet you, laugh at the right moments, pluck fruit from the McLaren snack table without guilt. To everyone else, you’re still just his best friend. The girl who’s always around. The one who knows the engineers by name and knows better than to post from the garage.

But underneath it all, there’s a quiet hum in your chest. A steady, simmering confidence. Because you know something no one else does.

And it’s not guilt. It’s not nerves. It’s not even about hiding it. It’s just... yours. You wear it like a secret laced into your skin: the kind of knowing that adds a little extra sway to your hips and a slight smirk when Lando’s hand brushes a little too close to your lower back on the walk in.

You’re still basking in that quiet heat when Charles finds you.

“There she is,” he says, strolling over like the air bends for him. He’s in Ferrari red, sleeves rolled, hair a little messy like he hasn’t stopped since morning. God, he’s unreal—sunlight catching on his jaw, that accent already waiting to ruin you.

You smirk. “Already looking for me? Race day flirting starting early?”

He laughs, low and amused, glancing you over. “You look different today. Glowy.” His tone is playful, but his eyes search your face like he’s trying to place the change. “Something good happen?”

You raise your brows, feigning innocence. “Maybe it’s just the lighting.”

Charles narrows his eyes, like he knows there’s more to it. Because of course he does. You’ve been trading barbs and glances for months now, both of you too charming for your own good, too smart to let it go anywhere—except for that one night, the post-race blur where champagne turned to tequila and tequila turned into you pressed against a bar stool with his lips on yours.

It hadn’t gone further. Not really. But he remembers. And so do you.

Now, he steps just a little closer, enough for his voice to drop. “You’re walking around like you’ve got secrets.”

You grin. “Maybe I do.”

A beat passes between you, heavy with heat and things left unsaid.

Then Lando calls your name from behind, laughing about something you didn’t hear. You turn your head toward him, and just for a second, Charles follows your gaze—and the way Lando’s eyes stay on you a moment too long.

Charles looks back at you, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

He leans in a little, that easy grin on his face. “If it’s the lighting, I want some of it.”

You laugh, the sound instinctive, effortless. You swat his arm like always—light, playful, maybe lingering a second too long. But even before you glance beside you, you feel the shift.

Lando hasn’t said a word.

No quick-witted jab. No teasing smirk. Just silence. Stillness.

You turn your head, and sure enough—he’s watching. Not glaring. Not even frowning. Just... quiet. His jaw’s set tighter than usual, brows faintly drawn, like he’s working out a calculation in his head he doesn’t particularly like the result of.

And that feels different, too.

Charles doesn’t notice. Or he does, and he plays through it anyway, cool as ever. He shifts his weight against the wall like he belongs in a photoshoot, casually hot in a way he’s never had to try for. His eyes flick back to you.

“There’s a party Sunday night,” he says, his voice velvet-wrapped in that maddening Monaco-French lilt. “I’d love it if you came.”

The corner of your mouth quirks before you can stop it. “You know I love a good party.”

You don’t even think twice as you glance over your shoulder. “Lando, you coming?”

“Yeah.” His reply is immediate, automatic. “Of course. I was actually gonna ask you about it.”

But his tone—flat, a hair too precise—gives him away. Not enough to draw attention. Just enough to be sharp if you know how to listen. And you do.

Charles doesn’t seem to hear it. Or chooses not to. He flashes that signature grin, gives you a two-finger salute, and disappears into the paddock like nothing about the moment just shifted.

Lando’s eyes follow him until he rounds the corner. His jaw flexes once. Twice.

The walk across the paddock isn’t unusual. You and Lando side by side, slipping through clusters of people calling out greetings, dodging a few cameras, pausing to talk to someone from Red Bull you only sort of know. It’s familiar—routine, even—but something’s off.

Not in a dramatic way. Just... quieter.

Lando’s usually running commentary, sarcasm, muttered jokes, snide impressions of other drivers is conspicuously missing. Instead, he walks with his hands in his pockets, gaze distant, mouth drawn in thought. Not sulking, just... somewhere else.

You figure it’s paddock fatigue. Or maybe pre-race mode. You’ve seen it before. No big deal. That’s what you tell yourself.

But the energy sticks to you, follows you both into the McLaren motorhome. You make your way through the familiar halls until you’re finally inside his driver room. He opens the door for you, lets you step in first, then quietly shuts it behind him.

You spin around and lean against the tiny table, arms crossed loosely. “Alright, what’s with the broody silence? You’ve gone full tortured poet on me.”

Lando snorts. “Apparently Leclerc’s hotter than me. Tough break.”

You laugh. “Oh, my poor jealous baby.”

He scoffs, arms folded now, shoulder pressed to the door like it’s the only thing keeping him upright. “You and Charles were basically eye-fucking in the paddock.”

You blink. “We’ve always been flirty. That’s just Charles.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. “I remember your definition of ‘flirty’ from that post-race party last year.”

You smirk, amused. “Oh, you mean the one drunk kiss in the dark corner of a club while you were fucking that girl in the bathroom?”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Still. I had plans to ask you to the party Saturday. But I figured lover boy with the accent beat me to it.”

You raise a brow. “My type now, is he?”

“Well, yeah,” Lando says, eyes flicking over you, then back to the floor. “He’s got the hair. The voice. That whole French Riviera romance novel vibe.”

You snort again. “You’re actually jealous.”

“I’m just saying,” he sighs, finally pushing off the door and walking toward you, “this friends-with-benefits thing? I like it. Like... a lot.”

You watch him quietly now, curiosity blooming under your grin.

He runs a hand through his curls, frustrated. “And yeah, the sex is insane, but also—God, I don’t want you swapping me out for some Ferrari upgrade.”

Your laugh is immediate and sharp. “Lando. You absolute twat.”

He stops in front of you, grinning despite himself, but there’s something in his eyes—something he’s not trying to hide anymore. Lust.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he mutters.

“Like what?”

“Like you know exactly how hot this makes you.”

You pretend to think. “Hmm. Jealous Norris is kinda sexy. Might be my type after all.”

He groans. “You’re the worst.”

You giggle, hand resting on his chest. “Yeah, but I’m your worst.”

“You flirting with Leclerc just to mess with me?”

“Maybe I will from now on” You grin. “But I’m not in the mood to let you watch me fuck someone else either.”

He inhales sharply—caught between a laugh and something deeper.

And before he can speak, you kiss him. Slow. Teasing. Sure.

When you pull back, your lips hover a breath from his. “At least not yet.”

Lando stares at you, stunned for a beat, then lets out a groan-laugh. “You’re evil.”

You beam. “You love it.”

He leans in again. “Yeah,” he says, voice a little hoarse. “Way too much.”

“Maybe i should remind you who you´re leaving the paddock with.”

He doesn’t say more than that—just surges forward and kisses you like he’s been holding back. It’s sharp and possessive, all tongue and heat. You barely register the click of the door lock sliding shut until his hands are on your hips, guiding you back step by step.

You laugh breathlessly when the backs of your thighs hit the narrow bench. “Seriously? Here?”

Lando’s already leaning in, eyes alight with smug mischief. “Charles’ motorhome is right across the path.”

You blink. “You’re seriously serious?” But you’re laughing, even as your pulse kicks.

“Window’s open too.” He tilts his head toward it, voice deliciously low. “Thought you liked a little excitement.”

You open your mouth to retort—something sarcastic and mildly threatening—but you never get the chance. He kisses you again before words can come, and this time it’s filthier. Slower. Deeper. Like he’s tasting something he missed.

Clothes get tugged away in messy, impatient layers. Your top is rucked up to your ribs, and his hands are everywhere—skimming your sides, cupping your breasts, fingers dipping just low enough to make you twitch.

By the time he sinks to his knees, you're already breathless.

He glances up at you through thick lashes, the corner of his mouth lifting into a knowing grin. “You said you like parties,” he murmurs, parting your thighs with deliberate ease.

“Lando—” your voice stumbles somewhere between warning and begging.

“Shh.” His breath ghosts over your skin. “Be a good girl and scream.”

Then his mouth is on you—hot and slow, tongue flicking in maddening patterns that make your head drop back against the wall with a thud. He licks you like he’s savoring something sweet, teasing your clit with just enough pressure to keep you teetering on the edge without giving in.

Your moans come out muffled, trapped behind your hand as you press your palm to your mouth, trying not to make a scene. But it’s hard to be quiet when his curls are brushing your thighs and he’s humming against you like he’s got a favorite song playing in his head.

Your fingers grip his hair, tugging reflexively as he flattens his tongue and rolls it, again and again, right there.

“Fuck—Lando,” you gasp, hips jumping beneath his hold.

He pulls back just far enough to look up at you, eyes dark, lips glistening. “Little louder, yeah? Let them hear.”

You manage a breathless glare, but it falters when he presses two fingers into you and sucks at your clit at the same time. Your gasp escapes unfiltered—loud, desperate, your head tipping back, chest heaving with each breath.

“Good girl,” he mutters, almost reverently, but there’s mischief in it too.

By the time he stands, you’re trembling, your knees weak from trying to keep it together. He doesn’t gloat—not really. Just slides his briefs down, eyes locked on your eyes as he guides himself to your entrance.

And when he sinks in—slow and deep, hips slotting against yours with a delicious press—you swear the whole motorhome tilts.

It knocks the breath out of you. You hold onto his shoulders as he starts to move deep, smooth strokes that build and build and build. One of his hands grips your thigh while the other cups your jaw, keeping your gaze on him like he wants you to see how badly you’re unraveling for him.

“Still thinking about Charles?” Lando mutters, voice low and cocky, lips brushing your ear as his hips snap harder, deeper.

You laugh—sharp, breathless—but it stutters into a moan when he shifts just right, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl.

���Didn’t think so,” he grits, and the smugness in his tone is nearly drowned out by the sound you make in response.

You claw at his back, nails dragging just enough to make him hiss, your breath catching as pleasure coils tight in your belly. The rhythm of his thrusts gets rougher, more erratic, like he’s chasing it too, both of you right on the edge.

“Fuck—Lando, I’m—”

“I know,” he groans, pressing his forehead to yours, voice cracking with how close he is. “Come on, baby. Come for me.”

And you do—body arching, thighs shaking, the kind of release that makes your vision white out at the edges. You bite your lip hard to keep from yelling his name, but the sound still slips out, raw and broken.

Lando’s not far behind. He swears under his breath, hips grinding deep one last time before he stills, groaning your name like a secret slipping past his teeth. His fingers tighten at your waist as he pulses inside you, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot and fast against your skin.

You both stay like that for a moment sweaty, breathless, tangled.

Then he lifts his head, smirks down at you, and says, “Still think he’s hotter than me?”

You snort. “You’re insufferable.”

He's calmer now. Sweaty, flushed, but calmer. He’s pulled his fireproofs halfway back up and is hunched over on the bench beside you, elbows on knees, hands running through his hair like he’s trying to cool himself off or gather the pieces of his sanity. Maybe both.

You nudge his bare arm with your knee. “You good?”

He chuckles, breath still slightly uneven. “Yeah. Just… didn’t expect to get all—” he waves his hand vaguely in the air “—possessive like that. Bit of a dick move.”

You arch an eyebrow. “A bit?”

He laughs, but then turns to look at you properly. “I’m serious. I’m not actually mad about Charles. He’s a good guy. And if you wanted to—” he shrugs “—y’know. Go there. That’d be completely fine. Your call.”

You stare at him.

“Oh, yeah?” you say, voice sweet. “That why you had to make me come so hard half the paddock probably heard it?”

His lips twitch, but he doesn’t deny it. Just smirks, smug and lazy, eyes flicking down your body like he’s reliving it. “You were mine first.”

You roll your eyes and shove his shoulder, but you're grinning. “You’re so annoying.”

He beams. “Yeah, but I’m right.”

A beat passes. You both sit there in the comfortable aftermath, heartbeat finally leveling out, skin cooling. Then you glance at the still-open window and groan. “God, I hope this is still a secret.”

He snorts and stands, pulling his suit up fully now. “It will be.”

You raise a brow.

“I’ll be subtle,” he adds, grinning like he absolutely will not be.

He bends down and kisses your cheek, soft and lingering. “Wish me luck.”

“Go be fast,” you mutter, still catching your breath.

He’s out the door before you can say anything else.

tag list: @lifesass @norrisjpg @random-movie @widow-cevans @mxdi0

[woso-dreamzzz]

Blood Sugar III

Alessia Russo x Teen!Reader

Summary: You join Alessia's team

You were kind of lucky really.

You knew you shouldn't have been worried.

Everyone had told you not to worry but you'd still had your doubts.

You and Alessia fought like sisters so you would have accepted if she didn't want you in her space all the time. But here you were, freshly moved into Alessia's spare room and in her car on the way to training.

Brighton had been the club you'd played for since you were a kid. You loved Brighton. Your family loved Brighton but if there was one thing they knew about you, it was your competitiveness.

You had ambition. You wanted to win trophies. Maybe, one day, you'd go back but right now you were still young and you wanted trophies and medals and awards.

So, now, your release clause had been bought out by Arsenal and Alessia's hands reached over the console of her car and slapped at you.

"Stop trying to change the station."

"This station is boring," You bemoan," Can't we listen to something else?"

"My car, my rules," Alessia replies, slapping at your hands again to get you to stop," Maybe, if you actually bothered to go and get your license..."

You roll your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. "Lessons are expensive!"

"I'm not even charging you rent."

"That's not the point!"

Alessia laughs as she pulls into her parking spot, car still locked so you can't escape her.

"Now," She says and you fight the eye roll," You already know some of the girls from camp so there's no need to be nervous. Everyone else is just as nice. Just remember to-"

"Smile," You say," And speak politely and...Are you going to make me repeat the whole thing? You already told me at breakfast."

Alessia swats at you and you hear the click of the doors unlocking. "And you'll remember to check your sugar levels when you need to? We don't need you being on a first name basis with the medical staff just yet."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it. Cheese will check for me."

At the sound of his name, your spaniel stands up in the backseat, his ears perked up and tail wagging.

"He's a good boy. He'll keep an eye on me."

His wide eyes seem to convince her that he'll do his job and do it well so she picks your bag up from the footwell and practically throws it at you.

Introductions go smoothly enough. There's a lot of cameras and a lot of handshaking and Alessia hovers even though you really don't need her to.

"Not letting her out of your sight?" Lotte teases at lunch as Alessia ignores her food.

You're stood in line with your plate, squished between Kim and Lia and Alessia is just staring.

"Just making sure today goes well," She says to Lotte, leaning back in her chair to make sure her eyes are on you at all times," She's eating at a slightly different time to usual. I just want to make sure there's no hiccups."

"And you don't want her to have more of an excuse to say you hover? Because, you know that's what you're doing? Doing it from a distance means you're still doing it."

"She doesn't know that."

That shocks a laugh out of Lotte and she goes back to eating.

Alessia doesn't. She waits to eat until you've joined them at the table.

"What's up with you?" You ask, mouth full of food when you notice her staring.

"Huh?"

"You're staring."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"I'm not."

You shrug. "Okay, whatever but if the wind changes, your face will be stuck in that weird position."

Alessia pokes you with her fork. "Eat your food. And check your sugar levels."

"Yeah, yeah, let me finish first."

But in the end, you never really check your sugar levels.

You get drawn away by Kyra and Vic and their antics and Alessia finds herself in a conversation with Lotte about their plans later on in the week.

You're all relaxing in the break room together. Lotte and Alessia occupy one of the sofas while you, Kyra and Vic are all hooked up on one of the game consoles.

"Cheese, man," You groan as your dog nudges you more firmly with his nose," Stop it. I'm serious! Leave!"

Cheese nudges you again but you push him away. He tries one last time but you don't even look at him, too occupied with hitting the buttons on your controller to defeat Vic's character on the screen.

He whines a little, stomping his front paws a few times before going to stand in front of Alessia.

She doesn't notice him at first, too engrossed with the story Lotte is telling. Cheese gets impatient quickly, whining loudly and slamming his nose against her leg.

Alessia still doesn't look at him but her hand moves to gently scratch at his head.

Cheese doesn't let up though, roughly pushing his nose against Alessia until she looks down.

"What's up with you, huh?"

Cheese whines and very pointedly turns and sits, staring straight at you.

Alessia frowns but only for a moment as her brain finally catches up to what she's being told.

"Y/n!" She hollers over the noise of the game," Test your blood, please."

"Yeah, yeah," You say dismissively," In a minute."

"No, now. Cheese is alerting so you need to do it now."

"But-"

"No. We're trusting your dog, remember? So let's check your sugar levels."

You groan but go shuffling over to Alessia. You prick your finger and your face glows red in embarrassment as you read the screen.

"So...do we have any juice?"

Cheese drops a Capri-sun into your lap, tail wagging happily.

"Let's take it slow, yeah?" Alessia says as she draws you closer with an arm on your shoulder," Drink your juice and once you're stable again, we'll head home."

[twst-aceofhearts]

Gift for youuu ❤❤❤ @anbaisai

Word count: 731

Credit to @cafekitsune for divider

My Squishy Wishy Spaghetti

Jamil had only taken his eyes off Kalim for three seconds.

Three seconds, and somehow, the potion on the burner went from a mild sleeping draft to a blinding plume of violet smoke. He didn’t even get a chance to say “Kalim, no,” before the magic backfired.

When the haze cleared, Kalim blinked in confusion.

“Jamil?” he called. No answer. “...Jamil?”

All that remained of the Vice Housewarden was a neatly folded pile of black and red fabric—and a snake.

A long, sleek, very unamused looking snake.

Mayu Shiokawa didn’t expect to find a snake curled up on the classroom floor when she walked in late to retrieve her forgotten notebook. And yet, there he was. Black and bronze scales. Cold red eyes. A little triangle head tilting up at her.

She shrieked.

He hissed.

She paused.

He stared.

“…Wait,” she whispered, slowly lowering her notebook. “Are you… someone’s familiar?”

The snake blinked once.

He was silent. Dignified.

“Oh my Seven,” she gasped, crouching beside him. “You’re adorable!”

Jamil—now snek—sighed internally.

She picked him up.

She didn’t report it. Not because she was irresponsible, but because she assumed the snake was magical and lost, and it just looked like he needed a nap and some boiled chicken.

So she brought him to her dorm.

Nestled him in a warm, soft towel.

Fed him small, diced bits of protein.

And named him.

“You shall be…” she mused, poking his snoot, “my squishy wishy spaghetti.”

If Jamil could talk, he’d be screaming.

Instead, he recoiled slightly. She giggled.

“Don’t be shy, Boop Noodle. I’m good with reptiles. You’re safe here.”

Boop Noodle.

BOOP NOODLE.

He flicked his tongue in protest. She took that as a thank-you.

Over the next few days, “Boop Noodle” got the princess treatment. Mayu brushed his scales with a soft toothbrush, gave him tiny sunbathing breaks by the window, and sang songs while cooking his meals.

She also, tragically, shared everything with him.

“I had the weirdest dream last night,” she whispered, holding him in both hands. “I dreamt Jamil Viper turned into a snake, and I—oh no,” she suddenly froze, “I kissed him in the dream.”

Jamil tried to writhe out of her grip.

She tightened her hold and gasped. “Oh Seven, I’m so sorry, Boop Noodle! That’s gross, huh?”

She kissed the top of his little snake head instead.

He froze. Again.

“I mean, Jamil is really handsome,” she continued casually, not noticing the way her snek stiffened in her arms. “But he’d never notice someone like me.”

Jamil stopped moving altogether.

Was this what it felt like to die of secondhand embarrassment?

When the spell finally wore off, it happened in the middle of the night.

Mayu awoke to rustling. Still half-asleep, she groaned and reached for the blanket she’d draped over “Boop Noodle’s” little basket-bed.

Only to find a very human, very shirtless Jamil sitting cross-legged on her dorm floor.

She screamed.

He winced. “Could you not wake the entire building?”

She screamed again, this time louder.

He rolled his eyes. “Mayu. It’s me.”

“…Boop Noodle?!”

His entire face twitched. “Please. Never call me that again.”

“You—you were the snake?!”

“Yes.”

“And I—! And you—!” Her face turned beet red. “The toothbrush! The singing! The kiss!!”

Jamil looked tired. “Yes. I remember everything.”

She scrambled for a pillow to scream into.

He stood up and calmly pulled the blanket off the bed to drape over his shoulders like a cloak.

“…I’m sorry,” she mumbled into her knees. “I didn’t know it was you. I thought you were a regular snake! A magical one, maybe. But not—you!”

Jamil shrugged. “Well, I am magical.”

“Not the time!”

He exhaled softly. “I’ll forgive the name. Boop Noodle. But only because you took good care of me. And sang off-key lullabies.”

“They weren’t off-key.”

“They were.”

Silence stretched.

Then, very softly, he added, “But… they were nice.”

Mayu peeked at him through her fingers.

Jamil shifted closer, dropping the teasing tone. “You were kind to me. Even when you didn’t know it was me.”

“You hissed at me when I kissed you.”

“I panicked.”

“…Do you want to hiss at me again?”

Jamil blinked.

Mayu swallowed. “Because… I wouldn’t mind trying the kiss again. You know. Now that you have lips.”

He looked at her. Steady. Thoughtful.

And then—

He smirked.

“No hissing this time.”

all fun and games until they remember what you said

[orphicsun]

1 and 4 with Ellie?

warnings: ellie williams + ex girlfriend reader, sexual content (18+), angst.

-

After the break-up, you and Ellie said you'd keep it on 'good terms.'

Good terms, as in staying away from each other. The good terms you both agreed upon being the both of you wallowing in your own beds, you watching Gilmore Girls and snacking on only containers of caramel dip made for apple slices while Ellie turned to The Notebook and the biggest bag of Jalapeno Cheddar cheetos she could pick up from Family Dollar.

But everyone surrounding you were extremely impatient, and you couldn't hide in your bedroom forever. Eventually, you changed out of your pajamas and let your friends drag you into some party. You didn't know whose, but you didn't care. You were there for the weed and a rebound. Classic break-up staples, of course.

It wasn't really a shocker that you had decided not to wear panties underneath your dress. It was extremely stupid. In the future, you'll rant on a tangent about the reasons you shouldn't have, but for now, all you can think about is being underneath someone. Feeling all over their back as they fuck you with a pretty toy. Keeping your lips shut tight so you don't moan Ellie's name instead of theirs.

But before you can even find a friend-of-a-friend who can deal to you, you're met with the sight of Ellie and some girl with your color hair, only her dress is significantly shorter.

There it is, the 'good terms.' You and Ellie had always been so closely intertwined, alike in the same tendencies and coping mechanisms that of course, if she wallows alongside you, she will also be someone else's for tonight. You can't be mad.

Your friends don't notice when you leave for the nearest bathroom, but someone else does. You open the door to Ellie, a look on her face entirely different than the one you had seen on her face with her lips plastered on a random girl's.

She shuts the door behind her, locking it shut.

You scoff. "Seriously, Ellie?" You say, voice strained with hurt and anger.

She raises her eyebrows in defense. "Seriously, what?" Before you can begin your emotion-induced rant, she cuts you off. "Don't start, okay? I'm sorry. I fucked up, I shouldn't have.."

"Of course you say that," you retort bitterly. "Of course you can apologize when I see it."

"We're broken up, okay? What am I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to come back!"

At that, she just stares at you, something forlorn in her gaze. She thinks deeply about it and takes a step closer.

"Is that what you wanted..?" She cups your face, her touch tentative. When you don't protest, she leans in. "Because I'll come back in a heartbeat. Just say it out loud, and I'll take you back right here."

You can't get the words out fast enough, and she immediately responds with a desperate kiss, her lips moving against yours with need. For a moment, it's perfect. Her taste is exactly how you had left it, the way she grasps your face like she had done in the past countless times, and her body meeting yours feels like coming back home after a trip that lasted far too long.

When you moan into the kiss, she breaks it to lavish attention all over the neck she remembers as sensitive. Her tongue is wet as it swirls against the delicate skin, making you gasp and lean further into her. It's not enough, though. You take her hand, tugging at it with an obvious request.

"Such a needy girl," she laughs, but Ellie doesn't hesitate, her hand moving up your dress. When she meets your bare, wet pussy, she pauses. Her eyes slightly widen out of shock.

"No underwear? Did you plan this?" She mumbles into your ear playfully, pulling back in hopes of seeing your flustered expression. Instead, she sees something more like guilt. "Babe..?"

"I came here planning on.. sleeping with someone else," you confess quietly, your heart sinking as Ellie's touch quickly leaves your body.

Now, she is the one to scoff, giving you a look of incredulity. "Really?"

"I'm s-"

"Don't fucking start," she cuts you off. You stay silent now. "You were all pissy at me for even kissing someone else, but you came to this party so sure you were gonna fuck someone else that you didn't bother wearing panties?"

You're quiet. It's telling.

"Yeah? That's what I thought."

Ellie wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, and you hear the slam of the door closing as fast as you register she had opened it. You're back to walling now, only this time, with a twinge of guilt you can't rid yourself of.

taglist: @femme-tobe, @sulliefimmie, @klallx, @elliescoochieeater, @mytaping, @pryncess123, @therealhexstrap, @piercedome, @violetszn, @saturnhas82moons, @myfabulousnesshasarrived, @sawaagyapong, @prettyinpink69, @usuck, @s7nburn, @hellokittyfeenie, @ssijht, @starberr1, @ruevu, @ruelezz, @littlefallenangel111, @prwttiestbunny, @eriiwaiii2, @starrycherie, @human-cacti, @tphmnv, @hotpinkskitties, @mars4hellokitty, @jhyoos, @elliesngirl, @moonfloweredprincess, @morticeras, @l0veylace, @abbysmeatrider, @ferxanda, @vahnilla, @frillynpinkprincess, @plasticl0v3r, @g4ys0n, @bewareofmyglock, @witzs, @vixxxen, @aceywaycy, @abbysbutch, @evoscancelled, @x0x0xkimara, @aviixol, @mysexy-anxiety, @rockstargfsblog, @maple-anon want to be tagged? click here!

[slutzforbueckers]

Hi! Love your work! Thought maybe action #9 sending text/pictures where maybe reader & paige were texting back and forth but then paige got a message from the team chat at the same time and sent her wild response to the team and not reader on accident! Then damage control lol

oopsies

♡— pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

♡— warnings: not rlly smut but kinda fluff too idfk

♡— synopsis: you and paige were in the middle of sexting when she got a message from the team groupchat… she accidentally sent the wrong message to the wrong chat.

❥•°❀°•༢

paige 💋💋

i miss your pretty pussy

so fucking good

you bit your bottom lip at her text, rolling over onto your stomach as you thought about what to say next. within the next few seconds you decided that a picture would probably do more justice than anything you could say.

you

*one attachment*

she misses you too p, dw

paige groaned when she saw the picture of your fingers spreading your pussy, your arousal clear by the string of slick connecting your fingertips. she pressed her thighs together, trying to relieve some pressure.

she started typing again immediately, barely able to focus with the heat pulsing between her legs. while she typed she got a notification from the team group chat, she didn’t bother to look as she raised her pointer finger and swiped it away.

what she didn’t realize was that she accidentally clicked on the notification instead of swiping it. her thumbs were clumsy as she quickly typed and sent the text without checking twice.

paige 🪣

fuck baby

i wanna spread you open n taste everything

i’d have you crying in like five minutes

she clicked out of the messages to answer the group chats text but when she clicked on it a picture of your cunt was staring back at her. paige’s brows furrowed in confusion and her eyes narrowed as she checked the name—it was your contact alright but where was the text she’d just sent?

paige thought she had maybe accidentally hallucinated it and she started to type it out again but then she started receiving a string of notifications from the group chat. she saw up quickly when she realized what she’d done.

aubrey 👵🏾

girl what???

kk 💃🏽

oh hell nah

REF DO SOMETHING

jana 🍃

omfg delete delete delete

QUICKLY

paige’s soul left her body, she stared at the screen in horror, the realization hitting so hard it made her physically recoil. “fuck fuck fuck,” she hissed, scrambling to unsend the message—but it was too late, everyone had seen it. she tried to flip it around, do and say anything to stop this from being brought up for the next 10 years of her life—even though that was totally unstoppable.

paige 🪣

im so so so sorry

i was literally hacked

this is literally ai

don’t believe everything you see on the internet

kk 💃🏽

girl boo 🌚

azzi 👑

no ai could do that amount of damage i fear…

caroline🙎🏻‍♀️

i hate to say this but you’re cooked

you laid on your stomach still, wondering what was taking paige so long to answer. you started to type another message out but then you saw the three little grey dots appear.

paige💋💋

babe…

i accidentally sent the team gc the wrong text

*one attachment*

you looked at the phone in confusion and clicked on the picture. it was a screenshot of paige’s group chat, her text were at the top—filthy words that should never be spoken to anyone other than her girlfriend.

you laughed, you couldn’t help it. all you could do was picture paige’s face when she realized—how mortified she must’ve looked. you called her immediately and she picked up after the first ring, her face red with embarrassment. “you know you’re never living that down, right?”

“shut up, it’s not funny.” paige groaned, running her hand down her face. you laughed a little harder and she turned a little more red, glaring at the phone like that was really enough to stop you from laughing. “okay bet, remember this tomorrow night.”

her voice dropped to a low tone and you stopped laughing, your face going still because you knew what she meant. paige raised her brows and smirked, thinking that she had finally silenced you—which she should’ve known better when that mischievous smile came back.

“one second, let me make sure i’m talking to the right person.”

[l4mbh3art]

Water Pressure

Cw: abby x f!reader brief mention of weed and alcohol(reader is a bit tipsy), semi public sex(in a hot tub), established relationship, reader has nipple piercings, thigh riding(a! receiving), biting(a! receiving), fingering, nipple play, nipple worship(r! receiving), abby gets off to getting caught, risky sex, a sprinkle of Dina, Ellie, and Jesse mentioned(they are at a party), pet names(the usual), black coded reader if you squint, not proofread💔

Mdni

Laughter echoed through out the room as the night stretched on, the smell of mixed perfumes and weed flooded your senses. Dina and Jesse had smoked a joint a few minutes ago and they were all over each other. It was cute, sweet even, seeing everyone get along. Ellie playfully gagged at them, Dina then stuck her tongue out before dragging Jesse off to some room. You just giggled at the banter, not really listening to whatever abby was saying next to you.

“Hello?? Are you even listening to me?” She asked, you quickly snapped out of whatever haze you were in, your attention now completely on her. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” She just smiled softly, tucking away a braid from your face. “Nothing im just..thinking I guess?” “About what?” She quipped teasingly, the smile of her face growing as she noticed your words getting caught in your throat. “It’s nothing dirty if that’s what you’re thinking.” You giggled as you walked to the kitchen to pour you another drink, this was your 7th cup and to be honest you don’t even remember drinking that much.

“Like I was saying, can we go to the hot tub now? I’ve been waiting on you.” Abby asked, her arms folded over her stomach as she waited for you to finish mixing your drink. “Weren’t we supposed to wait for Dina and Jesse?” You replied as you closed the bottle to the blueberry syrup. “Yeah but they are obviously too occupied at the moment.” She said as she rolled her eyes. You thought her little attitude was cute, her brows furrowed as she looked at you.

“Alright, but I’m taking this with me.” You said swirling the alcohol in the red solo cup. “Yes, whatever you want, can we go now?” She said in a rushed tone and you just giggled as you took her hand, opening Dina sliding glass door to the back yard.

“This is what you’re so excited about?” You referred to the hot tub that seemed to still be covered. “We’re supposed to turn it on, be nice.” The last part came out more stern than Abby expected but nonetheless it still shut you up. “We aren’t even supposed to be out here!” You scream-whispered as Abby turned on the hot tub, taking of the cover and setting the lights to purple.

“You’ll be fine.” She said as she removed her lose graphic shirt, the same one you gifted her for Christmas; revealing her black sports bra. She slipped off her pants, wearing a matching pair of swim trunks. You were basically drooling at the sight of her, the way her biceps flexed as she took off her shirt, it was all too much.

“Are you gonna take off your clothes or am I gonna have to do it for you?” Abby asked as she looked at your dazed expression, mind completely wondering places it shouldn’t. Her words snapped you out of your thoughts, causing you to shimmy out of your jeans to reveal the pink and white frilly swim skirt that barely covered your ass.

You pulled your shirt over your head, a matching bikini top underneath. “Did you wear that for me or Dina to see?” Abby joked, you just rolled your eyes at her antics before getting into the hot tub. “Would you be jealous if I did for Dina?” You smirked teasingly, the question hanging in the air. You settled yourself in front of her, taking the spot behind you to sit. “Hell yeah, you look good as fuck in it.” She said, her voice dropping at the last part of her sentence. “Now, are you going to answer the question or are we going to keep playing games?” You smiled at her before moving closer to her in the water, situating yourself on her lap. Your fingers creeped up Abby’s shoulder, feeling the pulse underneath her skin. “Do you wanna find out?

The kiss after that is hungry, all teeth and saliva. She swallowed your moans as they fell from your lips, your scalp began to burn due to her grip on your hair. “Please,” you gasped inbetween kisses, the heat in your core burned as you rode Abby’s lap. Her lips began to trail down your neck, kissing and nipping at the sweet flesh. “Please what?” She spoke into your skin, relishing at the noises that were leaving your lips.

“Need you,” you moaned out as her hand found purchase on your breast, squeezing your nipple through your bikini top. Her mouth peppers kisses back to your mouth, effectively shutting you up. “You gotta be quiet pretty girl, do you want Dina to know what we’re doing in her hot tub?” She coos and chuckles as you shook your head. Her lips crashed into yours once more, her hands finding the back of bikini and untying it. Abby’s eyes soaked in the sight infront of her, your pretty nipples on display, she chuckled at the jewelry that decorated them. “When were you gonna tell me?” She asked before her tongue swirled around one of them, causing your back to arch into her touch.

“Mm-fuck I meant to when I first got them but I-“ your words are cut off by her taking your nipple in her mouth, teeth gently playing with the jewelry. The sensitivity of them causing your grip on her shoulders to tighten. “Fuck you’re so pretty like this.” She groans into your nipple, her free hand pinching your left one. “Abs please..” you whined as you rode her thigh faster, feeling the heat build up in your stomach. “Doll are you close?” She asked as she turned her attention to your other nipple, repeating the same process.

You nodded as you felt the stickiness in your bikini, the fabric rubbing against you deliciously. Your head dizzied as Abby used her free hand to grip your waist, helping you grind in her. “Fuck abs I’m gonna cum-“ you gasped, rolling your hips faster as you felt yourself tip over the edge. “Oh yeah? Cum for me baby.” Your head dipped into Abby’s shoulder, biting down on it as you came as an attempt to muffle your noises.

You slumped against her as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, alcohol still buzzing in your veins making your head dizzy. You snap back to reality when you feel Abby’s hand trace over your clothed clit. “Abby..” you groaned “we’re gonna get caught-“ you gasped as her fingers dipped into your bathing suit bottom. “No one’s came looking for us yet, let me make you feel good. Please?” The needy look in her blue eyes were enough to make you cum on the spot, you gave her a slight nod before she pulled your bikini to the side. Her fingers ghosted over your clit, gently rubbing it. Your hips toward, needing more friction. You whined into her neck, becoming more needy from her teasing touches.

“I know baby, let me take care of you.” She cooed as she placed you on the ledge of the hot tub to get a better view of your pussy. She nudged your thighs further apart, drinking in the sight of you. “Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty.” She said as one of her fingers sunk into your entrance, her think finger stretching you out. “Fuckkk right there-“ you gasped out as she slipped in another finger, abusing your sweet spot. You looked towards the sliding glass door, eyes scanning to see if anyone was searching for you guys. Abby’s free hand tapped your thigh, drawing your attention back the her fingers deep in your cunt. “Look at me or I’ll stop.” She said sternly, slapping your cunt gently. Your hips jutted, another moan slipping from your lips.

Her pace quickened, causing your legs to snap shut, your poor gummy walls were not used to all this special attention. “Don’t run from it, taking me so well aren’t you?” She whispered, her strong arm prying your legs open. “Abs it’s too much!” You whined as you felt her fingers kiss your g-spot over and over, looking down at her lustful blue eyes. “Awe but you can take it right?” She said under false pity, her eyes dropped to her fingers plunging into your clit.

“Fuck you’re sucking me in, you close pretty girl?” You opened your mouth to speak but was cut off by a moan, your orgasm crashing into you unexpectedly. You watched your cunt paint Abby’s arm with your juices, panting as she removed her fingers from you to put them in her mouth. “Fuck Abby,” you said breathlessly, attempting to ground yourself. “Come here.” She said as she settled back into the water, beckoning you to sit in her lap again. You do as your told, fixing your top before situating yourself in the water again. Your rested your head on her chest, your braids falling over your face as you relaxed.

“Maybe we should fuck in your best friend’s hot tub more often.” Abby joked. “Shut up!” You chuckled as you playfully punched her.

[viperify]

1k celebration | ᴀᴄᴀᴅ. ʀɪᴠᴀʟ ꜱᴜʙ!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚 ˖ Good Boy.

Short Summary: Tom Riddle and you have been fierce rivals for as long as you can remember. The year you finally beat him for top student, certain secrets come to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! sub!Tom—I mean it. submissive. mentions of intoxication, unprotected p in v, begging, brief handjob, teasing, edging, slight dacryphilia, creampie, face riding, oral f!receiving

A/N: here it isss!!! This is based of @tomriddleemp’s request! Thanks again for requesting, baby!

wordcount: 3,4k

in this fic, you will find HINT NR #6

The Great Hall erupts in cheers when your name is called. Your heart drops—head spinning. You’ve won it, made it. Become student of the year. You remember how hard you have fought for it. Pulled countless all-nighters just to get ahead of Riddle—who had defended the title for as long as you can remember.

You walk up to the professors and headmaster, facing all other students who seem to be quite pleased with your victory. Then, you hold your winner’s speech that you have prepared—half as a joke, half seriously. Your eyes flick towards Tom, briefly. The chatter and cheers fade into a blur, silence engulfing you as though time stills the moment your eyes meet his.

He sits there, next to his friends. They glance at him, then at you. None of them dare to move, sitting there like carved out of stone. As always, he’s controlling them as though they were his puppets. His expression is closed, guarded—like he can’t believe it. There is fire behind his eyes. Hatred. Probably already thinking about a way to make you pay for it. Find a reason for his failure.

That same evening, his head hurts from how hard he’s been trying to figure out how to discredit you. There is nothing. You’ve beaten him fair and square. He might hate you even more for it. 

Hates how much he admires you. For not backing down, for working hard all year long—when he took time off, you studied. He admires you for what you have become. 

He’s known you for years. Ever since you boarded the train as eleven-year-olds. Now, many years later—you are the person who’ll receive the opportunity for an internship at the Ministry this year. Instead of him.

The end-of-the-year party hosted the next day is mandatory for all students—he wouldn’t attend otherwise. There are more important things to do, and partying has never sparked his interest.

—

But just like the top student, interests can change, can’t they?

He’s gotten himself more drinks than he intended. And when one of them tastes slightly off—he doesn’t notice at first. Assumes they have put less alcohol in his firewhiskey. Goes to complain about it, just to almost get kicked out—his vision is blurry, his usually strong vocabulary reduced to a few select words. Barely able to walk. Other students are staring at him now—and the state of him.

It was not the Tom Riddle people knew—and he’d surely hate himself for it in the morning. Drinking, because of you. He’s never done this. Resort to alcohol when he is upset. And he knows there is more behind it—something he can’t quite grasp.

“Riddle! I want you and Riddle to go in there.” Your friend giggles, almost spilling her drink all over herself. Your eyes widen in horror. She can’t be serious, right? You clasp your hand over her mouth, but it’s too late. The others cheer you on, and Tom turns around from where he’s standing, having barely even registered his name being called.

Before you get to complain, a hand wraps around your wrist, and you are pushed towards a nearby broom closet—Riddle following you.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him. One of the Gryffindor guys tugging on his sacred suit—and he doesn’t even bat an eye. His walk is unsteady, a half-empty glass of firewhiskey in right hand. Then, he gets shoved into the tight space, right next to you—and the door shuts close.

You fetch your wand, creating a small source of light. Tom is looking right at you, smirking while he takes a sip. You stare back at him for a moment, eyes scanning over his taller figure. Unsteady legs, dilated pupils—smell of alcohol so thick in the air, you have to keep yourself from gagging.

“You shouldn't look at me like that when we're alone. You know exactly what you're doing to me.” He manages between a few breaths, voice husky and suggestive.

The dots connect in your brain, and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed.

“You are drunk, Riddle. Since when do you even drink?”

“M’ not,” he slurs, leaning in so close you have to push him away, steadying him. You definitely prefer him all arrogant and untouchable—not like this.

“Come on. I have a sober-up potion in my dorm. Can’t have you embarrass yourself—even I have some decency left.” You say quickly, intertwining your arm with his and slowly pushing the door open, checking whether anyone is watching. Then, you lead him away from the crowd, into the corridor and towards your dorm.

You have to stop several times so he doesn’t trip.

“Taking me to your dorm, huh? I have always wondered what it might look like from the inside. If you have pictures of your family, friends—your adorable little hobbies. What was it? Crocheting?” He stops mid-track and takes another sip.

These were probably the clearest sentences he’s spoken all evening—and you wonder how he knows all of this—why he knows and has remembered it. 

Why he chose to tell you.

You shake your head. “You are out of your mind, Riddle. What have they given you to drink?” You snatch the glass he’s been holding this whole time and hold it close to your nose. Immediately, you recognize a trace of something herbal that was definitely not firewhiskey.

Veritaserum.

Well, you certainly do not have an antidote for that. It is badly brewed too—Veritaserum is supposed to be taste- and odourless. So the effects may last shorter or longer—

“Let’s go. Quick.”

When you shove him past the entrance to your dorm, closing the door behind you, a deep sigh falls over your lips. A drunk Tom Riddle in your room is not how you pictured this night to go. Certainly not a drunk Tom Riddle who is overly affectionate and honest.

You open your drawer, scrambling through the contents. A blue vial catches your attention, and you grab it. That must be it.

“Here, drink this.” You say, turning around—just to see him sprawled out on your bed, eyes scanning your room. Pausing at the pictures of you and your family on the wall next to your bed. You walk over to him with hurried steps, grabbing his arm and pulling him upright.

“Please just— drink this.”

His lips lift into a smirk, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. So close, you almost lose your balance and fall on top of him.

“Sit on my lap,” he instructs, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. So soft now—unguarded and genuine. You’ve never seen them this close. Your heart skips a beat, and you look away, suddenly feeling hot all over.

Fuck.

He is drunk, you tell yourself. He’ll push you away as soon as the first drop of the potion touches his tongue.

“You don’t actually want me to. It’s the alcohol that’s talking for you,” you try, but he shakes his head.

“I have never wanted something as much as I want this.”

Usually, you pride yourself on your rational thinking skills. They are screaming no. But your instincts are screaming louder—and they are saying yes.

Then, you do get on his lap. Carefully. Hook one leg over his, then the second. He pulls you closer.

Darkened eyes instantly dropping to the hem of the dress you are wearing—it’s short, almost too short now. Your favourite. A black, satin material with glitter elements. It’s gorgeous—and he can’t take his eyes off you. How perfectly it hugs your curves, cut low enough for him to see the soft swell of your tits.

Your face heats up at the realisation of what he might be thinking. Meanwhile, his hand comes to rest on your thigh, wandering higher and higher—

“Drink this. Now!” You blurt out, opening the vial in a haste, placing the head of the bottle against his lips—and he empties it in one go.

You watch his reaction. His pupils shrink back to normal, and he breathes out—shakily.

Instantly, you try to get off—but he stops you. Without words, just tightens his grip. One hand on your thigh, the other on the curve of your hip. Fingers digging into your skin. He watches you for a moment, takes in his surroundings. The situation he is in.

At peace, no longer surrounded by loud music and the thick stench of alcohol in the air. Instead, it smells like perfume—a sweet scent, floral. Jasmine, perhaps. 

With—you on his lap. He only faintly remembers how he got here.

Still, he can’t find himself complaining.

Your head spins as seconds pass. And suddenly, he is everywhere. His breath, his eyes, his hands. The bulge you feel growing beneath you.

“Stay.” He murmurs, finally.

You nod, reluctantly. Relax against him. The tension between you two is at an all-time high—and it feels different now. Not the academic type. It feels like the one-wrong-move-and-I-moan kind of tension. You try to avoid his gaze as best as you can, looking over to the drawer.

“I— I can look if I have another. You are not well.”

He shakes his head. “I am doing fine.”

“But—“

His hand cups your face, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Shhh.” He whispers, drawing soft patterns on your waist. 

Your protest catches in your throat as you get lost in the depth of his brown eyes—and he uses that moment to tenderly brush his thumb over your lips. Then, he leans in, slowly but surely, and presses a kiss to them. Soft, gentle, deliberate.

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper against his lips, shaking your head.

“You are right, we shouldn't. But that's exactly why it feels so good.”

His fingers brush your skin as he eases the first strap of your dress from your shoulder. You kiss him again—and your mind goes blank. Suddenly the year-long rivalry between you both is forgotten, or doesn’t matter—not now, at least.

What matters is him and you, this moment.

“Do you hate me as much as you pretend?” You whisper as you break apart.

His eyes scan your face. “No. Never have.”

You’ve never thought there’d be a day where you would thank whoever invented Veritaserum. But it has come.

The second strap follows—and your dress slips down to bunch around your waist—Tom’s gaze following the satin fabric, lingering on your tits for a moment, placing a kiss to your sternum—looking up at you as he does. His grip on your thigh softens—the slightest twitch in his finger. Yet, you feel it. Feel how he softens, opening himself up to you. The usual harshness vanished—big brown doe eyes staring back at yours. 

The energy between you shifts in that moment, and both of you sense it. Confidence blooms in your chest, and you slide off his lap, stepping out of your dress as it drops to the floor. He watches your every movement, eyes following your hands as you undress in front of him.

First your bra, discarding the lace on the floor. His hands cup the soft curve of your hips once more, trailing kisses up your lower tummy as his fingers hook into your panties, slipping them down your legs. An action so calculated, you could mistake it for one straight out of your countless romance novels.

“What are you waiting for, Tom?” You purr, pulling him closer by his tie as you bend over, kissing him. “Need me to help you?”

Words fail to form in his brain. He nods, breathless. “Please.”

You sit down on his lap again. Naked. He swallows, hard. Fabric of his trousers stretching taut over the dent that has formed beneath them.

Piece by piece drops to the ground. His suit, his tie, his shirt. Lastly, his trousers and underwear. You let him step out of them, capturing him in another kiss.

“You like when someone takes control for once? Gives that beautiful brain of yours a break?”

Again, he nods.

You huff a laugh. “Lay down, then. Just lie there and look pretty for me, okay?”

He follows your order without a moment of hesitation. Lies down on your soft mattress, which dips beneath him. His eyes don’t leave yours, not even when you climb on top of him and settle on his thighs.

“That’s what you do best, after all.” You continue, trailing your hands up his thighs—making him breathe in, sharply. “Looking pretty—a shame you weren’t just as good in class this year. I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

You don’t give him time to find an answer—wrapping your hands around his cock, your finger ever so gently following a thick vein on the underside, which stretches all the way to his flushed tip—already glistening with precum. His head drops back at the sensation, eyes squeezed shut, lips slightly parted.

God, he is gorgeous like this.

Tom’s hands reluctantly reach to touch you, palming your tits—but you shake your head, pinning them to his side instead. “No touching. Just watching.”

Then, your hand wraps tightly around his length, giving him a few gentle strokes. He hisses as you do—hips jolting upwards. 

So sensitive.

“Fuck,” he rasps, fingers curling into the bedsheets. “I need to feel you. God— let me feel you.”

“Hm. I think you forgot something,” you reply, thumb swiping over his tip, a ghost of a touch—but he is so, so reactive.

“Please,” he whimpers, finally. “Please let me feel you.”

You grant him his wish. Positioning his tip on your entrance, you slowly, carefully sink down on his length. Inch by torturous inch. Until you are flush with his hips—a soft moan escaping you. He is the perfect combination of girth and length, stretching you open perfectly. You place your hand on his chest and start moving. Rolling your hips against his, gently at first.

Tom has to fight himself not to touch you. He wants to—so badly. Wants to feel your smooth skin, feel your curves beneath his hands when he closes his eyes. Yet, he refrains. Lets you have control over him. It’s hard—but the longer he endures, the more he enjoys it. Being able to shut off his brain. Just feel.

You swipe a curl from his face, leaning over to press a kiss to his swollen lips. “Touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands wandering over your hips, waist, to your tits. Palming them, squeezing. Whimpers here and there when you take him all the way. Reacts to every change in pace, angle. Looks at you as though you were an angel sent from heaven—soft, beautiful, mesmerizing. How tight you are squeezing him, how you manage to make each moment better than the last. Your own soft moans music to his ears. It drives him to the edge of sanity.

You notice when he gets louder, his eyes fluttering closed. Take in his expression, stilling your movements. 

“Look at me,” you murmur, taking one of his hands in yours.

Tom whines as he does—soft, broken. Lips swollen and bleeding from how hard he’s been biting them. Tears pricking at his eyes. He is so close—just in reach. So sensitive, it hurts.

Lifting yourself slowly, you sink down again—steadily, just to tease him.

Yet, you feel him pulse inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head—hips stuttering beneath you.

“Shh.” You whisper, silencing him with a finger on his lips, shaking your head softly as you force him to look into your eyes. “Don’t come yet. Don’t you dare come yet.”

He nods, a tear rolling down his cheek. You wipe it off with your thumb.

“Don’t cry, pretty boy. All you need to do is ask.”

No hesitation. Pure and raw need. “Please— fuck, please let me cum. Please—“

Smiling at him, you get off—instead taking his cock in your hand, soaked in your arousal. You caress over his tip—which pulses at your touch. He moans, hips jerking up at the slightest contact. Chasing your touch—anything.

“That desperate? Poor you. Just want to cum, don’t you, Tommy?” You mock with fake sympathy, head dipping to place a kiss right below his sensitive tip. 

He nods, hastily. Groans when you give him a single stroke—slow, not even remotely tight enough for it to feel good. Yet—his eyes beg for more. He’ll take anything at this point. You grin at the state of him, satisfied. You’ve broken him. Great Tom Riddle, looking up at you like a lost puppy with his big brown eyes. Even prettier than usual. So soft, so submissive. You could get used to this.

“Why don’t you tell me how much you want it? Show me how pathetic you can sound while begging?”

His lip quivers. “I am— God, I want— I need it. It’s all for you— just please—“ he whimpers, and you press a kiss to his forehead, shushing him.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.”

Your hand wraps around him again, giving him a few more strokes, dragging it out. Over his swollen tip, eagerly leaking with need. “No, Tommy.” You whisper. “Not yet. Wait for my permission.”

You are pushing him to his limits, and you know it. “Please,” he whispers, broken, half a sob. “I’ll do anything.”

Deciding to end his torture, you sink down on him once more, angling yourself better. Using the last bit of strength left in your thighs.

“Come for me, pretty boy.”

And he does—hard. The feeling of your warm cunt wrapped so snugly around him, clamping down—he loses it. Whimpering your name as thick ropes of cum paint your walls white, hips stuttering beneath you, every muscle in his body wrung tight. Hands interlocked with his as you guide him through it, praise him.

It lasts several long seconds—and after, his body just goes limp on your bed, chest heaving, eyes closed.

You give him a minute to calm down before you gently lift yourself off of him, getting a towel to clean the both of you.

But he stops you. Holds onto your wrist. You turn to face him, about to ask what’s wrong—

“Sit on my face, please?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t need to—”

“Yes, absolutely. Please?” He asks again, and you don’t deny him this time.

Fingers digging into your hips, pulling you even closer—and God, his tongue works magic. Licking and sucking on your clit just the right way, you soon find yourself a trembling mess on top of him.

“How do we taste, Tommy? You like it?” You breathe, accompanied by a moan.

He nods, humming against your soaked cunt—greedily lapping up your mixed arousal. “Good. So good.”

Tom doesn’t let go immediately—not even when your climax washes over you with such force, you see stars dancing in front of you, vision going black at the edges. Your thighs tremble, no longer able to hold yourself up—but he loves it. Doesn’t stop sucking on your clit until you beg him to.

After cleaning everything up, you settle down beside him—and he pulls you in, holding you close until you fall asleep.

Tom knows he can’t stay. That you might regret this the morning after.

So, after double-checking you are asleep, he quietly gets up, dresses himself. Looks back one last time at your sleeping form. Smiles to himself. Then, he pushes down the handle of the door, and with silent steps walks down the corridor to his own dorm, the first golden sun rays of the morning lighting his way, casting a glow on his messy curls.

When you wake the next morning, the spot next to you in your bed is empty, cold. He’s gone, and that for a while, although it’s only 6:00.

You wonder whether he regrets last night, if he regrets you.

That is, until you spot a note on your bedside table.

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Noah doesn’t know what to say as he looks between his son and Derek Hale. Young Derek Hale. 15 year old Derek Hale… Of course he had remembered the boy, the night of the fire being especially clear to him. He had been crying then, sobbing in Noah’s office and repeating the same question over and over. “Are they alive? Are any of them alive?” 

It had been tragic. At the time, it had been suspicious but later it had been ruled an accident and Noah had been content with that. Not anymore. Not now as he remembers Stiles’ chessboard. The hunters bathed in white pieces. Kate Argent’s name ringing in his head, clear as a bell, and he understood. Understood what had transpired, can see the past event that had yet to happen to the boy in front of him. 

Boy. Because he’s only two years younger than Stiles is now. Rounder face, shorter stature. Derek Hale… Angry, tall, muscular, stoic alpha werewolf looking as young and uncertain as a freshman in high school. The thought has bile rising to the back of his throat. 

That woman… the things she had done to Derek… It was different, knowing now. Different seeing the teenager before him, looking so young and vulnerable and too close to Stiles’ age. For an adult to do that to a child… Any child! Rage fills Noah’s vision, his hands falling to brace himself against the desk before him and he sees Derek flinch back to Stiles’ side. 

“Dad?” Stiles says warily, taking a step in front of Derek. “We think it’s some sort of spell. Deaton is looking into it.” 

Protective. Stiles was always so damn protective of his friends. His family. The correlation has dread filling Noah’s chest even more. Thinking once again of Stiles standing in front of a hunter. 

“G-Good.” He manages to say, words strangled by the knot in his throat. “Take him to the house. He’ll be safe there for now.” Stiles looks surprised at that but Derek pushes passed him. 

“What about my mom? Where’s my mom?” 

Dead. 

Noah can’t say those words either and Stiles saves him from trying. 

“They’re not here. They left after the fire. Scott’s trying to figure out how to get you back to them.” Stiles replies, looking pointedly at his best friend. 

“Y-Yeah. I’m working on it. You can trust Stiles and the Sheriff. We’ll get everything straightened out.” It’s a lie. All lies. Always lies. Broken and struck words that shoot out like a bullet. Stiles’ favorite weapon, and he’s wielding it as fiercely as he ever has to protect the 15 year old at his side. Pride and dread and grief fill Noah’s chest as he nods, trying not to show the tears burning his eyes. 

“You’re safe with us Derek.” He says fiercely, resolutely and the young werewolf must read the honesty in that statement if nothing else because he relaxes for the first time since he’s entered the office. 

It takes a few days. Noah isn’t privy to everything that’s happened but Derek is adult Derek again, standing just as impassive and calm within the circle of the pack. He raises his head to look at Noah as the sheriff exits the police cruiser, a small nod of acknowledgement sent his way, but it’s not enough. 

Noah can’t get the image of teenage Derek out of his mind. Can’t stop the paternal instincts to wrap both of his boys in blankets and lock them up safe and warm and happy. It’s too much. The Argents, the monsters, the danger… Too much threatening the small little family he has left. 

He stalks towards them, urgent and desperate and sees the surprise light the alpha’s face. Derek almost seems worried as he motions Erica and Boyd to step aside, reaching a tentative hand out to try and either stop or steady Noah. “Sheriff, what’s wr-”

He doesn’t finish. Noah brushes past Scott and Lydia and Peter and Chris, reaches around Derek’s shoulder and pulls him forward, into his arms. The alpha freezes, shuttering into a statue as Noah embraces him, lets himself be pulled and guided to the human’s chest in the warmest hug he’s ever received. 

“It’s okay son.” Noah murmurs. “It’s okay. You got us.” He says thickly. 

Derek is still for a long moment, confusion and shock overriding every one of his senses but Noah doesn’t pull away, doesn’t say anything more, just grasps him to himself and slowly, unbidden, Derek crumbles. 

He can’t stop the tears from falling. Can’t stop the pain in his chest as Noah holds him. He closes his eyes and buries his face into the human’s neck, let’s the warmth and fatherly arms lull him and the scent of protection and possession seep into his very bones from the comfort the man is so willingly giving him. 

Of course it’s Noah. One of the only two men he’s ever really trusted since the fire. One of the only two men who he’s valued as his family. Of course it’s the other Stilinski whose saved his life yet again. 

[y2kstarr]

— ᥫ᭡ bottom bitch . . . chris sturniolo

where . . . you're starting to get jealous at all the girls chris hooks up with, even tho the two of your are just bsfs, but when chris catches on after noticing you all pissy after his latest hook-up, he gives you one night to taste what you'd been secretly begging for.

contains . . . smut, fingering, jealousy sex?, squirting, smoking, praising, college au, friends to lovers?

credits to @delilahsturniolo for the marathon concept

HOT PINK WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #4

"Oh fuck! Chris!" A random girl's voice rang out through the door to you and Chris's shared dorm room, the unmistakable sounds of sex clear as day through the hardwood. "Don't stop—! Mmmm—!"

You sighed as you sat out in the hallways, scrolling through your phone as you waited for him to finish up and kick the girl out so you could finally get to your bed and just call it a night after the shitty day you'd had, this just being the cherry on top.

He'd completely forgotten to text you about having someone over, so you were sure it was some random chick with a basic name who was just drooling for his dick till he decided to bring her to his dorm. Thank god the obscene noises were clear enough through the door before you turned it so that you stopped yourself from seeing that shit.

"Oh my godd— You're dick is sooo good, Chris— I'm gonna cum—!" You groaned at the stereotypical, porno voice she had, like nails on the goddamn chalkboard to your unfortunate ears.

"That's it baby, yeah— Cum on this dick—" Now that voice, you could listen to it for fucking hours. You'd never fully heard Chris during the few times you overheard his sex, mostly due to the girl trying to upstage him like it was hot to hear a wailing banshee or some shit, but when you did, god, did it sound like heaven.

The way he'd groan from the pleasure, his little grunts and pants coming through in time with his audible thrusts, the way he'd talk dirty to the girls like some wet dream come to life, the way he'd—

"Chris!" There it is, wailing banshee yet again. Thankfully, despite having to listen to that god awful sound, you knew it was the finish line, just a couple more moments for the girl to get her shit back on and scurry out of the dorm as if anyone would care if they saw her.

The moment she'd almost stumbled past you, an almost judgmental look on her face that you matched with a glare as she passed by, you finally walked into your dorm room, spotting Chris laying spread out on his bed. His boxers were pulled up though a little loose as you could practically see the base of his happy trail, his chest rose and fell in breaths he was still trying to calm, his hair a disheveled mess, and lipstick kiss marks messily scattered his toned skin.

He looked like a god damn dream that you just wanted to sink your teeth into, but as you remembered just why he was in this state, you shook yourself from your thoughts, huffing as you walked over to your closet.

"Sorry 'bout no heads up, she barely gave me a second before tossing me into bed," He explained, chuckling as he flicked his lighter at the end of a joint he'd grabbed, breathing in the smoke before blowing it back out to curl up into the air. "Fuckin' tiger, I tell ya,"

You didn't respond to him, rolling your eyes to yourself as you tugged off your jacket and hung it up, taking off all of your jewelry and placing them all in their respective places. He'd noticed your silent demeanor, raising an eyebrow before sitting up in his bed, his legs dangling over the side as he tilted his head at you.

"You pissed at me or somethin'? I said I was sorry about the head's up," He asked, making you sigh as you weren't given a choice other than to answer him as to not be seen as the dick in this situation.

"'M fine," You muttered, your hands coming down to grip the hem of your shirt before tugging it up over your head, having gotten used to changing in front of Chris. But he knew all too damn well that you weren't just 'fine,' a scoff leaving him before he pushed himself up and off of his bed, his eyes subtly tracing over your figure from behind.

You tried to pay no attention to him as he approached you, but the feel of his warm hands on your sides made you shiver instantly and stiffen a bit. "Now I know your ass is lying to me," Chris murmured to you, his hand that held the joint only letting that thumb draw small circles on your hip as to not risk burning you. "You gotta tell me what's peeving you, ma."

You let the silence hang for a moment longer, willing yourself not to be affected by how he touched you or looked at you or talked to you, but fuck, did it feel good. You finally sighed as you crossed your arms, your eyes glancing away from where he peaked over your shoulder at you.

"I just, don't know what you see in those chicks," You mutter out, glancing at him as he smirked, as if knowing something you didn't.

"Someone's soundin' jealous," He teased you without a beat, chuckling at the way you turned your head to glare at him, his hands lifting up in mock surrender. "'M just sayin', ma–"

"'M not jealous. Why would I be jealous of some wailing banshee in my room?" You huffed out, making him perk up a little before smirking.

"Oh yeah? That's what you think of them?"

"I mean, what else do they sound like?"

"Like girls who are having the best fuckin' night with me," Chris grinned, noticing the way you looked away from him again, letting the silence ring out, before he let an idea strike him.

"Alright, how 'bout.. I make it up to you for leaving you outside to hear all of that," His voice was lower in your ear now, alluring and warm, as you felt his hands slowly undoing the button and zipper to your pants, before he whispered in your ear. "And you show me what a gorgeous girl should really sound like..."

You should protest, you should just push him off and continue being pissed and just go to bed, but as your countless fantasies about him filled your head, you just couldn't say no to this. You let out a shaky breath before turning your head to him. "Fine.."

You watched the way his signature grin tugged at his lips, his eyes running over your face before landing on your lips. "Atta girl," He whispered, liking the way your breath hitched softly before he leaned in to press his lips against yours, gentle, sweet, as if to give you the option to back out, and yet you didn't.

You melted into the kiss as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your pants before tugging them down, letting them drop to the floor around your ankles, his hands sliding back up your sides as you mouths slowly moved together. Goosebumps rose on your skin before you slowly turned your body fully to him, your hands touching his chest before sliding up to cup his jaw.

Your back arched into him as his hands slowly hugged around your waist, pulling you closer into him as his tongue teased along the seam of your lips, gladly entering your mouth as you parted them for him. As the kiss started to heat up into a make out, you felt as Chris tugged you back to the bed, your steps a little messy as you were too lost in the kiss to care.

You felt your back hit the mattress of his bed as he climbed over you, your arms wrapping around his neck as he settled between your spread legs, your kissing heavy and messy, almost desperate now practically chased each other's mouths like you were the last people on earth.

You let out a soft, needy sound as he pulled from the kiss, one that made him grin down at you all smug whilst you glared and felt blush creep up your neck. His lips pressed a kiss to your jaw, slowly trailing down to your neck as you lay your head back, giving him more exposed skin. You felt as his hands crept behind your back, unhooking your bra before tugging it off of you and tossing it to the floor.

"Fuck... Didn't know you had such perfect tits," He smirked, his thumbs coming up to tease over your already stiffened nipples, making a shiver run up your spine before you let out a soft whimper.

Your hips subtly rocked up involuntarily, making your feel the hard bulge in Chris's boxers, stars practically spotting your eyes at just the prospect of what lie underneath the fabric.

"Fuckin' eager, huh?" Chris chuckled, though he couldn't help the way his cock twitched at the action, making him needy to pleasure you just like he promised. His lips kissed back up your neck before meeting yours in another kiss. "Need these off.."

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down before pulling them fully off, tossing them where your bra already lay, his fingers teasing over your inner thighs to feel you squirm before delving between your folds, a groan leaving him against your lips.

"Jesus, you're fuckin' wet— You this excited f'me, baby?" He cooed teasingly.

"Shut up.." But your words were hardly harsh, a needy whine spilling from your lips as his fingers gathered up your juices before rubbing at your throbbing clit, pleasure rushing through your body at his touch. "Fuck.. Chris.." You whimpered, noticing the way you whined his name made his hips twitch in need, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers.

"You like that, ma..?" He whispered against your lips, grinning as your hips started to rock into his hand, chasing that pleasure as his fingers drew firm circles on your clit, your head nodding as you whimpered. "Yeah, I know you do," He teased.

You huffed as his fingers stopped, about to tell him to keep going, before your suddenly felt him slipping his fingers into your drooling cunt, a gasp leaving your lips at the way his fingers felt thicker and — fuck — so much longer than yours.

Your mind went fuzzy as he started pumping his finger in and out of your pussy, the soft, squelching noises making your toes curl and a whine fall from your lips, your hands digging your nails into his back a bit as he pressed sweet kisses to your jawline and face.

"That feel good, baby?" He cooed, smiling against your cheek as you whined out a pretty "yes" in response, his eyes looking over your face, all pink and cute, eyes half lidded and fluttering at the pleasure, soft pink lips parted as soft pants left you.

"F-fuck— Chris—" You whimpered as he sped up his fingers, the sloppy noises getting slightly louder at his quickened pace. Panting breaths left your lips as pleasure bloomed throughout your body, when suddenly, you felt as his free hand slid down underneath your knee and hiked it up, a gasp leaving your lips as his fingers plunged harder.

"That's it, mama, that's it–" He groaned softly against your cheek, hearing as your panting quickened, a sound he knew all too well with girls, his fingers keeping that delicious quick pace at this deeper angle.

"'M close— I-I'm gonna cum—" You whined out, your nails digging crescents into the skin of Chris's back, feeling your toes curl at the burning pleasure that threatened to push you over the edge.

"Yeah? C'mon mama, cum for me, wanna see how pretty you looking coming undone," He groaned against your jawline, nipping at the skin there before he rested his head on your shoulder, looking down at his fingers pumping your cunt whilst his other hand pushed your thigh up just a bit higher.

And suddenly, it was as if your vision went white, your mouth falling open in a gasped moan, your back arching as you felt your orgasm crash over you harder than you'd ever felt in your life, pure and utter ecstasy burning throughout your body as you moan out gorgeously, eyes rolled back and nails clawing at Chris's back.

Your leg trembled and twitched in Chris's grip as his fingers rode you through your high, your chest sputtering up and down as your breathing was shaky, your mind fuzzy as you gushed all over Chris's fingers. You barely comprehend what had happened until you heard Chris's voice cut through your blissful haze.

"Holy shit— I didn't know you could fuckin' squirt like that," He chuckled, your brows furrowing in confusion before you lifted your head, your eyes widening at the wet mess that was his sheets and his fingers, blush blooming on your cheeks out for embarrassment that Chris caught into quick.

"Ma, you've– you've never fuckin' squirted before?" He asked, near awe in his voice as he chuckled at the way you tried to hide behind your hands, his ego being inflated by knowing that he was the one to make you squirt for the first time.

"Shut up!" You squeaked out, unable to not giggle a little as he tugged your hands away with his free hand, peppering your face with kisses.

"That's so fuckin' hot, baby," He murmured against your skin, addicted to the way you giggled, before his hips pressed against your thigh, reminding him of his still hard cock, now begging for attention.

You felt his fingers slip from your cunt, whimpering at the loss and at watching him lick them clean with a groan, before his hands moved down to tug down the waistband of his boxers, his cock springing out, thick and heavy, his tip a flushed pink as pre-cum leaked.

Your eyes widening at the sight, your cunt fluttering with interest as you felt arousal filling you once more, before looking up at his face, his eyes lustful and dark, a smirk on his gorgeous lips.

"You up for another round, ma?"

☆ : this is currently not proofread cause i just wrote most of it in the car, Im on a trip that I ain't even know about until yesterday 😭 so im so sorry if this seems rushed, I really liked this idea and hope I executed it good for all of you <33 anyways, i think they're cute asf-

taglist 🏷️

[kxsagi]

“𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧”

a/n: everyone say thank you, landon! he hurt me and now i wrote angst. i’ll never forgive his bitchass for cheating on liz (yes i’m still mad about it) and i pray that she heals fast and thoroughly 🙏

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, bachira meguru, ness alexis

itoshi rin

he doesn’t say he misses you. instead, he shows it by keeping everything the same. your mug is still by the sink. your shampoo still in the shower. 

he trains harder than ever, but there’s a hesitation in his eyes, like he’s searching for something beyond the net, like scoring without your "good luck" feels hollow. 

he deletes your contact but memorizes your number. blocks you, but checks your socials with a burner. his pride won’t let him reach out, but gosh, he wants you to notice he’s suffering. 

sometimes he thinks about bumping into you “by accident.” at a café. bookstore. anywhere. but he never goes because he’s scared you’ll already be with someone else. 

he dreams of you. and in those dreams, you always leave again. 

isagi yoichi

he blames himself. rewatches every conversation in his mind like game tape. where did i go wrong? where could i have passed better? loved better? 

he still talks about you like you're part of his life. "she loves that song." "she would’ve liked this." even though the room goes quiet after. 

he keeps every gift you gave him. your first silly drawing, the bracelet you made at some street fair. it’s tucked in his drawer like sacred things. 

you told him once he overthinks everything, so now, ironically, he overthinks that, too. did you mean it as a joke? were you serious? were you already halfway out the door? 

he wishes you’d just tell him you hate him. because silence is worse. silence is hope’s cruel cousin. 

itoshi sae

he lets you go with a poker face. you’d think he didn’t care. but it’s the first time in years he misses a penalty kick. 

he deletes your pictures. not because he doesn’t care, but because he does. too much. and seeing your smile in that yellow-tinted light makes his chest cave in. 

he scrolls through your old texts when he's drunk. replies to them like you're still there. never sends them. 

he never begs. never asks you to stay. but every time someone mentions your name, there’s a flicker of something behind his eyes, like grief dressed in quiet clothes. 

he used to be bored of everything. now, he’s just tired. especially of pretending you didn’t matter. 

kaiser michael

you were the first person to tell him he didn’t have to perform all the time. that you liked him even when he wasn’t loud, golden, brilliant. 

he didn’t believe you. not really. until after you left. now the silence around him feels unbearable, like a stage with no audience. 

he flirts more now. louder, emptier. it’s all performance, a desperate echo of who he used to be when you were around to bring him down to earth. 

he keeps expecting you to walk in, roll your eyes, say "you’re so dramatic." but you never do. 

sometimes, he talks to you when he’s alone. not the real you, the memory version. and she’s always a little kinder than he deserves. 

shidou ryusei

he doesn’t cry. he doesn’t talk about it. but suddenly, the fire in him feels more like self-destruction than passion. 

on the field, he’s a menace. fouls more. gets carded more. you were the only one who calmed him down, reminded him of softness. now there’s no balance. 

people call him reckless. a lunatic. but they don’t know he’s trying to feel something. anything. 

he won’t admit it, but your absence tastes like metal in his mouth. bitter. sharp. 

sometimes, he punches the wall and pretends it’s not because he remembered your birthday and realized he has nowhere to send the gift. 

mikage reo

he’s always had money, always had power. but losing you? it’s the first time he couldn’t buy his way out of pain. 

he tells himself you’ll come back. that it’s just a break. that if he levels up, scores more, shines harder, you’ll notice. 

goes to the places you loved together, always ordering your favorite drink and leaving it untouched. “just in case.” 

he practices apologies in the mirror, over and over. never sends them. because every version feels too small for what he broke. 

his smile is still perfect, still charming, but if you look too close, it doesn’t reach his eyes anymore. 

nagi seishiro

he doesn't understand why you're gone. he replays the breakup like a confusing side quest with no clear ending. 

sleeps way more than usual. not because he’s lazy, but because dreaming of you is easier than being awake without you. 

when he plays games now, he keeps losing. rage quits more often. "it's boring," he says. but it’s really because the person who used to sit beside him is missing. 

keeps your shirt. cuddles it like a plush. doesn’t say a word when reo comments on it. 

still texts you sometimes. “this meme reminded me of you.” “you’d laugh at this.” you never reply. he still sends them. 

karasu tabito

he jokes more than ever. laughs louder. flirts harder. but his humor has a sharpness to it now, like he’s constantly daring the world to notice he’s hurting. 

people say he's “the same as always,” but they don’t see him standing outside your apartment for 30 minutes just to walk away with a heavier heart. 

started journaling again. you told him once that writing helped with healing. he writes like you’ll read it one day. 

won’t admit it, but he plays dirtier now. more aggressive, less patient. “love made me soft,” he says. like it’s a curse. 

he misses your voice. not just your words. the sound of you saying his name like it meant something. 

bachira meguru

he paints you. over and over. sometimes with wings. sometimes with broken glass in your smile. always with love. 

still talks to his "monster" about you. "you think she hates me now?" "do you think i scared her off?" 

he’s still sunshine to everyone else, but when he's alone, the silence is suffocating. 

your absence changed his art. darker colors. messier strokes. people praise his “emotional evolution,” but he just misses being happy. 

he goes to the park where you first kissed and sits on the swing for hours. waiting. just in case you remember, too. 

ness alexis

he always said you made him feel seen, not just as a shadow to kaiser, but as his own person. now that you’re gone, he forgets how to exist without comparison. 

overcorrects. becomes louder, flashier, more dramatic. like if he’s impressive enough, you’ll regret leaving. 

still wears the cologne you bought him. even though it makes him nauseous with memories. 

he swears he’s over you. but the second someone mentions your name, his hands start to shake. 

keeps your photo as his lock screen. “aesthetic,” he says. “nostalgic,” he means. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sluttywonwoo]

bad influence(s): s.coups | the bouncer

pairing: bouncer!s.coups x f reader

summary: a game, a bet, a target.

warnings: smut (18+; mdni), swearing, strangers, kind of morally questionable behavior on reader's part....

smut warnings: oral (f&m receiving), dry humping, 69ing, protected sex, car sex, semi-public sex, sex as a bet

word count: 2.5k

“Him?” you balk, pointing across the room at the man your friend had selected as a candidate for your little game. 

She nods, sipping her cocktail nonchalantly. “Yeah, he’s hot.”

“That’s one of the bouncers. He’s an employee.” 

“So? You said you could land any man. He’s a man.” 

“But he’s like, working. I don’t want to bother him while he’s on the job.” 

“If you don’t think you can get him to bite, just say so.” 

You scowl. “You are such a bitch.”

She grins. “I know. But I bet you’ll be thanking me tomorrow morning. He looks like he can throw you around.” 

“At least the guy I picked for you is a patron,” you complain. “Next time I’m going to pick the DJ or something.” 

“You’re the one who was bragging about your winning streak. Maybe I just wanted to even the playing field.” 

You roll your eyes. “That’s cheating.”

“I mean if you’re as good as you say you are, it should be easy, right?” 

You curse her again, under your breath this time, and snatch her drink from her hand. “Give me this.” She watches with amusement in her eyes as you chug the rest of it. 

You already have a couple drinks in you but you figure you’ll need even more alcohol in your bloodstream in order to even attempt to approach the guy. Liquid courage and all that. 

“Good luck,” she sings as she takes her glass back. 

“You too,” you mutter. “You have your pocket knife on you?”

“Yep, you?”

You pat your pocket. “Always. Call me if you need anything.” 

“Ditto. Love you.” She blows you a kiss, her expression souring when you don’t reciprocate. “Say it back, slut!”

“Love you too,” you grumble.

“Now go get some dick!”

You wish she hadn’t shouted that across the room but the music is blaring so loud you doubt he heard it. It still gets you a few sideways looks from other people on the dance floor, though. 

The bouncer is standing on a raised platform that runs along the outside wall. He’s one of several stationed at different spots on it so that they’re able to get a good vantage point of the entire club. Easier to sniff out trouble from above, you suppose.  

You make your way over to him slowly, trying to suss out his vibe as you get closer. You’re largely unsuccessful, seeing as it’s dark and loud and you’re more than a little tipsy. The only light in the entire place comes from neon beer signs, strobe lights, and black lights hanging above the dj booth. 

Luckily, his features are sharp enough to discern through the dark— strong eyebrows, stronger shoulders. God, he’s broad. 

Eventually, you’re able to make out the lettering on his name tag which reads: CHOI, S. If only you knew what the S stood for, then you could call his name to get his attention. Instead, you’ll have to resort to Plan B. 

“So, you come here often?”

He glances at you without turning his head, almost like he isn’t fully sure if you’re talking to him. When he sees that you are in fact looking at him, he answers, albeit still with an air of confusion.

“To… my job?” 

“Yeah, like are you here every night?” 

“Most nights, yeah. I’m a grad student though so when I have late classes I don’t work. Why, do you come here often?”

You shrug. “Only sometimes.”

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

You snort. “Do you remember all the regulars’ faces?” 

“I do when their faces are as pretty as yours.” 

Oh. Maybe this would be easy. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.”

“How many times has that line worked on girls before?”

“Well, does it count as a line if you’re the one that approached me?”

He had you there. 

“I guess this is the part where I ask if I can buy you a drink,” you say, deciding to keep the bit running, “but seeing as you’re still on the clock…”

He checks his watch. “Only for about thirty more minutes. Can I take you up on your offer then?” 

Your heart skips a beat. “I’ll be here.” 

“But let me be the one to buy you a drink,” he clarifies. 

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you buy the drink?” you joke. 

“I get a discount.”

“Ok fine, you win.” 

“Perfect, I get off at midnight.”

So do I, you think to yourself. 

-

You’re only half-convinced the bouncer will actually show when midnight rolls around. You keep him in your periphery as the minutes tick by, occasionally making eye contact with him when he catches your attention, but then he leaves his post and disappears into one of the backrooms, leaving you to wait and see if he’ll follow through. 

You don’t see your friend anywhere so you assume she must have already sealed the deal with her mark. A quick check of her location confirms that she’s moving in the direction of her apartment. Damn, she works fast. 

You’re still scrolling through your phone when someone slides onto the bar stool next to you. It’s him. He’s still wearing his uniform, a fitted black tee and slacks, but he’s lost the earpiece. What he’s got on could pass for street clothes if you didn’t know better. 

“Still thirsty?” he asks. 

“Always.” 

“What do you want?”

“Whatever you’re gonna have.”

He waves the bartender over and orders two green tea shots. Something quick that goes down easy. You’re not the only eager one. 

“By the way, what’s your name?” you ask, closing some of the distance between you by reaching over and fiddling with his name tag. 

“Seungcheol, but my friends call me Coups.”

“What should I call you?”

Seungcheol laughs. Clearly you’re not there to be his friend. 

“You can call me Cheol,” he decides. “What should I call you?”

-

You follow Seungcheol out to the parking lot behind the building after he closes the tab. The club is still very much alive and kicking this time of night but outside it’s deafeningly quiet. The thrum of the music through the brick walls is barely noticeable after being in the thick of it for so long. 

“You didn’t drive, did you?” Seungcheol asks as he clicks a button on his keys.

“No, we Ubered.”

“We?”

“My friend and I. She already left with someone.”

“Ah, does that mean I’m the backup plan?” 

“Not at all.”

“It wouldn’t change anything for me if I was, by the way,” he says, winking as he opens the passenger side door for you. 

You wait to respond until he slides into the driver’s seat beside you. 

“Are you sure? It wouldn't change things even a little bit?”

“Well, it might hurt my feelings a tiny bit,” he concedes. “But you’re hot enough that I’d be able to get over it pretty fast.”

“I’m flattered.” 

“So, how should we do this? Do you want to go back to my place or climb into the backseat?”

“Wow, forward.”

“Says the woman that hit me with a pickup line while I was working.”

“Fair enough, let’s get in the back.”

Seungcheol gestures for you to go first like the gentleman he is, definitely not with the ulterior motive of smacking your ass when you climb over the center console. He joins you a second later, clumsily repeating the same maneuvers and landing next to you. 

You laugh. “You ok?” 

He pushes his hair out of his eyes, grinning wickedly. “Never better.”

He leans forward, bringing a hand to your cheek. It’s surprisingly gentle for the circumstances. “Can I kiss you?” 

“Please do.”

His lips are warm, just like the hand on your face. They’re a little rough too, like the calluses on his palms. It escalates quickly. He slips his tongue into your mouth as soon as your lips part in a moan. It isn’t long before he’s kissing his way down your neck and nipping at your collarbone. 

His fingers play with the hem of your skirt. “Here, get on my lap.”

You straddle him, knees touching the leather on either side of his waist. You can feel how hard he is through his pants. The material is thin enough that you can feel him throbbing already and it takes a good amount of restraint not to tease him for it. It’s not like you’re faring any better. You’re sure your panties are soaked through by now. It’ll be a miracle if there’s not a wet spot on his pants when you get up. 

“Wanna try sitting on my face?”

You glance up at the roof. Seungcheol’s car is a sedan, not an SUV. “Is there enough room?”

“Why don’t we find out?”

He shifts to lay on his back with you still on top of him, urging you to turn around so that you can ride his face. You start to unbutton your skirt but he stops you. 

“Wait, leave it on. Your panties too, just move them to the side.”

“Are you afraid someone will see?”

“Nah, no one ever comes out here,” he assures you. “Unless it’s to do this. I just think it’s hot.”

It is kind of hot. Your skirt essentially turns into a blindfold as you lower yourself onto his face. He kisses your pussy through your panties first before he pulls them aside with his teeth and begins to devour you. 

It feels good but you can’t move your hips very well like this. You’re sort of forced to be hunched over due to the lack of space but the position does give you an interesting idea. 

Your hands move to his belt on instinct, making fast work of the buckle and then the zipper. 

“Is this o-ok?” you ask between breaths. 

He mumbles something in affirmation, giving you the green light to keep going. You feel him sigh against you in relief when you release him from his briefs and he straight up moans when you press your tongue to the tip. You try to match the pace of his mouth on you with your own, taking him deeper and deeper the more he teases you with his tongue. 

You swallow around him once, then again when you feel him shudder underneath you. It isn’t long until it turns into a competition, both of you trying to pull bigger reactions from the other. He’s winning, you think, because you’re about to cum on his tongue but he taps your thigh to signal you to stop before you can. 

“Fuck, sorry, I didn’t want to cum in your mouth,” Seungcheol huffs. His lips are glistening with you. It looks like lip gloss in the dim moonlight. Pretty. 

You pout. “I did.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, were you close?” He doesn’t look sorry at all. 

You nod, still pouting. 

“Poor baby,” he coos, stroking your face. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

“You can try.”

He laughs and reaches into his pocket for a condom, producing one almost immediately. 

“Do you always have those on you?” you ask incredulously. 

“We keep them in the back,” he scoffs. “I grabbed one when I clocked out. But don’t act like you don’t keep any in that tiny purse of yours.”

“Can neither confirm nor deny,” you chirp. 

“Mhm, I just beat you to it.”

You watch as Seungcheol shimmies his pants further down so that he can roll the condom on properly. 

He looks back up at you once it’s on. “What are you waiting for?”

You grin and hoist yourself back onto his lap, hovering shakily. “An invitation.” 

He kisses you instead of extending one, causing your knees to tremble. Seungcheol uses the opportunity to guide you down onto him and you’re all too glad to let him. The stretch is divine. You knew it would be. His cock is thick, just like he is, and it feels like he’ll split you in half if you aren’t careful. 

You moan the nickname he told you to call him into his mouth and feel him twitch inside you. You can tell he’s trying to give you time to adjust to his size but you can also tell that his patience is fraying at the edges. 

“Can I push your shirt up?” he asks, evidently trying to distract himself. 

“Yeah, go ahead. But if we get caught with my tits out I’ll kill you.”

“I’d die doing what I love.”

You’d smack him if you didn’t think it’d turn him on even more. 

When you do start to rock your hips, you’re careful not to rock the car with you. It might be dark out but a swaying car would definitely draw some attention if anyone were to walk by. 

Seungcheol alternates between sucking on your tits and sucking on your bottom lip as you fuck him. You can still taste yourself on him when he kisses you. You wonder if he can taste himself on you too. 

“This is kind of embarrassing,” he stammers, hiding his face in the crook of your shoulder, “but I’m already getting close.”

“What happened to making it up to me?” you taunt.

“I’m sorry. You feel so fucking good.”

“Do you want me to slow down?”

He muffles a whine against you. “I don’t want you to but if you don’t I’m not going to last much longer.”

“I can probably get there too if you rub my-”

“Like this?”

“Shit, yes, just like that.” 

“Faster? Or-”

“No, no, what you’re doing is perfect. Oh god, I’m going to cum if you keep doing that. Please don’t stop.”

A touch of smugness returns to Seungcheol’s expression. He’d chide you for your hypocrisy if he could but he’s right on the edge too and all he can do is help you both ride out your orgasms as you cum all over his cock. 

It takes a while for the aftershocks to subside but he holds you until they do. You sit there tangled together, catching your breath before he finally breaks the silence. 

“So do you win money or...?”

You scrunch your nose in confusion and tilt your head up to look at him. “What are you talking about?”

“From the bet with your friend.”

You bolt upright, nearly hitting your head on the roof. “What? You knew?!”

“Of course I knew. You two were pointing and staring at me for like ten minutes. You were obviously plotting something.”

“I-”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs. “I feel like I kind of won too, in a way.”

“You’re not mad?” 

He shakes his head. “I’m not mad.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky promise.” He even offers you his pinky to link with yours. “You don’t win money, though?”

You sigh. “No, I wish. It’s just for fun.”

“It is fun,” he agrees as he starts to untangle himself from you. “It’s pretty late. Do you want to come back to mine and clean up?”

“Is that code for shower sex?”

“It might be.”

“I’m not opposed to that.”

“Perfect. I live just around the corner. Oh, and before I forget,” he pauses to hand you his phone. “Text yourself. That way you have my number in case you ever need to win any more ‘bets’.”

lmk what you think! i always appreciate feedback!!

[undyingdecay]

Thoughts on mean Dom yelena? 🫣

(writing this near brought me to tears i need her so bad, more then bob)

yelena definitely hits you. quick slaps to the cheek, your ass, and even your clit within teach. not open-handed blows meant to hurt, but sharp, stinging little things that leave heat blooming in their wake — reminders you’ll feel long after the moment’s passed. she uses the excuse of ‘an eye for an eye.’ yelena bruises easily, her pale skin soft enough that sometimes you’ll accidentally scratch, bite, or squeeze too hard, leaving crescent-shaped marks and faint red streaks along her thighs, hips, collarbone. it doesn’t hurt her. you doubt you could hurt her even if you tried. that woman was built to take punishment, to dish it out, to wear bruises like a trophy.

but nonetheless — for every bruise you give her, she gives you ten.

she counts them out, too. marks you up like it’s a fucking game. a flick to your cheek for every nail mark. a stinging slap to your clit for every hickey she finds. your thighs a patchwork of hot, tender spots from her palm. the sharp crack of her hand against your skin echoing through the room, followed by her low, amused laugh when you jolt or gasp, too dumb with arousal to stop her.

“stop crying, you aren’t a child,” she remarks, voice thick with that accent you’d crawl over glass for.

yelena’s really into oral. really into it. she thinks you look the prettiest with your face between her legs, your lips slick with her, arousal clinging to your cheeks, chin, and nose. the messier the better. she’ll grab your hair, threading it tight in her fingers, pulling just enough to make your scalp ache. smearing herself across your skin like warpaint. it isnt about tenderness — it’s about claiming. about seeing you marked up, glazed over with need, your face a filthy, soaked mess because of her.

she likes to scare you sometimes too. grabbing you by your hair and locking her thick, powerful thighs around your head. the sudden squeeze making your ears ring, the world narrowing to the wet heat of her cunt and the steel trap of her muscles. you feel light-headed, dizzy, your brain flickering between pleasure and panic because surely you were going to suffocate.

“you’ll lose more air if you panic. i’ll let go when i cum.” she coos at you, her accent heavy and mocking, a smug little smirk in her voice. she knows you’re scared. knows you’ll panic, squirm a little, but never actually stop licking. you better fucking hurry up then.

and god, she loves watching you work for it — your tongue desperate, lips aching, spit slicking her thighs. the heady scent of her thick in your nose, coating your tongue. she keeps you there until your face is soaked, until you’re gasping against her and your eyes are glassy with the threat of tears. and she’ll laugh. pet your hair mockingly, call you her “pretty little mess.”

i can see yelena also really liking being called daddy. not in a soft, coaxing way, either. she wants it wrecked. wants it pulled from your throat like a sob. a desperate, stuttered ‘daddy’ when you’re too far gone to remember your own name. she loves it when your voice cracks, when your hips twitch and your thighs shake from overstimulation and you still find the strength to whimper it for her.

and when you do — when you finally croak it out in that broken, ruined tone — she smirks. tugs your hair harder, leans in real close so her breath ghosts over your ear.

“good little thing,” she’d purr. “say it again.”

and you always do.

[melanchoire]

THE EDGE OF THE GLORY ──── jang wonyoung.

── ( 👜 ) jang wonyoung, the untouchable darling of the k–pop world, finds her meticulously crafted facade crumbling after a fiery argument with her long-suffering stylist exposes the raw vulnerability and anger hidden beneath the surface, threatening to unravel her career and leaving her questioning if the price of perfection is worth sacrificing her sanity.

pairing. mean dom!idol!gp jang wonyoung x sub!stylist!fem reader

warning(s). blowjob, breeding + creampie, clit play, cunnilingus, degradation, fingering, hair pulling, making out, multiple orgasms, nipple play, throat fucking, wonyoung being the “mean girl” that the antis talk so much about.

word count. 5,5k

request? no.

the fluorescent lights of the dressing room hummed, a sterile counterpoint to the vibrant chaos within. makeup artists swarmed around the ive members, their brushes dancing across faces, transforming them into the flawless idols the world adored. jang wonyoung sat rigidly in her chair, her usual doll–like features pulled into a tight frown.

being jang wonyoung was a gilded cage. she was a star, a name whispered with reverence, a face plastered on billboards and magazines. from the moment she’d stepped onto the produce 48 stage, her charisma had captivated the public. now, years later, that initial spark had ignited into a blaze, making her one of the most sought–after idols in south korea.

but the blaze was fueled by relentless pressure. schedules were unforgiving, a constant blur of photoshoots, music shows, variety appearances, and fan events. sleep was a luxury, a stolen hour here and there. the line between wonyoung the idol and jang wonyoung the young woman had blurred, almost to the point of disappearing altogether.

wonyoung sighed, the sound barely audible amidst the bustling chaos of ive’s dressing room. the university performance loomed, a dark cloud on her already bleak horizon. she stared at her reflection, a flawless visage staring back, yet the eyes held a storm of discontent. being jang wonyoung, the nation’s darling, was an exhausting performance in itself. the constant smiles, the perfect poses, the endless schedule — it was a gilded cage she longed to escape, if only for a moment.

today, however, the cage felt particularly constricting. her gaze flicked towards you, her stylist. your hands hovered around a clothing rack overflowing with shimmering fabrics and intricate designs. you were relatively new to the team, and wonyoung had yet to fully gauge your intentions. was it purely professional, or did you fall into the category of people who treated her more like a commodity than a person?

you pulled out a skirt. It was undeniably eye–catching, a vibrant shade of fuchsia, embellished with sequins that caught the light. but even from across the room, wonyoung could tell it was short. painfully short. and tight.

her frown deepened. “is that...really the outfit you chose?” she asked, her voice laced with a delicate edge that could slice through steel.

you turned from the rack of clothes, a smile playing on your lips. you were proud of the outfit you’d chosen — a vibrant, youthful ensemble perfect for a university performance. “yes, wonyoung–ssi. i think it looks fantastic on you! the bright colors will really pop on stage, and it’s playful, just right for the occasion.”

wonyoung’s eyes narrowed slightly. youthful and energetic? was that supposed to be a compliment? she was barely an adult herself. sometimes, she felt like everyone wanted to keep her perpetually frozen in that image of the innocent, wide–eyed girl from produce 48.

“energetic is good.” she conceded, her tone still cool. “but comfort is also important. we’re performing, remember? i need to be able to move. is this really necessary?” she asked, her voice laced with a cool indifference that belied the frustration simmering within.

you turned, a polite smile gracing your lips. “just making sure we have everything ready, wonyoung–ssi. we want you to look your absolute best.”

wonyoung’s lips curled into a sardonic smile. “my best? or what do you think is my best?”

the air in the room seemed to thicken. ive’s other members, usually a cacophony of laughter and chatter, seemed to sense the shift in atmosphere and quieted down, their eyes darting nervously between wonyoung and you.

“of course, your best.” you replied, your voice carefully neutral. “we always take your preferences into consideration.”

“do you?” wonyoung challenged, her eyes narrowing. she gestured to the offending skirt, a minuscule scrap of fabric barely covering her thighs. “because this… this doesn’t exactly scream ‘wonyoung’s preference.’”

you winced inwardly. you knew this outfit was a risk, pushing the boundaries of wonyoung’s usual sophisticated style towards something more overtly… provocative. but the head stylist had insisted, citing a “youthful and energetic” concept for the university performance. now, you were paying the price.

“the concept for today is a bit more… dynamic.” you explained, trying to maintain a professional demeanor. “we thought it would suit the energy of the performance.”

wonyoung scoffed, the sound sharp and derisive. “dynamic? i have to dance in that thing! i’ll be lucky if i don’t trip and fall on my face.”

“ive isn’t a dance–focused group, wonyoung–ssi. and you aren’t a main dancer. the choreography isn’t overly strenuous. besides, the skirt is lined, and we can add some safety shorts underneath for extra security…” you held up the skirt again, your smile faltering slightly under her intense gaze. “i understand, but the designer specifically wanted you to wear this piece. it’s part of their new collection, and it would be a great opportunity for exposure.”

wonyoung’s lips curled into a barely perceptible sneer. exposure. that was always the excuse. Her body, her image, treated as a tool for someone else’s gain.

wonyoung stood up from her chair and walked towards you, her movements deliberate and measured. the playful glint in her eye was replaced with a storm. “so, because i’mm not the ‘main dancer’ i don’t deserve comfortable clothes?” she asked, her voice dangerously low. “is that what you're implying?”

“and exposure is nice.” she said, her voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. “but i think my performance might suffer if i’m too busy worrying about whether my skirt is riding up every two seconds. wouldn’t you agree?”

you fiddled with the skirt, your nervousness palpable. “we can make alterations. lengthen it a little, add some inner lining for more security… we can add some safety shorts underneath, wonyoung–ssi. it’ll be fine.”

“alterations?” wonyoung repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “so now we’re admitting it’s a problem? why wasn’t this considered before?”

you bit back a sigh. this was becoming increasingly difficult. you understood her frustration, but her constant condescension was starting to wear thin.

“we try our best to anticipate these things.” you said, choosing your words carefully. “but sometimes adjustments are necessary.”

“your best isn’t good enough.” wonyoung retorted, her eyes flashing. “honestly, sometimes i wonder if you even know what you're doing.”

the words hung in the air, heavy with venom. the other ive members shifted uncomfortably, their gazes fixed on the floor. you felt a surge of anger rising within you, but you fought it down, reminding yourself that she was the client, the star, the one who called the shots.

you felt a knot of anxiety tighten in your stomach. you hadn’t meant to offend her, but you could see that your words had struck a nerve. “no, that’s not what i meant at all!” you quickly said. “i just meant that the outfit is designed to be visually appealing and appropriate for the performance. i wouldn’t put you in anything that would make you uncomfortable or compromise your performance.”

“oh, really? because i feel very uncomfortable right now.” sonyoung said, her tone dripping with venom. ”i feel like i’m being treated like a prop, like my comfort and opinions don’t matter. just another pretty face to be dressed up and paraded around.”

you were starting to feel defensive. you poured so much effort into your work, trying to balance the demands of the industry with the comfort and preferences of the idols you worked with. “wonyoung–ssi, that’s not fair. i always try to consider your preferences. you know that.”

“do you?” wonyoung challenged, her eyes blazing. “because it doesn’t feel like it. it feels like you’re more concerned with what looks good in pictures than how i actually feel.”

the dressing room was silent for a moment, the tension thick and suffocating. you took a deep breath, trying to remain professional. “i’m sorry you feel that way, wonyoung–ssi. but i assure you, that’s not my intention. i’m just trying to do my job.”

“and what is your job, (y/n)–ssi?” wonyoung snapped, her voice rising. “to make me look pretty and shut up? to blindly follow the company’s instructions without considering my feelings? is that what you think your job is?”

you had reached your limit. you were tired, overworked, and underappreciated. you had bent over backwards to accommodate wonyoung’s demands in the past, often sacrificing your own creative vision in the process. but her constant negativity and condescending attitude were becoming unbearable.

“my job is to make you look your best while adhering to the overall concept and guidelines set by the company.” you retorted, your voice trembling slightly. “and quite frankly, i think you look amazing in everything. but it seems like nothing i do is ever good enough for you.”

wonyoung scoffed, turning away from you with a dismissive wave of her hand. “oh, please. don’t try to make me feel sorry for you. you’re getting paid to do this. it’s not like you’re doing me a favor.”

your blood boiled. “that’s not the point, wonyoung! i pour my heart and soul into my work. i spend countless hours researching trends, sourcing materials, and putting together outfits that i think will complement you and ive. and all i get in return is constant criticism and disrespect.”

wonyoung whirled around, her face contorted with anger. “disrespect? you think i’m being disrespectful? you’re the one who’s being disrespectful! you’re just a stylist, (y/n)–ssi! you’re supposed to do what i tell you to do. you don’t get to have an opinion.”

the words hung in the air, heavy and stinging. you stared at wonyoung, your heart pounding in your chest. it was one thing to be frustrated or demanding, but to be so dismissive and belittling was simply unacceptable.

“i assure you, wonyoung–ssi, i am a professional.” you replied, your voice tight. “i take my job very seriously.”

“do you?” wonyoung challenged, taking a step closer, her eyes locking onto yours. “because it doesn’t seem like it. you’re always fumbling, always forgetting things, always making excuses. honestly, it’s embarrassing.”

you felt your cheeks flush with heat. this was beyond constructive criticism; this was a personal attack. you had worked tirelessly to meet her demands, often sacrificing your own time and well–being to ensure she was always perfectly styled. and this was the thanks you received?

“i am doing my best.” you repeated, your voice trembling slightly. “i am always available and try hard at my job.”

wonyoung tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “your best? that’s a pretty low bar, isn’t it?”

“wonyoung—”

“one last thing. if ihave a problem with my wardrobe on stage, you’ll face the consequences.”

and that’s how you ended up here.

“i’ve been thinking about your filthy mouth all day, (y/n).” she growled, her hand sliding up to tangle in your hair, gripping it tightly. “and now i’m going to ruin it.”

wonyoung crashed her lips against yours in a brutal, demanding kiss, her tongue forcing its way into your mouth to claim and explore. at the same time, her other hand drifted down to palm your ass, squeezing the firm globe possessively.

she ripped her mouth away from yours to attack your neck with biting kisses, sucking dark marks into your sensitive skin. “get on your knees.” she commanded breathlessly, her voice rough with lust. “i’m going to fuck that dirty mouth of yours until you choke on my cock, you filthy girl.” wonyoung’s hand tangled tighter in your hair as she forced your head down, pushing you to your knees on the rough ground of the dressing room. her other hand fumbled with the button of her skirt, roughly yanking them open and shoving them down her long, toned legs along with her lacy black panties.

“open your mouth, (y/n).” she hissed, freeing her already hard, thick cock. it bobbed in front of your face, the musky scent of her arousal filling your nostrils. “i’m going to fuck your pretty face until you gag on my dick, you dirty slut.”

she grabbed your hair with both hands now, gripping it like a handle as she rubbed the leaking tip of her cock against your soft, plump lips. “don’t you dare try to close it. take it all like a good whore.” wonyoung growled, her voice dripping with dark promise.

with a swift, brutal thrust of her hips, she shoved her thick cock past your lips and into the hot, wet cavern of your mouth. she didn’t stop until she had forced it down your throat, until she could feel your nose pressing against her pelvis and your chin resting against her balls.

wonyoung groaned in dark satisfaction, her fingers twisting painfully in your hair as she held you in place, your nose buried in her crotch. “fuck yes, take that cock, you dirty bitch.” she snarled, her hips already starting to move, to fuck your face with hard, brutal thrusts.

she used your mouth like a cock sleeve, ruthlessly slamming her thick dick in and out, hitting the back of your throat with every thrust. drool leaked from the corners of your stretched lips, tears springing to your eyes as she fucked your face without mercy in the dressing room. wonyoung grinned wickedly as she felt your throat constricting around her pistoning cock, your desperate gagging and choking only spurring her on. she fucked your face with wild abandon, grunting and growling like an animal in heat.

wonyoung’s balls slapped obscenely against your chin with every violent thrust, your eyes watering and throat burning as she used your mouth ruthlessly. she showed no mercy, fucking your face with a single–minded hunger, determined to paint your insides white with her hot seed. “fuck, your throat feels so good squeezing my cock.” she panted harshly, her grip on your hair tightening as she slammed into you particularly hard. “i’m going to fill this dirty mouth with so much cum, you filthy slut. fuck, i can’t wait to make you choke on it…”

she punctuated her words with sharp snaps of her hips, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. your jaw ached and your lungs screamed for air as she rutted into your mouth, chasing her rapidly approaching orgasm. with a strangled cry, wonyoung buried herself to the hilt in your spasming throat and erupted, flooding your mouth and belly with what felt like an endless deluge of hot, thick cum.

she held you in place, forcing you to swallow every drop as she rode out the waves of her intense climax. finally, with a shuddering gasp, she pulled out, her softening cock slipping from your abused lips with a wet pop. a strand of cum and saliva connected your mouth to her dick before breaking, dripping down your chin and onto your heaving chest.

wonyoung grinned down at you, her dark eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction and dark promise. “fuck, that was hot as hell, (y/n).” she purred, swiping a thumb through the mess on your face and pushing it past your lips for you to clean. “we are definitely doing this again. i have so many more filthy things i want to do to this sexy body of yours…”

wonyoung helped you to your feet, her hands lingering on your curves as she brushed off your jeans. she spun you around and pinned you face–first against the rough brick wall, pressing her lithe body flush against your back. her breath was hot against your ear as she leaned in close, her voice a low, seductive purr.

“you know, i’ve seen the way you look at me when you think i’m not watching.” she murmured, her hand sliding around your hip to splay across your belly possessively. “i know you want more of this, (y/n). i can give you so much more…”

her hand drifted lower, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach. she circled your bellybutton with a teasing finger before trailing lower still, brushing against the waistband of your jeans.

“i want to spread your legs and bury my face between your thighs until you scream.” she breathed against your ear, her voice dripping with dark promise. “i want to taste your pussy until you're shaking and begging for more. until you’re addicted to the feel of my tongue fucking your greedy little cunt.”

wonyoung punctuated her filthy words with a sharp nip to your earlobe, making you gasp. her hand drifted even lower, popping the button of your jeans and slipping inside to cup your mound through your panties. she could feel the damp heat of your arousal even through the fabric.

“tell me you want it, (y/n).” she demanded breathlessly, grinding her hips against your ass. “tell me you want me to eat this pretty pussy until you're sobbing and drenching my face in your cum. beg me to fuck you with my fingers until you're shaking and seeing stars.”

her fingers pressed harder against your clothed sex, rubbing your clit in tight circles. her other hand slid up to palm your breast, kneading the soft flesh and tweaking your nipple through your shirt. “i want to ruin you for anyone else, (y/n).” she growled, her voice rough with lust and dark intent. “i want to fuck you so hard and so good that no one else will ever satisfy you again. i want to make you my personal fuck toy, always ready and eager for me to use your sexy body however i want.”

wonyoung’s fingers slipped under the hem of your panties, brushing against your slick folds. she groaned in satisfaction as she felt how wet you already were, your arousal coating her fingers. she circled your clit with a teasing touch before plunging two fingers deep inside your tight channel without warning. “fuck, you’re so wet and ready, you naughty girl.” she purred, pumping her fingers in and out of your dripping pussy. her thumb pressed hard circles against your clit, making your hips buck and your back arch.

“that’s it, grind on my fingers like the desperate little slut you are.” wonyoung growled, nibbling and sucking at your neck, no doubt leaving marks for all to see. her other hand slid under your shirt, pushing your bra up and out of the way to roughly palm your breast. she pinched and rolled your nipple between her fingers, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

“i’m going to finger fuck this greedy cunt until you're dripping and begging for my cock.” she promised darkly, her voice rough and laden with lust. “i’m going to make you cum so hard on my fingers that you forget your own name. the only thing you’ll remember is the feeling of me fucking your pussy raw.”

wonyoung curled her fingers inside you, pressing against that sensitive spot deep within your walls that made your vision go white and your knees weak. she rubbed and massaged it relentlessly as she fucked you with her hand, her thumb grinding mercilessly against your clit. she could feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around her invading fingers, your body instinctively trying to draw them deeper. wonyoung growled in approval, loving how responsive and eager you were, how your sexy little body betrayed your desire for her touch.

“fuck yes, squeeze my fingers like that.” she purred, her voice dripping with dark satisfaction. “your hungry cunt is sucking me in, begging to be filled. you need to be filled, don’t you (y/n)? filled and stretched and fucked until you can’t take anymore.”

she pumped her fingers faster, slamming them in and out of your dripping sex with wild abandon. her palm pressed hard against your clit with every thrust, the rough friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. wonyoung could feel your arousal coating her fingers, dripping down to pool on her palm and wrist.

her other hand tugged your shirt up and over your head, tossing it carelessly to the side. she unhooked your bra with deft fingers, freeing your breasts to the cool evening air. wonyoung’s hands immediately went to your tits, kneading and squeezing the soft mounds roughly. she pinched and rolled your nipples between her fingertips, tugging on them just hard enough to make you gasp and arch into her touch.

“that’s it, let me hear you.” she demanded, her breath hot against your ear. “i want to hear all those pretty noises spilling from your lips as i play with these gorgeous tits. i want the whole fucking building to hear what a shameless slut you are for my touch.”

wonyoung’s fingers never stopped their brutal pace, pumping in and out of your clenching cunt, curling and twisting to hit that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. she could feel your body starting to tremble, your muscles tensing as your climax approached. her thumb pressed hard and fast circles against your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

wonyoung could feel your body tensing, your inner muscles fluttering wildly around her pistoning fingers as your orgasm rapidly approached. she doubled her efforts, fucking you with fast, sharp thrusts of her hand, her palm slapping obscenely against your dripping sex with every push. her fingers curled just right, rubbing that perfect spot inside you that made stars explode behind your eyelids.

“that’s it, cum for me, (y/n).” wonyoung growled, her voice ragged with lust and dark satisfaction. “cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are. i want to feel this greedy cunt squeezing the life out of my hand as you scream my name.”

she pinched your nipple hard, twisting it just shy of pain, sending a jolt of electric pleasure straight to your core. her thumb pressed down ruthlessly on your clit, grinding against it with fast, tight circles. your hips bucked wildly, fucking yourself back against her hand, riding her fingers with abandon.

wonyoung’s hot breath washed over the side of your neck as she licked and sucked at your sensitive skin, no doubt leaving dark marks for all to see. she wanted everyone to know that you belonged to her now, that this sexy body was her personal fuck toy to use as she pleased.

“come on baby, give it to me.” she purred, her voice a sinful temptation. “i want to feel you cumming on my fingers, drenching my hand in your juices. i want you to scream so loud that the whole fucking school hears what a dirty girl you are for me.”

she could feel your body starting to seize, your thighs trembling and your belly clenching as your climax crashed over you. wonyoung fucked you through it, her fingers pumping in time with the waves of pleasure radiating through your core. your pussy clenched and spasmed around the invading digits, trying to suck them in deeper as your release consumed you.

“that’s my good girl.” wonyoung groaned, feeling your molten heat gushing around her fingers, your arousal dripping down to pool in her palm. “fuck yes, cum for me (y/n). cum so fucking hard on my fingers. you feel so fucking good squeezing me like this.”

she could feel your pussy pulsing and fluttering wildly around her fingers as your intense orgasm ripped through you, your body shaking uncontrollably in her arms. wonyoung groaned gutturally as your scorching juices flooded her hand, your release dripping down to puddle on the ground beneath you. she worked you through it, her fingers pumping in time with your spasming walls until the last aftershock faded away.

panting harshly, wonyoung slowly withdrew her soaked fingers from your sensitive sex, bringing them to her lips to lick them clean. she made a show of savoring your tangy essence, her eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “fuck, you taste even better than i imagined.” she purred, her voice low and dripping with dark promise. “i could get addicted to the taste of your cum, (y/n)."

she spun you around to face her, one hand gripping your hip possessively while the other cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet her intense gaze. her thumb brushed over your kiss-swollen lips, smearing the remnants of your arousal across them. “you’re mine now, you know that?” she declared, her voice rough and filled with a primal hunger. “I’m going to fuck this sexy body whenever and however i want. and you’re going to be a good girl and take it like the eager little slut you are, isn’t that right?”

she crashed her lips against yours in a brutal, dominating kiss, plunging her tongue into your mouth to claim and conquer. she kissed you like she owned you, like your lips belonged to her and only her. when she finally pulled away, you were both left panting and wanting, your lips red and raw from her fervent attention.

she chuckled darkly, her hand sliding down to possessively cup your ass, squeezing the firm globe. “mhm, you want me to breed this tight little cunt, huh?” she purred, her voice dripping with sinful promise. “you want to feel my hot cum flooding your womb, filling you up until your belly is swollen with my seed?”

she spun you back around and bent you over the arm of a nearby arm couch, hiking your hips up and exposing your dripping sex to the cool evening air. wonyoung dropped to her knees behind you, her hands gripping your ass cheeks and spreading them wide. she leaned in close, her breath hot against your slick folds as she spoke.

“i’m going to ruin this perfect pussy.” she growled, her voice rough with lust and dark intent. “i’m going to fuck you so hard and so deep that you'll be feeling me for days. i’ll pump you so full of my cum that it takes, that my seed takes root in your fertile little womb.”

wonyoung licked a slow, teasing stripe up your slit, her tongue delving between your folds to taste your arousal. she groaned in satisfaction at the flavor, her eyes fluttering shut as she savored your essence. “fuck, you taste divine.” she purred, before sealing her lips around your clit and sucking hard.

wonyoung’s hands gripped your hips tighter as she pulled you back against her mouth, grinding your dripping cunt against her face. she licked and sucked at your sensitive flesh, her tongue delving deep to taste your essence directly from the source. she could feel your body trembling, your hips rocking instinctively against her mouth as she pleasured you.

“that’s it, grind this pretty pussy on my face.” wonyoung growled, the vibrations of her voice sending shockwaves through your core. “ride my tongue like the desperate little breeding slut you are. i want to feel you cumming all over me as i eat this hungry cunt.”

she sealed her lips around your clit and sucked hard, flicking the sensitive bud with the tip of her tongue. at the same time, she plunged two fingers deep into your dripping channel, pumping them in and out in time with the lashes of her tongue. she could feel your walls clenching and fluttering around the invading digits, your body eagerly sucking them in deeper.

“fuck, i can’t wait to fill this tight little fuckhole with my thick, hot cum.” wonyoung panted against your sex, her fingers never stopping their relentless pace. “i’m going to pump you so full that it gushes out of you, that you’re dripping with it for hours. i want everyone to see the evidence of me breeding this perfect pussy, marking you as my personal fuck toy.”

she could feel your climax rapidly approaching, your body tensing and your breath coming in sharp, desperate gasps. wonyoung doubled her efforts, fucking you with wild abandon, determined to make you cum harder than you ever had before. she wanted to ruin you for anyone else, to make it so that no one could ever satisfy you like she could.

“come on baby, give me that cum.” she demanded, her voice ragged with lust and dark hunger. “i want to feel this greedy cunt squeezing the life out of my fingers as you scream my name. i want the whole fucking world to hear you claiming me as the only one who can make you feel this good.”

she could feel your pussy starting to spasm and clench, your release barreling down on you like a freight train. wonyoung groaned against your sex, the sound sending delicious vibrations through your core. she pressed her thumb down hard on your clit, rubbing tight circles against your throbbing clit as she slammed her fingers in and out of your gripping sex. she could feel your release surging through you, your pussy clamping down on her invading digits like a vice as you screamed her name to the heavens.

“yes, that’s it! cum for me, (y/n), cum so fucking hard on my fingers!” wonyoung growled, her voice muffled against your spasming sex. she licked and sucked your clit mercilessly, pushing you through your intense orgasm with the skillful flicks of her tongue. your arousal gushed out around her fingers, dripping down to puddle on the ground as your body shook and jerked with the force of your climax.

as the last waves of your release ebbed, wonyoung slowly withdrew her soaked fingers from your fluttering sex. she brought them to her lips, making a show of licking them clean as she gazed up at you with a wicked, satisfied grin. “delicious.” she purred, savoring the taste of your essence. “i could get addicted to the flavor of your cum, (y/n). i think i’ll be eating this pretty pussy every fucking day until you’re swollen with my baby.”

“just breed me already.” you whimpered pathetically, words coming out of your mouth that surprised even yourself.

wonyoung stood up, a dark chuckle rumbling from her chest at your desperate plea. she quickly shed her remaining clothes, revealing her soft, feminine body — all lean muscle and smooth, caramel skin. her cock was already hard and throbbing, the thick shaft jutting out from a perfectly trimmed patch of dark curls at the apex of her thighs. she stroked herself slowly as she moved to stand behind you, the swollen head of her dick catching on the curve of your ass cheek.

“fuck, i’ve never wanted to breed a cunt so badly," wonyoung growled, her voice low and dripping with primal hunger. she gripped your hips hard enough to leave bruises as she notched the tip of her cock against your dripping entrance. “i’m going to ruin this perfect little fuckhole, (y/n). i’m going to stretch it out and fill it up until you're overflowing with my seed.”

with one brutal thrust, wonyoung buried herself balls–deep inside you, her thick cock splitting you open and driving the air from your lungs. she didn’t give you any time to adjust, immediately starting to fuck into you with hard, deep strokes that rocked your whole body. the bench creaked and groaned beneath you with the force of her thrusts, the metal biting into your skin.

“fuck, you’re so goddamn tight.” wonyoung snarled, her hips slapping lewdly against your ass with every push. “this cunt was made for my cock, like it was molded to fit me perfectly. i’m going to fucking wreck you, (y/n).”

she gripped your hair, twisting it around her fist and using it as a handle to yank your head back as she pounded into you from behind. her other hand drifted around to your front, finding your swollen clit and rubbing it in tight, fast circles. she could feel your pussy clenching and fluttering around her pistoning cock, trying desperately to draw her in deeper.

“that’s it, fucking squeeze my dick.” wonyoung growled, her breath hot against your ear. “milk it with this hungry little cunt. i want to feel you squeezing every last drop of cum from my balls as I breed this perfect pussy.”

she could feel her climax approaching, her thrusts growing erratic and her grip on your hair tightening. she could feel her cock throbbing and pulsing inside you, growing even harder as she fucked you with wild abandon. wonyoung’a hips snapped forward with a final, brutal thrust, burying herself to the hilt inside your spasming sex. she threw her head back with a guttural moan as her orgasm crashed over her, her hot seed erupting from the tip of her cock to paint your insides white.

“fuck, take it all!” wonyoung roared, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough to leave livid bruises behind. she ground her pelvis against your ass, pushing her cock in as deep as it could go as she filled you with spurt after spurt of her thick, virile cum. she could feel it flooding your womb, your belly starting to swell slightly from the sheer volume of her release.

“yes, fuck yes, i’m breeding this cunt.” she gasped out, her voice raw and ragged with pleasure. “i’m pumping you so fucking full, (y/n). gonna make this belly big and round with my baby. you’re mine now, all mine to fuck and breed whenever i want.”

wonyoung collapsed against your back, both of you panting and trembling in the aftermath of your intense coupling. her softening cock stayed nestled inside your cum–filled sex as she rolled your hips, stirring her seed deeper into your womb. she nuzzled under your jaw, pressing sloppy kisses to your neck and shoulder as she murmured filthy promises into your ear.

“gonna fuck you every goddamn day, (y/n). gonna keep this pussy full and dripping with my cum. gonna make you my personal breeding bitch, always ready and eager for me to fill you up again. you’re fucking mine now.”