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jungwnies · 2 months ago

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f1 grid (1/2) | two string bathing suit

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by anon) : your f1!boyfriend reacting to you showing him two strings as a bathing suit (tiktok trend - click for reference)

୨ৎ : genre : romance comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 2073

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : a rare wednesday post that isn't a solo story !! also i will be putting a pause on request bc my inbox is flooded, but once i have released a majority of the stories (within the next few weeks everyday there will be a new post in honor of 10k) they will open up again ty guys so much for the support <3

ʚ・max verstappen

“max,” you called from the bathroom, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “don’t freak out.”

he barely looked up from his phone. “that’s the worst way to start a sentence.”

you stepped out, deadpan. wearing… if you could even call it that… a “swimsuit” made of two threads, three knots, and maybe half a square inch of material. total. it looked like it was crocheted by a sleep-deprived spider. you posed with a straight face.

max blinked. then blinked again, slower.

“no,” he said, setting his phone down with almost religious care. “absolutely not.”

“what do you mean?” you said, fighting to keep a straight face. “it’s trendy. minimalist.”

“that’s not minimalist. that’s missing.”

you twirled, the strings shifting dangerously. “it’s high fashion.”

max stood up like he was about to perform an exorcism. “that’s not fashion. that’s barely science. you could sneeze and the whole thing would combust.”

“i think it’s cute.”

“i think it’s… illegal.”

you walked over slowly. he didn’t move, just looked absolutely offended by the garment clinging to your body with the hope and optimism of dental floss. “so… i can’t wear it on the yacht?”

he stared at you, stunned. “if you wear that on the yacht, i’m jumping into the ocean and letting nature take me.”

you burst out laughing, and he immediately buried his face in his hands. “who sold you that? who allowed this to exist?”

“i made it myself.”

his head snapped up in horror. “what.”

“yarn. patience. emotional damage.”

max grabbed the nearest towel and threw it around your shoulders like he was shielding your soul. “you need help. professional help.”

you leaned in, still grinning. “so that’s a no?”

he groaned. “i love you. but you’re grounded.”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you stepped out slowly. wearing… well, calling it a swimsuit would be legally questionable. two strings of yarn tied together with the optimism of a third-grader’s friendship bracelet. honestly, it looked like you raided a kindergarten art bin and called it couture.

lewis lowered his sunglasses.

paused.

stared.

“be honest,” he said, slowly standing up. “did you lose a bet? or is this, like, a charity stunt i don’t know about?”

you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s my new swimsuit. do you like it?”

“do i like it?” he walked in a slow circle around you, studying it like a museum exhibit. “you look like someone gave a hamster a crochet hook and no supervision.”

“be serious.”

“oh, i am.” he waved a hand at the barely-there strings. “you’re out here dressed like a cursed macramé project.”

you pouted. “it’s artistic.”

“it’s traumatic.”

you posed dramatically. “but imagine this on the beach… champagne… sun setting…”

“yeah, and a full-blown scandal.” he crossed his arms. “you’re gonna flash everyone.”

you smirked. “so you’re saying it’s a little much?”

“i’m saying it’s one wardrobe malfunction away from me throwing my entire body over yours like a security guard.”

you grinned, stepping closer. “but you’d still let me wear it?”

he paused.

then? “yes. but only indoors. with the curtains closed. and a blanket.”

you laughed as he wrapped you up in the nearest hoodie and muttered, “i need a drink. and therapy. and maybe a glue gun.”

ʚ・george russell

you walked into the living room with the fakest innocent smile on your face and the largest box you could find on amazon. george was sitting on the couch, laptop open, looking like a ceo of something important.

“i got something for the trip,” you said sweetly.

he looked up. “that box is huge. did you order a tent?”

you beamed. “bikini.”

he blinked. “that’s not a bikini-sized box. that’s an appliance-sized box.”

you set it down and started dramatically peeling off the layers — tissue paper, unnecessary foam, even a fake ribbon — while george just watched in mild horror.

“is this an unboxing video?” he asked, deadpan. “should i film this for content? are we reviewing the manufacturer’s efficiency?”

you reached the final layer.

and pulled out the swimsuit.

or… the two lonely strings of yarn and a prayer that you were calling a swimsuit.

george stared.

and stared.

“…where’s the rest of it?” he finally asked, voice cracking ever so slightly.

“that’s it!”

he shut his laptop slowly. “that’s not it. that’s… that’s not a garment. that’s yarn.”

“it’s cute!”

“it’s nonexistent.”

you turned it around, holding it by the strings like it was a spider you weren’t sure was dead. “you don’t think it’s cute?”

he stood up like he needed to physically confront the reality of the situation. “how did you even find this? who sold it to you? did you blackmail someone? did it come with a warning label?”

“i packaged it myself.”

he blinked. “you what.”

“it’s a prank, babe.”

silence.

then, he slowly sank back onto the couch, covered his face, and mumbled, “you’re the reason i have stress dreams.”

you dropped the string bikini on his chest and smiled. “but you love me anyway.”

“i do,” he sighed. “i just… wish you loved fabric.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos was lying on the bed, one arm behind his head, scrolling his phone while you rifled through your suitcase.

“i got a new swimsuit for the trip,” you said casually, pulling out a folded towel to fake wrap the "swimsuit" in.

he hummed. “another one?”

you smirked. “this one’s special.”

he turned his head just in time to see you dramatically unwrap what could only be described as two strings of yarn connected by stubbornness and delusion.

carlos sat up.

paused.

blinked.

“…dios mío.”

you fought to keep a straight face. “it’s cute, right?”

he stood up slowly, like his body was moving while his brain was buffering. “that’s not a swimsuit. that’s—that’s a trap. you wear that, and i’m fighting everyone.”

you held it up by the strings. “it’s kind of artistic.”

“it’s kind of criminal.”

you twirled it once. “it’s technically wearable.”

“it’s technically two pieces of string and a death wish.”

you laughed, tossing it onto the bed. “so you’re saying you don’t want me wearing it at the hotel pool?”

“hotel pool?” he gave you an incredulous look. “you can’t even wear that in our apartment without risking emotional damage.”

“too much?”

“i’ve seen paper towels with more coverage.”

you walked over and looped your arms around his neck, grinning. “jealous?”

he rested his forehead against yours, sighing dramatically. “no. i’m concerned. for your safety. and my blood pressure.”

you leaned in close. “you’re just mad because you know i’d steal the show.”

he kissed your cheek. “i’m mad because i know i’d get arrested for public indecency by association.”

you laughed into his shoulder, and he wrapped his arms around you like a man who had just stared into the abyss.

“i’m hiding that,” he muttered. “i don’t even trust you to prank me with it again.”

ʚ・charles leclerc

“charles?” you called sweetly, stepping into the hotel room with a mischievous grin and a suspicious little shopping bag.

he glanced up from the bed, where he was sitting with his ipad and airpods, one brow raised. “yes, amour?”

“i got a swimsuit for this weekend. want to see it?”

he smiled, setting the ipad aside. “of course.”

you pulled it from the bag slowly, two strings. only strings. it might have once been a swimsuit, but now? it was a scandal waiting to happen.

charles stared.

then blinked once.

then smiled. slowly.

“mon dieu…” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face. “is that legal?”

“technically,” you shrugged, holding it up. “there’s a front. and a back. i kind of wish it was thinner.”

he tilted his head, eyes trailing the string in your hands with the fascination of a man watching his entire moral compass short-circuit. “and you plan to wear this in public…it's already thin enough?”

“maybe. why?”

he stood, crossing the room in three slow, measured steps. “because, chérie… if you wear that outside, i will never survive it.”

you smirked. “you hate it?”

he leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “no,” he whispered. “i want you to wear it. but only where i can see you.”

you blinked.

“put it on,” he said, voice low, fingers brushing the hem of your shirt. “let me see everything.”

you burst out laughing, hitting his chest lightly. “charles!”

he laughed too, pulling you in by the waist. “you’re evil,” he said against your neck, voice playful. “you come in here with two strings and expect me to be normal?”

“you seemed pretty into it.”

“i am,” he said shamelessly. “but mon amour… if you wear that out, i’ll have to start swinging. and i don’t want to go to jail in monaco.”

ʚ・lando norris

you stood in front of the mirror, struggling to keep a straight face as you unwrapped the tiny bag you’d stuffed the “swimsuit” into. two strings. one knot. less coverage than a shoelace.

“baaaabe,” you called sweetly. “i got a new swimsuit. wanna see?”

“yeah, sure!” lando shouted from the other room. “wait—should i come in there or—?”

you opened the door slowly, string bikini dangling from one finger like it was a precious artifact. “no need. just look.”

he turned.

froze.

squinted.

then: “what is that?!”

you fought a grin. “it’s my new bikini.”

“that’s not a bikini,” he said, already walking toward you like he needed to inspect it up close for safety reasons. “that’s—that’s a joke, right?”

you turned it around like a qvc host. “front and back. simple.”

he gaped at you. “it’s a crime scene.”

“very fashion-forward.”

“it’s barely forward! it’s not even forward-adjacent!”

you were shaking with laughter now as he waved his arms in genuine disbelief. “where did you even buy that? why did you buy that? how did they ship it? in a matchbox?!”

“i thought it’d be cute on the beach.”

he took the swimsuit carefully, like it might bite him, and held it up with two fingers. “there is more fabric in a tea bag.”

“i think you’re being dramatic.”

“i think you’re being dangerous.”

you stepped in close, resting your hands on his chest. “so you don’t want me to wear it?”

lando looked at you. then at the strings. then back at you.

“i want you to burn it.”

you grinned. “too late. i packed it.”

“i’m not letting you leave the hotel room.”

“promise?”

his jaw dropped. “you’re the worst.”

you winked. “and yet.”

he groaned into your shoulder, muttering, “i need therapy. and a one-piece. for you.”

ʚ・oscar piastri

you didn’t warn him.

you just walked into the hotel room, holding what looked like a piece of yarn with a dream. no dramatic intro, no buildup — just straight chaos.

“new swimsuit,” you said casually, tossing it onto the bed like it wasn’t about to destroy him.

oscar turned from his laptop, expression as flat and unreadable as always… until he saw it.

he stared.

blink.

longer stare.

“…that’s it?”

“that’s it.”

he sat back in the chair slowly, arms crossed. “that’s not a swimsuit.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you don’t like it?”

he took a very long pause. processing. buffering. internally screaming.

“i… don’t disapprove,” he said finally, choosing his words like they were part of a hostage negotiation. “but… i’m trying to understand where the rest of it went.”

you held it up by a single string. “it’s trendy. daring. very… cute.”

“it’s barely thread.”

you grinned. “so you do disapprove.”

he didn’t answer right away, just tilted his head, looking you up and down like he was trying to calculate structural integrity. “…if it makes you happy to wear that, then it’s fine.”

you squinted. “but you’re dying inside.”

he blinked. “a little.”

you walked closer, draping the swimsuit over his shoulder like a sash. “you don’t think i’d look hot?”

“that’s not the issue,” he said immediately, not even blinking. “the issue is physics.”

you burst out laughing, and that finally cracked a smile from him — soft, a little resigned, but full of affection.

“i trust you,” he added, voice quiet but firm. “i just… don’t trust gravity. or wind. or humanity.”

you kissed his cheek. “so private pool only?”

he nodded. “preferably with no windows.”

you leaned back, watching him eye the bikini like it was a cursed relic. “you’re kind of obsessed with me.”

he smiled again, this time without hesitation. “obviously.”

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wanders-in-wonderland · 10 months ago

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Smile for the Camera

It’s 10pm sharp when I start my stream. I’ve always been on time, always with my makeup on flawlessly, hair styled perfectly, and bedroom set curated just right to show my pretty pink sheets and collection of toys.

I smile and wave at the camera, tossing my hair back to reveal the pink lingerie set I’ve chosen for tonight.

“Good evening everyone! I’m sooo glad to see so many of you tuning in!”

The chat inbox floods with greetings from my audience and there’s an influx of money that comes from my particularly generous viewers. I giggle and flirt with my viewers, many of whom who have become regulars in my viewership population.

Someone in the audience asks for a strip tease and I feel my pussy pulse in response, looking forward to a night of performing for my devoted viewers.

I start slow, running my fingers up and down my body, brushing gently over my lingerie-clad nipples and whimpering loudly for the microphone to pick up. My eyes stare into the camera, all of my thoughts melting away as I fall into my role of entertainer.

Teasingly, I pull along the shoulder straps of my top, letting the fabric fall away from my chest to show off my perky tits and hardened nipples that are always a fan favorite. My hands dance over my chest, pulling gently at my nipples in a way that makes my moans completely genuine. My eyes glance to the screen and I see the excitement building in my chat box, and my account balance steadily rising.

Suddenly, I hear the lock on my door click and my body goes cold. The door to my room is out of the video shot, behind my camera setup and before I can even react, the door slams open.

I let out a startled yelp as my arms instinctively cover my chest. In the corner of my eye, I see the chat go crazy as my audience tries to figure out what it is they’re hearing but not seeing off screen. My attention is wholly focused on the man whose frame fills my doorway.

I scramble off my bed. “What the fuck? Why are you in my house?” My voice is shaking with fear and shrill with panic. I’m far too preoccupied to even think about the livestream anymore.

My fear deepens when I see him leer at me and stalk through my door and towards me without any hesitation.

“A fucking whore like you should be more gracious to me,” he says, his eyes taking on a dangerous glint. He and I are both in the camera’s view now and the viewers on my stream are firing off more messages than before, speculating over who he is and what is going on.

Without saying anything else, he moves to me faster than I can evade and grabs my hair. My mouth opens to scream but before sound can escape, he throws me chest down onto my bed. The air is forced out of my lungs and for a moment, I’m still and stunned. The next moment, he’s on me.

His hand is buried in my hair, keeping my face pressed down against the bed while he forces my ass up into the air. I struggle uselessly against him, unable to push up off the bed or move myself away from his ironclad grip. My cries are muffled against my bed and I want to scream and yell for help but there’s not enough air in my lungs.

His free hand lands a sharp slap against my ass that make me jolt forwards and arch my back further in pain. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to land blow after blow. My arms begin to flail, fingers scrambling for something to hold onto as I struggle.

“Stop fucking moving, whore,” he growls at me. I feel the spanks subside for a moment and I can feel my ass burning red and throbbing from the pain. My head spins from the abuse and the lack of oxygen. I feel his large hand find my wrist, his fingers locking around me in a bruising hold as he yanks my arm behind my back, straining my shoulder.

The hand on my head finally comes away and I raise my head just enough to gasp in much-needed oxygen. In that split second, he’d grabbed and secured my other arm behind my back as well, his one hand effortless holding my arms crossed behind my back. My body is still bent over, knees on the bed and ass up in the air. My only saving grace is that I can raise my head enough to breathe and glance at my laptop, showing the livestream still ongoing.

My eyes dart across the screen, reading messages as fast as I can. None of them show any concern for me, in fact, a vast majority are discussing how much they wished they were the ones holding my body down in this moment.

“Fuck yes, show that whore her place.”

“God, what would I do to be there to punish her for always teasing us.”

“I bet her cunt is dripping wet right now.”

I whine softly when I see that message because it’s right. “Please, let me go!” I turn my head to look at the menace of a man behind me. He flashes a dark grin at me, “Not until I fuck you out of your whore mind.”

His words echo in my head and panic rises within me. “Please! No! Stop! Someone help me!” I make eye contact with the camera, begging at its cold, dark lens.

He laughs behind me. “There’s no one here to help you, whore. You and I both know that every single person watching behind their computer screen is more than eager to see your whore body get ruined.”

As he speaks, his free hand pulls his belt and pants undone enough for him to pull his massive cock out. I let out a choked gasp when I see it.

“Wait, no, please, you’re too big, it’s not going to fit! Please!” My voice shakes and I start to struggle harder against him. His body dwarfs mine and I watch through the camera as he rips my panties off, the sound of tearing fabric filling the room.

“Shut the fuck up and take it, whore.” I feel the head of his cock brush against my dripping slit and my eyes widen.

“Wait, please-” My begging ends in a wail as he slams himself into me to the hilt. The painful stretch makes tears spring into my eyes but unimaginable pleasure quickly follows as his cock nudges into every sensitive spot inside of me. He doesn’t give me time to adjust as he begins to rut into me mercilessly.

Every thrust makes my body shake with pain-tinged pleasure and pathetic moans are spilling out of my mouth as my eyes roll upwards. My hazy vision catches a glimpse of us on the camera. I look like a rag doll, back arched, ass in the air, and shuddering as he towers over me, his cock sinking into my cunt.

Every thrust is accompanied by the squelch of my wetness and the sound of our bodies slamming into each other. The bed creaks under us as his body moves like a machine, drilling into me. “Fuck, you tight fucking whore, your pussy was made for me huh?”

His voice is guttural. Suddenly, he grips my upper arms and yanks me upwards. His other hand comes around to grip my throat as he traps me against his front. The new angle makes his cock stab even deeper into me, forcing a cry from my lips.

“Look at the fucking camera, whore. Show them what a fucked out little slut you are. Go ahead, smile for the camera.” His thrusts seem to come even faster now.

I have tears falling from my eyes as my face reddens from his constricting grip around my neck.

“Smile or I choke you out on my cock like this,” he snarls, hips never stuttering in their punishing pace. I let out a muffled groan and try my best to focus myself enough to obey.

I stare through half-lidded eyes at the camera, barely coherent. My lips pull up in a small, desperate smile as I feel myself gradually running out of air.

“Good fucking whore. Now tell them how much you like having your whore cunt fucked.” His hand leaves my throat and goes to pinch my clit harshly, making me squeal.

“Ah- I like having, ah-, my whore cunt fucked!” My voice is hoarse, my orgasm fast approaching as he starts to roughly roll my clit between his fingers.

“That’s right, and you’re going to cum like this aren’t you, whore? Come on, cum all over me, show them how much you love this.” His words combined with the brutal assault on my body push me over the edge and with a desperate wail, I fall apart.

I hear him groan lowly behind me as my pussy clenches around him, my orgasm ripping through my senses. He uses my body harder than ever, treating me like a sex toy as he chases his own release. He slams himself into me one final time as he erupts, his grip bruising my arms as he keeps me in place.

I collapse against him, a boneless, overstimulated mess. He lets me down gently onto the bed, pulling out of me. The sound of his cock squelching out of my pussy makes my viewers more than aware of how well-fucked I am. He steps away from the bed and towards my filming setup. He leans into the camera and smirks.

“Let me know how else you want to see this whore fucked. If your idea is good, maybe I’ll let you come and enjoy her too.” With that, he shuts the camera off and closes out of the streaming site.

My body is still limp on the bed. I feel him settle next to me and pull me close before brushing my hair away from my forehead and kissing my nose.

“Do you think they liked me?” His murmurs.

“They loved you,” I say, breathless and drowsy from what we just did.

“I hope so, I wouldn’t want my debut on your stream to make a bad first impression,” he says, frowning down at me a little. It makes me let out a soft laugh.

I tilt my head up to kiss his jawline, “Only you would fuck the life out of me on livestream and then worry that you did a bad job.”

I giggle again and he grumbles back at me, “Shut up and sleep, I’ll clean up.” His kiss on my forehead is the last thing I remember before drifting off to sleep.

#nsft concept #dark fantasy #cnc k!nk #tw noncon #rap3 fantasy #cam grl #exhibition kink #aftercare #size difference #size k!nk #breathplay #bimboification #fsub #mdom #rough kink #rough cnc #roughfuck

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leeechin · 7 months ago

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(ꗃ) cat and mouse [nerd sunghoon] ! ⋆ › ◟⊹

after sleeping with the cute quiet dork that sat nearby you and your friend during lunch, you find yourself playing silly games with him, due to a miscommunication. [wc: 2.5k]

CONTENT: college au! sunghoon and jay are big losers in this lol. nerd!sunghoon x fem!reader, 2010s era :p | mdni.

WARNINGS: lots of teasing, handjob, sunghoon is pretty switchy but more dom leaning, unprotected sex (big no), bigdick!hoon, fingering, slight degradation, ass slapping, etc.

lee’s note: this is a continuation of my most popular nerd!hoon fic here ! this can be read as a stand-alone!! gaeul from ive is yn’s bff NOT sunghoons dog LOL.

“you should’ve known it was a one time thing..” jay murmurs to sunghoon, who wasn’t focusing on their round of star craft, instead sulking on the couch with his legs crossed. “someone like her wouldn’t do a second time with someone like us— you to be exact.” adding on.

you had the best time of your life, choosing to hook up with the cute quiet dork unexpectedly. it was planned by you, it was just never expected of you for the plan to be executed perfectly. and you weren’t going to let another opportunity slip beneath you.

“she agreed to let me take her on a date though! and it’s only been two days.. maybe she’s busy.” he exasperates in response, opening his phone to see no new messages from you in his inbox.

“orrr maybe she wants you to text her first instead of her..” jay suggests, throwing the control at sunghoon to play the game again, sunghoon shrugs it off, putting his attention back to the next round of star craft.

you were indeed busy.. rambling to gaeul and your other roommates about the other night with sunghoon. raving about how he was ‘so so good.’ completely oblivious that you not texting him, or expecting him to text you.. is causing a minor miscommunication.

now, being back on campus, you were hoping to catch sunghoon at the campus cafeteria, and throw him teasing glances. strutting confidently in your cute denim shorts and low cut tee, you sit yourself across gaeul at the usual table. and looking up, you notice the pause in sunghoon’s movements, pathetically dropping his fork and pretending it was an accident, coughing so fake.

you let out a small giggle, kicking your feet back and forth underneath the table, forgetting that your friend was across you. “helloooooo? earth to y/n?” gaeul waves her hand in your face, causing you to finally blink.

“god, he’s such a loser.” gaeul points out, turning around to see sunghoon, try to not so obviously peek at you from his canned drink, attempting to hide his eyes from staring at you. “a hot loser though.” you correct, going back into a daydream like trance, thinking about the past weekend you spent with him.

flipping your phone open, you shoot a message to sunghoon, you hear the clatter of the metal can he was drinking from, seeing how fast he scrambled to flip open his own phone. was this really the same guy who railed you into the next dimension a couple days ago?

[you]

you know, i could see you staring at me

[hoonie (^з^)-♡]

What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.

[you]

sure sureeeeeeee

you were surely so quick to open your phone

and dropping your little drink that made a loud sound from hitting the floor, okay though! (=´∀｀)

[hoonie (^з^)-♡]

Why haven’t you reached out to me since that night?

Did I do something wrong?

—

sunghoon didn’t beat around the bush. you wanted to apologize over and over, feeling guilt flood your body for not taking the initiative, especially for someone like sunghoon, who mainly kept to himself with one friend.

but something ignited a plan of mischief in your mind, wanting to tease the fuck out of sunghoon until he ruined you completely. the urge to tests the waters until you were in the hands of his mercy. looking up from your phone, you throw sunghoon a small grin, causing him to nearly drop his phone over a pile of rice on his lunch tray.

“just go get him in a room for christ’s sake, stop eye-fucking him infront of me.” gaeul scoffs, gathering all her things together to head to her next lecture, waiting for you to follow pursuit. “go without me gaeul.”, she raises an eyebrow at you, but then sees how your gaze is stuck on sunghoon who seems to be minding his own business now, eating the food on his lunch tray.

“mind if i take a seat here?” you ask sunghoon, making him startle at the sudden sound of your voice, eyes attempting to only focus on your face, rather than the sight of your juicy tits tight against your shirt.

“yeah.” he mutters, returning to finish the last of food on his tray. “why so silent..?” you fake pout, seating yourself across from him, leaning forward slightly.

“whyareyouavoidingme.” sunghoon quickly speaks, you’re unable to catch what he was saying. “hoonie, what?” you giggle, hand reaching under the table to grab at his knee, feeling how it tensed up under your touch.

“not in the cafeteria, please.” sunghoon flinches, trying not to draw attention by avoiding to have a big reaction, feeling your hand squeeze at his sensitive knee, bumping his knee up to remove your hand. you giggle and use both of your hands to straighten up your shirt.

“answer my question, hoon.” you repeat coyly, leaning forward across the table, sunghoon looks around at the people sitting at the surrounding tables, worried they’re catching onto what’s happening between you two.

“can we— talk somewhere else— please.” he stutters, looking down to hide his now flustered face. “hmmmm.. okay.” you contemplate, looking around the direction sunghoon was. “no one’s looking at us, hoon.” adding on with a playful smile painted across your face.

sunghoon opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupted his sentence that hasn’t even started; “oops! didn’t pay attention to the time! i’ll drop by your place at some time soon!”, gathering all of your things as his eyes blink rapidly.. so dorky, and so hot at the same time.

“but what if i happen to be busy..” sunghoon manages to slip out, seeing how you got up and was ready to leave him behind at his lunch table. “i’m sure you won’t be.”

sunghoon was convinced, no he was aware you were playing games with him now. every time you self-invited yourself to his table, right when he’s about to ask you if you want to study together, you leave abruptly. and it doesn’t help with you sending him suggestive messages on his phone while he’s around jay to stir things up.

“what game are you trying to play with me?” sunghoon blurts out, looking down at his hands on his lap, fidgeting nervously as you sat down on the lunch table seat across from him for the fourth day in a row.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you fake acting confused, playing with a strand of your hair in between your fingers. sunghoon sighs in defeat, only knowing you are continuing this silly little game of yours.

“i think you do.” he frowns in response, moving on to eating the bun he had in his hand. “how long are you going to keep going on with this?” sunghoon adds on to his sentence. you sigh in defeat, sitting yourself properly.

“don’t you enjoy taking to me hoon?” you frowned, doe eyes blinking at sunghoon’s as you await an answer.

“i do. but before we can even talk properly, you leave. how long are you going to keep this game of yours up?” sunghoon finishes the last of his bun before crossing his arms together, seeming to be less nervous and shy now.

“i guess i’m done..” you sheepishly replied, trying to read sunghoon’s unreadable expression. “what’s on your mind, hoon?” you ask, noticing the silence that filled between you two for a good 10 seconds.

“you know.. we’re supposed to be studying..” sunghoon comments, seeing how you crawled on his mattress seductively to seat yourself over his lap. “but what’s the fun in only studying hoon?”

“you said you needed help on— fuck.” sunghoon groans, sentence cutting off, throwing his head back with his glasses tilting lopsided, feeling you shift on his lap, back against the headboard of his bed, as your hands clumsily fumble at the zipper of his jeans to pull out his painfully hard cock that has been straining against the tight constraints of his boxers.

“is this what you wanted from me this whole time.?” you speak softly, gathering saliva to slip past your lips, onto the center of your palm, enveloping his base around your hand, gasping when you forgot how big he was when you looked down at your hand jerking his base slowly. you found the sight infront of you to be so pleasing.

seeing sunghoon’s tilted glasses, moving your free hand to put it back in place. “stop playing with me, y/n.” his voice strains, his large hands finding purchase on both sides of your waist. he sits himself up, looking at your irresistible glossy lips that slightly parted as you concentrated on working your hand at his base.

leaning forward to place his lips over yours, you whine against him from the sudden action, hand slipping off his thick cock as your hands run under his shirt, nails trickling at sunghoon’s soft skin causing him to hiss at the contact. you pull away from the kiss to pull his shirt off and over his head, along with him removing yours, throwing the articles of clothing everywhere in his neatly organized room. your lips return to tangling messily along with his, the smacking sounds filling the silence.

your lips trail down his exposed collarbone, leaving soft marks as you attempt to go down lower, feeling him stop you, a soft whine leaving your lips when you feel one of sunghoon’s hand grasp a good handful of your ass.

“this game of yours is ending right now.” sunghoon speaks lowly, gently removing the remaining material of your undergarments, taking in the sight of how your naked body looked so good, even with the dim lighting in his room— the lamp being the only source of light.

“hurry up then hoon..! oh.” you moan at the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your sensitive clit, moving to circle at your dripping entrance, teasing you by only pushing in his fingertips a few times, before plunging two of his thick digits past it. the warmth of your walls clamping down tightly from simply just his fingers.

“you can still barely even take it.” sunghoon chuckles, his free hand brushing his strands of hair back. moving his other hand, flicking his wrist at an angle that had you seeing all sorts of colors, relishing in the feeling of his fingers reaching the spots yours could never reach.

“please hoonie..” you whine, nails digging deep into his shoulders, holding onto him tightly to avoid falling off of his lap with the sensation of his fingers dragging in and out of you rapidly, crumbling apart when you feel the familiar sensation of your orgasm approaching.

despite the advantage you might’ve had in your position of being seated over him, you were powerless, taking in what he gave you, not seeming to mind loosing dominance you once had over him a little bit ago.

“you’re close aren’t you?” sunghoon raises an eyebrow, seeing how you grinded your hips slightly, to take in his digits even further, your eyes looking down to see how well you sucked his fingers in. “mm— yes please hoon i— what the fuck—!” you protest, feeling him pull his fingers out, one of his hands holding you still in place.

you squirm around on his lap, trying to escape his grasp, gasping loudly when you feel his hand smack your ass, the soft flesh jiggling from the touch. “can’t you be more patient for me now?” sunghoon smirks, flipping you onto your back, leaning over the side to reach his drawer for a condom when you grab at his wrist to stop him.

“want you so bad, hoon.” you strain out, face flushed with desire and neediness. you hear sunghoon let out a deep chuckle in response, stroking himself at the sight of your body splayed on his mattress, legs spread.

“you make me wait several days, but you can’t even wait a few minutes.” he scoffs jokingly, pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist, aligning his tip to your entrance, wasting no more time to slide in easily- due to your wetness that trickled down your thighs.

you hear sunghoon let out a long groan at how your walls once again clamped around him tightly, glasses falling off his face and somewhere beside him on the bed, slowly bottoming out and relishing the feeling of your warm velvety walls. “fuckkk. you feel even better without a condom.” he groans, finding a pace with his thrusts, his cock dragging so perfectly and so deep into you to where you couldn’t even form proper words.

“s’ so good-!” you manage to slip out, palms pressed flat to hold tightly onto sunghoon’s back as you try to keep up with his fast, merciless pace, cock deliciously hitting repeatedly in that one spot in you that sent you spiraling.

“not talking now? had me playing a game like i was a cat and you were the fucking mouse.” sunghoon grunts, eyes meeting yours as you let out a small whimper at his words, clenching around his thick cock, causing him to let out a groan at the feeling, closing his eyes to take in the feeling of not having a condom wrapped around him. deciding to bring your other leg to wrap around his waist, moving to push the back of your thighs to practically fold you in half. you feel him press against the soft bulge of your stomach from how deep he is inside.

your high-pitched moans and mewls of pleasure fill sunghoon’s room when you take what he’s giving you, eyes rolling back as you feel yourself reaching your orgasm, arms wrapping sunghoon’s neck as he leans forward to kiss you, his lips muffling your loud moans.

“inside please.” you whisper, moving your legs to wrap around sunghoon’s waist again, watching how his thick eyebrows furrow in concentration when he twitches inside you, hips moving sloppily as he’s not too far from you— eventually stilling his movements to fill you up with his creamy white essence, seeing how you shut your eyes tightly as your chest heaves heavily, letting yourself go, whining when you feel him slip out.

“you’re nasty.” you giggle, seeing sunghoon return with a warm towel to help swipe up the mess on you. “you indulged into it, you’re not any different from me, y/n.” he laughs in response, throwing the towel into his hamper, laying himself down beside you as he pulls his boxers back on. you’re wearing one of his t-shirts, blanket pulled over as you’re ready to doze off.

“so when are you going to take me out on that date you suggested the last time i was here?” you smile, eyes half lidded as you melt into the embrace of his bigger frame.

“whenever you stop playing those silly little games.”

the both of you releasing a fit of laughter, feeling yourself slowly drift off to sleep, thinking about the next time you’re gonna have this with sunghoon.

hai i wrote this for @00kittenz and @pshbites ily both sm, i’m so glad we are friends bcuz of this silly little app. 💓💓

tag: @aewon

#lee writes ! ‧₊˚ ୨ ୧ ˚₊#enhypen smut #nerd sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon smut #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunghoon x you #sunghoon scenarios #park sunghoon scenarios

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wordsmeetwbb · 2 months ago

Text

Number One Pick

Word count: 5.6k (never again)

Content: smut (spanking, slight daddy!Paige, edging, idk what else)

Pairing: Pazzi

Notes: The promised and long-awaited Draft Night Smut. Thank you all so much for 500 followers! Consider this my gift to you. I'm never writing over 5k words of only smut ever again. Enjoy and please flood my inbox with your thoughts.

________

Azzi’s eyes have been on Paige all night, unable to look away from the skin of her chest exposed by her low-cut suit jacket, the rings on her long, veiny fingers, and the false lashes fluttering on her eyes. In the car on the way to the afterparty, wandering hands and mouths leave Paige’s shirt just a little wrinkled, Azzi’s lipstick a little smudged. They enter the building with dark eyes and fingers brushing.

Paige immediately gets pulled away by someone Azzi doesn’t recognize. Azzi’s left standing in the doorway by herself, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. The part is already in full swing, bodies packed onto the dance floor, a line of people at the bar, and music thumping loudly. Usually, just looking at the scene would overwhelm Azzi. Now though, Azzi lets her eyes track Paige’s movements through the crowd, dapping up random people, laughing at a joke someone throws carelessly. Azzi joins the party.

Azzi’s two drinks in when she collides with Paige again. The blonde looks like she’s definitely had more than two drinks. Her cheeks are flushed, a goofy smile plastered on her face.

“Heyyy mama! Look so pretty tonight baby, like, damn,” Paige chatters. Yeah, she’s definitely more than two drinks in. Azzi smiles, tilting her head in an imitation of sweetness.

“Thank you Paige,” she murmurs. Paige’s eyes slide down her body, then make their way back up, locking on Azzi’s lips for a second before she seems to remember she had something to say.

“You wan’ a drink?” Paige asks. Azzi nods, letting Paige lead her to the bar. The older girl’s hand lands on Azzi’s lower back, the light touch making Azzi shiver even though she’s sweating from the warmth of the room. Paige is too tipsy to notice. She just dips her head down to speak into Azzi’s ear.

“You look so fuckin’ fine tonight mama. Wanna tear this dress off you,” Paige murmurs. Her breath is hot against Azzi’s neck. It sends sparks down her spine. She presses herself into Paige’s side a little more firmly as they reach the bar, Paige getting the bartender’s attention and yelling their orders over the music. Azzi lets her arm drift around Paige’s waist while they wait.

It doesn’t take long until they have their drinks and are heading back out into the chaos of the room. The end up over to the side of the dance floor with a good portion of their teammates, who all seem to be either sufficiently intoxicated or absorbing the energy from the girls who are old enough to drink.

“P Boogers! Aaliyah is already telling everybody that she’s gonna crush you when y’all play in the league! You gotta stand up for yourself!” KK is yapping before anyone else has even really noticed they’re there. Azzi sips her drink, content to watch the exchange play out.

Azzi’s eyes are wandering before she even gives them permission, sliding over Paige’s white button-up until her gaze lands on her hands, partially hidden by her oversized sleeves.

She shifts from one foot to the other as her eyes trace over the veins in Paige’s hands. They’re more prominent now from the heat of the room, and a light sheen of sweat is shining on her skin. She’s only started to look at Paige’s fingers curled around her glass, gaze catching on every knuckle of her long fingers, when Paige’s hands move to lift the drink to her lips.

Azzi’s eyes follow the movement, sliding over Paige’s lips, pressed to the edge of the glass, and the smooth bob of her throat as she swallows. It sends a jolt of heat between her thighs.

Then Paige is being whisked away again, this time by someone who looks like they might be in charge here.

When Paige doesn’t return within a few minutes, Nika decides that they’re all going to go dance. Azzi downs the rest of her drink, now feeling decently buzzed, and follows her teammates to the dance floor.

It’s crowded, bodies bumping together, sweat dripping from foreheads, skin sticky from the heat in the room. Some early 2000s song is playing and Azzi feels the bass in her soul. Nika grabs her hands and pulls her further into the throng of people, spinning Azzi around with a dramatic flourish before they start actually dancing.

When Paige appears again, Nokia by Drake is playing and Azzi is significantly drunker than when she left. She’s not sure what half the drinks had been. Nika had just handed them to her and told her to drink, and she did.

Azzi has her head thrown back, hips swaying to the rhythm as she dances with the girls. Then she feels hands on her hips, gripping possessively. It shocks her for a second, her eyes snapping open as she whirls to face the person behind her. Paige smirks.

“Well don’t stop,” she drawls. Azzi grins and runs a finger under Paige’s chin just because she can. Just because she wants to feel her skin. Paige tips her head towards Azzi. “You gonna dance f’me mama?” Azzi doesn’t reply, just loops her arms loosely around Paige’s neck and resumes her earlier rhythm.

Paige is staring at her. She licks her lips and Azzi takes that as her sign to do some teasing. She turns herself in Paige’s hold so that her ass is pressed to Paige’s front. Then she starts grinding. She hears Paige groan into her ear and her grip tightens on Azzi’s hips. It hitches Azzi’s already short dress a little bit higher, showing off more of her thighs.

One of Paige’s hands slips down, dragging over Azzi’s inner thigh and then squeezing, fingertips digging in almost painfully. Her hand is close enough to the heat between Azzi’s thighs that Azzi doesn’t know if she should pull away or try to get her hands where she wants them. As soon as she’s moving though, still unsure of what she’s actually decided to do, Paige is tightening her grip on both her thigh and hip.

“Nuh-uh. Where are you going?” She asks, speaking directly into Azzi’s ear. Azzi’s head falls back against Paige’s shoulder and she grinds her ass into Paige’s hips again. This time when Paige groans, it’s right in Azzi’s ear. She feels the rush of wetness between her thighs, soaking her panties, and that’s all it takes for her to decide she’s had enough.

She spins out of Paige’s grasp, stumbling a wave of dizziness overcomes her. Paige reaches out to steady her, pulling her back into her side. Azzi lets her hang onto her side, keeping their bodies attached as she drags them off the dance floor and to the hallway she’s pretty sure the bathrooms are in.

It takes a few minutes of searching, but Azzi soon finds an empty bathroom, dragging Paige inside by the collar of her shirt.

As soon as the door is shut, Azzi is pushing Paige up against the door and kissing her. She tastes like a confusing mix of tequila, cherry, and vanilla. “What the hell were you drinking?” Azzi mumbles before she can think the words through. Paige laughs against her lips, kissing her again instead of answering.

When Azzi trails kisses down Paige’s neck, smearing lipstick across pale skin as she does, Paige slides her hand into Azzi’s hair and pulls. A whimper escapes her before she can stop it. Paige smirks.

“You like that?” Azzi removes her lips from Paige’s skin.

“You better not mess up my hair,” she threatens. “I haven’t had it straight in years, and I want it to last.” Paige doesn’t look even remotely sorry. In fact, it looks like she’s taking that as a personal challenge. Azzi recognizes the look and fixes her with a serious stare. It’s somewhat undermined by the way her lipstick is smeared over her chin.

“Did you drag me in here to do something, or are we just here to chat?” Paige quips, eyebrows raised in expectation. Annoyance fills Azzi, but that edge of arousal is still hovering on the edge of her awareness.

“Well I had plans, but you pulled my hair and didn’t apologize, so now you don’t get to know what they were,” Azzi deadpans. She steps away from Paige, moving to exit the restroom. Paige’s hands flutter, grabbing Azzi’s arms and pulling her back against her body.

“Az, wait, I’m sorry. Sorry mama,” Paige murmurs, fingers drawing lines over Azzi’s wrists. That distracts Azzi, her gaze darting down to watch Paige’s long fingers move in smooth swirls. She swallows. Paige watches.

“Something got you distracted mama?”

“Mmm. Nope,” Azzi mumbles. Paige hums a noncommittal response and then her hands are sliding down to the hem of Azzi’s sparkly back dress, shoving it up just enough that she can press her fingertips to the front of Azzi’s panties.

“Ooh, lace? Did you get all dressed up for me, baby?” Azzi bites her lip, trying to will her hips to stay still. Then Paige’s fingers slip lower until they meet the slick that’s been gathering between her thighs for hours. And nothing else. Paige’s eyes widen when she realizes the panties are just lace. They’re crotchless.

“Azzi,” she groans. Now it’s Azzi’s turn to smirk. Paige’s fingers swipe through her folds, gathering wetness on her fingertips. Then she brings them up to her mouth, licking them clean. Azzi’s eyes darken. She shoves Paige against the wall again and grabs her wrist, pulling her hand to her own mouth.

Azzi sucks Paige’s fingers into her mouth, tasting herself and Paige’s spit. Paige looks like she might fall over. Azzi feels like she probably looks similar. She drags the tip of her tongue over a knuckle, letting the weight of Paige’s fingers just sit in her mouth until Paige pulls them out.

“You’re so- that was- fuck you’re hot,” Paige finally gets out. Seeing Paige unravel from so little was making Azzi even wetter, which was becoming a little bit of a problem with the lack of fabric between her legs. She squeezed her thighs together and dragged one of her nails over Paige’s jawline, leaning up to press a few sloppy kisses to the area.

“Fuck Az. Gotta lemme fuck you baby,” Paige pleaded. Azzi nodded, suddenly very aware of how the throbbing between her legs was beginning to border on painful.

Paige flipped their positions, shoving Azzi up against the wall and dropping messy kisses to her exposed collarbones. She sucked a little too hard on one spot and Azzi knew it would bruise. Part of her hoped it would be visible when they finally exited the restroom, for everyone at the party to see. So they would know who she belonged to.

Paige’s fingers between her thighs dragged Azzi out of her thoughts.

“Shit. So fuckin’ wet for me,” Paige groaned. Azzi nodded.

“Yeah, now hurry up and fuck me,” she demanded. Paige smirked.

“Bossy.”

“You like it.”

“You know I do.”

Then Paige stopped talking, finally sliding a finger into Azzi’s dripping cunt. They both let out rough breaths. Paige slid her finger out, then back in again slowly. Her eyes were trained on where her hand disappeared under Azzi’s short black dress, as if she could see through the fabric to where her finger was being swallowed up by Azzi’s cunt.

Azzi started to grind her hips down, the heel of Paige’s palm rubbing against her clit. She tossed her head back, skull bumping against the wall gently.

“I can take more than that,” Azzi said. Paige smirked.

“And why should I give you more?” She taunted. Azzi fixed her with a stare that sent a shiver down her spine.

“You can feel how wet I am, can’t you? You want me to go take all this somewhere else?” Azzi threatened. Paige’s hand slammed into her cunt on the next thrust, forcing a moan out of Azzi’s throat.

“You’re not gonna do that,” she said. It wasn’t a threat, wasn’t a question. It was just a statement. They both knew that as much as Azzi loved to tease Paige and be bratty to get what she wanted, they were all empty threats.

“You wanna find out?” Azzi was panting now. Paige hadn’t slowed her thrusts, still filling her with only one finger, but the force with which her hand was moving, her palm slapping Azzi’s clit with every push, had Azzi almost on the edge already.

“I don’t have to find out. Nobody else is gonna fuck you like I do,” Paige bragged. Azzi’s eyes fluttered shut, her body too overwhelmed with the sensations to keep them open anymore.

Paige trailed sloppy kisses over Azzi’s jaw and down her neck, biting at the spot right below her ear that always drove her crazy.

“You’re gonna leave marks,” Azzi breathed. She felt Paige grin against her sternum.

“That’s the whole point, baby. You’re mine. Wanna show you off.” Azzi let out a little whimper and her hips twitched. Paige picked her head up off of Azzi’s skin. “Oh, you want that?” She teased. “Want me to mark you, walk you around for everybody to see how much you liked it? Dirty girl.” Azzi clenches around Paige’s finger.

It only takes a few more moments of Paige’s finger pumping in and out of her soaked cunt before Azzi’s moaning and rocking her hips to meet every thrust.

“Close, so close, don’t stop,” gets mixed in with a chorus of little “ah, ah, ah”s, the sounds echoing off of the bathroom tile. Paige doesn’t listen.

She pulls her finger away, leaving Azzi empty and trembling. Her hips buck, searching out friction that isn’t there anymore.

“Paige,” she whines desperately. Paige smirks, tilting her head. She looks dangerous. Azzi has to close her eyes, trying to calm herself. They fly open again when she feels Paige’s finger prod at her lips, slipping between them and into her mouth. Azzi’s curse gets muffled around the digit pressing down on her tongue.

“Clean my finger off baby. Go ahead,” Paige prompts. Azzi feels like she might pass out, but she does as she’s told, temporarily giving up her bratty attitude.

She drags her finger up the underside of Paige’s finger, feeling all the little bumps and callouses from years and years of hard work with her hands. Then she starts to suck in earnest, hollowing her cheeks because she knows the image will drive Paige crazy.

She’s right. Paige’s eyes roll back from where they had been trained on her finger disappearing into her girlfriend’s mouth. She lets out a little sound that she can’t possibly have meant to let slip, but it just spurs Azzi on. She moves her mouth up and down on the digit, mimicking what she doesn’t when she sucks Paige’s strap.

It takes a few seconds for Paige to collect herself, but when she does, she yanks her finger out of the younger girl’s mouth.

“Dirty little slut,” she tosses at Azzi as she turns to open the door. Azzi feels the rush of warmth between her thighs before she really even registers the words. It’s all she can do to trail after Paige, suddenly very aware of how fucked-out she must look. She hasn’t had a chance to actually look at herself, but she’s sure there’s a few dark marks blooming on the skin of her neck too.

“Paige,” she tries. Paige doesn’t look back. Azzi quickens her steps, slotting herself into Paige’s side as the blonde makes her way back to the party and crosses the room to the bar. “Baby, are you serious? Let’s just go,” Azzi urges. Paige finally does turn to her then.

“You wanna leave already? Baby, I can’t leave yet. It’s my party, that would be rude.” And really, she does have a point. The party is still in full swing. It would definitely come off as odd for the star of the night to leave so early. Even in her desperate state, Azzi understands that Paige might not only be doing this to tease her. But still, part of Azzi knows that the blonde is definitely taking a little too much pleasure in working Azzi up, getting her so close to the edge, and then telling her she has to wait.

“Fine. I need another drink,” Azzi says, a pretty little pout on her lips. Paige has a hard time resisting her when she plays up the innocence, and based on the way her face flushes when she turns to face Azzi, it’s working just as well as ever. She recovers quickly though, asking the bartender for whatever she’s decided they’re drinking now.

________

By the time they make it back to the hotel, Paige and Azzi are both drunk. The short drive from the party doesn’t do anything to sober them up either, just elevates the tension between the two women. In fact, they’ve barely stumbled into the elevator, Paige’s fingers slapping over the button for her floor, before Azzi is shoving her into the wall.

Crowding into her space, Azzi shoves her hands under Paige’s shirt. She’s met with a tank top instead of skin, and in her drunken haze it confuses her more than it should.

“What is this, Antarctica? So many goddamn layers,” she mutters, pushing at the tank top to get it out of the way. By the time she finally has access to bare skin, fingernails clawing over Paige’s toned abs, the elevator is dinging and the doors are opening. Neither of them have the sense to pull apart. Paige wraps an arm around Azzi’s waist, the other resting on the back of her neck, tangling in the hair at the base of her neck as they stumble their way down the hallway as fast as they can.

It takes way too long for Paige to get her door unlocked. Impatient as ever, Azzi takes a quick peek up and down the hallway, sees no one, and starts pressing needy kisses to the side of Paige’s neck.

“Fuck, just… give me a sec Az, damn. Can’t get the fuckin’... card to work,” Paige mumbles, but she tilts her head just a bit to give Azzi better access. She’s rewarded with a bite near her pulse point.

She finally gets the door open, both girls stumbling through the suite until they’re tumbling onto the bed, pulling at clothes. Azzi’s go first, her dress landing on the floor in an unceremonious heap. For a minute, all Paige can do is stand there and stare.

“Damn. Just… damn Az. Fuckin’ gorgeous.” Her eyes roam up and down Azzi’s body, tracing the curves of her bare breasts, her waist, her hips that are still covered with the lacy purple panties that drove her so crazy earlier. “And here I thought you weren’t wearing my favorite color,” Paige jokes. It’s funnier than it should be, Azzi knows, but she can’t help but laugh.

“You want them on?” She asks. Paige immediately shakes her head.

“Fuck no. I want you naked, the hell kind of question is that?” Azzi giggles and starts to strip out of the underwear before Paige’s hands are gripping her wrists to stop her. “Lemme do it,” she demands.

She takes her time dragging the lace over Azzi’s hips, down her thighs, and guiding her to step out of the panties so she can throw them over by her dress on the floor. Paige whistles. “Fuck goin’ number one. This the real prize.” Azzi blushes and something in her chest flares, urging her to give Paige a little something back.

“Gonna leave me naked by myself?” She asks. Paige raises an eyebrow, looking her girlfriend up and down again.

“Yeah. That a problem?” Azzi pushes herself up to sit upright on the bed.

“I don’t know, is it?” She tilts her head, batting her long eyelashes in the way she knows gets Paige a little weak in the knees.

Sure enough, it takes barely a moment for Paige to be crawling over Azzi, pushing her down into the mattress. Azzi goes willingly, content to get what she wants.

“You still wet f’me? You were dripping earlier, do I gotta work you up again?” Azzi’s hips twitch, as if her body is trying to show Paige just how wet she still is. Paige shoves Azzi’s thighs apart, an exhale leaving her as she sees the mess smeared across the skin of her inner thighs.

“Fuck,” Paige mumbles. Azzi spreads her legs wider.

“Are you gonna do something about it?” Azzi taunts. Annoyance flares in Paige’s eyes.

“I haven’t touched you in hours and you’re still this wet, so I don’t think it’s smart for you to keep runnin’ your mouth.” Part of Azzi wants to comply, to shut up and just take whatever Paige gives her, but another, larger part craves the fight.

“I’ll stop runnin’ my mouth when you give me something else to do,” Azzi shoots back. Paige has had enough.

She climbs off the bed, stumbling a little as she yanks her clothes off, throwing them onto the floor to join the pile with Azzi’s clothes. Then she’s back on the bed, crawling up Azzi’s body until her knees are bracketing her chest. She’s mumbling something about “I’ll give you something to do with your mouth,” and it takes Azzi’s brain a minute to catch up, but then her hands are shooting out to grip Paige’s hips.

“You want it?” Paige asks. Azzi nods quickly, all of her previous bratty attitude melting out of her now that she has a goal in sight.

Paige takes that as her sign to scoot the rest of the way up until she’s hovering with her hips just above Azzi’s mouth. Azzi strains, reaching her tongue until she can swipe just the tip through Paige’s folds. It draws a quiet moan from Paige, encouraging Azzi to pull the blonde down forcefully, settling her weight on her face.

Azzi gets to work, licking up from Paige’s hole all the way to her clit, gathering her slick on her tongue and spreading it around her clit. Paige gasps above her, lean fingers gripping the headboard. Azzi doubles down, sliding just the tip of her tongue into Paige’s cunt. It’s not enough to stretch, not deep enough to feel like anything but a tease, but it makes Paige grind her hips down onto Azzi’s mouth, mumbling demands. Azzi doesn’t listen.

She thrusts her tongue in and out for a while until the muscle starts to get sore. Then she returns her attention to Paige’s clit, flicking her tongue over the puffy bundle of nerves just to hear the sounds it elicits. Paige buries a hand in Azzi’s hair again, tilting her head just slightly to get a better angle as she keeps rolling her hips.

“Right there, ah, yes, oh god Az.” Paige is rambling the way she always does when she gets close, spurring Azzi on. She flattens her tongue, shaking her head back and forth to drag it over Paige’s clit. Paige’s thighs tense up, hips twitching as she falls apart.

Azzi doesn’t stop until Paige is pushing herself away from her mouth, shaking slightly from the overstimulation. “So good, fuck, you’re always so good at that for me,” Paige murmurs as she steals a kiss, tasting herself on Azzi’s lips. Azzi shifts on the bed, her hips searching out friction without her permission. Paige feels the movement, that signature smirk sliding onto her face.

“Did that get you worked up, baby? Getting me off got you hot and bothered, huh?” Paige coos. Azzi feels a blush rise to her cheeks.

“Nah, I think I made you cum so good you’re imagining things,” Azzi counters. The excuse doesn’t make any sense. They both know it doesn’t, but the alcohol is still running through their veins, Paige is still riding the blissful high of her orgasm, and Azzi is dripping down her thighs and onto the sheets in a way that’s making it hard to care about things like sentences.

“On your stomach baby,” Paige orders, climbing off of Azzi so she can flip over. Azzi is skeptical, but the ache in her pussy orders her to obey. She lays flat on her stomach, but she jerks up when a harsh slap lands on her left ass cheek.

“Paige!” She yelps. Paige scans her face for a moment, searching for something. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy her, because then her hands are rubbing over the warm flesh she had just hit, both soothing and irritating the skin.

“Ass up. Arch for me. You know how to do this,” Paige instructs. Azzi sticks her ass up for a moment, wiggling teasingly, before she melts back into the bed. Paige clearly isn’t impressed because another harsh slap hits the other side of Azzi’s ass this time. A moan slips out against her will. Paige trails kisses down Azzi’s spine.

“Oh, you liked that, you little slut,” Paige accuses. Azzi can’t even defend herself. She just raises her hips again, silently begging for more. “Nuh-uh. This was supposed to be a punishment, but if you like it, you’re gonna have to be good to get more,” Paige explains. Azzi huffs out a little breath but quickly shifts her body into the position Paige had asked her for, ass up, back arched, weight resting on her elbows. She’s rewarded with a quick, hard slap to her ass, this time over an already red mark. She whimpers and a rush of wetness leaves her, dripping down her thighs.

“Look at you. Shit. So fuckin’ wet f’me.”

“Wellb you didn’t let me fucking cum earlier, so yeah I’m wet,” Azzi complains, a little bit of fight rising in her again. Another slap comes, harder this time. Azzi presses her face into the sheets to stifle her moan.

“Shut the fuck up,” Paige says. Azzi feels the last of the fight drain out of her. She shuts up.

“Gonna be a good girl for me now and do what I tell you to, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Good.

Then Paige is sliding two fingers into Azzi’s pussy, watching as they get swallowed up, enveloped by tight, wet heat. She breaths out slowly. Azzi pushes her hips back, trying to press Paige’s fingers deeper.

“Please,” she asks, voice high and desperate. Paige, for once tonight, gives her what she wants.

The thrusts start out rough and only get rougher, fingers slamming into Azzi’s cunt repeatedly, Paige’s other hand coming down to rub messy circles around her clit. The harsh drag of Paige’s fingers builds Azzi up faster than she wants to admit, reducing her to a whiny mess in a matter of minutes. In an attempt to not have the pleasure ripped away from her like in the restroom earlier, Azzi clamps her mouth shut and does not tell Paige how close she is.

Still, Paige knows. This time she doesn’t stop though. Just keeps thrusting her hand, mouthing at the ridges of Azzi’s spine messily, until Azzi rolls over the edge. She grinds her hips back and Paige fucks her through it, fingers still circling her clit until Azzi’s arms are trembling with the effort of holding her body up. Paige doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, oh, Paige, please daddy, too much, I can’t-” The words are spilling from Azzi’s mouth unbidden, edged with a whine as the sensations wracking her body teeter just into the territory of pain.

“You can take it. Give me another.” Azzi whines, high and drawn out, and resigns herself to the pleasure-pain and Paige picks up the pace again.

She slides another finger in next to the first two, and the stretch only adds to the overstimulation Azzi’s feeling. She’s shaking and her face is firmly pressed into the sheets now, her arms having collapsed sometime before the third finger.

the hand on Azzi’s clit leaves, and Azzi finally feels like she might be able to bear another orgasm. Then sparks explode all over her body as Paige’s fingers land back on her clit in a harsh slap. Azzi lets out a cry, a tear slipping down her face and immediately getting soaked up by the comforter.

Paige does it again and again, raining slaps down on Azzi’s clit, and then she’s on the edge again. It’s a particularly harsh slip to the bundle of nerves that does it this time, sending Azzi tumbling into her second orgasm of the night.

The older girl pulls her hands away quicker this time, and Azzi doesn’t even have the brain power to be thankful. She’s too busy trying to get her body to stop quivering.

Paige runs her hands over Azzi’s ass gently. The touch grounds her, even as it reminds her of the red handprints that are surely littering her skin. Paige is curled over Azzi’s back, her arms enveloping her in an embrace that’s immediately soothing. She’s saying something, whispering into Azzi’s ear, but it takes a minute for Azzi to comprehend the words.

“...if you can give me another. Do you want that? Wanna take my strap? You always take my cock so pretty, take me so good. Just wanna fuck you on my cock pretty girl. Can I do that?” Azzi’s hips give another valiant attempt at finding friction.

“Go get it,” Azzi whispers. Paige springs up from the bed, heading to her suitcase and pulling two things out. The strap, and a little black vibrator. They don’t use the vibrator often, mostly because Paige complains that it ruins her “generational strap skills,” but Azzi knows tonight is different. Tonight, Paige needs it just as bad as she does.

Paige gets the strap situated on her hips quickly, sliding the vibrator into its place right over her clit and turning it on.

The soft buzzing sound fills the air, accompanied by a soft gasp from Paige. Her steps back to Azzi on the bed are a little less sure, shakier than her steps away had been. Azzi does her best to shift back into the ass-up arch she had been in earlier, her muscles protesting only slightly. Paige’s hands settle on her waist, stroking her fingertips over her ass lightly.

Then she’s pressing in, her cock slitting Azzi open. They let out simultaneous moans; Azzi from the stretch, and Paige from the pressure of the vibrator on her clit. Her hips twitch a little bit, making her cock shift just that little bit deeper inside Azzi. She whimpers.

“Fucking move,” Azzi groans, desperate again. Her nerves are still frayed from cumming hard twice, but she’s clenching around Paige’s cock in a way that makes her think her body might actually fall apart if she doesn’t get this.

Paige complies, dragging her cock out all the way to the tip, then pushing back in. It’s not as rough as before, but it’s enough to make Azzi a mess again. Paige presses Azzi’s hips down, forcing her to deepen her arch. The angle allows Paige to press even deeper. She’s stretching Azzi so good she could cry.

Slow thrusts turn into quick, rough movements. Paige slams her cock into Azzi’s cunt, chasing her own high and the pretty moans and whimpers that keep falling from Azzi’s mouth.

“Doin’ so good for me, so good pretty girl. Let me hear those noises. Shit, you’re so tight around me, just suckin’ me up. Goddamn. That’s it, baby,” Paige says. Her voice is low, rough, clearly affected by the vibrator buzzing against her clit.

“Paige!” Azzi cries. Paige’s hand starts rubbing over her clit messily again. Overstimulation shoots through Azzi’s nerves, sending tremors through her body. “So close, so close, please daddy,” Azzi begs. The name tips Paige over the edge, hips thrusting erratically now as she drags Azzi closer and closer to cumming.

Paige’s moans get Azzi there, the tension in her stomach snapping for the third time that night. She cries out, tears slipping down her face as Paige fucks her through it, murmuring praise and sweet words into her ear as the overstimulation becomes too much.

She scrambles to push Paige out of her, blushing at the obscene squelching sound the action makes.

Paige helps ease Azzi down onto her back, the younger girl’s muscles protesting from being left in the same position for so long. Then Paige is tossing the strap onto the floor and flopping onto Azzi.

“God, I needed that,” she sighs dramatically. Azzi’s eyes flick open to stare at her girlfriend incredulously. Paige just shrugs. “What? I’m the number one pick, I’m allowed to celebrate.”

“That’s what the party was for, idiot,” Azzi replies. Her voice is hoarse, and it makes her flush in embarrassment. A grin spreads over Paige’s face.

“I love when you sound like that. It means I did a good job.” Azzi buries her face into Paige’s shoulder.

“First you go number one, now this? You’re gonna be insufferable for the rest of our lives,” she groans. Paige nods, satisfied with the situation.

“Sounds like the dream life if you ask me. Went number one in the draft, got drunk, fucked the love of my life so good she can’t talk, and now we get to cuddle. Literally what else could you want?” Azzi holds back from replying with “peace and quiet,” and instead lets Paige have her moment. She leaves the “I’m proud of you” unsaid too, but they both know that. Instead, Azzi lets the silence and the warmth of Paige’s body lull her into sleep.

#uconn wbb #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn women’s basketball #pazzi #pazzi smut #paige bueckers smut #azzi fudd smut #pazzi fics

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jaylalolz · 9 months ago

Text

EX!reader x JEALOUS!nicholas 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚

SUMMARY, Nicholas, still grappling with the lingering emotions from his recent breakup, reluctantly agrees to a night out with his friends at a club. As the music pulses and the crowd sways, he spots his ex, across the room with another man. Jealousy ignites in his chest.

WARNINGS, smuttyyyyy

A/N, hey angels! my inbox is now open, feel free to request or ask any questions. have fun reading, muah.

The club was packed. Music thumped through the walls, vibrating through Nicholas as he stepped inside. His friends were already there, waving him over to the bar with grins that were a little too enthusiastic.

"About time!" one of them shouted over the music, clapping him on the back.

Nicholas forced a smile and ordered a drink, hoping the alcohol would loosen him up. After a couple of rounds, he was starting to relax, though his mind kept drifting back to her. It was impossible not to. Everywhere he looked, couples were dancing, bodies pressed close together, and it reminded him of how it used to be with her.

He shook off the thoughts and turned toward the dance floor, determined to distract himself. But just as he did, his heart stopped.

There she was.

She stood near the center of the dance floor, her body swaying effortlessly to the beat. Her hair was down, catching the neon lights as she moved, her hips rolling with the rhythm in a way that had always mesmerized him. But this time, it wasn’t for him. She wasn’t dancing for him.

Before Nicholas could process the flood of emotions, a guy appeared behind her. Tall, broad-shouldered, with an easy smile that Nicholas immediately hated. He stepped in close, his hands hovering near her waist as they moved together, bodies aligning in sync. She didn’t pull away. She leaned into it, her smile bright, her body molding to the stranger’s as they danced.

Jealousy hit Nicholas like a wave, sharp and suffocating. His grip tightened on his drink, knuckles white as he watched the scene unfold. That should’ve been him. It used to be him. How could she be so comfortable with someone else? So quickly?

His chest burned, every rational thought drowning in the flood of possessiveness and anger. Before he could stop himself, he set his drink down and pushed through the crowd, eyes locked on her.

When he reached her, he didn’t hesitate. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist and pulling her away from the guy, who looked at Nicholas with a mix of confusion and annoyance. She stumbled back, surprised, her eyes widening as she realized who it was.

"Nicholas?" she gasped, but he didn’t give her time to say anything else. The music blared around them, but all he could hear was the pounding in his chest, the rush of anger that had built up over weeks of silence.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. "Why are you letting some random guy touch you like that?"

She pulls her arm back, her face hardening. "What are you talking about? Nicholas, you can’t just—"

"Yes, I can," he cut her off, his voice low, but the anger in it was clear. "Because you’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”

Her eyes flashed with a mix of disbelief and anger. "We’re not together anymore, Nicholas. You don’t get to say that."

"I don’t care," he snapped, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a fierce whisper. "I don’t care if we broke up. You don’t let someone else touch you like that. Not when it hasn’t even been a month."

She stared at him, stunned into silence for a moment. The guy behind her stepped forward, sensing the tension, but Sarah held up a hand, stopping him.

"You don’t get to decide who I dance with," she said, her voice steady now, even though Nicholas could see the hurt in her eyes. "We ended things, remember? You ended it, Nicholas."

Her words hit him like a slap. He did end it, but now, standing there, watching her with someone else, he couldn’t understand why he had. All he knew was the pain of seeing her move on, the jealousy twisting inside him like a knife.

"You don't understand," Nicholas said, his voice demanding slightly, but full of raw emotion. "You belong with me. No one else"

He crashed his lips against hers, the kiss instantly consuming. It wasn't soft or tentative-there was nothing gentle about it. His mouth moved against hers with fiery desperation, as though he'd been starving for this, for her, ever since they parted. And she matched his intensity, her lips parting to let him in, her hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer as if the contact wasn't close enough.

Their bodies collided, her chest pressing against his as the kiss deepened. Nicholas's hands roamed over her, sliding from her waist to her back, pulling her flush against him. His fingers tangled in her hair, tugging gently as his mouth moved down her neck, tasting the heat of her skin, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

She let out a soft, breathless moan, her body arching into his touch, her hands gripping his shoulders as though she needed something to hold onto.

The sound only fueled him further. His mouth returned to hers, this time with a fierce, almost primal need. Their tongues danced together, the kiss growing hotter, deeper, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other.

Nicholas felt like he was drowning in her, the taste of her, the feel of her. Every inch of his skin was on fire, his heartbeat racing as his hands traveled lower, gripping her hips, pressing her harder against him. The heat between them was undeniable, overwhelming, and neither of them seemed able to stop.

Her fingers slid through his hair, tugging him closer, her lips demanding more. She kissed him like she wanted to erase the time they'd spent apart, like she wanted to burn away every doubt, every regret. Her nails raked lightly down his neck, sending a shiver through him, igniting every nerve in his body.

Their kiss was wild, unrestrained, the kind that felt like it could burn the whole world down around them. And neither of them cared. Right then, in that moment, it was just them-wrapped up in each other, their bodies and minds consumed by the heat of their desire.

As Nicholas pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his breath ragged, he saw the same fire burning in her gaze. It was as if everything they'd tried to bury had resurfaced, and the pull between them was undeniable, irresistible.

“Go to the bathroom.” he says.

Her fingers loop his pants, tugging them down when they enter the bathroom. He helps her fold his dick out of his boxers by lifting his hips. He's painfully hard; it's was a sight to see. She realizes that it's been a while since she's gotten down on her knees in front of him.

She grabs his dick and strokes it. She dribbles spit down his tip, lubricating her moving hand as it glides along wonderfully. He struggles with the urge to speak; she hears it almost slip out of his mouth. She wraps her lips around his head and looks up into his, breaking him somewhat with a single swirl of her tongue.

"Just like that," he mutters. He hardly has time to register the sensation before his jaw drops.

She took him up with one hand and held him partly in her mouth. She doesn't want to push it because fixing her makeup afterwards will be difficult. Still, he'll cum if he touches the back of her throat, the way he's already going insane. "Jesus-" He moves his hips and clenches her hair, causing a sensation to run down her scalp.

Her left hand roams up his nude torso, feeling the heated skin covering his gravelly muscles as she bobs her head. He traps his hand over top so it stays there the instant her palm touches his chest. With a whine, he throws his head back as her lips slowly works on him.

"Baby-" He stifles. "I'll cum if you don't stop."

She pulls back to prevent him from finishing. He gazes down at her as though she were a creation of his fantasies. "That's for ending our relationship," she replies, disappearing from the bathroom.

#nicholas chavez smut #nicholas chavez #nicholas alexander chavez #smut

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