#cat daddy slick | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has 411 employees.

colourstreakgryffin · 2 months

Note

oh no if an angel tried to decapitate Husk daughter who was hiding and Husk see's this and for a moment turned back into his overlord form temporarily and it made the chains Alastor have on him Crack a little. Imagine if Alastor noticed this too

Haha! That’s actually precious in the most tragic way possible! I actually already picture Husk pulling a Charlie and just changing form in that moment to commit Angel murder!

Husk- Daddy’s Little Girl

The Battle for Hell is getting more and more messy throughout every second. Charlie’s getting apprehended by Adam, Alastor had been beaten in ages ago, Vaggie is struggling a bit with Lute, the Hotel crew are already getting surrounded by so many exterminators.

Husk is among the group of the fighting Sinners and whilst he is expertly fending off Angels to protect himself and his new friends, his mind is littered with how you, his seven year old daughter, are doing. If you’re still okay

He had hid you away in the Hotel before the invasion hit, in the deepest parts where both himself and Charlie suspected the Angels wouldn’t be able to find but sadly… both were wrong. Maybe thirty minutes into the intense battle, Husk’s cat-like ears flicked up at the sound of a terrified child scream echoing through the Hotel’s surfaces, something he could hear clearly and he didn’t hesitate to jump down from the rooftop of the Hotel, since he knew that scream is yours

His mighty big red black and white casino-patterned detailed feathery wings spread open and help drop him down after leaping off the rooftop’s edges, climbing downwards, down the many many feet as fast as he can. His wings beating up and down rather hard, allowing him to pick up even more speed. Angel Dust calls out for Husk in shock for his sudden disappearance but nobody tries to actually stop him

Since they all know he’s going to rescue his daughter

Husk rushes into the Hotel, his many weapons prepared to attack. Furious, his ears still flicking with the sound of your fearful whimpering and crying for help, his feet beating with every single step. He needs to find you, you’re in danger! In no time, the ex-Overlord stops his sprint with a hard skid around the corner of the main Hotel’s entrance hallway, needing to make it to you in time

His golden yellow eyes widening in both intense fear and overwhelming unfiltered fury, at the sight before him… he almost can’t believe what he is seeing

“DADDY! HELP ME!”

You, roughly pressed into the corner and being held up by your neck by a single bloodthirsty Exterminator as you sob out with tears streaming and cry out for Husk as loud as you can, the silent angel gripping it’s angelic spear in it’s free hand whilst the other shoves you up against the wall. In that moment, Husk’s hollow powerless soul radiated a powerful magical force, a wave of strength that rushes through his systems and somehow…

That moment of anger and fear for his babygirl, triggered something thought to be completely impossible. His Overlord Magic, the souls’ powers he collected and the strength to attack an Angel full on has crashed onto him like a big tsunami wave, changing his causal black suspender-supported black pants outfit to his past snazzy business-centred suit and slick-black hairstyle, in a single spiral of orange glowing magic. His wings’ patterns had sharpened up, the red colouring glows a bright orange and his golden yellow eyes also grow a lot more sharper

The soul collar around his neck, the invisible magical green chain tying him to the deal cracked, like a big rock hitting a glass window… but it didn’t break

Even Alastor senses this incredible feat and it makes his bleeding wound throb out, gritting his fangs harder whilst hiding off in the darkness of his Voodoo magic. His tight ownership of Husk’s soul just gotten weaker, the bonds around the feline avian demon loosened up immensely for such a insignificant sinner doing a impossible task; temporarily transform back into his Overlord form

Husk didn’t even bother using the weapons, he used his returning power. Dropping those casino and gambling-centred items for battle to take advantage of being able to tap back into the strength he had lost via his deal with Alastor. The weird magical flow coursing through his bloodstream that made him feel on top of Hell and in that moment, he summons a large claw attack from the ground which smoothly slices off the Exterminator’s arms, the disembodied limbs dropping to the floor with a liquidy squish

Before the merciless angel can possibly behead you, as it was already attempting to do so. Having striked at you with its tall sharp spear. The Exterminator had been forced to drop you rather hard, stepping back whilst Husk openly charges this Exterminator and uses even more of his gained-back Overlord magic to case the Exterminator’s mask-covered and halo plus horn-decorated head with a semi-transparent explosive energy-dosed dice-shaped sphere

Shoving the Exterminator off to the right with a rather agile kick, the pure force behind this shove had caused the Angel to stumble back into the nearby wall with a very hard thump as Husk picks you up quickly, feeling your arms wrap around his neck and face sobbing into his suit-lathered chest, little body shivering, cat-like ears and tail drooped down helplessly

Husk‘s murderous rage-glazed golden yellow eyes glare hatefully at the Angel, who’s barely moving at this point, clutched one of his hands together and that magical sphere half-suffocating the Exterminator quickly blows up, effectively killing your attacker with just two magical strikes. You didn’t look at what your father did since you were so afraid of almost dying again and shuddering in his arms

Husk just glared with heavy angered huffing at the body of the Angel he just killed with his returned Overlord power, almost shaking in his boiling protective rage, all for his precious daughter. Nobody touches you on his watch

The ex-Overlord didn’t even get a chance to check up on you, forcing himself to look away from his handywork, to calm down your fearful and pained sobbing and wailing, since the Hotel begun to shake. He didn’t even bother running on foot, he had used a teleporting power in his current Overlord form and transports both himself and you out in a single blink and soft pop of silvery magic

As soon as you’re both out of the Hotel in that quick flash of teleportation magic, Husk spreads his wings again and takes you up off the ground to dodge the big yellow magical energy beam that slices up the Hotel in a single clean strike. It’s menacing, it’s intense but he isn’t going to focus on that until he has you off in a more safe location. Clearly, he messed up and his first decision didn’t work in protecting you

Husk ensures both you and himself are away from the Hotel enough, his mighty feathery wings flapping in the air with strong sharp gusts of wind slicing out every beat up and down, holding himself and you above the ground

He is usually a lazy man, not preferring to fly but right now. He must put you and your safety above everything so he’ll keep you a few feet away from the crumbling apart Hotel and a few feet off the floor as long as he has to, to make sure no other Angel can get their hands on you

He takes those few seconds of nothing and of the brief safety to check on you, rubbing fingers over your pinned-back fearful ears. Tilting your little chin up with your glowing teary eyes looking up at him as your lips quiver and letting out shaky breathes

You haven’t seen your father in his Overlord form in so long… it’s almost surreal that he is right now. The same suit, the same streaked pushed-back hair, the different patterns on his wings. However, he is still your beloved parent

“Are you okay, Princess? Daddy’s sorry that he didn’t come sooner. Did that bad Angel hurt you?”

541 notes · View notes

coryosbaby · 10 days

Text

18+, MDNI !! ♡

༉‧₊˚. Rafe Cameron x fem! Reader

Thinkin’ of Rafe Cameron + trailer park! Au <3 being his neighbor and also Barry’s younger sister, Rafe always giving you long glances and licking his lips whenever his eyes land on your cute little sundresses or tight jean shorts. Letting you have a smoke break with him because Barry doesn’t allow you to have cigarettes— he holds the lighter up and lights it for you every time. Slipping you a bottle of alcohol, inviting you into his empty trailer and letting you sprawl out on his bed as you pass it back and forth.

“Truth or dare?” He asks, and the game goes on for a good twenty minutes before you answer dare. Rafe’s eyes stare down at your pouty mouth, a small smile on his own as he says, “I dare you to kiss me.”

Your eyes widen, a blush creeping up your neck. A grin spreads out on Rafe’s handsome face, his hand moving up to your cheek. He rubs your lip with his thumb, spreading out the glossy red lipstick you had applied a few hours prior.

“Cmon,” he presses. “‘s part of the game, Kitty cat. Jus’ a little peck.”

You’re blushing still, a little drunk— when he had begun to call you that? Never before now, but you like it— you like it a lot.

You set the bottle of vodka down beside the bed and scoot closer to him. He smells like cologne and soap, and stubble is on his face from a forgotten shave. You look down at his hands, just for a moment. One is on his crotch, a small star tattoo on his middle finger etched in black ink. Your eyes flick back up to his lips, and you lean in.

Your plush lips hit his and it’s like the air in the room shifts. Rafe lets out a relaxed sigh, pretty lashes fluttering shut as he hungrily moves against your mouth. Your fingers card through his messy bangs, pushing them back from his forehead. Heat grows between your legs, a small ache beginning to form when rafe’s hand moves lower and lower until it reaches your hip. He grips the soft skin there, gently squeezing. You let out a whine, little tongue lolling out of your mouth to slip into his own. He groans against you, spreading his legs so you can crawl in between them. He pulls away from the kiss, letting you lean back against his chest. Your lipstick is smeared onto his mouth and the sight makes you dizzy.

“horny, kiddo? I’ve barely touched you.”

You don’t say anything. Letting out a tiny mewl, your hand grasping his and guiding it underneath the hem of your dress. Little pussy so wet and throbbing that rafe can’t help but drool over it :(( his fingers circling your clit through your cotton panties, his other arm wrapping around your throat so he can adjust you just how he likes. Your thighs spread and you lift them up, letting him see the outline of your plump pussy more. His fingers slide underneath your panties, finally coming into contact with your aching sex.

“Shit, such a wet little pussy..” and then, slipping a finger inside your hole, “and so tight, momma. You a virgin?”

You nod, a pout on your lips. He grins, slowly massaging your walls with the pad of his middle finger.

“Baby’s never had her kitty cat touched, huh?”

“Rafe..” you mewl, and he tsks.

“Don’t think that’s what you wanna be callin’ me,” his movements speed up, your eyes beginning to roll as he squeezes in his ring finger alongside the other. “Daddy might be a better fit, yeah?”

A gasp tumbles out of your throat, thighs shaking.

“Yes,” It’s an instant reply. “Yes, yes, daddy. Please..”

He chuckles at your eagerness, pressing a kiss into your hair.

“Good girl. Pull those panties to the side, baby, let me see.”

You can’t disobey him, and so your fingers hook into the crotch of your gingham cotton panties and you slide the fabric to the side. Your cunt glistens with sweet slick, swollen clit poking out due to your arousal.

“Oh,” Rafe breathes, almost in a trance. “Such a pretty girl..”

He rubs against that spongey spot inside you— or, more so, stabs that spongey spot inside of you, his fingers scissoring apart your achy cunt ‘n making it burn while also giving you the most delicious friction. It’s fast, a little animalistic, and you love it. Sobs tear through your throat, the only form of purchase for your hands being Rafe’s big, muscled thighs, your head sinking deeper and deeper into his shoulder with every course of pleasure. A third finger makes its way inside your cunt, your eyes widening as big as saucers. Rafe’s got a smile on his face and a glint in his eyes.

“We’re gonna stretch you nice ‘n good, kitty cat,” and then, watching your slick drip and your hole widen for him, “That’s it, look at daddy fingerin’ this little slut cunt open. We’re gonna have some fun tonight, aren’t we, baby?”

@mysticpenguincreation @nightmare-niko @iheartinkonpaper @claireyberryy @becauseseaotters @emmalandry @princesstiti14 @aerangi @kaithoughs @jamespotterismydaddy @wildgirllz

571 notes · View notes

jammysworks · 8 months

Note

hihihi, could i request conrad and reader fucking in missionary? like i just can’t get out of my mind how much he’d love this position getting to watch your eyes rollback and circle on your clit at the same time? oh my godddddd

i tried to proofread this as much as possible. my cat kept crawling on my laptop while i was writing 😭

smut below the cut

18+ MDNI

warnings: smut, punishment, light teasing is mentioned, making out/steamy grinding, dry humping, p in v, penetration, missionary position, clitoral stimulation, dacryphilia, squirting, overstimulation, language usage, pet names (baby, con, connie, etc.), manhandling, mating press, slight bondage, college mentioned once or twice, vaginal fingering, masturbation, phone sex, daddy kink (two times), light pain kink, unprotected sex (don't be stupid please), creampie, proofread, conrad being a meanie

word count: 0.6k

it started with you and conrad making out on his bedroom floor, both sitting atop his gray and white carpet, slowly grinding against one another. you pushed yourself higher up his thigh until you rested against his clothed cock. in a teasing matter, you began lightly humping his growing hard-on. the friction being just enough to feel but not enough to release; this setting a ticking time bomb off inside of him. his hands immediately gripping onto your hips and pushing his own in an upward position and forcing yours down. the action causing a whine to emit from the smaller individual above him.

you knew his sexual frustration was through the roof due to college, and you missed him so much. after a while, stuffing yourself full of your fingers and favorite dildo began to become a reminder that your baby isn't home. no matter how many times you would cum while on the phone with conrad, it never felt as good as it does when he fucks you dumb on his cock. it was the same with him. he would wrap his hand tightly around his cock pushing at any attempt he can to make it feel like your pretty pussy squeezing him. "missed you s' much con!" you'd babble out right before cumming another time, coating your dildo in slick and cream. "i know, baby, i know"

...

his hips pistoned into yours, causing loud sobs and whines to release from your red and swollen lips. every thrust punctuating your punishment as conrad inched the pads of his fingers closer to your clit, rubbing light circles into the bud pushing you closer to your second orgasm. “wait con-waittt..ple—ahh!—please daddy!” you yelped, pushing your hand back against his abdomen attempting to slow his thrusts with every fiber of your strength. “hmm?” he groaned as his hips began to speed up their process. “connie it-ooh! feels weird..” the sentence babbling out as fluent as you possibly could, your body pulling away from his torture. your acrylics slightly digging into the skin of his abdomen trying to get him to let off your poor overstimulated pussy :(.

"move your hand. you can take it cmon' don't run from it baby." he grunted aloud, his own hand gripping onto yours and pressing it firmly beside your head, eyes rolling back as your body went limp. liquid squirting onto conrad's abs and dripping down your thighs. the stickiness causing a sloppy noise to echo throughout the room.

his cock pulsing against your walls as your face became a slight red tint from embarrassment, the feelings becoming short-lived as his thrusts continued, his hands trailing down and reaching the back of your knees, lifting your ankles onto his shoulders.

...

you were practically being folded in half with the way your thighs were pressed against your chest, the pain from your stretching muscles only doubling the pleasure. "s' too much-- oh my..hah.. daddy!..no more.." the sentence babbling out of your mouth while he continued to fuck you dumb on his cock. you can't even remember how many times conrad has made you cream and squirt on him, the pleasure-induced haze you spiraled into turned your brain into mush. the only thing you can think about is the in and out motion against your walls as well as the burning sensation the rough pad of his thumb left behind every time he would rub your clit to aid you in cumming.

conrad's own release came closer as he slowed yet deepened his thrusts. his head rolling back as spurts of warm, sticky liquid dripped down your pussy lips and rolled onto the sheets below. his pointer and middle finger drifted across the purple and red tinted marks dancing on your skin. "did so good for me baby." he said, punctuating his sentence with a kiss.

#the summer i turned pretty #tsitp #tsitp s2 #tsitp smut #conrad fisher #conrad fisher smut #tsitp conrad #conrad fisher imagine #conrad #tw smut #x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #x female y/n

989 notes · View notes

thetriumphantpanda · 10 months

Note

CHARLIEEEEEEEE my love, my light, my friend congrats on 1k!!!! I am so so happy that we found each other on this godforsaken app, you have become such a good friend and inspiration to me! For your smut sensation, I would humbly request: Joel Miller, squirting, breeding kink AND daddy kink hehe <3

DONI THE LIGHT OF MY LIFE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH 🧡 If there is one thing I am grateful for on this app, it is you. Thank you for being such a dear friend to me, for listening to ALL of my crazy ideas and generally being my biggest cheerleader. I am so appreciative to have met you. ALSO, THANKS FOR THIS FILTH. I HOPE YOU BLOODY ENJOY IT.

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count | 1.4k

Warnings | Explicit, 18+ Minors DNI. So, we've got, breeding kink, daddy kink, squirting, dirty talk and Joel Miller being a menace. Also slight implied age gap but age is not specified.

Part of my 1k Smut Sensation Celebration - if you want in, check here for details - I'm accepting requests through July 15th.

There are flurries of snow falling outside, the cold wind whipping them up into a blizzard. It’s cold enough that the windows have started to frost over too. Come the morning, there will be a ton of snow to shovel off the front porch and a frigid wind that will have you praying that those on patrol don’t lose extremities to frostbite. Winter in Jackson could be unforgiving and cold, but right now you’re anything but.

It has nothing to do with the fact that your houses have central heating and everything to do with the fact that Joel Miller has just made you come for the second time that night with just his tongue. It shouldn’t really surprise you anymore. You’ve been with this man for two years since he wandered back into Jackson, Ellie in tow, like two feral cats begging to be domesticated. And domesticate him you did. This man between your thighs worshipped you. Worshipped the ground you walked on. He’d provided for you. Helped build a home with you. Given you happiness you weren’t sure either of you had ever thought you’d have again. There was one thing missing though.

You’d been honest with Joel from the beginnings of your relationship, which began as more of a way for you to both take out your stress and frustration with each other more than anything before developing into something much deeper, that you’d always wanted children. You were never going to be safer than you were in Jackson, it was now or never. At first Joel had been wholeheartedly against it. You hadn’t pushed, not once he’d told you about losing Sarah and the truth about Ellie. But in the past year he’d been warmer, more receptive to the idea. Maybe it had something to do with Ellie pulling away, growing older, or that fact that he too was finally starting to realise that this place was safe, that it could give a growing child almost everything they’d had before the outbreak.

Joel’s fingers are what brings you back to the here and now. They’re sliding through your slick and into your tight heat easily, your back arching off the bed and into the palm of his hand as he curls them upwards in just the right way. The way he knows makes you come undone. He’s working his fingers inside you much like he would with his cock, with an unrelating and pounding pace that tonight, has something unfamiliar building in your belly.

“Fuck, Joel-” You choke out, reaching between your legs to fist at his greying hair, “Don’t- FUCK- don’t stop.”

His mouth is free, Joel knows that if he put his tongue on you now it would be too much, which leaves him free to spew utter filth up at you from between your legs, “Like that, don’t ya’, sweet girl?” He proves his point but thrusting his fingers into you at a slightly new angle, causing you to cry out and arch even further into him, “My sweet girl,” He coos, “You gonna let go for me?”

As it always is with Joel, it’s overwhelming. The need to come, acknowledging it might be too much, thinking that there’s no way he’s actually going to make you come again, then proving time and time again that he can play your body like a damn fiddle and doing it anyway.

“Know you can do it,” He praises, leaning down to press hot kisses to your clit, enough stimulation to feel good and help you towards your high, but not enough that it’s too much for you, “Come for me, come on my sweet girl.”

You’re bearing down into his hand, grinding down to meet the upward thrusts of his hand as you finally let go for him. You feel it almost instantly, the gushing and the pooling of liquid on the sheets, Joel’s chuckle between your thighs, and the level of relief you feel. It had happened once before with Joel, during one of your earlier encounters – just as much of a surprise now as it had been then.

“Well, well,” He groans, “Finally, gotcha to do that again,” his fingers are slipping from your aching cunt, “Beginnin’ to think it was a fluke.”

You can’t speak, only hum in pleasure as he trails wet kissed up your belly, between the valley of your breasts and then up along your jawbone. He settle’s himself between your legs, you can feel the heavy weight of his cock slipping between the slick folds of your pussy as he works himself into position for you, hooking your knees around the backs of your elbow as he leans down to capture your lips with his.

You can taste yourself on his tongue as it licks into your mouth, mixing with your own tongue as he moves and slips his thick cock into you in one movement. Your break from his lips to moan his name, eye opening finally to look at him towering above you. He truly was the most handsome man you’d ever seen. The greying of his hair and beard, the starts of his wrinkles, the scars you could see, and those you couldn’t but knew were there.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me, sweet girl,” He moans, pressing your legs further back to place kisses down your neck, “Always feel so good for me.”

The way he has you folded, practically in half, means that every time he pounds into you, he’s hitting that spot again, you’re so spent at this point you don’t think you have anything else to give him, but there’s nothing more you love than watching Joel come undone for you. On every thrust you’re both groaning and calling each other’s names, you manage to free your arms enough to grip his biceps, leaving crescent moon shapes on his skin where you dig your fingernails into him.

“Not gonna last- fuck, sweet girl.” He whimpers from above you.

Something in your mind snaps. You’ve got your hands on the globes of his ass in no time, pulling him into you, “Joel, please-” You beg, “Come inside me.”

You watch with hooded eyelids as he tilts his head back and slows his thrusts before he looks down at you, dark brown eyes clouded with lust, “You sure you know what you’re askin’ for, sweet girl?” He speaks quietly, voice thick.

“I’m sure Joel,” You whimper, “Wanna make you a daddy.”

“Fuck,” He whispers, “Say it again.” He demands, picking the pace of his thrusts back up.

“Gonna make you a daddy,” You cry out, fingers digging into the skin of his ass, “Give it to me Joel, come inside me.”

He lets your legs unhook from his elbows, only so he can get his lips right by your ears, “Gonna fill my sweet girl up,” He breaths into your ear, “Fuck you like this until you’re round with my baby.”

“Fuck,” You can feel his hips starting to stutter, you know he’s close, “Joel, fuck- daddy - please,” You beg, “Fill me up.”

That’s all it takes for Joel to do just that. You can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, painting your fluttering walls with his cum for the first time, letting out a strangled cry as he does. He stays buried inside you to the hilt as he catches his breath, kissing at the lobe of your ear before he’s pulling out of you and sitting back on his knees.

His big hands are squeezing gently at your thighs as he’s looking at the mess he’s made of your pussy. There’s a blush spreading across your cheeks at his gaze, “Don’t get all shy on my now, hot mama,” He grins, “You look so good like this, my cum dripping outta ya.”

You tip your head back and giggle, liking how the words ‘hot mama’ sound in his southern drawl, “I could get used to that, you know.” You smirk, reaching your hands out to drag him to the bed next to you so you can snuggle into his side.

“I think I could too,” He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head, big palm splaying over your abdomen, “Think I could get used to you swellin’ up here as well.”

“Going to have to fuck me plenty, to make sure,” You drape an arm over his chest, “Hope you can keep up, old man.”

#Joel Miller #joel miller smut #Joel Miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #The last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #tlou fic #tlou smut #the last of us smut #tlou fanfiction #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Pedro Pascal #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal #PSSC

896 notes · View notes

hyunsvngs · 5 months

Note

Listen to me for a second…

RIDING LINO UNTIL HE SEES STARS

That’s it that’s the thought…he would sound so pretty tho🥹

lino finally letting you ride him after you'd begged for weeks!! he just kept saying you like it when i'm in charge, kitty cat, but you still wanted to try! you wanted to make him feel good like he does to you.

and it knocks him for six. you sink on to his cock, wet, hot core engulfing him in one go before you're clenching down with a pleased little sound. minho can't believe it. you settle with your hands behind you on his thighs, fingernails digging into his skin and then you're bouncing and god, he can see you like this. your clit peeks out from between your folds, swollen and needy, and he presses his thumb to it without thinking. his cock is stretching you out, your folds red and abused from the stretch and yet you're still writhing and moaning as you bounce your little cunt on him.

your tits jiggle with your movements and he slaps one absentmindedly, making you whine. you only manage a dozen or so bounces before you're tearing up, thighs tensing beside his hips.

"i- hnnfmg, i can't, i tried. it's too good, i can't- i can't, min, min, daddy, please, help me-"

and you must be far gone just from this because you only ever call minho daddy when you're in that floaty little space of yours. he coos, gives your clit another few swipes that make you clench down and ooze slick and then he's tapping on your ass.

"you wanted to be daddy's little bunny and hop on my cock, baby. i think you can carry on and make us cum, no?"

#juno’s asks ♡#user: chqnverse #user: sporksoverit #asks: lino

411 notes · View notes

faetreides · 5 days

Text

　　╰ • ❀ - ❛happy birthday, mr. emperor!❜ ✦

cw: afab reader, daddy kink, pretend it’s april 19th, implied painal sorry for writing an anakin that would love jane eyre too much, bondage mention, dark themes, implied age gap, blowjob

“I wish you could see how the stars I made shine for you, angel.”

Last night Anakin had tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, silently chuckling when it sprung back to smack you in the face. Your nose scrunched in that bunny-esque way he loves, and he whispered against your cheek that he loved you before departing your home. As soon as you heard the door swoosh shut behind him, a bright smile beamed across your face as you sprung out of bed and began preparing. You’d gotten better at pretending to be asleep, or maybe he’s just humoring you.

It took you hours to set up your husband’s surprise stay at home birthday celebration. His job as the Emperor of the Galaxy drains the life out of him even on his good days, so you do what you can to ease the tension however possible. Today is the day in which you put your heart and soul into adoring the love of your life. It wasn’t hard to decide on this kind of party. You’re more of the long distance vacation person in the relationship, and Anakin would gently scold you about how it wouldn’t be safe to even leave the palace most of the time.

You hum a catchy tune, looking in the mirror to make sure that the bow in your hair is tied perfectly. You picked a satin fabric that matches the color of Ani’s eyes, and a part of you can’t deny that the decision was motivated by the desire to see his jaw clench in possessiveness. The little thrills you manage to witness get you through the days inside. You do some last minute twirls, glancing over your outfit and ignoring the slight discomfort of the silk ropes underneath.

Your slippers slap against the floor all the way to the dining room. The servants had already been dismissed for the day as soon as your husband had left, something else that you wouldn’t mind getting a ‘thorough scolding’ for. You know Anakin just doesn’t like for you to ever feel the need to lift a single finger if he can help it, but it’s only fair that you be the best spouse you can be on his special day.

All the food lining the long rectangle shaped table is Ani’s favorite, painstakingly put together and placed in an arrangement by your own hands. You haven’t slept in what feels like forever, but it’ll all be worth it to see how happy this will make him. Like always, you don’t care to delve into how slick your pussy gets at the thought of his approval. Even a small grunt of acknowledgement when he’s distracted drives you wild.

After making sure that absolutely everything is in the proper place, cheesy decorations strung up all over the place included, you smooth your clothes down with your palms flat and wait in the bedroom. You hope he appreciates how restrained you’ve been since he’s been gone, the tempatation to hump your puffy folds against the pillow he lays his head on is still on your mind. Anakin usually wakes you up by licking a flat stripe up your cunt under the covers and hooking his fingers in your hole to stretch it enough for him to spit in, always already naked from the night before. Like a cat kneading the surface it’s walking on, you could cry at being deprived of grounding yourself by burying your shaking hands in his soft hair.

Your excitement must bleed into the Force somehow, because you hear the heavy stomps of boots sooner than you thought. You scramble to meet your husband at the door, remembering how he once admitted that he likes to hear how happy you are to see him when he gets back. The cat never fails to return to check on the canary, and when it eats the stubbornly cheerful thing it doesn’t have to. It knows exactly where the bird is, and always will be.

You don’t even wait for him to get out of his armor and into his more casual attire that he likes to lounge around in at home. As soon as you see your favorite crow’s feet wrinkles revealed by the silver door, you pounce.

With very little effort, you reach up and push the top of your outfit off your shoulders. Anakin’s darkened gaze follows the truthfully skimpy garment as it falls to pool around your ankles. Your cheeks burn and you pray that he’ll take his time admiring you but no such luck, his eyes quickly flick up to see the start of a series of clumsily tied loose silk knots. The holonet tutorial you followed was sort of confusing, but you thought you managed to pull it off in the end!

“Fuck, look at you, bunny.” He groans, prowling around you in a slow circle. “All this for some boring old man?”

“Hey, ‘s not nice…” You wring your hands together, wiggling your plump ass for him as he makes his rounds. “You’re MY boring old man, Ani.”

“Watch it.”

“Or what?” You giggle despite the warning look he’s giving you.

The heat in his gaze feels like flames licking at your spine, but you don’t push him any further. You would never want him to have a stressed induced heart attack. Your unspoken jab makes you giggle again until you realize that Anakin could peek into your mind whenever he pleases.

The sudden slap to your rear doesn’t surprise you, nor do the frenzied squeezes. He loves to watch the skin bulge out between his thick fingers, he loves your fat ass period. The blush pink ribbons were tied together in a way that you knew would enhance your curves, putting enough pressure on your plush ass and tits in particular to really make them pop. Your thighs were nothing to forget about, though, you know better than to assume that Ani doesn’t love every bit of his baby equally.

He circles back around to face you and grins. He adjusts his cock in his pants, not taking his eyes off fof you for even a second, “So fuckin’ gorgeous, honey. And here I was about to say that the best thing I could receive is waking up to you every day.”

“Thank you, Daddy, Happy Birthday.” You purr, sinking to your knees and winding your arm around his thigh, nuzzling into the seam of his pants like you were searching for something.

He ‘tsk’s above you but he sighs and waves his hand in the air, summoning an emerald green cushion to slide under your knees before you hit the floor. That pillow didn’t exist in the beginning of your relationship, but you’ve ended up loving being like this so much that it became a necessity.

Anakin groans as you mouth at his bulge over his slacks, wetting the fabric with your kitten licks to his tip. He settles a heavy palm on top of your head and gives you a couple pats. Neither of you are in any rush, both enjoying your dynamic in a more sensual way. Ani loves how cock drunk you already seem to be, the tension in his body just melts away when he can see how much you’re salivating over your mind going blank.

“You can’t go dumb on me, Angel, I haven’t even got my present yet.” He teases you and grins when you mewl distractedly.

You’re trying really hard to pay attention, promise, but you couldn’t ignore your husband’s natural musk if you tried. “ ‘ngh- hah… ‘Sorry, Daddy.”

Then you remember that you can’t spend the rest of your life on your knees (you wish), so you sheepishly wipe the drool from your mouth. You have trouble getting hold of the zipper, your fingers being too wet to properly pull it. Your embarrassment is short lived, because Anakin is using the Force to undo it and slide his pants down far enough to free his throbbing length.

You pout in disappointment when it doesn’t flop out to smack you across the face. In no time at all you’re slobbering all over his cock.

You flutter your eyelashes up at your husband, hollowing out your cheeks and humming periodically. You can’t help the satisfied grin that comes over you whenever you get a deep groan or grunt in response. Your mouth makes ‘slurp!’ sounds as you suck him off, a sharp ‘pop!’ going off when you pull the suction away to trace the veins on the underside of his curved cock. Precum beads to the surface but they’re swiftly licked away, you outright make out with the thick tip of his dick for a good minute.

Anakin would tease you for how much of a bitch in heat you’re being, but he’s no better when he wriggles his tongue fucking either of your holes. He’d call you that with love though, he’ll never forget how grateful he is to still have you after everything.

“My consort loves their dick, huh? Should I even ask if you’ve prepped your ass?” He asks and you smother your smile in his balls as you lavish them in your saliva.

“Good bunny.” Anakin sighs, balling his fist up in your hair. “Daddy knows you like it when it hurts, angel.”

And you do, even with the dried cum around the corners of your mouth and the tears spilling over. You’re smiling in between gasps of breath with every heavy thrust, you send a thought into the Force of concern over the state of Ani’s joints and you squeal when he speeds up. He hadn’t even bottomed out yet, your puffy rim was already red enough from his bullying the blunt head past your entrance.

You sob and let your mouth hang open, staring off into space as you feel his length cleave your insides in two. The kisses dotted all over your face help soothe you, but you still pant and dig your nails into his wrist on the side of your head caging you in. Anakin’s other hand kneads one of your ass cheeks, giving you more quick pats when he think you’re getting too worked up.

Some of the ribbons wrapped around your body have been destroyed, either by Anakin’s irritation when he wanted more access or by how amateurish your knot tying skills were. The ones around your ass are still intact, and you do your best to shake your ass against the remaining inches sinking inside your puckered hole, wondering if Ani can pick up on the shimmer of the ropes in the dim light.

He’s a good man, your Ani, he only lets it hurt on special occasions. If you rub up on him really nicely, ruining your ass goes outside of those occasions. It’s his birthday, why not let him play with his favorite toy how he wishes? You take pride in the leash you have around his every waking and slumbering desire, he has the same hold on you.

At the end, the universe will only know the carnage Darth Vader left in his wake. Long dead twin suns will singe the memory of Anakin Skywalker and his lover into the fabric of reality.

216 notes · View notes

suenoji · 7 months

Text

a penny for my thoughts? abby anderson and that’s it

contains: blackfem!reader, established relationships, pwop, penetrative sex, abby uses a strap, daddy kink? (never, just a… term…), pet names (mama, baby), choking, it’s short and sweet

abby anderson is plaguing every bit of my mind. mmm — i decided to rewatch tlou2 only to see abby. ‘nnnnnn now i’m thinking of her preparing to leave jackson. she’s frantic,, almost. three weeks of separation makes her dream and yearn for you. she hasn’t even left yet. you’re two steps away from her, under the covers of the bed. naked, afro a mess. your foreheads slick with sweat, and if you move the wrong way, your whole body feels numb. your thighs stick together; she’s making it her goal to engrave her touches into you so they last the duration of her excursion. so when you think about her you have fresh material that’ll keep your panties wet. it pays to slowly enjoy the moments that don’t occur as often, and abby’s taking her time with you tonight.

she exasperatedly sits on the bed and falls back, discarding the plans isaac gave her, the papers scatter — a mere reflection of her thoughts. she can’t focus on plans and cleaning her guns, she’s too busy focusing on the mess you made on the strap. you’re still perked up and teasing her while she lays in bed. you stalk her movements, swift like a cat. if you had a tail it’d be up in the air swaying side to side. her eyes fixate on your upside down form as you hover a few inches above her, boobs resting on her hair “think i want some more abs, from the side this time.” you bat your lashes and make the mistake of rising up to your knees. she giggles, “easy, cowgirl-“ as you fall over with a soft thud to the sheets, stomach jerking, your clit’s still thumping, pussy still throbbing eliciting a soft whine. you feel the shape of her still fucking deep inside of you. that’s the condition she fucks you in to every time, but tonight just feels different. it’s a trance she wants to stay stuck in, it’s sticky and sweet, sweeter than honey — it’s you. sex with you makes life seem so simple. stress dissipates, orders are meaningless. the thought of leaving looms over her head. a dark, gray, spatial cloud follows her every step, stress and worry boom faintly in her ears. she feels her stomach twisting.

leaving Jackson sucks so bad. when she leaves, you make her feel bad about it too— as if it was her decision to leave you to romance clikers and all those other demons. juxtaposed to, innocent, pretty, light hearted, her pretty angel — you! she’s thinking about the moments you two have shared since she stepped into the room this evening.

your moans have been on rewind. she thinks about how she’s made had you cum over and over again on her fingers, on her tongue, on her dick. soft, and opaque, pink with a soft white substance coating its base and the black straps of it as she dug it so deep inside of you curating that mess.

“‘’m cummin’ ’” you’d mumbled, thighs quivering shut, “keep em open, mama, you look so pretty ‘n daddy won’t be back for a while, so let her enjoy it.” she still can’t believe she said that crazy shit.

“‘mmabbs , we’re not done yet right?.” you whine in her ear and she shoots up. every organ in her body ignites with lust. every nerve ticks with impatience. her fingers itch. situational lust, every situation where you have her like this. when you beg and insist for her to do as she pleases. your voice cups her ears and whisper endless affirmations. it’s dreamy.

she’s thinking of how you look when she grips your throat. your little pleas, dry; high pitched. your throat’ll vibrate, your eyes’ll roll to the back of your head and your precious fingers’ll grip onto her arms. they move up to feel the muscles, the ridges and dips of her skin. your pussy gets sloppier the harder she chokes you. pinned down to the matress so you can’t get away. it’s a fun feeling. you feel how hot she is, your lips so soft, saccharine. they fall into a frown, you want her take up all your space, you want her to fill you up. you’re hearing, vision, and mind feel fuzzy. it all feels like a dream, but dreams never feel this real.

“look at me, baby.” she lightly smacks your cheeks. the palm of her hand lightly plays at your cheeks till your eyes crack open. your turn your head to look back at abby as she taps you deeply from the side. “i am.” you whine. tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your legs tremble the harder abby’s thrust pick up. she picks up your right leg and grinds her hips up into you. your fingers dig into the blue velvet blanket she laid you on. the squelching gets louder and louder. she fucks you till your mouth drops open and whiny profanities wisp out. “it feels good, right there?” she asks, kissing your cheeks as one deep sigh rolls out of your mouth. she’s pounding that one soot over and over, you’re creamin’ all on her shit now. “you’re making a mess, does it feel that good?” she teases and nips your neck.

“yes…nghh— right there.” you drool it out and your legs spasm for the nth time. you slowly cum on her dick. grinding until you lost all feelings in your hip. she’s pop it out and tap it against your ass. “good girl. you should feel real tired, you gonna let me do some work now?” she rolls over and pins you with her body. “only of we can do it till bed time when you finish.” abby giggles, your concept of bed time doesn’t reflect hers, “mhm? and what’s your definition of “bedtime”?”

#abby anderson smut #abby tlou smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x black reader smut #abby tlou #abby anderson x black reader #abby anderson #abby x reader #abby x black reader

315 notes · View notes

lipglossanon · 9 months

Note

Holy moly, I just got a random thought.🤭

Puppy/Kitty reader in heat, I've gotta know how the Leon's would react, if you can come up with any thoughts or headcannons !! 🥰

I'll also start providing silly cat pictures in my asks <33

Ahhh! Please, I love cat memes 🥹 💜

Ooh the ole reverse uno 👀 I’ll use puppy!reader since I think it would be easier to think up some stuff 🤭

So after writing this I must say, I like this more than I thought 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 🤭

Stepdad Leon:

“Mm yeah my pretty pup just needed daddy to stuff her little hole huh? Yeah she did,” he chuckles meanly, slapping your ass before pulling on your tail to make you whine.

“God, fucking tight, should’ve been getting my dick wet sooner.”

Sweet Stepdad:

“Oh honey,” he coos, petting your soft ears and tail just making you drip even more slick all over his lap as you grind down on his hard cock.

“Shh, shh, I gotcha, daddy’s gonna make you feel so good. Gonna breed that hot pussy til your all knocked up, how’s that sound?”

Dark Stepdad:

“This pussy’s fucking sucking me in, beautiful,” he groans, humping deeper into your soaked cunt, “you just needed daddy to mount you and fill up this empty little pussy.”

He pushes you down onto the bed until your upper half is flat and ass raised, “Perfect, so perfect. All that’s left is to knock you up, fill that cute hole with all of daddy’s cum til he breeds your tiny cunt.”

Stepbro Leon:

“Oh fuck,” he groans as you bounce on his cock, drool dripping from your panting mouth down onto his chest, ears flopping and breasts jiggling.

“Yeah fucking ride my cock,” he snaps his hips up into your harder making you whimper, “take it, want my cum? Fuck, don’t worry, you’ll get my load deep in that wet fucking pussy.”

Subby Stepbro:

He’s practically smothering you with his body, rutting his cock deep into your needy pussy.

“So fucking good,” he whines, pressing your hands above your head, fingers linked together, “you can use me anytime you get like this, oh fuck.”

You lick into his panting mouth, drool and spit dripping everywhere making you grind up into his rolling thrusts.

“You’re so hot inside, ‘m gonna cum so hard,” he whimpers against your neck, “can’t stop humping your cunt, oh god, wish I could knot you, would love to keep you stuck on my cock all night.”

#ask box #klee #lipglossanon #lipglossanswers #puppy!reader #stepdad leon s kennedy #stepbro leon s kennedy #stepcest

364 notes · View notes

tojigasm · 1 year

Text

Cat And Mouse

Authors note: another Sam fic!! I'm hoping to finish all of my requested Jake fics by this next week and have another Sam fic posted! I hope you all enjoy! <33

Warnings: 18+ nsfw, fem!reader, smut, petnames, daddy kink, swearing, reader is tied up for sexual reasons (only her hands), creampie, reader is a naughty and gets punished, public sexual stuff (just kissing and groping)

Sam, who keeps you, sat in his lap at the bar he frequents. The two of you tucked into a tight corner under amber lights, watching the room of men and women flounder amongst themselves.

You're not a regular of the small cantina, and more often than not you'd be at home working or out shopping with your friends when the opportunity arose for you to travel alongside Sam and his friends.

The short of your mini skirt rides up against the rough of Sam's jeans and your cunt is suddenly exposed to his thick thigh.

The fabric below you dampens with your heat, and Sam adjusts gently, tucking the two of you deeper into the booth.

"Daddy's not happy with you, missy." He comments, shaking his head before taking a sip of his beer. The hand that had been resting on your thigh slips around the front of your skirt to cup your heat in his palm.

You gasp before mumbling a stuffy apology.

"And I don't wanna hear it." Sam pulls his hand away from your cunt to wipe the evidence of your slick onto his jeans.

There's a teasing game of cat and mouse that rustled the two of you throughout the night as the bar floods and waiters and waitresses make their rounds to other booths.

Who could get a reaction out of the other without it being too obvious? Who could get fingered like the naughty girl they are? Who could get threatened with punishment ti'll they're flustered and stumbling over their words?

It seemed that no matter what, you would always be mouse.

Sams lips are to yours, your thigh linked over his own. One of his hands cups at your jaw, keeping you still as his other gently scissors your pussy open.

"You're in fr'a world of hurt when you get home, little girl."

There's absolutely no faux heat in his words as he threatens your punishment, laying out the details of how he plans to punish you once the two of you get home.

"I know." You speak softly, pulling at his bottom lip.

Mistake.

He pulls away, a hand solid to the soft of your neck. He gently holds you there, reminding you of the status between you two in a flashing moment.

"Don't be a smart ass," his fingers curl against your soft walls, and you moan softly.

And just as quickly as his digits were past your velvet folds, massaging your sensitive walls, they were gone, and he was wiping them off on the sides of his jeans.

"Finish your dinner." He points to your plate.

You don't argue.

—

"You're naughty. You're a naughty girl." Sam holds your chin between his fingers, knee pushed against your heat.

"I am." You peer, "i thought you liked your girls naughty." You crawl further over him, mini skirt stroking your soft thighs,

He doesn't say anything. Yet the tender and fond look that softens his features stays and its not as though he's watching you, but rather, the expression itself and its own through his cool blues.

Like it's judging your immodest tongue.

"Do you wish I was behaved? Do you wish I was a good girl?"

"Sometimes." He nods softly, thumbing his hand over your chin, holding you still. There's no spite in his tone.

You smile at the heating tease that strokes over his voice.

Sam shakes his head, holding you under his eyes. "Sometimes I think you need to get punished. Punished bad, tied up and teased ti'll your beggin' fr'me to even get near me." He turns your head from side to side gently, "Think you need to be broke."

"That's not very kind." You fall back to your hip, tilting your chin over your shoulder to meet his eyes.

"Life's not kind." Is all he adds before he's dragging you by your ankle to lie flat against the duvet.

It all happens so quickly that you don't feel the gentle curl of his tie around either one of your wrists while his hands dress you with themselves, painting gentle poetry over your soft skin.

Only noticing your aliment when he pulls back to rest on his haunches. His tongue rolls over his swollen lips in a sickly smirk.

"Sam–"

He tsks.

"Daddy..." you try, correcting yourself. "Daddy, can you please untie me?" Your knees knock together.

Sam ignores your pits of cry and stuffs a pillow beneath your head before wrapping his hands around your calf, massaging and needing your soft skin.

"Please," you try again, "Please, I'll be good."

He scoffs.

"Wanna touch you," you mumble.

Sams brows raise in amusement, stilfing a chuckle. His hand links around your throat and holds you – as if your escape was threatened, as if the idea had occurred to you to at least try.

He straddles your hips and leans down to lick a stripe up the colloum of your neck and onto your jaw.

You gasp beneath him, shivering some when his free hand slinks between the two of you to lightly tap your cunt.

"Who's is this?" He speaks against your lips

"'S yours, daddy." Voice low.

Sam nods and sticks a finger past your folds, the flat of his palm presses into your swollen clit.

"Tell me you want me," Sam kisses the dimple of your cheek, pulling his hand away from your clit to unbuckle his belt and pants.

You watch him, eyes falling from his own to his hand, working quickly to stroke over his thick length.

"Don't make daddy tell you again." He corrects you.

"I want you." You whisper, breath catching when his cock rests up against your folds, slipping up to run along your clit and down to tease your entrance.

"I want you so bad, Daddy, please!" You sob, voice broken and eyes watery.

There's little warning in the way the fat tip of his cock presses against you, gently sinking into your heat.

He doesn't move any further. Pumping only some of his length in your cunt.

You whine, trying to reach him futility.

Sam chuckles at your attempt, sinking all the way to hilt, and you moan when his balls press up against your sopping folds.

"Oh...!" You sob, head falling back against your pillow.

Sam plants his hands onto the headboard of the foot of the bed, pumping into you, hips rolling thickly against your own.

The achey stretch is delicious as he fills you, veiny cock massaging your gummy walls and fucking you open.

"Christ," he pants, "always forget how fuckin' tight you are."

Sam groans, dropping his weight onto you, thrusting into your cunt at a leisure pace.

"M'gonna cum," you whimper, trying to reach for him again.

Sams eyes soften, and he runs his hands along your arms to untie your wrists, letting you wrap your arms around him.

"You're not cumming until I say so."

It's cruel — the punishment paired with the way his cock stretches you so good it's a miracle you haven't already cum.

You sob, dipping your head into the crook of his neck as he grunts from above you, heat spilling into you.

His hips jolt into you as he cums, hands squeezing the plush of your waist.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck m'still cumming," he groans into the soft of your neck, pushing himself to hilt before resting theere for a moment.

The two of you take in the cool of the room and shiver as he pulls himself from your heat to watch his cum dribble out of your folds and onto the sheets below you.

Sam scoops his cum back into you before kissing your clit.

"I didn't get to cum," you whine, still restless from your lack of release.

Sam falls back on his hip, trailing his fingers over your hips.

"Did you think you were going to?"

You're foolish to think you would. Foolish to think cat would take mercy on the mouse and let it free. And you'd always be mouse.

#sam worthington #dilf sam worthington #avatar #sam worthington x reader #sam worthington smut #avatar x reader #avatar smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully smut

564 notes · View notes

sintiva · 6 months

Text

— abby anderson!

abby has been plaguing every bit of my mind. mmm — i decided to rewatch tlou2 only to see abby.

‘nnnnnn now i’m thinking of her preparing to leave jackson. she’s frantic,, almost. three weeks of separation makes her dream and yearn for you. she hasn’t even left yet. you’re two steps away from her, under the covers of the bed. naked, afro a mess. your forehead’s slick with sweat, and if you move the wrong way, your whole body feels numb. your thighs stick together; she’s making it her goal to engrave her touches into you so they last the duration of her excursion. so when you think about her you have fresh material that’ll keep your panties wet. it pays to slowly enjoy the moments that don’t occur as often, and abby’s taking her time with you this evening.

she exasperatedly sits on the bed and falls back, discarding the plans isaac gave her, the papers scatter — a mere reflection of her thoughts. she can’t focus on plans and cleaning her guns, she’s too busy focusing on the mess you made on the strap. you’re still perked up and teasing her while she lays in bed. you stalk her movements, swift like a cat. if you had a tail it’d be up in the air swaying side to side. her eyes fixate on your upside down form as you hover a few inches above her, boobs resting on her hair “‘think i want some more abs, but from the side this time.” you bat your lashes and make the mistake of rising up to your knees. she giggles, “easy, cowgirl-“ as you fall over with a soft thud to the sheets, stomach jerking, your clit’s still thumping, pussy still throbbing eliciting a soft whine. you feel the shape of her still fucking deep inside of you. that’s the condition she fucks you in to every time, but tonight just feels different. it’s a trance she wants to stay stuck in, it’s sticky and sweet, sweeter than honey — it’s you. sex with you makes life seem so simple. stress dissipates, orders are meaningless. the thought of leaving looms over her head. a dark, gray, spatial cloud follows her every step, stress and worry boom faintly in her ears like a storm. she feels her stomach twisting.

leaving Jackson sucks so bad. when she leaves, you make her feel bad about it too— as if it was her decision to leave you to go and romance clikers and all those other demons. juxtaposed to, innocent, pretty, light hearted, her pretty angel — you! she’s thinking about the moments you two have shared since she stepped into the room this evening.

she’s thinking of how you look when she grips your throat. your little pleas, dry; high pitched. your throat’ll vibrate, your eyes’ll roll to the back of your head and your precious fingers’ll grip onto her arms. they move up to feel the muscles, the ridges and dips of her skin. your pussy gets sloppier the harder she chokes you. pinned down to the matress so you can’t get away. it’s a fun feeling. you feel how hot she is against your body. when your lips meet yours their so soft, saccharine. they fall into a frown, you want her take up all your space, you want her to fill you up. you’re hearing, vision, and mind feel have fallen victim to a delicate haze.

“look at me, baby.” she lightly smacks your cheeks. the palm of her hand lightly plays at your cheeks till your eyes crack open. your turn your head to look back at her as she taps you deeply from the side. “i am.” you whine. tears prick at the corner of your eyes and your legs tremble the harder abby’s thrust pick up. she picks up your right leg and grinds her hips up into you. your fingers dig into the blue velvet blanket she laid you on. the squelching gets louder and louder. she fucks you till your mouth drops open and whiny profanities wisp out. “you want it like this, mama?” she asks, kissing your cheeks as one deep sigh rolls out of your mouth. she’s pounding into that one spot over and over, “mmhm, jus’ like that.”, you’re creamin’ all on her shit now. you’re fingers dig into her skin, and it take so much out of her to fuck you how you need it. you like it rough, you never say that, but the sounds your pussy makes tells everything. “you’re making a mess, does it feel that good?” she teases and nips your neck. she sucks on the back of your neck until dark red marks decorate her beautiful brown canvas.

“yes…nghh— right there.” you drool it out and your legs spasm for the nth time. you slowly cum on her dick. grinding until you lost all feelings in your hip. she’d pop it out and tap it against your ass. “good girl. you should feel real tired, you gonna let me do some work now?” she rolls over and pins you with her body. “only of we can do it till bed time when you finish.” abby giggles, your concept of bed time doesn’t reflect hers, “yeah? and what’s your definition of “bedtime”?”

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x black reader #abby anderson x black reader #abby x black reader smut #abby anderson smut #abby x reader #abby x reader smut

256 notes · View notes

himbocoups · 1 year

Text

˗ˋˏ Between Glitz and Glamour ˎˊ˗ | 18+ Only

synopsis: love collects like the number of pearls on a string – scintillant under the shining spotlight, two ends clasped together to make one. however, one unforeseen tug can scatter the pearls, making them roll, bounce, and clack against the illegally sticky floors of the speakeasy. but one can’t help but chase the jewels, especially the one carved in the shape of lee jihoon.

member: lee jihoon

genre: angst, drama, romance, 1920s period piece | smut

tags: cursing, drunk characters, emotional constipation, food/drinks, jealousy, opposites attract, smoking, s2l // sax, settlements, and speakeasies | blindfold play, fingering, lap dances, mirror sex, oral, overstim, pet names (baby, daddy, whore...), pnv, pussy slapping, squirting...

wc: 15k

beta reader reviews: "OKAY DADDY I'M NOT GOING TO FIGHT YOU" - @multi-kpop-fanfics // "GODDDD I can't do this" - @heartkyeom // "HAHAHHAHAA FUCK IM IN TROUBLE" - @playmetheclassics

a/n: hihi you may see some recognizable characters sprinkled throughout the fic (hint @onlymingyus's duo). and giving a hugehugehuge thank you to my beta readers. this is a big piece I've been writing for months so thank you so much <33 chapters are separated and named by seasons for easy navigation - nu ♡

himbocoups's masterlist

one - spring

Sleek oiled hair with expensive Brilliantine and the tiny stray strand that falls from the slick that brushes against his forehead, the man’s Adam’s apple bobs and lowers as the man swallows another sip of his Manhattan. An amber drop seeps from his lips, seesawing on the rim of the stemmed cocktail glass he holds steady against his lips before racing downwards against the outside of the glass. He sets his drink on the sticky Oak tabletop before the drop of liquid can collect on his finger, never once breaking eye contact with his spoil for the night.

Dark brown eyes quickly flick from the woman’s eyes to his pant leg that rests against her inner heel, brushing against the open skin like a curtain as she unconsciously shifts her balance to her tiny kitten heel. She traces a manicured finger over his exposed collarbone, letting her hand glide downwards until it rests on his chest. Dorothy, she reminds him of her name, like the one from the novel. But he hasn’t read a novel since grade school, let alone hold one in his hand. He deceivingly nods like he understands her reference. Truthfully, he can’t even hear her over the live band and tonight’s drunk rowdy crowd in his speakeasy.

The Diamond Glass – an ironic name given the speakeasy’s connotations. Hidden in plain sight in the heart of the city, the speakeasy isn’t as transparent as the name suggests. And Lee Jihoon – as cunning as his cat-like features – operates his mom and pop grocery store front during the day and his speakeasy during the night, strictly and smoothly running his businesses like the automated belts in Ford’s motor car factories. A mastermind with too much money to blow and a throttle of criminal cohorts he calls his family, the man can’t help but let loose once in a while, especially when it comes to taking someone new home every so often.

And Dorothy, beautiful feathered brooch-wearing Dorothy with big brown eyes and arched eyebrows, is someone who Jihoon is willing to take home…or even in the kitchen pantry if he kicks the cooks out. But a disapproving look from his younger sister from across the bar is enough to give him second thoughts about taking her old classmate from high school home or anywhere, really. He clears his throat, two rough coughs with his hand brought up to his mouth, and peers at the woman in front of him. She doesn’t seem phased by the little break in their interaction and moves in to leave him a tiny product-stained peck along his jawline.

This action alone is enough to have him immediately forget about his sister’s disapproving looks and pull the lady into him by her waist, a tiny oop emitting from her matte-colored lips.

“Darling,” The word rolls smoothly off the tip of his tongue, landing softly against her cheek.

Before he can make another move on Dorothy, he feels a soft tap against the outside of his heel. And before he can even make the decision to ignore the tap, he hears the ever-so-familiar sound of shattering glass against his beloved speakeasy floors from across the room. The figure of a darting bouncer toward the center of the crowd and the manager, Seungcheol, following closely behind is enough for Jihoon to excuse himself from the self-proclaimed novel character Dorothy to attend to a crowd transforming into the shape of a circle.

He sees her for the first time in his life with her dirtied flimsy party dress, and the skirt under her knees, as she reaches around blindly for something probably important to her. There are a few clutched in her right hand, opalescent pearls, probably fake; her other hand is limp, tucked against her waist as if she doesn’t want anybody to notice her injury. He thinks if he turns his head back to Dorothy, he would be able to become ignorant of the fact that there’s shattered glass near the back of her heels, the same glass that he brought in the other day.

An entire five cents gone, just like that. He is forced to think, adding a note to his mental managerial book.

Mingyu probably kicked the man out, he hears a patron say to another person who asked. The man tried absinthe for the first time. Now he’s absent before the pianist can perform his set. Poor lady…poor lonely lady with her fine pearls. Heard that was the only drink she was clutching onto the whole night before the man knocked her over. Never seen her around before.

“Hey.” Seungcheol taps his boss’s shoulder, the other hand pinching the bridge of his nose in an act of annoyance. “Take her to get patched up.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he scowls. “Manage your patrons better.”

Still, he shuffles over to his customer and lifts her up by the waist, heaving her onto the nearest bar counter, probably separating two people from their conversation. He doesn’t care if they complain, for all he cares, they already paid for their drinks.

“You didn’t have to set me on the counter,” she says while fiddling with the fabric of her dress, her eyes never looking down to meet his. “Just a scratch on my hand, that’s all.”

Someone passes him a bag of ice wrapped in a dishcloth. The bartender probably, she remembers. She remembered him complaining in passing about how it gets so rowdy in this speakeasy, yet they can never find the time to restock their simplest first aid supplies. Something about how the big boss is stingy, but he can’t complain because he’s getting paid well.

The palm which holds her injured hand is warm and a little rough around the tiny calluses, a stark contrast to the cold ice which hits her outer hand and the soft and regularly washed dishcloth which creates a nice barrier to stop the coldness from stinging.

“The fabric isn’t flimsy, you know. It just looks that way because of how I draped it.” The comment comes out of her mouth compulsively, as if she needed to somehow bring up the topic in case he was staying silent because he was silently judging her getup. She can’t read him well, not under the lights and not even when his eyes flick to every other woman except for her. “I can ice it myself.”

“Nonsense.” He is curt with his words. “This shouldn’t have happened to you. My workers should’ve been better at watching out for rowdy customers. Please accept my apology on their behalf. Write down your bank account number, and I’ll pay for your dry-cleaning and for a new string of pearls.”

She thinks that maybe he isn’t as stingy as Joshua says or alternatively, maybe he can say those things simply because he’s wealthy. Either way, Lee Jihoon is just as handsome as the crowd says. It would be such a loss if she didn’t use this chance to strike up a conversation with him. For all that matters, he would be onto the next gal the moment he’s finished taking care of her.

“Take me on a date,” she squeaks, heart pounding like footsteps on the pavement. “The pearls are fake, an-and I can clean the dress myself.”

“I don’t do dates, princess.”

“Then a non-date? With me.” This time, there is a bit more confidence in her tone. But it isn’t enough to shake him.

“Look.” He sighs and drops the melting ice bag onto the counter near her thigh. “You look like you’ve never stepped into a speakeasy before. You probably came here on a dare with one of your girlfriends from grade school, talking about how you need to step out of your comfort zone a little more and is now all balled up. I’m a criminal – dames like you should never be stuck on my bunch.”

“Then I’m a criminal for coming here voluntarily. Aren’t I?”

two - summer

Standing ovation.

He didn’t even know that a standing ovation could happen at a community theatre performance, but here he is, standing on the risers after the final Summer show, waiting for the second lead to finish talking to an important-looking man in fine business attire.

In his arms is a beautiful assembly of white and purple, a small handwritten card from the heart tucked in the middle of it all. This is the first time he attended a musical, and this is the first time he willingly attended anything for anybody outside of his family. Now he’s worried his sweaty palms left damp marks against the brown paper packaging of the bouquet he shopped for with his sister last night.

A couple of children’s costumes push against his backside while they run down the risers, but he doesn’t care. His eyes are trained on her – a light brown wig done in a giant updo with a giant white feathered attachment stuck at the very top and rosy floral clips trailing down the sides. Her stage makeup sparkles under the hot stage lights, a scintillant glow across the apples of her cheeks. She quickly maneuvers her flowers to one arm so she can reach her free hand out to receive the man’s business card. She thanks him as he walks away, leaving her in the middle of the stage, giggly and filled with glee. With brilliant white teeth and lips stretched thin, she practically bounces in her spot until she pauses for a minute, turning around to look for something or someone so important that she would rather share her happiness with them.

Maybe there is a part of him that wants to call out for her, for her to notice him then, and for her to notice him when he was in the crowd. He wants to convince himself that it shouldn’t be him who she’s looking for. But it’s not like Lee Jihoon would ever admit his feelings, not even months after spending time now and then with the tailoress who crawled on the dirty and sticky speakeasy floor to pick up her fake pearls.

God, her and her pearls, he thinks. There was no way he could ever end up with someone like her, practically floating around with her head in the clouds, dreaming about the day she would become a star. Too trusting of others, too gullible, too into him – he wonders why he would even allow himself to be cajoled into attending a stupid production by someone as idiosyncratic as her.

The tight grip around the metal rail loosens when she makes eye contact with him, eyes widening like her smile. And as vague as it sounds, it makes him feel lighter. Better even.

Noticing her friends crowd around her, he mouths “hallway” to her and slips into the darkness. He thinks it’s in his best interest if he doesn’t check to see if her eyes stayed trained on him when he left his place on the risers.

It’s not long until someone grabs his wrist guiding him along the hallway, past the green room, past the rest of the cast. Left behind in her wake is a trail of African Orange Flowers, Amalfi Lemon and Orange, and the powdery floral scent of the powder she uses to refresh her clothes. Coty’s Cyphre, the one she bought back in ’17 – her only perfume that she uses for special events. The liquid in the whimsical rectangular glass bottle that sits on top of her dresser is starting to turn a light amber hue, but she insists on saving each drop. It’s most condensed on the hand pulling his wrist, the same hand that slips downwards, interlocking both hands in a magnetic pull.

Finally seeing her up close, her big doe eyes staring at him and the meticulously swept-on stage makeup, he forgets he has flowers for her in his hands. He snaps out of his trance when he hears the soft muted crinkling of the brown paper packaging being removed from his arms. She stands in front of him in her empty dressing room, holding the bouquet like a newborn, and lowering her head to smell the flowers – eyes closed to breathe in the sweet floral scent deeply with a sigh.

“I uhh.” He quickly brings his right fist up to his mouth and clears his throat. “I liked the performance. It was nice.” He can’t look her in the eye – doesn’t even know what to say especially now that her dress’s strap slipped off her shoulder, bringing her collarbone into view. She must think he’s the daftest person in the world, and he almost crumbles at the thought of her seeing him through his hubris.

“What about me?” She blinks. Dropping her flowers on the counter where the wood meets a long wall of mirrors, she tests the waters by slowly crossing his threshold. One buttermilk-colored gloved hand glazes his tweed vest, but of course, she can never elicit a reaction from him. “What did you think about me?” She asks him, palm now fully against his vest.

If it were physically possible, Jihoon stutters without muttering a word – caught red-handed by the woman in front of him. Truth be told, he wasn’t really paying attention to the musical. Falling asleep during the last half of the first act and waking up when the orchestra started the entr’acte, he knew he should’ve stayed home after an especially rowdy night at the Diamond Glass. And he would have if it weren’t for his sister, who quite literally dragged him out of bed and kicked him to the curb.

I really don’t get why she likes you even though you’ve been dragging her along for around two months. You don’t even seem that interested in her, she told her older brother. So either end the situationship or make it a relationship. But after the musical! So don’t you dare come back until tomorrow morning…Seokmin’s coming over.

But what does he think about her? What does he think about the woman in the bouncy polka-dot dress whose entire being is too utterly obsessed with him, the one who only talks about her dreams while floating on her imaginary clouds, the one who buys cheap costume jewelry whenever she can hoping one day she would trade her precious pearl necklace for a new one? The one whose lips he has to cover while in bed because her vocal cords aren’t the only things that he’s plugging.

Simply put, he thinks her to be annoying. They have almost nothing in common. He cannot stand the fact that she’s so dizzyingly ditzy that she cannot go a day without dreaming or talking about the glitz and glamour of her potential stardom, living in a constant state of hypotheticals. She somehow latched onto his side like a cat’s claw in a woolen sweater or a parasite who is too cheerful and optimistic even on bad days. Yet, despite everything, he doesn’t mind having her by his side.

“Come on Hoonie,” she whines. “Tell me.”

God, how he hates that nickname. Usually, he would tell her off for using that nickname but she’s a couple of centimeters away from completely pressing herself against his frontside, and the only thing he can concentrate on is definitely not her performance.

But it doesn’t matter anyway. While a celebration happens on the main stage, in an empty dressing room, two people try to devour each other like it is the last time they would ever meet. A few fallen stray petals crumple under the sole of his shoe as he rubs himself between her closed legs. Groaning as he feels her squeeze him between her bare thighs, sliding with ease as her warm juices lubricate his naked organ, he covers her mouth from behind as he slowly pushes himself into her.

And everything feels warm, hot – clothed bodies pressed against each other, the row of bright lights above the wall of vanity mirrors, her breath as she moans into his large palm over her mouth, and her spongy inside that often invites him in secret. The habitually voluble woman is reduced to nothing under his touch and tries to refrain from audibly moaning, knowing that she would be punished if she were loud.

So she finds something exciting in whimpering into the open air, feeling him twitch inside of her with every mewl that enters his ear as he slowly fucks himself into her. The more high-pitched she gets, the more it arouses him to the point where he completely loses his nonchalant front. The hand which once covered her mouth is now tilting her chin upwards as his other hand grabs her by her waist. And he watches through the mirror how her eyes roll upward as he ruts himself into her, smirking at how she melts against his chest, aching and begging him for more.

That isn’t to say that maybe the thought of how good the reflection of the two of them together looks crossed his mind once or twice. But he pushes the thought aside like the rest of his feelings for her and instead pushes deeper into her, moaning when he feels her convulse around him.

“Ah fuck babe,” she gasps while her knees bend towards each other, palms pressed against the mirror as she recovers from her high.

“Watch your language,” he instinctively mumbles, pushing her forward so that her elbows rest on the vanity. He lifts the hem of her skirt above her ass, bunching the costume fabric in his hand and laying it on top of her back. Her use of his pet name completely slips his mind as he sighs while slipping back inside of her, feeling the tight cushiony cunt squeeze around his cock. Any tighter he might have to fuck her on the floor to stop losing feeling in his legs.

The louder the party is downstairs, the more confident she is in moaning out loud. And the sounds coming from her mouth fuels his lust. His cock feels hard as hell, and he is so close to finishing. A trail of profanities rains from his mouth, praising her, commanding her, and telling her how he feels at this moment. And she smiles that lazy smile reflected in the mirror as she hiccups while the tip of his organ threatens to penetrate more than just her walls.

“Be mine, yeah?” She manages to ask him while he pulls her head back, her fake pearl necklace coming into view.

“You’re asking? Fuck. Okay fu-Jesus. Bend over. M-more for me, baby. More.”

With one easy yank, the brown wig slides off her head and collects in his fist. He thinks nothing of it and drops it on the floor next to a pile of fallen audition flyers, continuing to ram into her from behind, never missing a beat. Jostled around with each hard thrust, each remaining bobby pin that once held her wig in place fall to the floor one after the other.

Plink. Puh-link. Plink.

The answer to her original question is still left unanswered.

three - summer

“So, when is your girlfriend coming?”

Lee Jihoon looks up from the several small plates of food in front of him to see his younger sister cocking an eyebrow at him before she looks at the spread of food he prepares. Quick to notice the slight pout of her lips and the soft twitch of her eyebrows, he knows a light-hearted complaint is about to come out of her mouth.

“It’s a double date, but you’re only serving us canapés. What do you want me to do? Starve?” She places a hand on her hip in disbelief.

“I never said it was a double date,” he corrects her while swatting one of her hands away from the deviled eggs, never batting an eye. “I only said we are going to taste test new finger foods for the speakeasy.”

“And the girlfriend?” She sneaks a bruschetta from one of the plates when he looks away, dumping the pile of finely diced tomatoes tossed with balsamic vinegar and spices into her mouth before following it with the piece of soggy-crunchy bread she holds. “W- where is sphe?” She asks him with her mouth full, swiping the edge of her mouth with the side of her pointer finger.

“Finishing an audition so she’ll be a bit late,” his tone is as monotonous as ever. He doesn’t pay her any mind, not when he’s stressing over minuscule plates of finger food.

It is a particularly slow Thursday night. The grocery store’s customers start to dwindle as Seokmin helps the remaining customers checkout their items before he can close the shop to restock and sneak his boss’s girlfriend into the speakeasy. And the younger sister who stands in the kitchen behind the speakeasy’s bar can’t help but stare at her older brother who somehow manages to assemble different types of small plates for four people at once. But it’s the fact that no amount of magnesium can fix his almost permanently clenched jaw that she knows something is bothering him.

“Hmm…” She takes his used cutting board and a stack of dirtied plates away from his area to bring to the sink to rinse. “I don’t like it,” she tells him while dropping the stack in the sink, wincing at the crashing sound.

“The bruschetta you stole?” He asks over his shoulder. Albeit, the way his tone angles upwards at the end, a squeak that he tries to hide by clearing his throat, is a clear tell that the quality of the food, or at least something related to tonight, greatly concerns him.

“No. It’s actually really good.” She restacks the dishes in the sink, thinking that it would be better to wash them all at once after dinner. “I was talking about you. Something’s bothering you.”

“You’re bothering me.” He frowns in his spot, bending over to adjust the garnish on one of the plates. “Go bother Seokmin. He’s probably crying while he’s running the grocery store alone without you by his side.”

“He’s a big boy. He can handle it,” she muses, humming while wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“I’m telling you to climb up your thumb.”

“And I’m telling you that you have girl problems.”

Before he can turn around to confront his sister about minding her own business, two familiar voices enter the speakeasy from the hidden hallway connecting the employee room of the grocery store to the speakeasy’s office. Head perking upwards like a sleeping cat when they hear the familiar clinking of keys on a chain when one unlocks the front door, Lee Jihoon’s entire attitude and disposition seem to shift into the positive. And the sister almost snickers at the sight.

---

Clearly less stressed than before, Lee Jihoon still walks around more reserved than usual. He left the small talk to the others and only chimed in when spoken to. But the one hand that found a home around her waist, on her shoulder, in her hand, said something otherwise. And maybe it’s not a lie when others say that being around your favorite person could make all your worries go away. The way that his tiny fangs come into view when she gushes about her audition, the unnoticeable squeeze he gives her hand when she talks about calling off sick for work in order to practice for the audition, and the blush on top of his already flushed face when she tells the other couple that she couldn’t have done it without him by her side…it did make his worries go away, at least for the time being.

Two hours later, the siblings are once again in the speakeasy’s kitchen, cleaning the used and empty dishes while the other two chat away near the stage where they plan for a duet in the future. There is an empty bottle of homemade red wine left to dry next to the dish rack. He sits by himself on the stool near the sink, holding a half-filled wine glass in one hand, promising to finish off the rest of the bottle by himself before his team comes in to open the speakeasy within the next hour.

“Hey, be honest. What’s eating yo-”

“She told me she loved me this morning.” He cuts off his sister’s question while staring at his sorry expression through the soft reflection against the burgundy-red liquid.

“Oh…OH?” She doubles back.

“I wasn’t able to reciprocate it,” he sighs. “It came out of nowhere.”

There isn’t anywhere to sit so she decides to squat next to him, taking the glass out of his hands so she can finish it for him. Of course, she would be worried about the man who never seemed to be able to keep a relationship or even enter one look so distraught over a quip in his relationship. Finding out it was about the question of love, she can’t help but pry more out of him, never experiencing this kind of talk with her older brother in the past. But when she sees his eyes squint at the hem of her everyday dress draped across the dirty kitchen placemats and him immediately getting up from his stool so she could sit, she knows that he would be fine.

“What’s next? Do you think you’ll have to break up with her?” She tries to push his buttons.

“No.” He hears the familiar tuning note in the distance, echoing throughout the empty speakeasy. “Maybe I would be able to reciprocate it someday,” he mumbles while scratching the side of his head.

She chugs the rest of the wine, earning a disapproving look from her older brother, and rinses the glass in the sink.

“I think I’ll have my gentleman walk me home now…leave you to work.”

He takes her glass out of the sink and immediately washes it again, not trusting that she could truly clean it in her inebriated state.

“Make sure he gives you his jacket. It’s starting to get chilly outside.”

“How can it be chilly? It’s only the beginning of Summer.”

“Also, don’t walk. Take my breezer keys from my office drawer,” he tells her while she hugs him goodbye. “And tell him to drop her off, yeah? She must be tired.”

“From the audition?”

“Yeah…the audition.”

“Are you sure you don’t love her?” She squeezes his shoulder. “Don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“I-” He looks like he is about to say something but drops the notion. “Get home safe.”

It comes out like a sigh – a dilatory action to avoid her question.

four - summer

There are only a few ways to command a room in a crowded speakeasy on an especially sweltering hot July Summer night. And only a few can truly get the room to become so quiet that everybody inside can hear conversations outside of the sturdy soundproof walls of the speakeasy.

She stands onstage next to one of the lead singers of the week. Seungkwan, the lead’s name, tries to pry open the newspaper to the right page but struggles to find any grip between the smooth-printed paper and his dry fingertips. The action causes the crowd to groan, but a singular and sharp shh sound emitted from the speakeasy’s owner’s mouth at the back of the crowd causes the entire crowd to acquiesce and grow silent again.

Seungkwan swipes the tip of his pointer finger across his tongue and rubs the wetness against his thumb. The younger man smiles when he finds his grip and immediately flips to the right page, right to the location of the musical advertisement. He shifts his body away from the eager dame, oscillating ball to heel, who is dressed like a patron of the Ritz just for this special occasion. Left pointer finger skimming through the cast members, he skips ahead and heads straight to the ensemble.

From the crowd beneath the stage, one could see the top of the singer’s head, eyebrows, and a pair of eyes right above the top of the newspaper. The man on the stage holds the newspaper to the crowd, showing them the content like a schoolteacher reading to their class.

“Ensemble!” he yells. “And the understudy for the lead!”

The ebullient cheers that follow the announcement fill the speakeasy – a newfound cause for celebration. A regular in this establishment is about to star in a mainstream musical and they are all about to get bragging rights. And the dame whose name is printed on thousands of newspapers stands on stage, quite clearly in shock. Lace-gloved hands covering her mouth and the recovered fake pearl necklace hanging from her neck, she can only allow tears of joy, of jubilation, to fill a reservoir in her eyes. Months of hard work, hours upon hours of practice, sore muscles, and a dream to work toward – there’s a realized catalyst to her belief that nothing that she had worked toward, worked for, and dreamed about had ever gone to waste.

And he, Lee Jihoon, continues to stand in his place at the back of the Diamond Glass, unmoving like the Statue of Liberty. He sees his Ritzy moll under the spotlight, shining, scintillating in all her newfound glory. Where he would usually be focusing on the crowds of men with fat pockets rushing to the bars, he can’t help but keep his eyes on his girlfriend.

His mouth moves on its own. Opening. Tongue touching the back of his front teeth. The last syllable forms a pout. Three words formed without any sound.

The thing is, she sees him. Even from the stage in the front of the room, the only person she can clearly see silently supports her from the back of the crowd. To her, he is, and always will be, her only glowing entity in the pitch dark. And she directs a fabulous smile at him. She knows.

---

“F-fuck!” Her stomach jolts when she feels his thick fingers exiting her leaking cunt.

“Aww my baby is so vulgar, isn’t she? Wanting to fuck in public while everybody else is getting drunk and celebrating her?”

The owner of the Diamond Glass leans back into the beautiful moss green leather executive chair with the cherry wood elements that his workers gifted him on his past birthday. Spread across his matching cherry wood desk are the gams belonging to the woman the entire speakeasy is celebrating. And the new musical actress shudders at the feeling of her naked and throbbing core against the cold office air while she lies with her back against the desk, dress pulled up and bunched around her breasts. And he smirks in his seat, his left hand moving to his neck to loosen his necktie while his right hand reaches into his desk drawer to draw out a long wooden object.

“Left or right hand, baby?” He asks her while palming himself in his seat, his zipper already down and his erection dripping with precum.

“L-Left,” she stutters while staring at the ceiling, heart beating fast.

“Left what?” He spreads his thighs a little more, relaxing into his seat while he slowly strokes himself to the fleshy sight in front of his face.

“Daddy,” she chokes, her back arching off the wooden surface, fake pearl necklace clacking against the desk, her wanting to feel anything and to be given anything by the man who sits behind his desk.

He moves the oblong object into his left hand and rubs the precum off his head with the pad of his right thumb. Like a painter branding their work of art, Jihoon marks her soft nub with his precum, smearing it on her as if he is marking his territory. And she moans from his touch, every inch of her body prickling with heat.

Thinking for a couple of seconds while stroking himself with his right hand, he finally decides, “We’re not leaving this room until we see your pretty pussy squirt on daddy. Hold still for me Sweetheart.”

With no time for her to react, he brings the object down on her opening, fast. The slapping sound of the wooden ruler against her fragile clit rings throughout the room – threatening to drown out the sounds of people partying on the other side of the guarded door. The euphonic sound of her squealing, the way her thighs close and immediately open like the whore she is, only edges him more.

He slaps her pussy again, bringing down the makeshift paddle quickly. Then again. And again.

She cries in response, tears leaking down the sides of her face as she calls out to him Daddy, daddy, yes! Daddy – s-shit. Please! More! Use me. Withering in her spot, she feels nothing but the euphoria and the stinging sensation that makes her sex clench, builds her high, and causes her eyes to roll to the back of her head. And he relishes in watching and hearing her positively react, feeling his high build in the palms of his hands.

However, like the businessman he is, he thinks what is in front of him is not enough. So he drags his heavy seat closer to his desk till his face is directly in front of her cunt when he is seated. And he knows that he didn’t take that much time to adjust his seat, but her fingers are already dipping into her sopping cunt without permission – a dainty middle finger slowly and repetitively entering her sex and pulling out while she sighs in relief.

Irritated by her actions, he uses his precious ruler to nudge her hand away from her cunt. He drops his ruler on his desk and immediately, by bringing his empty hand against her cunt and feeling her jolt under his fingers, pulls his hand back to slap her again.

“Whore.”

This single word leaves his mouth, laced with disgust. But it causes her to reach her high, her body jolting as she comes. He uses this moment to put his face against her cunt, burying his tongue in her folds, licking and prodding while his strong hands grab hold of her thighs to steady her while she shakes against the tabletop. He lets himself be buried in her cunt, pushing his nose against her nub and lapping her juices like it’s his only source of water. Teasing her with the tip of his tongue, he kitten licks her cunt until she shakes under his hands and sends a long and flat stripe up her folds.

Overstimulated by him eating her out while she orgasms, by him punishing her by sticking his tongue up her vagina, all she can do is slur her cries – so, so, so entirely intoxicated by him against her sex. And the frail cry turns into a scream when he pulls out his tongue and slaps her one last time – the sharp pain against her bodily exhaustion causes her to squirt, wave after wave, coating his unbuttoned button down and lubricating his open and exposed chest.

Her high blinds her so much that the can only see the deep red marks his fingers left on the outside of her thighs and the splotchy purple along her inner thighs when she recovers in the morning.

And the poor part-time bouncer, the law student with the circular glasses, can only keep a stoic face as he stands on the other side of the door. Because he knows that if he even reacts, even hints to others why he is guarding the office door, he would suffer a fate a lot worse than being fired from his boss’s precious speakeasy.

five - fall

He arrives home at around two in the morning and finally gets to enter the comfort of his bed at around three. The girlfriend who was lying in bed awake, waiting for her boyfriend to come home, is now completely lost as to why her sweetheart would even start an argument with her saying that she should have gone to bed without him. For months now, all she wanted was communication from someone who loves knowing everything and every single detail about everybody around him, but she can never seem to scratch more than his surface-level answers. And everything she does at that moment, including being awake for him, seems to tick him off even more than it should. And she is frustrated, not knowing what to do or how to confront him.

“You’re upset,” she points out.

“I’m not upset,” he retaliates, his tone a lot harsher than how he meant it to sound.

“You didn’t call me ‘Babe.’ You didn’t greet me when you came home.” She sits up from her side in his bed, the bedsheets falling just below her neckline. She hugs the sheets tightly to her chest. “You’re clearly upset.”

Truth be told, Lee Jihoon is definitely upset. They are in the middle of their first mini-argument, but it is hard to even begin a full-fledged fight when one side is extremely talkative and open about their feelings while the other side is the polar opposite. And the polar opposite in this situation only wants to sleep in his king-sized bed, too tired to even talk to her. Because in his heart, he knows that he would accidentally take his frustrations built from an amalgamation of happenings out on her through his language, and he knows that the only way to avoid that outcome is to avoid her altogether.

Continuing to look at his ceiling, he stubbornly ignores the woman he holds so precious to his heart, thinking that it would be better that way.

“Lee Jihoon,” she says his full name. “Talk to me. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Muscles tense under his blanket when he hears his name, and he stiffens in his place in bed. He can feel her getting more upset with every second he spends ignoring her – but it’s not like she isn’t used to him ignoring her. That’s how their relationship started anyway.

He knows he could just tell her. He knows he doesn’t even need to look her in the eyes to talk to her, to tell her how much of a bad day he has had. Just a couple minutes explaining how he is upset because the police stopped his men from unloading the grocery stock truck when they mistook the contents of the truck for alcohol, how the police almost found out about the speakeasy, how Seokmin proposed to his sister without his permission, and how he punched Seokmin would have been enough to put the both of them at ease.

But he is as hardheaded as they come, and he doesn’t have an answer for her – he doesn’t know why he won’t share his feelings with her.

A scintillant flash glimmers at the corner of his eye, and his bedroom is much too dark for any regular object to be shining so brightly. So he turns his head toward the object only when it catches his eye another time.

Lo and behold are two brilliant diamonds sitting proudly on her earlobes. And for a man who has seen all of his girlfriend, he has never seen them before – no matter how small they are.

“What are those?” he asks her, sitting up to get a better look at the earrings. And he frowns when he sees something prominent missing from her neck. “Where’s your pearl necklace?”

“Tossed it,” she answers a little too nonchalantly for his liking – as if the necklace that she always wore around her neck as a reminder that she would make it big and replace it with a chain of real pearls someday meant absolutely nothing to her.

“What?” His mouth is agape. His stubborn demeanor attenuates while his curiosity slowly appears.

He thinks that she’s joking – playing a little prank on him. But when he sees her staring at her manicured fingertips, pushing back her cuticles with her thumb, he can only accept the fact that she may not be joking. And it stings him a little because of the number of times she firmly turned his offer to buy her a piece of jewelry – a pearl necklace – as a gift, taking umbrage at his thoughtful request.

“Oh, Hoonie. I know you’re about to lecture me about sticking to my dreams. But I got my first big paycheck from the musical, and I saw how glittery and beautiful the diamond earrings looked at Tiffany’s in the department store so I had to buy them.”

Suddenly, his skin under his latest sleepwear under his heavy duvet blanket feels unbearably hot. He feels agitated by her actions even though it doesn’t pertain to him at all. And even more so, he finds himself furrowing his eyebrows at the way she shifted from being upset with him not wanting to talk to her to suddenly forgetting about her anger just because of some real diamonds from the cheapest section. The thought of everything upsets his stomach and makes his jaw clench so hard that one accidental budge could grind his molars flat.

He knows that he can be a bit of an ass all the time and that before he took their relationship seriously he was still flirting with other women while she stupidly latched onto his arm in his speakeasy. He hates hearing his workers tease him about becoming the type of man who would finally settle down with a lovely dame. Nevertheless, her name used to only form from his lips, while they now form from the innermost portion of his heart. And still spends nights wondering how the hell someone like him can manage to fall in love with someone like her – especially the “live in the moment” type of person.

“Aww,” she whines while shaking his right arm. “I know you’re doing your dumb calculations in your head. It’s fine. I still have leftover money from when I worked two jobs.” She pauses and continues in a sultry voice, holding his right hand in one hand while she tiptoes her fingers along his bicep, “And, I also had enough money left over from this shopping spree to make another purchase.”

She moves before he can ignore her out of spite, letting her bedsheets fall to the mattress as she stands on her knees. Under the yellow light emitting from the art deco nickel-plated lamp from Jihoon’s bedside is a silhouette, a shadow of her figure, cast against the wall. Milk yellow satin bows that sit on top of her shoulders keep her chemise from falling. And the lingerie itself, a square neckline lined with thin hand-embroidered lace, cinches at the waist and drops downwards in a pillowy-soft see-through fabric. The same thin hand-embroidered lace forms garters around her thighs, holding up knee-high socks with tiny bows sewn in the front.

“You don’t want this?” She teases him by letting go of his hand to trace a finger along her neckline.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, holding out his right hand for her to take again. “Of course I want you. Let me take care of you tonight.”

“No, Love.” She crawls over to him, moving her right thigh over his legs until she straddles his hips. Griding down on him, she places her hands around his neck. “Let me.”

Not able to keep his cool-headed persona, his head tips backward so a soft moan can naturally escape his lips. On his lap is the weight of her entire body – random atoms bundled so tightly, creating cells, creating organs, creating and completing the love of his life. He misses her pearls, the stupid piece of cheap jewelry that tarnishes with every scratch against hard surfaces – like his skin when her nails dig into them, leaving bright and stinging red trenches masked by the fire he feels at his core.

The love of his life on top of him, feeling and teasing herself, calling herself names that may never leave the bedroom…he almost wants to bend her over the bathroom sink to wash her mouth, scrub it raw, and peck the pouty lips and then the eyelids where her lashes tickle his bottom lip. Reveling in his private lap dance as much as a man can at half-past three in the morning, he can only stare at her with so much love that the feeling alone sucks and strips away the color in the life around him. And when his mouth is stuffed with her soaked undergarment and she reaches for his pants, he knows he is done for.

Bedsheet roughly thrown to the side, and the weight of its fall knocks over today’s unread paper placed towards the edge of the nightstand. The paper falls to the floor along with the bedsheet and opens to the entertainment page. Leading Lady FIRED, the headline reads. A summary of the contents is as follows: leading lady was fired because she was caught auditioning for another role while she was supposed to be at practice for her current musical, her no-name understudy will take over her role for the rest of the season, and critics hypothesize either the birth of a new shining star or the failure of an entire production caused by a chain of events.

six - fall

A giant star follows the signature that finishes with a flourish, etched with the black expensive ink from the solid gold Sheaffer “Propel – Repel – Expel” Pencil from the Giftie Set that is supposed to come out at the end of October for this upcoming holiday season. The owner of the receipt that is now etched with the signature of someone famous thanks the musical actress again – still trying to fathom how such a famous actress shops at the same local grocery store as she does – before leaving through the front door.

Chic coffee-colored suede fabric of the light long coat in Philippe et Gaston’s winter collection – not yet released and imported straight from Paris – flows and flaps against the current that rushes in when the patron with the signature leaves the grocery store. Once again, the coat peacefully settles right above her calves when the wind breaks its trail. The actress tucks her pen back in its leather case where the second pair of the Giftie Set is missing – in fact, the matching retractable fountain pen rests in the lapel of the grocery store owner’s coat at all times. She drops the case in her black clutch and snaps it close. Old cut, 0.40-carat yellow and platinum diamonds – two of them in oval drops – collect and accentuate the front of her open collar, gifted by her loving boyfriend. They sparkle against the afternoon sunlight that shines through the shop’s open windows, glimmering and glistening like the love they are meant to represent.

The understudy-turned-leading lady adjusts how her white cloche hat sits on top of her head before turning to look at Seungcheol who leans against the wall behind the cashier counter, furiously whispering into the telephone. It seems as if he doesn’t want to be disturbed, or even be acknowledged. He quickly hangs up the phone and rushes through the backdoor, straight to his boss’s office.

The second owner of the store, the sister, recommends the newspaper with the musical reviews to a customer. There’s a sly smile on her face, the hidden excitement of knowing that the actress whose glowing musical reviews in the newspaper is only a few feet away. Still, she maintains her polite and professional front.

Softly humming to herself while walking around the store, the actress thinks about the items she wants to pick up for her new agent before she meets him for the first time at the radio station. She settles on a soft drink for him and water, no, tea for herself before going to the counter where her fake sister-in-law waits.

“You waiting for Hoon?” the younger one asks while grabbing a brown paper bag from under the counter.

“Yeah,” she sighs while unclasping her bag so she can reach in to grab her coin pouch. “I was supposed to remind him about the radio show today, but he left the house in a rush. I rang him a few times, but I couldn’t even reach him.” She shakes her head while unzipping her coin pouch with her gloved hands.

The cashier tsks and pushes the outstretched hand with the coins away, “Just take the bag. You know my brother will come for my head if he finds out you visited and paid for something. How can I wear a veil during my wedding if I don’t have a head?”

“And you know it hurts my dignity knowing that I can afford at least two drinks,” she pushes back. “Plus, Seokmin would love you even without that pretty head of yours.”

“Take the bag, and bunk off. Dingus,” she mutters, her cadence eerily mirroring that of her brother’s.

“Don’t call her a Dingus.” Jihoon’s voice appears out of nowhere. He finishes tying his apron around his back before shoving his sister to the side. “Only I can call her Dingus.”

“Nobody can call me a Dingus,” the girlfriend remarks and proceeds to drop her coins in the tip jar before taking her bag of drinks from the counter. “Flag me a cab, yeah? I came to remind you about today’s show.”

Immediately acquiescing to her request, he nods his head and quickly scrambles to meet her on the other side. He grabs the paper bag from her arms, afraid that it may be too heavy for her, and guides her to the front of the store. From there, he brings his thumb and pointer finger together and puts them between his lips, whistling loudly to flag a cab.

“Today at three,” he smiles at her. “I didn’t forget.”

A cab pulls to the curb before he can strike up a conversation with her, and he has no choice but to help her in the cab and hand the paper bag back to its owner. And it hurts him a little more when the cab driver drives off before he can kiss her on the cheek. But watching her head pop out of the window while the cab drives away and that big smile of hers coupled with a waving hand, he can’t help but feel like the luckiest man on this Earth.

---

“You closed the shop early and demanded us to come in not for training but because of your girlfriend?” Chan, the part-time bouncer slowly asks as if he is trying to understand his boss’s thought process. “Hoonie wants us to help him get a radio shout-out from his kitten? Meow?”

Mingyu immediately tosses the student over his shoulder and heads over to the speakeasy before Jihoon can physically lunge at his worker. Seungcheol, who may be the only employee who can physically restrain the man without getting fired, lets go of Jihoon when Mingyu and Chan are finally gone.

“Anybody who stays for the entire duration gets a bonus,” Jihoon growls while straightening his collar.

The rest of the group nods and mumble among themselves as their boss adjusts the radio they have all crowded around to the correct frequency. Instantaneously, a familiar laugh fills the tense atmosphere and eases everybody it reaches.

Wow. I can’t believe both of you knew what you wanted to be and where you wanted to go since you were kids, the radio host recounts. Your parents must be so proud.

They are. A masculine voice – the seasoned musical lead. They have a collection of posters from all of the musicals I’ve been in…signed by the cast and everything. They’re so special to me.

That’s so sweet of them to do so, the host responds. Speaking of special people, and I’m pretty sure everybody tuning in wants to know, does our leading lady currently have someone special?

Jihoon’s ears perk up when he hears the question and immediately glow bright red when he notices several pairs of eyes trained on him. He shoots a glare at his crowd before awkwardly adjusting in his seat while he waits for his beloved to respond.

Oh, me? She giggles. I’m happily single.

And the answer shocks everybody – the grocery store becomes so quiet that you can only hear the hums emitting from the refrigerators.

So you’re saying if you’re single and your handsome co is also single, the host presses, then that means there’s a chance that the two of you could possibly become a couple by the end of your season?

Laughter – hearty guffaws from the radio and small awkward hiccups on the other end of the radio.

I mean, the host recounts, word on the street is that there are quite a few kiss scenes in this musical. Not to mention the chemistry the two of you share on stage and off stage. No wonder it’s so popular!

The door to Jihoon’s office slams shut, echoing throughout the establishment. It is only then that the employees of the Diamond Glass finally notice that their boss has angrily left the scene.

seven - fall

Holding her jaw open with one hand, Jihoon bends over and watches his spit fall onto her awaiting tongue, how the liquid bubbles and collapses against the papillae of the muscular organ. Once he shuts her mouth, his hand moves back to her throat where he can clearly feel the way her Adam’s apple bobs against the palm of his hand when she swallows his spit.

Every time he squeezes her esophagus, her velvet walls clench and flutter around his cock while she prays and begs him to take off her blindfold.

But he doesn’t respond. Even when he hears her beg, her: Daddy, Daddy, please. Please take off my blindfold so I can be a proper slut, so you can ruin my pussy. Use me, please. He doesn’t budge. Not today.

Tonight, Lee Jihoon is not taking any requests: he only has one goal on mind.

He has her body memorized – the familiar feeling of hitting the exact spongy part to cause her to orgasm, how much pressure the rough pads of his fingertips must exert on her clit. He rolls his hips for her to take him in deeper until his throbbing tip reaches an end, and he extracts himself and thrusts inwards without pause. The hand around her neck loosens and travels downwards towards her breasts, cupping, squeezing, and pinching the nipples until they turn into sore and hard little nubs. He massages them and watches how they fill the gaps between his fingers with every rough squeeze.

She’s as loud as ever. Back arching, she begs her boyfriend to make her feel good instead of playing with her. She’s already tired of being used despite her excessive begging.

As much as he knows exactly how to make her come undone, he knows exactly the steps he has to take to make himself feel good in her. And he grabs both thighs, pushing them back and spreading them wide to give himself a better angle. Roughly, he rocks his hips into her tight little pussy with so much force that it sends her sliding a few inches backward, the bed creaking.

“Oh- FUCK!” she gasps.

Thrusting aggressively, he bites his bottom lip while he stares at the headboard ahead of him. His fingers dig deep into her thighs and she struggles to moan as her entire body jostles up and down in repeated motions. Everything comes out in segments.

He fucks her roughly and without any ounce of kindness. And when her pussy could clamp around his cock just a few moments ago, it fails to hold on the more she becomes his personal fucktoy instead of his girlfriend. She’s confused and horny, her pussy feeling sore yet amazing while being ripped apart by his thick and veiny cock; he’s close to his release.

The thing is, she’s not even close to coming when his hips jerk and buck in place before he finishes in her. He silently pulls out, rolls off his condom, ties it, and tosses it in the trash can while leaving her in bed. He doesn’t even give her a second glance when he tells her he is headed for the roof.

“What the fuck,” she mutters under her breath while she plants her feet against the mattress. She rips the blindfold off her face and decides that if he’s not going to help her finish, she would do it herself.

If he doesn’t need her, then she sure as hell doesn’t need him.

---

She watches him from the door to the roof as he inhales and lets the pillowy smoke flow out of his mouth. It’s interesting to her how the length of a couple of days can turn two people, as close as they are, into complete strangers. And she is lost as to how such a loving man, no matter how cold he may seem to those who aren’t acquainted with him, could ever act as if his love for her somehow became conditional.

People say that love can keep people even in the coldest and darkest places warm. Maybe she does believe it to be true, but now, staring at the man she loves the most from a few feet away, the warmth feels more like a memory than a presence. Midnight air nips at her skin, raising goosebumps and causing her arm hairs to stand straight, while he looks blissful or at least contented to be alone with his pack of cigarettes. She doesn’t even know that he had a pack on him.

People also say that love can make you become either really brave or really dumb, but that’s like comparing apples to oranges. Even she is confused about whether or not confronting him at the top of his brownstone tonight is the bravest or dumbest thing she can do. But her actions happen before she can really register what is it that she wants from him.

“Is this about me not kissing you before I got into the cab the other day?” Okay, at least it comes off as a passive joke to hide her anger. “It’s because we were in public.”

“Since when have you ever cared about kissing in public?” he gruffs, making it a point to turn his body away from hers.

His irritable attitude towards her makes her tick. And she scoffs, “Stop bullshitting me, Jihoon. If you miss a kiss, then you can make up for it later on. And I did.” She marches towards the side he is facing and leans against the half-wall balcony. “Remember how we promised to always be open about what’s bothering us? Like the night where I bought the diamond earrings and you were pissed about the engagement?”

“Oh, so it’s my fault.” He rolls his eyes. His temper isn’t the best either.

“When the fuck did I say it’s your fault?”

“Watch your mouth,” he mutters.

“Watch my mouth?” she criticizes his hypocrisy. “You won’t even open your mouth to tell me about what’s bothering you. What am I? Some sort of scapegoat for your anger?”

“My anger?” he asks, pointing at himself with the hand that holds his cigarette between his knuckles. His question is rhetorical as well as the answer, but his ego refuses to accept the fact that she isn’t wrong.

“Yes, your anger,” her voice suddenly calmed. “Please work with me here. Can’t you see I’m trying to solve whatever this is between us? Is it because of Jeonghan’s comment? About how he heard about the unscripted kiss during one of our scenes?”

“So it was real,” he scoffs, turning his head to look at the view ahead of him. He wishes that the soft breeze which tickles and ruffles the tops of the several rows of trees below him can also whisk him away from this conversation.

“Acting, Jihoon. It was just us acting.” She can’t believe the productive conversation she imagined having with his is taking a turn for the worst.

“Why don’t you just date him instead because, apparently, I’m not your boyfriend anymore.” His retort is unfairly childish, but it implies some of his underlying concerns are slowly making their way to his surface. His mouth tastes dry and the warm and fuzzy high he felt before she disturbed his peace is already gone. He taps the ashes away against the brick edge before bringing the bud to his lips again.

“Is this what was bothering you the whole time? The scripted radio show?” She sighs and brings her hand up to her temple to pinch and rub away the pain. Instead, she only feels a swelling sensation form and collects in the inner corners of her eyes. “It was the first time I met this new agent. And I had to listen to him because of his experience in the industry. He said that revealing our relationship might ruin my career, especially taking into consideration how hard I’ve worked for it. So I couldn’t discuss the boyfriend thing with you ahead of time because it was sprung on me the minute I sat down with him.”

To her side is a man who had grown accustomed to having a cup of tea every morning instead of his usual cup of coffee after learning that his girlfriend doesn’t drink coffee. A man who regularly keeps his kitchen shelves stocked with various teas around the world as his way of saying how much he loves her, he could help but appease his curiosity as to what some measly leaves could offer to a person. The difference in caffeine made him feel a bit woozy at first, a remarkable We should call you Woozi with an I from the way you keep slipping in and out of consciousness from the one called Vernon. But now, he finds pleasure in walking around with a white mug, the tea bag’s string expertly looped twice around the top of the mug’s handle, tucked between his knuckles and mug.

She knows how much of an asshole he can be, how hard it is for him to physically say “I love you” when others are around, and how he finds it challenging to even begin to open up and talk about his problems. But it may be her greatest downfall, believing that she could completely change a man whose flaws drew her in like a moth towards an open flame.

“I hate it when you smoke,” her voice quivers. She feels small next to the well-built man beside her, but she doesn’t know whether or not she should continue to try to reason with a brick wall. “It’s bad for my lungs.”

The thing is, Lee Jihoon is a good listener. Probably trained by his sister after taking care of her by himself for so many years, his listening skills make up for his lack of good communication skills. And he snuffs his half-burned cigarette against the brick edge, tossing it to the floor of the roof and rendering it destroyed with the heel of his shoe.

When he wraps her in his arms as a way of saying Sorry, I was in the wrong, she notices how cold he must be feeling. His cold skin immediately burns hot the moment it comes into contact with hers.

“I’m sorry. Don’t cry.” His apology is muffled against her strands of hair. “I really do love you.”

“Do you think we’ll be fine?” She asks him. It’s more of a need for confirmation – the reason for confirmation is murky.

“I don’t know.” His heart feels like it’s beating harder than usual, and he’s pretty sure she can also feel it. “I’ll try.”

Jealousy is a vile disease that can overtake and completely alter a person. And she realizes that the man who usually instills jealousy in those around him is also capable of being infected.

eight - winter

Tonight’s drink of choice is his usual Manhattan poured into a whiskey glass and garnished with a fresh slice of lemon instead of his usual olive, cherry, or lemon peel twist. However, it sits untouched on a handmade coaster on the desk in its owner’s office while the owner is nowhere to be found. Condensation on the outside surface of the glass pools at the bottom of the circular glass, held together in a ring thanks to cohesion forces. The cubed block of ice that sat in the middle of the sink now floats to the top in a sort of watery layer just above the alcohol. Pitch-black is what describes the office – nobody would even know Lee Jihoon considered drinking alcohol tonight, let alone visited his office.

Joshua thinks his boss is probably in his office calculating the cost of each ounce of alcohol against the recipe for every drink, knowing how stingy he can be. He also notices the lack of a cheerful presence that makes his boss’s ears flush bright red. But he doesn’t say anything about it, after all, bartenders are always here for the gossip but never participate in spreading gossip.

Jihoon sits in the dark of his grocery store near the entrance where the porch light shines brightly through the glass windows. His shoulder blades, especially the upper area towards the middle of his neck and shoulders, are screaming in pain. And the empty crate he uses as a stool is anything but comfortable.

It’s not a particularly big grocery store. It’s more like a rectangular hole-in-the-wall about the size of the speakeasy's kitchen. There are open crates of neatly stacked fruits and vegetables in front of the counters for customers to choose themselves while all of the other goods are behind the counters. Where walls of groceries line the four walls and the walking space is only large enough to have five different customers comfortably shop at once, Jihoon feels that the tiny front for his speakeasy becomes his sort of personal sanctuary. His sister is barely at home now that she’s in the process of moving most of her stuff to Seokmin’s place, and the tiny changes he made around the house to accommodate his girlfriend remind him too much of her. His office is much too cold and stress-inducing to be in alone during Winter. And the speakeasy is noisy and rowdy where his presence only instills fear in others or causes him to be whisked away in some conversation he doesn’t want to take part in.

So sitting in the only place he can seem to find comfort may be the only way he can truly accept the fact that in the ninth month of getting to know the woman with the big dreams and fake pearls, she is slowly becoming a stranger to him as he is to her.

A single kiss, a peck on the cheek is what she would leave him with before parting every time he dropped her off at the backdoor of the matinee. Now she has a private chauffeur who picks her and her agent up to bring them to wherever her schedule needs her to appear. And it tore out a piece of his heart when she told him that it was for the best especially when she started developing a strong hatred towards speakeasies. In fact, most of their more recent fights were about his job and how she can’t be around people who are associated with something so illegal and vile.

For two people who spent the majority of the year together, each recent meeting feels like an awkward exchange between two people whose lives are moving ahead with barely any space for the other to exist. Where one is preparing for the end of her musical run and the new musical production she’s been cast in, the other one is busy switching seasonal grocery stock and preparing his speakeasy for a VIP. She’s been on more fake dates in a week with her co-star in an industry-fueled scheme to generate more revenue before the musical run ends than she has in a month with her real boyfriend. Even the thrill of sneaking around with each other seemed to have worn off.

One is a woman who came from nothing and now has everything she ever wanted and wants more. The other is a man who came from something and is content with what he has.

Perhaps the thing he most wants is to understand her just a little more. He doesn’t understand the new words and phrases she integrated into her daily jargon and wonders about what or how she thinks of him now that she is on the way to having everything she ever wanted. It’s not like he wants more, no. He’s truly content with what he has. But he can’t help but wonder if love is just the beautiful landscape she spends some time driving through on her road to the glitz and glamour of stardom. If he is simply a backdrop, then why did she even want to pursue him in the first place? Why did he allow himself to fall in love? Why was she so adamant about picking up all of her phony loose pearls when she doesn’t care about buying real ones anymore?

Jihoon knows that life is as fragile as the soft waxy pear he holds in his hand – how a fruit could be so delicate to the touch, but farmers still swatch on a layer of protective wax to keep it from getting bruised and dehydrated with hopes that the fruit would journey safely into somebody’s grocery bag. One single and firm squeeze of the fruit in his palm could turn it into mush and have the juice drip down his fist in globs. Driving a single stomp through the barrel of neatly stacked pears would not save them from becoming absolutely demolished. Protective wax does nothing. Trying to protect himself from getting hurt like that thin coat of fruit wax does absolutely nothing as long as he is in love. And love may just as well be something as fragile as life.

Hand reaching for nothing and hitting the inside of an empty crate, Jihoon quickly retracts his hand while feeling a bit embarrassed for not noticing that he’s done stocking the pears. Having nothing to do causes a wave of loneliness, no, nostalgia to wash over him like the moonlight over the tumbling ocean waves. The fact that she brings up the fact that he owns a speakeasy every time they argue is frequent enough that the thought always lingers at the back of his mind. He can’t comprehend how she somehow started hating speakeasies almost overnight and hates the fact that he is the owner of one. She tells him that it would be better if he left the speakeasy to Seungcheol to manage the grocery store full-time. Looking at everything around him from the walls of products to the shiny wooden floors to the long flowerbeds placed against the walls of windows, he doesn’t know if he could ever give up the speakeasy to work at a place he loves so dearly. Maybe one day in the future when the Prohibition gets lifted, he would turn the speakeasy into something else.

Right now, he is not willing to give up something that he loves. The Diamond Glass is his home, and his employees are his family members. Giving up something as precious as his speakeasy is not something that he would even consider putting on his bargaining table even if it means losing the love of his life. Unwillingness to give up on something he loves for someone whom he loves results in him thinking about the version of his love in the darkness of the grocery store. The version of her with the flimsy dress, the version of her as a fling, the version of her he was afraid to love, the version of her as his love, the version of her he is growing apart from – he thinks about them all. Imagining an alternate universe where she is as unchanging as he is, a version where they can wake up in bed together only to laze around till four in the afternoon – it might be a selfish concept, he thinks. Previously uninhabited space in his brain, now filled with her to the brim, he’s not strong enough for it to spill over until it empties.

A flood of light washes into the grocery store at an angle when the employee door behind the counter opens. Choi Seungcheol stands at its opening with an unsmiling look on his face. Jihoon looks back at the older man, pausing before he sighs and wipes his hands on his pants.

“They’re in your office,” Seungcheol tells his boss.

“Who the hell let them in here?” Jihoon sighs while standing up, stretching his back before heading towards where his employee stands. It doesn’t take many contexts to fully understand what Seungcheol meant when he used the pronoun. Even more so, Jihoon immediately deduced the topic of the incoming conversation and the approximate amount of time the less-than-amicable conversation would take.

“I dunno,” the older man shrugs. “It’s not like we can turn them away. We do need business with them.”

nine - winter

Bursting through the office door and swinging the door open with so much force that the door ricochets off the wooden doorstop and wobbles while being supported by its hinges, she stomps with a fury unmatched by no other. In her wake are a scorching fire and the apologetic part-time bouncer who tried his best to stop her without ever laying a hand on her.

“I-I’m sorry. I tried,” the bouncer with the circular glasses tries to explain himself to his boss. “I-I told her that today’s not a good day, and that you’re-”

“I’m going to make you develop a complex,” the boss seethes through his teeth without moving his mouth to attempt a straight and dignified-looking expression in her presence. Capping his solid gold Sheaffer pen from the old gift set, dropping the expensive item on his stack of papers, and leaning back in his office chair with an annoyed expression on his face is more than enough to send bouncer out the door, scrambling and slamming the door shut behind him.

Jihoon doesn’t respond to his girlfriend, though he makes sure to look at her, studying her smudged stage makeup and the new expensive decoration that hangs from her neck. Silence between the couple becomes a waiting game, a game that anticipates the drop of a guillotine strong enough to cut the tension developed. Pulling the lever, she slices through and continues the journey she embarked on since her last show.

“Lee Jihoon,” his name cracks like a lightning strike – powerful yet lonely – emitted from her atmosphere. “How could you?”

Outside the guarded office door, the VIP speakeasy crowd roars in laughter and cheers. Glasses clink and specially ordered wooden chairs scrape against the sticky floors while speakeasy singers entertain their audience for the night. If Lee Jihoon is the owner and boss of this establishment, then the middle-aged woman who sits at the circular mini table right in front of the stage is the king.

This middle-aged woman with a kind face whose deep smile lines appear when she smiles at others in her acknowledgment is the sole supplier of the Diamond Glass’s alcohol. One misstep, one thought of collusion against her, one simple miscalculation on proposals can erase the Diamond Glass from existence including its workers, leaving the local police with a cold case unsolved for years because they would have nothing, to begin with. Hoping to never upset the king before the Prohibition ends, Lee Jihoon will do anything to maintain his healthy and trustworthy relationship with her and her cohort.

Right now, with her in his office, there is so much more than just simply trying to be business partners with the speakeasy’s current private clients. Because of this, agitation is what makes his leg shake. Fear is what causes him to snap at his girlfriend. Ultimately, this sparks a negative chain reaction foreseeable by anybody since the beginning of Autumn.

Get out are the only two words he can manage to snap at her. His right pointer finger pointed at his office door and his right arm trembles in its extension. Himself, the man sitting in his office chair, feels nothing but anger and fear from seeing his girlfriend in a place in which she should not be seen – a place she upbraided and proclaimed to be untenable in its legality.

“How could you?” she asks again in an accusing tone, her hands forming into tight balls of fists so that her knuckles visibly pale. “You liar. You promised you would be there for my last show. Why weren’t you there? You have so many employees working for you, and you’re not even out there. You’re just sitting in your office doing something you can do another time. Everybody’s partners were there for them at the afterparty yet I rushed here.”

Jihoon sits up from his seat, folding his hands on his desk. He takes a good look at the musical actress in front of him – prim and proper looking, her hair styled in neat curls, and the elegant and flowy black Lanvin Robe de Style which he finds to indicate she took time to change out of her costume into something non-inconspicuous. Paris’s House of Creed’s Angélique Encens set to be released in the early 1930s floats around her like a thin veil of mist. The sensual powdery-floral cut by the salty ambergris beautifully blended with vanilla and tuberose was said to be a pre-release gift from the founder of the perfume house. He thinks about the time when she accidentally dropped the perfume bottle she bought back in ’17 on her wooden floors. She thought nothing of the accident – no indication of dejection while picking up the broken pieces of glass and causally mentioned the perfume incident in an interview. The next day, a fresh bottle and a bouquet of roses were gifted to her from the perfumery. He’s not sure if the new bottle ever made it out of her closet. He’s not the type to compare himself to others – no, his confidence and self-assurance are too high for that – but he can’t help but wonder whether or not he can say her name the way he used to.

When you love someone, a name isn’t formed from the mouth but from the heart. The image of her in his head, once formed and sculpted from his skinny love, still exists in his hippocampus. Happiness when he sees her, the rush of dopamine when he feels her fall asleep again him after a long day, never originated from the limbic cortex. Fully believing it, even now at this moment despite the circumstances, he believes it was passed to him by her. Where her name is formed from his heart, she is his entire heart. And it hurts him to even consider the fact that she he holds close to his heart may just as well walk away with a piece of him that would never be returned.

It is the last time he says her name from his heart. He tells her to leave, that it’s not safe. He doesn’t want his bodyguards to ever lay a hand on her. It’s for the best, he tells her. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’s afraid of the fact that literal gangsters in the building would scare her, and he’s not about to compromise her integrity. For her sake, he feels that keeping the fact to himself, letting her walk over him if she has to, may keep her safe.

“But there’s no tomorrow,” she almost wails, stomping her feet even. She’s frustrated that she had to attend the party celebrating the end of the season alone, frustrated over his stolid attitude over everything. She just wishes he could’ve been there with her experiencing one of the most important moments of her life.

Shooting out of his chair, sending it backward from the force with which he pulls himself up, he slams his hands on his desk. “Leave,” he yells at her.

“Choose,” she lays down her ultimatum for him. “Me or the speakeasy.”

“Diamond Glass,” he chooses without hesitation. Albeit, the expression he notices form on her face causes him to feel restive in his response. “Me or your fake boyfriend?”

“Fake boyfriend?” She feels her skin prick with coldness. “Do you have to bring him up every time we get into an argument?”

“What?” The tone of his voice is anything but amicable. “So you’re only here to argue with me for a little bit before you storm off to your little boy toy. What happened to compromise? What happened to me being the most important person in your life?”

“Compromise?” She seethes. “I literally told you that my new agent sprung it upon me when I met him.”

“The easiest phrase you can say as an actress is ‘no comment.’ Or are you so far up your ass and your glitz and glamour that all you can do is be hotsy-totsy with all the men around you? Do you even think about me? Or do I only appear in your mind when you need me?”

“So what about me living the life I always wanted? So what if I have to fake date rich men while keeping this persona they built for me? Men, any men, regular men, rich men, they can all get in and out of relationships and marriages whenever they please and they wouldn’t be shamed for it. They can marry whenever and whoever they please and not be looked down upon. This includes you, Jihoon,” her voice dips when she says his name. There is a crack in her voice that Jihoon absolutely hates hearing because it means anything but her happiness. “All they want women to do is marry and have kids. But I get to escape that expectation because of my job. The leading lady was fired because she auditioned for another job. So what if the world found out that the understudy had a boyfriend? I would be a joke. I would be forced out of the industry, blacklisted for not taking my job seriously.”

“Why do you care so much about what other people think?” He almost wants to shout at her, to hurl his chair against the wall. “Given my connections, you would never be forced out of the industry.”

“You don’t get it do you?” Her knees buckle. “I never wanted to rely on you.”

“Then what did you want me for?” He can’t contain himself anymore. He shouts at her in frustration. “A good fuck? A summer fling? Someone to fix because your life was so boring before me?”

“I just wanted you by my side,” she shouts back.

“And I was always by your side.” He’s so frustrated that tears well up in the inner corners of his eyes. “I was always by your side even when I wasn’t in love with you. I was by your side this whole time even if you never felt it. I was by your side even when I didn’t understand. When I didn’t understand why you loved me. When I didn’t understand the words that came out of your mouth. When I didn’t understand why you don’t even look at me the way you used to.”

“And what was the way I used to-” She cuts herself off, stopping so she can point her head to the ceiling so that he doesn’t have to look at her sob. “Fuck.” The realization slaps her in the face.

“Shit,” Jihoon has no choice but to cuss. His face stabs with pain, and his arms feel numb. But heaping globs of tears stream down his face, and he breaks down on his spot – choked sobs and trembling shoulders, unable to look her in the eye. He also realizes the same thing – she doesn’t love him anymore.

Lee Jihoon doesn’t remember how he ended up in the middle of the VIP party’s crowd, drunk off of giggle water. Tonight, he can’t even bring himself to flirt with the woman who he plants himself behind, bringing her ass to his dick while she grinds on him on the dance floor. Everything feels so foreign to him – letting go, straying from his usual Manhattan, people prying him off of someone new, crying, being single, sobbing, crashing on someone’s couch, blacking out. He doesn’t know who he is or where he is. The only thing he remembers is seeing a piece of his heart leave when she left him in his office and the realization that they are no more.

Not even a sense of familiarity can rush over his inebriated self when he feels a heavy blanket cover his shivering body. Seungcheol, no; his sister, no; Seokmin…the king? He can’t quite differentiate whose couch it is that he is laying on or who it is who is consoling him.

“We can never go back to who we were before love,” the unidentified voice reassures him. “After love, we are just as different. But it takes time to create a better us than who we were when we were in love. After all, time and feelings change. You have loved yourself before, Jihoon. And you will love yourself again.”

“Feel broken,” he manages to slur through his tears. He hasn’t stopped crying since being dragged out of the speakeasy “Gone.”

“But it doesn’t mean you can’t find yourself in the future.”

epilogue - spring '39

Lee Jihoon carries a toddler in his arm, someone whose eyes curl the same way he does when he smiles. He hands him an apple, a gorgeous waxy Red Delicious that is arguably too big for the toddler’s hands.

“Hold tight,” Jihoon tells the child. “Or it would fall and roll away. Then we can’t sell the apple.”

But the fruit immediately falls from the toddler’s hands, bouncing and rolling towards the other side of the newly renovated grocery store.

After all these years, the mom-and-pop grocery store manned by the Diamond Glass’s workers and families still stands proudly while facing the busy street before it. And the Diamond Glass, converted into a bar, has since made a name for itself after the Prohibition. The establishment with its criminal origins, instead of deterring people away, only attracts and appeals to the public.

The bell above the front door clanks when a new customer steps inside. And the quick burst of air caused by the act of opening the door drowns out what the new customer says to their driver.

In the meantime, Jihoon sighs and looks at the child in his arms – the kid whose lips quiver from making a mistake. He decides to let him go and squats to tell him that his mom would send him into exile if he ever made him cry. “Even worse,” he whispers to the child, “Seokmin would cry if he ever saw you cry. And you know how much your dad cries. But go get Uncle Seungcheol for me. We need more people in the front.”

A few minutes after the boss feels a gentle tap on his right shoulder. But he chooses to ignore them and instead calls for Seungcheol to help with the customer. He feels the tap again, this time with a little more pressure. So he turns his head from his stack of apples on the ground, looking up at the customer standing behind him.

She holds the dusty and bruised apple in her outstretched hand. And he notices the freshly coated swatch of lacquer that decorates her nails. His eyes trace up her gams to her tweed Chanel skirt and the matching blazer which sculpts her shoulders. In contrast to her expensive designer wear is the scuffed and faded pearl necklace which sits proudly around her neck – a contrasting centerpiece to her outfit. And he can tell that they’re fake, just like the ones that scattered and clacked against his once illegally sticky speakeasy floors.

Seungcheol’s head pops from the doorframe to the employee door behind the grocery store counter. “Who is it?” he asks his boss.

Jihoon looks at her in her eyes, the same pair of twinkling eyes he could never forget, and answers his question, “An old friend.”

#✏️ ━ himbocoups #svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #svt smut #svtsmut #woozi smut #lee jihoon smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #woozi imagines #lee jihoon imagines #svt imagines #svtimagines #jihoon smut #jihoon imagines #seventeen one shot

502 notes · View notes

coryosbaby · 6 months

Note

Pls write more Hoffman stuff T-T I’ve been reading it repeatedly for the past couple of days along with your Adam stuff. I’m gnawing at the iron bars of my enclosure. I love your writing <3

𝒞𝑜𝒸𝓀𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓂𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌��𝓉𝒽 𝑀𝒶𝓇𝓀 + 𝒶 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒽𝓂 ♡

Cw: nsfw . Slight dubcon towards the end, cockwarming, p n v, exhibitionism, daddy kink, age gap, threeway, creampie

A/N: u ask u shall receive 🙏🏻 this is Hoffman & strahm + maybe a lil hint of Daniel Rigg but I’ll be writing more of just Hoffman soon if that’s what u prefer 🩷

The days spent in Mark’s office can either be incredibly boring and painful, or incredibly fun and painful.

And on this day, as his hard cock slides itself inside of you, you decide it’s going to be a fun but painful day— quivering, you let out a small whine as he fills you up in his desk chair. His cock, thick and long, is causing an ache and burn in your core. But how could you care when you’ve been wet for him all day?

Mark is barely paying mind to you; being a detective means having a lot of paperwork, and that he must finish today. But that doesn’t mean he can’t squeeze in a little time for you, right?

“Daddy..” you mumble, adjusting the ends of your skirt. He had just slid right in, with absolutely no warning at all! He was so mean sometimes. Batting your eyelashes, trying to get him to look at you, you add, “Cmon, why do you just fuck me?”

“Quiet.” He grunts. He’s flipping through a page from a case file. Although it’s confidential, he never minds letting you see the cases he works on. You’ve kept worser secrets for him, after all. “Keep yourself occupied, why don’t you?”

Oh, that’s rich coming from the man holding you down on his dick. You pout, crossing your arms across your chest. You purposely squirm on his lap, then. He exhales sharply, as you clench your walls on him.

And just then, a knock sounds.

Your face becomes bright red, and you’re quick to try and get off of Mark’s lap. But he tsks, holding you down with both hands and keeping you in place. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Come in,” Mark states.

And of course, the person who opens the door is Peter Strahm— someone you’ve grown to dislike since you heard him whisper something about the “young piece of ass” Hoffman had laying around in his office every day. You were quite offended by that statement, even though Peter has grown to be— in your opinion— too nice to you.

“Hoffman,” he says, trying to avert his gaze from your flushed face. You pray that he can’t see Mark’s unbuttoned pants and your pussy wrapped around him. “I need to talk to you… alone.”

Mark rolls his eyes, pushing his hips up. Letting out a tiny gasp, you can feel his cock sliding against your walls— and with shame, you try not to pay attention to the way your cunt gets slicker at the thought of Peter catching you being such a whore.

“You can say it here, Strahm.” He pats your hip, ruffling your skirt. “I can assure you, her pretty little head is empty right now.”

You should be offended, but really, you can’t think. Peter’s sleeves are rolled up today, his arms and hands exposed and— fuck, why do you want them to touch you?

“It’s about the Jigsaw case,” Strahm presses. His eyes land on yours again, and he watches the expanse of your legs. Your face flushes furiously, and you feel a drop of slick begin to run down your inner thigh.

Shit.

“And?” Mark teases. “It doesn’t matter to her. What is it?”

“It’s..”

Peter’s eyes are on your tits, your thighs quivering. You bite your lower lip, and you can’t help but let a fuzzy feeling take over you as he watches you.

“Cat got your tongue, Strahm?”

Mark smirks, and when he grabs your hips and pushes you further down on him, you can’t help it— you let out a moan, a desperate and sex crazed moan.

Peter doesn’t even know what to do or say— just stands there, his mouth open and a tent forming in his jeans. Mark continues to bounce you up and down on him.

“No—“ you whimper. “Mark! Peter, ‘m so sorry—“

“Fuck..” Peter whispers.

“You want a piece of her?” Mark chuckles, lifting up your skirt. Your cunt is exposed, all creamy and wet, little clit throbbing. You begin to rock your hips back onto your boyfriends hard length. “She wants you to fuck her. Don’t you, angel?”

You can’t help but nod, watching as Peters hand goes down to palm his crotch. He looks at you with a hungry stare.

Mark lifts you up with his strong arms, getting out of the chair and dragging you to the front of his desk. He slips out of you, pushing your body down onto the hardwood. Your cheek presses against a stack of papers as Mark spreads your legs with one of his feet. He lifts up your skirt, revealing your aching cunt for Peter to see.

“Cmon, Strahm,” Mark urges. “Don’t you wanna fuck her pussy? She’s so tight, so warm…”

And fuck, as wrong as it is Strahm is practically hypnotized by the sight of your gaping hole clenching around nothing. It needs something to fill it so bad, he thinks.

Fuck it. He stalks over, gives Mark a little shove to get out of his way. He unbuckles his belt. Mark begins stroking his cock at the sight of your doe eyes looking up at him. Peter pulls his throbbing length out of his pants, and rubs it up against you. You feel like heaven— and when he pushes into your hole, presses his balls firm against your ass, his eyes almost roll back into his head. It’s been a while since he’s fucked such a young, tight pussy.

“Oh—“

You whine as he pulls out and pushes right back in, incredibly hard. His skin smacks against yours as he begins to pound you against the desk.

Mark, chuckling, pats your cheek with his palm.

“That’s my girl.”

He’s stroking his cock over your face now, and Peter groans and spreads your asscheeks apart to get a better view of you.

“Been keepin’ this sweet thing from me all this time, Hoffman?”

His differences with the other man seemed to be forgotten because of your warm, wet cunt.

“Would’ve let you fuck her sooner if you weren’t such a prick.” Mark replies, and grunts when the tip of his cock hits your lips. “Don’t cum inside her. That’s something only I can do.”

Strahm huffs, displeased, but doesn’t say anything. He listens to your whimpers and moans. His mouth begins running, spewing harsh words to you as his cock moves in and out of your slick folds.

“Such a slutty little girl.”

“God, baby, are all the men you fuck always twice your age?”

“Knew you were a filthy whore the moment I saw you walk into big man’s office. Shit, yeah, clench like that again, bitch.”

Although Mark should be angry at these remarks, he knows it’s just a way to break you down on Strahm’s cock. He knows that you love being degraded and used.

It’s not long before Mark’s length fills your mouth, and as you swallow him down your throat Peter begins to rub your clit in harsh circles. Choking on Mark’s cock and squeezing your walls around Peter, your orgasm washes over you in harsh waves. You spasm against the both of them, your release dripping onto Peter’s thighs.

Peter is close, too, and he can feel it. Pulling himself out of you is probably the hardest thing he’s ever forced himself to do— and this even includes when he had to stick a metal straw in his neck because he almost drowned to death. He rubs himself against your lower back, letting out a small, “fuck yes, baby, such a good whore for daddy,” As he spills thick ropes all over the tramp stamp adorning your skin. He relaxes against you for a moment, then pulls away and tucks himself back into his pants. He nods at mark, then murmurs a small, “thanks, honey.” To you as he approaches the door and makes his way out. Mark pulls himself out of your mouth and makes his way over to your quivering form.

“Okay?” He murmurs softly.

You nod, head empty and hole clenching as Mark lines himself up. Much thicker than Strahm, he adds a harsh sting to the mix of your overstimulated cunt once again. He thrusts in and out of you at a harsh pace, his cock practically ripping you in half as it pummels your guts. You can feel that neediness coming back, that urge to cream all over a cock again.

“Yes, daddy,” you mewl. “Please. Please, I need it..”

“Yeah?” He says harshly. His fingers dip into your hips, watching the puddle of cum forming at the base of your lower back. “What if I called the whole office in here, huh? Two cocks not enough for this greedy cunt? Maybe you need to be smothered by another detectives pussy. Maybe you need another fat cock to split you in half…”

And Jesus, Mark’s filthy fucking mouth has you squirming and aching for another orgasm. He grabs your throat with one of his strong hands, bending your body back towards him. Strahm’s spend leaks down in between your ass cheeks and smears all over Mark’s lower stomach, leaving white strings stuck between your body and his, but he doesn’t care. Chasing his release, the mess adds to the amount of pleasure coursing through him.

Your fingers move up to hold onto his hand, as a way to loosen his grip. But you know he won’t let up— once Mark is set on a brutal pace with you, he always has to have his hands around your neck. His cock is bruising, kissing your cervix in just the right way and —

Oh.

Your eyes now, have averted to the office window. A breath of air leaves you as you realize that the blinds, ever always closed, are now open.

You try to get Mark’s attention— try to find a way to get him to let up so the window can be covered again. Thankfully, no one has walked by. It’s an empty hallway. But anyone could be willing…

“Mark,” you wheeze. His eyes flit to where you’re eyes are focused. To your surprise, the man doesn’t stop fucking you— in fact, his thrusts only seem to increase. His smell evades your senses, all cologne and herbal soap and laundry detergent, and you feel fucking dizzy.

And then, a shadow crosses that hallway. A familiar figure, with a stack of papers in his hands.

Daniel Rigg.

There, walking right across the office window. Noticing movement out of the corner of his eye, his body freezes midway, and he turns to look at the both of you.

Eyes filling with tears , you can’t do anything but take Mark’s cock and watch the man. And slowly, you recounted that you hadn’t seen Strahm when he had left the room— hadn’t seen him pull on the string of the blinds. Hadn’t seen Mark’s small smirk when he saw them being opened.

“Looks like we have an audience.” Mark teases.

You notice the tent forming in Detective Rigg’s pants, and your eyes flit down. He begins to stutter on his movements, and the papers in his hand drop to the ground. He shuffles, quickly picking them back up. And, with embarrassment and an urge to stroke his now hard cock, he begins to walk, fast, away from the scene.

Those motherfuckers.

#mark hoffman #Peter strahm #mark hoffman x reader #Peter strahm x reader #mark hoffman x fem! reader #Peter strahm x fem! reader #mark hoffman x reader x peter strahm #mark hoffman smut #Peter strahm smut #costas mandylor #saw #saw 2004 #saw franchise #saw x #saw fanfic #mark saw #Peter saw

631 notes · View notes

nicoline1998enilocin · 5 months

Text

Fluffcember Day 10 | All these years

Pairing | Best friend!Andy Barber x Best friend!Fem!Reader

Word count | 1.1K

Summary | You never expected that one warm summer night and one too many beers would be able to turn your life upside down, but when it happened, you're glad it did. After harboring a crush on your best friend for years, you're relieved to find out how he feels, and you could smack yourself for not seeing it sooner.

Rating | Teen (T)

Warning(s) | None.

A/n | It has been a while since I wrote for our favorite Daddy district attorney, and this was a fun fic to get back into the swing of it! Thank you to @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this fic, it was a hoot to see your reactions! 🎄

Events Masterlist | 10. ''Shut up and kiss me again!'' | @buckys-wintersoldier

Banners: @vase-of-lilies | Divider: @firefly-graphics | GIF credit: The owner

Main Masterlist | Andy Barber Masterlist | Read on AO3

You've just gotten out of the shower when you see you've received a text from your best friend, Andy. You see his nickname on the screen, and a big smile wiggles onto your face.

My Prince 👑 // Are you available for dinner tonight, Princess?

You quickly texted him that you were indeed available for dinner, and it was nice to spend the evening with him instead of alone in your hot apartment.

You have the airconditioner running at full speed, but to no avail; the summer sun's heat keeps your apartment near 30°C the entire time.

It didn't take long for you to find a lovely sundress, a pair of brown sandals, and your sunglasses, so before you know it, you're out the door and on your way to Andy's house, where it will be much more comfortable.

It's a good thing you live close to his house because it is nearly 40°C outside, and it feels like you will melt during the short walk in your car. You like summer, but this heatwave is too much for you.

As soon as you arrive at Andy's, you sprint out of the car and into the house, sighing deeply as you close the door behind you, letting the cool air that flows through his house brush past your sweat-slicked skin.

''Hi Princess, I'm happy to see you didn't melt on your way over here!'' Andy says as he walks over to you in a light summer outfit.

You don't see him walking in shorts often, but when you do, you always make a mental note to enjoy it when you can because it is a sight for sore eyes.

''Lookin' beautiful today, did you dress up for me?'' he asks as he pulls you in for a hug, and you get a whiff of his cologne as you close your eyes, holding him a little longer than necessary.

These lingering hugs are as close as you'll get to having him in your arms, so you enjoy every second of them, though they always end way too soon.

''I did! I couldn't come over here looking like I just ran a marathon now, could I?'' you joke, and he laughs wholeheartedly, which sets your soul on fire.

The rest of the afternoon flies by in the blink of an eye, and you watch as Andy prepares dinner for the both of you while you're seated on one of the barstools as per his demand.

''You stay there, and I'll take care of dinner. Wouldn't want a repeat of last time, do we?'' he says with a big smile, referencing that you were so distracted by a random cat in his yard you accidentally burned something in the oven.

''Yeah, yeah...'' you said with a smile before taking your place on the stool, and you looked at him as he moved through the kitchen with elegant movements.

You stare as his broad shoulders taper into a small waist, seamlessly transforming into his thick thighs and long legs. His fluffy hair and full beard frame his face nicely, and his blue eyes look at you expectantly.

''W-what?'' you ask, and that's when you realize you must have zoned out for a bit as you admired him.

''I asked if you wanted a beer as well. The sauce is just now simmering, and when that's done, it's time for dinner,'' Andy repeats himself, and a deep red color spreads over your burning cheeks.

You know he caught you staring, and it only embarrasses you more. The fact that you're ogling him is one thing, but him catching you in the act is something entirely different.

''Yes, please,'' you finally respond, and he grabs two beers from the fridge before he takes his place on the stool next to you on the bar; he asks you about work and his latest case.

''Alright, food's ready!'' he says when the oven timer goes off, and he puts some food on your plate, making your mouth water at the sight.

''Enjoy, Princess,'' he says as he puts the plate in front of you, and you dig in right away after your thanks have been given.

''This was delicious, Andy, thank you so much!'' you say as you wipe your mouth with a napkin, and he clears the island you've been sitting at before grabbing two more beers and leading the way to the garden.

The temperature has dropped to a comfortable 25°C, and in the shadow, it is very comfortable as you take your place in one of his lounge chairs.

The conversation flows naturally, and it isn't until it's dark that Andy notices you start shivering because it is getting chilly outside.

''Wait, lemme grab us a blanket,'' he says as he rushes inside, and he comes out with the most enormous, fluffiest blanket he owns before grabbing hold of your hand and pulling you onto the oversized lounge couch.

''C'mere, let's cuddle so we can keep each other warm,'' he tells you, and you happily do while a warmth spreads over your cheeks again. It's not like you've never cuddled with Andy before, but tonight it feels different.

''Princess?'' Andy asks after he sips his beer, and you have both lost count of how many it has been. Neither of you is completely drunk, but you enjoy a light buzz.

''Hmm?'' you hum as you look up at him, his bright blue eyes meeting yours, a soft look on his face.

''Do you know that I love you? Like, really, REALLY love you?'' he asks, and his eyes flit from your eyes to your lips and back before he leans in and captures your lips with his.

The kiss is passionate, heated, and perfect, like something you both craved but have never given in to until now. His tongue has effortlessly found its way into your mouth, leaving you a little breathless.

When he pulls away, a huge smile is etched on your face, and he can't help but smile. After all this time, he finally told you about how he feels, and now there's no turning back.

''All these years-''

''Shut up and kiss me again!'' you say before pulling him into another kiss, and that night, you two made love until the sun came up the next day.

What started as a friendship of nearly two decades has slowly turned into the sweetest, most loving relationship you have ever known, and there's no chance either of you would have wanted it any other way.

#fluffcember 2023 #defending jacob #andy barber #andy barber one shot #andy barber fanfic #andy barber fanfiction #andy barber imagine #andy barber x female reader #andy barber x reader #andy barber fluff #chris evans #chris evans one shot #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans fluff

108 notes · View notes

sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 15 days

Text

The Punishment chapter 3

Note: as promised, a smutty follow up to the second, rather angsty, chapter. I really had fun creating this one today, and I hope you'll enjoy reading it!

chapter 1 - chapter 2

Warnings: 18+!! smut. doms/sub dynamic, light degrading.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f) x Modern!Masema

summary: Months had passed since your failed attempt to take control of your doms, but you took your chance again.

wordcount: 3k

Masterlist

The bedroom was filled with heavy breaths and the occasional groans and grunts, all sounds coming from your doms, while the curtains were open and the setting sun lit up the room with a cosy orange glow. The chains of handcuffs rattled against the bed's metal frame, accompanied by the sound of a bell that was attached to a collar, and rang with every movement that was made by its wearer.

Masema and Sihtric were both shirtless, left in just their jeans, and their bodies were a sight you could never tire of. Both men were muscular and their skin, covered with a faint layer of sweat, glistened beautifully in the sunlight.

Sihtric's curls on the unshaved side of his head were messy. Your hands had raked through his locks not long ago when you had dry humped him in an attempt to rile him up, and with success. Almost immediately after you lifted your shirt up slightly, to grind your soaking wet panties against him as he sat down on the floor, you felt his cock twitch against your core while it was trapped tightly in his jeans. Your soft dom could only groan as he watched you ride him without full contact, and he was desperate to fuck each of your holes.

Masema's hair was, surprisingly, still fully slicked back and kept in place by his top knot, even though he had been all but calm with you. You had contemplated pulling out his hair tie, as you loved the way his hair fell in his face when things got hot and heavy, but you had decided against it. You just wanted to see his pretty and unscarred face today, and in return Masema would need a clear look at you all the same. And the dangerous look in his mismatched eyes told you he had a clear view all too well while you were grinding down on Sihtric, who was on the opposite side of the bed… handcuffed to the bed's foot while Masema was handcuffed to the other, both seated on the bedroom floor and both wearing a black collar with a little bell attached to it. And if you would ask them how you had managed to overpower them both and chain them up, they would never have an answer for you, because it had all happened so fast.

Sihtric groaned as you sat on his lap again, and he tried to shake off the black fluffy cat ears you had just placed on his head, but you scolded him for the attempt.

'No!' you said with pout, and adjusted the ears, 'I wear them for you, daddy, now you wear them for me.'

Sihtric didn't respond, he merely sighed and just accepted the dress up. You then took the cap off the eyeliner you had stolen from his bathroom drawer, but before you could use the black pencil, Masema's snort from across the bed made you snap your head towards him.

'What's so funny?' you hissed, 'I picked out ears for you too, Sir.'

'And I will not be wearing those,' Masema said, convinced of his own words.

'We'll see,' you smiled, then brought your attention back to Sihtric, who's arousal was still pressing up against you.

You deliberately wiggled your ass while you straddled him, earning a few strangled moans which pleased you just right, and you then took his chin while you brought the eyeliner pencil up to his face.

'I'm already wearing that,' he frowned, confused, but he soon realised the eyeliner was not meant for his eyes.

Sihtric couldn't help but chuckle when he felt how you made three lines on his cheek as you giggled. And because he was so incredibly in love with you, and would honestly allow you to do anything to him, he didn't even attempt to fight it. He watched you with smitten eyes and a soft smile instead, as you drew three whiskers on his other cheek too, and his erection became even more painful as his lust slowly made place for love. And how desperately he wanted to make love to you right now, it was almost unbearable. He was only rudely disturbed from his love bubble when Masema suddenly scoffed and shook his head, while you sat back to look at your art on Sihtric's pretty face.

'You're an embarrassment of a dom, did you know that?' Masema said and side-eyed Sihtric, who glared at Masema in return while wearing the fluffy black ears with a matching collar.

Masema made a face, as he could not take Sihtric seriously by any means right now, and he rolled his eyes at the big push over that his boyfriend was.

'I think you are the cutest cat, daddy,' you smiled at Sihtric and kissed the tip of his nose, 'and I love you.'

'I love you too, princess,' Sihtric smiled proudly and head over heels, and he even felt a slight pout appear on his face when you moved away from him.

You grabbed the fluffy pink cat ears you had picked for your hard dom, and you moved to his side of the bed. Masema loved you deeply and with every fibre of his being, but he was not going to surrender to your shenanigans like Sihtric had done. He vigorously shook his head when you straddled his lap and held up the fluffy ears, and you struggled to take his chin to hold him still. Masema huffed and flared his nostrils once you managed to slip the headband on, but even he wasn't immune to the soft and truly happy giggle you let out when you looked at him.

'Don't even think about it!' he growled when you brought the eyeliner to his face, 'I said don't-'

You silenced him by placing your hand over his mouth, and you grinned as you quickly drew the cat whiskers on his cheeks. To finish it off, you drew a tiny heart on the tip of his nose, much to his disgrace, but to yours and Sihtric's pleasure.

'Sir is such a grumpy cat,' you chuckled as you booped his nose with your finger, 'boop!'

Masema let out a low grunt to your sweet yet mocking touch, and he snapped his head towards Sihtric after he had chuckled at him.

'There's nothing funny about this!' Masema hissed at Sihtric.

'You look cute though,' Sihtric shrugged and winked.

Masema huffed and clenched his jaw in response while his eyes remained fixated on Sihtric, and he then sighed loudly.

'Thanks,' Masema mumbled, 'you look cute too, babe.'

'Awh, thanks,' Sihtric smiled proudly again, and his cheeks coloured a shade of red while the sun had fully set by now.

You took Masema's face and brought his attention back to you.

'I love you, Sir,' you whispered sweetly and pecked his lips.

'Hm,' Masema chuckled softly against your lips, 'I love you too, sweetheart,' he murmured and kissed you with a sudden hunger, his tongue deep in your mouth while your nails nearly dug in his cheeks.

You began to grind against him, enjoying the feeling of his hard and twitching cock through his jeans, just like you had felt with Sihtric, and you relished in the knowledge you had such power over your doms, tied up or not.

Sihtric cleared his throat, 'So, where the hell is my kiss?' he asked with resentment in his voice, 'I only got a kiss on the nose.'

Masema reluctantly broke the sloppy kiss and glared at Sihtric, his eyes telling the soft dom he wasn't pleased with his complaint.

'You're a cute cat,' Masema said with a snappy tone, 'and clearly I'm the hot cat,' he added with a cocky smile.

'You're a mean cat,' Sihtric muttered, his eyes squinted and nose scrunched up to show his bitterness.

'And you're a jealous cat,' Masema retorted, then hissed under his breath, 'a jealous pussy cat.'

'Fuck you, Mas!' Sihtric growled, and he tugged at the handcuffs, rattling the chain around the bed while he bared his teeth at his sudden rival.

'Oh, I'll fuck you!' Masema barked, 'I'll fuck you good, baby boy, just the way you like it. That's all it takes to put you back in your place!'

'Suck my fucking cock!' Sihtric snarled and rolled his eyes.

Masema became quiet, and there was a fire burning in his eyes which you had never seen before, a fire so bright and immensely passionate, it almost scared you. He had never been this worked up before, his cock constantly twitching against your panties while he bickered with your shared boyfriend, who he had been with before you came into their lives. You suddenly got a glimpse into the relationship they had before you, and you never really realised that their dynamic had been the same when they were just the two of them together; Masema a hard dom and a dominant through and through, while Sihtric, the soft dom, could easily and happily switch to a submissive brat.

Masema kept his eyes on Sihtric, who now looked down at the ground.

'Watch your tone, kitten,' Masema commanded, 'and that attitude.'

'Or else?' Sihtric scoffed, his eyes still fixated on the floor.

'Look at me when you speak to me,' Masema said calmly, but his threatening tone was felt in the room, 'and show some respect.'

Sihtric looked up at Masema, with mischief set in his eyes, and he challenged his authority by sitting up straight with his chin up.

'Or else, Sir?' Sihtric dared him, raising his eyebrow playfully.

'Or else,' Masema said firmly, 'I won't suck your cock, darling.'

You swallowed hard while feeling all aroused at the sight of your boyfriends challenging each other, and your need for them became insufferable. But you couldn't give in, you had gotten them to this point and you could not crumble at their feet now, no matter how badly you wanted it. No matter how badly you wanted them.

After a lingering silence you cleared your throat, drawing their attention back to you.

'No one is going to get fucked,' you said as you pointed towards Sihtric, and then pressed your index finger against Masema's chest, 'and no one's cock will get sucked either! Instead,' you scoffed and got up from his lap, 'the only one who will feel pleasure today, is me.'

You flicked on the lights and grabbed your vibrator, as well as a ballgag and the nipple clamps which had ruined your last dominant experience. You threw the vibrator on the floor, out of reach for both men, and you neared Sihtric first, whose eyes widened as he saw you close in with those nipple clamps.

'N-no,' Sihtric struggled against the bed and rattled the handcuffs, 'no!'

'Don't be silly,' you chuckled, 'the clamps are not for you, I promise.'

Sihtric's eyes were still wide, but he calmed down instantly, knowing he was safe with you and that you would never repeat that mistake again.

'The ballgag however,' you grinned and kneeled down in front of him, 'I don't want to hear you two argue anymore,' you said and pushed the ball in his mouth.

Sihtric said something, but it was muffled and inaudible, and he watched you move away from him with the nipple clamps.

'These,' you smiled and held up the clamps to Masema before you kneeled down, 'are for you, Sir.'

'You know I like those,' Masema furrowed his brow, 'that's not a punishment, sweetheart.'

'I know,' you giggled and placed the first clamp on his sensitive flesh, 'it's not supposed to be a punishment.'

You enjoyed placing the other clamp on his chest while Masema bit back a heavy moan, his eyes slightly dazed and his lower lip drawn between his teeth. Sihtric tried to speak again, and through his muffled mumbles you understood he asked what the punishment was supposed to be, and you gave him a cheeky smile.

'The punishment is,' you said as you sat back in front of them, giving them a clear view while you took off your panties, 'that you both will have to watch how I pleasure myself.'

'You wouldn't dare,' Masema remarked, but his eyes grew as big as Sihtric's when they saw you spreading your legs before them.

Both men glanced at each other, then back at you, and they watched with disbelief in their mismatched eyes how you pressed the buzzing vibrator against your wet folds. You threw your head back at the pleasant and intense sensation you had longed for, and quickly your soft moans became louder, while your doms could only sit and watch you do what they forbid you to. Only they were allowed to touch you, to please you, to make you feel good. That was their job, not yours.

They both began to breathe heavier, their bare chests rising higher and falling deeper with each moan that escaped your lips. Their arousals were painfully trapped, desperate to be freed from the tight clothes and to be shoved deep inside you to teach you a lesson.

It didn't take long before you reached your high, and you fell back onto the floor with a satisfied grin on your face and tears of pleasure in your eyes. You felt lightheaded, and it took you a minute to compose yourself again and sit back up to face your doms, who then glared at you with a dangerous amount of lust, rage and love in their eyes.

'What's the matter?' you giggled, cheeks still flushed, 'are you both jealous cats now?'

Sihtric just shook his head disapprovingly, while Masema's nose twitched with a passionate rage, like that of a wolf who can't wait to jump his prey, and you knew that once you would unchain him, you'd be in trouble. Fortunately, you never had to unchain him. But unfortunately, that was because Masema had suddenly managed to slip one hand out of the handcuffs, and he immediately freed himself. He took off the nipple clamps with a grunt, then jumped up and rushed towards you.

You gasped at the realisation and also jumped up, but it was already too late. Masema grabbed your arm and gave you a yank, then threw you on the bed and wasted no time climbing on top of you, and he grabbed your throat.

'You think that was funny?' Masema hissed, 'you think that was cute, sweetheart?'

'S-s-sorry, Sir,' you stammered, cheeks still flushed and eyes wide while your dom towered over you.

'Oh,' he scoffed, 'now you're sorry, huh?'

Sihtric suddenly rattled his handcuffs, still tied up, and he mumbled something while the ballgag again muffled his speech. Masema looked over at Sihtric, and then back at you.

'Stay,' he ordered.

'Yes, Sir,' you whispered obediently, but Masema kept his eyes on you while he slowly moved away to Sihtric to unchain him, not trusting your behaviour anymore.

'Yeah, fine,' Sihtric muttered, 'thanks.'

Masema removed the ballgag and took Sihtric's face.

'You good?' he asked softly, with genuine love and concern, and he quickly removed the cat ears they were both still wearing.

Masema winked and pecked his lips, to which Sihtric let out a soft, smitten chuckle. Then both men turned to you, and you crawled further up the bed until you were trapped, your back pressed up against the headboard.

'What to do with our princess now?' Masema sighed.

'I have an idea,' Sihtric said with a devilish smirk, and he took the handcuffs you had used on them, as well as an extra set.

And as if Masema could read Sihtric's mind, he helped by holding your legs down without saying a word, and Sihtric cuffed your ankles to the bed. He then moved up to join you on the bed, and took your hands to press soft kisses to them.

'You knew you would never get away with this, princess,' Sihtric cooed and kissed your cheek, then handcuffed your wrists to the headboard.

And there you were, wearing an oversized shirt which belonged to your doms, your legs spread and tied down, being fully exposed for their viewing pleasure only. You struggled against your restraints when Masema grabbed your vibrator off the floor and threw it on the bed, where he joined you and Sihtric with a menacing smile.

'What-' you gasped at both men, as mild panic and excitement rushed through your body, and your breath hitched in your throat when your boyfriends suddenly grabbed each other's collar to pull one closer, and kissed each other deeply and sloppily right above you.

You moaned at the sight, desperately trying to find any friction between your thighs to give a sense of relief, but it was hopeless. You could only watch, as tears welled up in your eyes, how your doms touched each other up while they made out. Masema raked his fingers through Sihtric's hair, grabbing a fistful of his dark curls, and he tugged his hair firmly to pull his head back, exposing his neck. He then brought his lips to Sihtric's neck, who in return moaned and hissed at the open mouthed kisses and love bites Masema left on his skin, while his tattooed fingers squeezed Masema's toned biceps. And you whined, until finally you managed to earn their attention again as you begged them to let you join.

'You wanted to cum for us so badly, right, princess?' Sihtric smirked, his lips coated with Masema's saliva.

'You're in luck, sweetheart,' Masema purred at you, and he unbuckled Sihtric's belt slowly, 'because you're gonna cum for us, again and again.'

'And again,' Sihtric added with a smug face as he looked at you, his hands seductively moving up Masema's thighs, 'just like you wanted, princess.'

'And to make sure you don't whine too much,' Masema chuckled and suddenly pressed the buzzing vibrator to your clit, 'and to make you cum for us like a good girl,' he continued while Sihtric unzipped his jeans and finally freed his hard, leaking cock, 'we'll take turns fucking your mouth, until your lips are swollen and you can't even remember your own name anymore, only ours.'

taglist: @foxyanon @alexagirlie @sihtricsafin @neonhairspray @gemini-mama @lexwolfhale @sigtryggrswifey @skyofficialxx @djarinsgirl27 @m-a-s-h-k-a @verenahx @mrsarnasdelicious @diiickbrainn @little-diable @maii777 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @dixie-elocin @elle4404 @bubblyabs @ylvie50 @succnfuccubus @hb8301 @willowbrookesblog @apolloanddaphnis @jennifer0305 @carnationworld @justanother-sihtricgirlie @stark-head @il0vebeingdelulu @thenameswinter99 @deathbluestar113 @ladyinred2248 @zaldritzosrose

If you want to be added to/removed from the taglist, message me 🖤

#sihtric x reader #masema x reader #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #sihtric x you #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #masema fic #masema x you #masema #masema dagar

45 notes · View notes

ruinedbylanadelrey · 5 months

Text

WIP WEDNESDAY

Me and You on my Onlyfans

Husband!Joel Miller x F!Plus Size OF Creator Reader mini series

summary: you are a very well-known on the site and your husband is very supportive of your career.

agora hills by doja cat inspired title and series

an: i've been thinking about this idea for a long time and well i started my onlyfans today. so this is going to be a mini-series of one shots with this joel and reader, angel.

warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI, age gap (reader 22-24, joel 50s), sex work, only fans, talk about porn addiction, porn industry, reader is plus size, daddy dom!joel, literally porn, use of sex toys, smut, daddy kink, role playing, pet names (angel, babydoll, kitten), joel isn't dad, married life, people not minding their goddamn business, joel and reader have a cat, lingerie, talk about finances, pink, very fem style, coquette

Snippet:

The pink sheer material hugs your waist and hips, stopping just below where everyone wants to see, to fuck, to taste, and to touch. The white lights angled to the king-size bed, with baby pink silk sheets and stuffed animals on the bed. This is your upcoming video for your subscribers. The big show, your playtime with Joel, your husband, and dom since you met him. You walk to the bed, adjusting the thigh highs as you look over the toys that Joel had picked out and set out for you when you took a shower for the shoot today.

The pink vibrator, clear silicone dildo, lube, and baby pink ribbon. The door creaks open, and you twirl around to see Joel without a shirt on, his chest hair still dark and coarse, his salt and pepper hair slicked back and styled. His blue jeans barely hanging on his hips, and his strides were long and quiet. He's dressed in this playtime clothes and ready to start playing with your body, eager to make you cry out, and show everyone that he owns your mind, body, and soul.

#wip #wip wednesday #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x plus size reader

57 notes · View notes

junggunz · 11 months

Note

35, 21, 8. I can see this scenario being Boss x Assistant (here the option of character: Gun, DG, Samuel, Eli, Taesoo or Hudson)

“Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?” + “Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” + “You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder.”

Hudson wasn’t an idiot; he knew that from day one, you’ve been vying for his attention. It starts off tame with longing glances, lingering in his presence, and giving him the occasional suggestive smile. When he doesn’t reprimand you for your less than professional behavior, you continue to up the ante, wanting to know how far you can take it before he finally cracks.

It’s not very often that Hudson is able to get any alone time with you despite you being his personal assistant. So, as you’re in his office tidying up, all inhibitions are out the door when he catches sight of you bending over in that skin tight pencil skirt that leaves little to the imagination. Ogling at your ass for a bit before he slowly stalks toward you, a rough hand goes to fondle the plump flesh through your clothes.

“Ooh, you’re not wearing any underwear. Trying to tell me something?” Hudson questions mockingly, his palm roaming over your butt without any shame, trying to feel for a pantyline. A flirtatious giggle falls from you before you stand up straight, turning to face him.

“I’ve been trying to get my message across ever since we met, silly.” You tell him, moving in closer to him only for him to sidestep you; making you look at him confused. For a split second, you think he’s finally had enough of your antics until you hear the words that leave him next.

“Go and lock the door for me. I don’t want anyone to walk in while I’m balls deep.” He orders you in a stern voice, walking away from you until the task is completed. Not wanting to waste anymore time playing cat and mouse, once the door of his office is locked, you find yourself on Hudson’s lap with your skirt bunched around your waist while his hands are guiding your hips, frantically bouncing you on his dick while he thrusts up into you. His leather office chair squeaks under your combined weight paired with all the movement happening but those sounds make as much of an impact as the light hum of the fluorescent lights above your head considering how loud your salacious moans are. “You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder.” He warns you, chuckling darkly as he notices how you were already struggling to hold on to your sanity while his cock pummels into your warm pussy, reaching the deepest parts of your walls in this position. Tears well up in your eyes as his length presses into the sensitive bundle of nerves within you, your fingertips digging into the fabric of his dress shirt and wrinkling it. Head lolled back in pleasure, your teeth catch your bottom lip as an attempt to keep your noises under control, pathetic whimpers continue to bubble in your throat.

Truly a sight for sore eyes, Hudson loves the sight of you looking so disheveled and desperate while he fucks you. With how desperate you were to get off, it gets to a point where he no longer needs to guide your movements. All on your own, you pick your hips up and drop them on to his length; your pace senseless and ragged, paying no mind to your thighs that quiver every time he bottoms out. With how slick your walls were, it’s not hard to maintain the erratic tempo the two of you create together. As you tirelessly chase after your own climax, the mere satisfaction of finally being able to bang your hot boss fills you with an unbeatable sense of pleasure.

an: SOBBING ACTUAL TEARS. YOU'RE SO MEAN FOR CHOOSING A BUNCH OF DADDIES AND GIVING ME A WINNING COMBINATION OF NUMBERS. i literally had to use a randomizer to pick a character. but thanks for sending in some numbers hehehe.

#[closed]#the lonely empath prompts #lookism x reader #lookism smut #hudson ahn x reader #hudson ahn smut #hudson ahn scenarios #junggunz.txt

143 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

fifewitch

Untitled

madeofcotton-blog

you're the good

just-a-taurus-in-the-world

Charles

efsaecrn-blog

İsimsiz

anonymous-heartbreak

it sucks.