#he doesn't swing like a boxer

[candylix]

one little lie | hyung line (part 2)

Pairing • FWB!Minho x Fem!Reader x Hyung Line

A/N • This is part 2! You can see the series masterlist here.

Summary • The boys have one rule in their shared apartment. Don't bring girls over for sex. So when Chan, Hyunjin, and Changbin walk in on Minho fucking the living daylights out of you in the living room, he has to lie to save his own skin. His excuse? That's not a girl under him... you're a sex robot. And now they all want to try you out.

Genre • smut, sci-fi ish? (sex robots are a thing in this world that people know about and use)

WC • 3.1k

Content • reader pretends to be a sex robot, free use, dubcon, groping, nipple play, boob sex, orgasm denial, edging, riding, daddy kink, threesome, tiny bit of overstim, Minho discovers he's really into watching you get fucked by other people.

Minho walks you out of the bathroom, and you head to Hyunjin's room. You're walking through his apartment naked, about to be handed off to his roommate for sex, and somehow you're more okay with it than you were earlier. Minho knocks on Hyunjin's bedroom door, and when it swings open to reveal a gorgeous man wearing only his boxers, you can feel you core start to throb in anticipation.

"Thank you for the delivery," Hyunjin says. He grabs your shoulders to pull you towards him, but Minho doesn't let go.

"Be careful with her, she's still sensitive after Changbin."

Hyunjin pauses at that statement.

"How can she be sensitive, she's a robot," he asks, and Minho tuts at him.

"I told you, she's very realistic. I couldn't even clean her up without her twitching every time I touched her."

Literally not true, but you couldn't complain out loud.

"I promise I'll be gentle. Happy?" he says, and Minho rolls his eyes.

He pulls your body towards him, and Minho reluctantly gives you away to him. He buries your face in his chest, wrapping his arms around your torso, and drags you away to his bed. Hyunjin looks back to his door, where Minho is still waiting.

"Are you planning on standing there? Close the door."

"Oh, right," he says, and hits his hand on the door frame before grabbing the handle to close the door.

His bed is in the corner of the room, and he props you up against a wall. You sit on his bed in front of him, and he admires your body.

"This is so fucking realistic, holy shit."

He spreads your legs, and takes a seat between them. His eyes are glued to your chest. He takes your boobs in his hands, weighing them, and then bouncing them. He plays with your tits, squeezing, pulling, pushing them together, pinching your nipples, exploring everything he can do with them. He's like a kid in a candy shop, if the kid was a grown man and the candy was your boobs.

Finally, he brings his mouth to one of your nipples, and you feel his tongue lick circles around it and over it until it's erect. He lightly bites it, and you yelp.

"Oh, that gets you vocal, huh? Interesting."

He goes back to teasing your nipple, licking and nipping, experimenting with what else causes you to make noise. He fondles one of your boobs with his hand while sucking on the opposite nipple, and he finally gets you to let out a quiet moan. Satisfied with himself, he turns to move.

He hops off the bed, and as he pulls down his boxers, you get a full view of his dick. It's not as thick as Changbin's, but it's long. You can feel yourself leaking from the sight of it.

He steps back to the bed, and lays you flat on your back. He climbs on top of you, straddling your waist, and lies down on top of you, burying his face into your chest. His long dick presses against your core, throbbing against you as he gropes your breasts. You whimper at the contact. You want nothing more than for him to start already. You can feel him stiffen up as he fondles you, and his body starts mindlessly rocking. His dick drag itself over your pussy as he rocks, and he pinches your nipples, earning another yelp from you.

He suddenly stops, and grabs your wrists. He lifts your arms up to your chest, and places your hands on your boobs to push them together. He lets go of you, and when your hands stay where they are, he smiles.

"Whoa, that worked."

He snuggles into your tits for a while, feeling how soft you were under him. When he's done, he moves his body, and you feel his dick slide away from your pussy. He straddles your stomach, and positions his cock between your tits. He slides it in, and you feel how hard he is already. Your boobs wrap around his dick, and it throbs inside your soft mounds. He hovers over you, with his arms on either side of your head as he holds himself up.

With a steady roll of his hips, he moans softly as he thrusts his long cock into you, the tip poking out the other side before getting sucked back in. He slowly rocks into you, feeling the way his stiff cock drags against your plush flesh. He wants to feel every inch of himself between your boobs, and he watches as they jiggle with every thrust.

His arousal grows at the sight, and he groans as he rocks into you faster. You press your boobs together harder, fully enveloping his dick and overwhelming his senses with the increased pressure.

"Fuck," he moans, and bucks into you desperately.

Your entire body rocks under him as he fucks your tits faster, humping your chest with all his energy. The movement of your body under him and his loud moans has your core pulsing intensely, and you want nothing more than to have him thrusting inside your pussy. You can't even touch yourself with him on top of you like this, with your hands busy holding together your boobs while he fucks them. The entire bed rocks with him, creaking louder with every thrust.

A string of 'fuck, fuck, fuck' escapes his lips each time his dick buries itself into your tits, getting louder as the feeling builds.

Your boobs push and pull against you, bouncing in rhythm with his hard cock as it grinds against your chest. He moans louder as he feels his orgasm coming, and he increases the speed of his humping, which only shakes your boobs harder. A groan slips out of you at the sensation, and the sound takes him over the edge.

With a loud moan, his cum splatters across your chest and onto your neck as he reaches his climax. The creaks of the bed get quieter as he slows down, and his rocking gets softer and softer as he rides out his high. He finally finishes, and he pulls out his dick from between your breasts.

He doesn't pull your hands away, though, and lays down on top of you, his face buried in your chest. His thigh sits in between your legs, pressing against your bare cunt. You want to hump into him, feel anything to relieve yourself. You're wet, pulsing, and can't do anything about it.

Finally, he rolls off of you, panting in exhaustion.

"Shit, I forgot to set my name," he says, and you desperately wish he remembered so he could stuff his long cock into you. "Next time."

You don't want him to do it next time, you want him to do it now.

But you can't tell him that, and can't touch yourself, so you're left entirely at the whims of the man breathing heavily beside you.

"God," he says, in between breaths, "that was fun." His hand is back on your boob, kneading it softly. "I can't give you back to Jisung."

He fondles you, rubbing your nipple with his index finger. You're so sensitive that the slightest touch makes you whimper, which only makes him want to touch it more. After a few excruciating minutes of Hyunjin unknowingly edging you, you hear hard knocking at his door.

"Hyunjin, give her back!" Minho yells.

"No!" Hyunjin yells back, and Minho barges into the room. He sees Hyunjin, naked and playing with your boob, and he feels the same way as when he saw you leaking on Changbin's bed— arousal. And he has no idea why. Hyunjin quickly sits up to cover himself with a pillow, and you're finally released from his grasp.

"You can't just come in here!" Hyunjin says, but Minho ignores him, and walks over to the bed. He looks to the cum stain on your chest, and it's hard not to notice his bulge growing.

"Yes I can. You didn't even lock the door," he says, ignoring the throbbing in his pants.

He pulls you up off the bed, and Hyunjin just huffs in disappointment, but doesn't stop Minho from taking you away. You walk back to the bathroom, which has now become your refuge, and the only place you can actually talk. Minho is already wiping your neck before you can even sit down.

"Two down, one to go. How're you feeling? Was he gentle?"

Hyunjin didn't touch your aching core, so you were feeling extremely needy and not entirely of sound mind.

"Worse than gentle. If I don't get something in me right now, I might explode," you say. You don't even care how insane you sound at this point.

You reach for the zipper of Minho's pants and pull it down, but he grabs your wrists before you can go any further.

"Whoa, slow down. Save that for Chan."

"Minho, please," you whine. He's still holding you, so you can't even touch yourself to relieve the ache.

"Wait just a little bit longer."

You pout at his command, but comply. You resist the growing urge to hump his leg. He holds both your wrists in one hand, while the other wipes the rest of the cum off your collarbone and chest. He takes his time with it, and you think he's going intentionally slow just to mess with you.

"See, that wasn't so bad, right?" he says, finally finished cleaning you up. "Now we can go see Chan."

He opens the door, and walks you back to the living room where Chan is waiting. Neither Changbin nor Hyunjin are there, so you assume they're still recovering in their rooms.

Chan stands up when he sees you walk in.

"I'll help you bring her to my room," he says, and he and Minho take you to your last destination.

"Where are we putting her?" Minho asks, and Chan hesitates.

"Actually... do you know if she can... ride people?" he says bashfully.

Minho looks at you, but you give no visible response. Not that you'd be able to.

"I don't know... probably not. She'd need help moving on you."

"Oh..." Chan says, looking defeated. "I guess we can just put her on my bed."

"Wait-" Minho interjects. His mouth is faster than his brain. "I could help you."

"What?"

"Like... with having her ride you. I can help."

Chan's face goes red.

"But that would mean having you watch me."

"That's not a big deal, right? Just bros helping bros. You want her to ride you, and I'll get her to do it."

Chan stares at him for a moment, debating in his mind if he wants this or not.

"Ok," he finally responds, "just bros helping bros."

Chan sits down on his office chair, and slides off his sweatpants and briefs. Minho moves you in front of him while Chan jerks himself off, just enough to get hard. His dick is big and leaking precum, and you're excited to have it inside you. You'd be excited to have anything inside you at this moment, but Chan looks tantalizing, sitting there with his hard cock out, just for you. He holds up his dick, waiting for you to sit on him.

"Remember to set your name when you're inside her," Minho reminds him.

"Right."

He lowers you down onto Chan, and you're finally about to get some relief. You're still extremely wet from your last encounter, so you slide onto him easily. He groans at the overflowing juices surrounding his cock, and how easily he's able to get himself inside you. He quickly fills you up, and he hits a sensitive bundle of nerves. You want to bounce on him, feel him hit that spot again and again, but you know you aren't allowed to move until Minho moves you. It's agonizing.

"Daddy," Chan says, surprising you and Minho both.

"Daddy," you moan, and you feel his dick throb at the sound of your voice.

"Daddy?" Minho asks. "I didn't know you were into that."

"Are you here to assist or make commentary?" Chan says, annoyed at his interruption.

"Sorry," Minho says, and stops talking.

Chan lifts up your arms, placing your hands on his shoulders, and lays his own on the armrests of his chair. Minho grabs your ass, and lifts you slightly. You feel Chan's cock slipping out of you, and you clench at the slow loss of contact, making Chan groan. Then Minho drops you back on his lap, and his dick spears your sensitive spot, causing you to moan loudly. You're finally getting the relief you've been whining about. Minho picks you up again, lifting you up and down on Chan's cock, and Chan's knuckles turn white as he grips the armrests.

You have no control over the pace of your bouncing, relying on Minho to lift you up and lower you down. But he does a good job, and every time Chan fills you up, your impending orgasm comes closer.

"Faster," Chan moans, and Minho picks up speed. He slides you down faster on Chan's dick, and it hits the right spot particularly hard.

"Daddy," you moan, and Chan's head goes back. He rolls his hips into you, increasing the impact against your pussy. His dick forces his way into you, and he's thick enough to rub against all of your walls as he penetrates you harder and harder. You can't help but to buck your hips into him, lifting yourself up and into him.

Minho doesn't have to do much now, you're moving all on your own, and Chan is too fucked out to notice, but he keeps his hands on your ass to sell it anyway. He leans his hips closer to you, and you feel his dick press against your ass as you bounce on Chan. You rub into him, and Minho moans against the friction.

You're very close now. You yell out 'daddy' with every thrust he makes into you, and Chan is a moaning mess on the chair. He can barely keep his eyes open anymore. The pleasure takes over his mind, and he bucks into you faster, completely uncoordinated with the pace of your bouncing. His thrusts penetrate you at erratic intervals, causing you to moan louder every time his cock buries itself fully in you. You can't think straight anymore, all you can do is submit to the feeling and yell out 'daddy' over and over again.

The only one still functioning is Minho, who's extremely turned on watching you fuck yourself on Chan's massive cock. He wished he could see the expression on your face every time Chan's dick rams into you, but hearing you loudly moaning is enough to know you're loving it. He's still grinding himself against your ass, and he can feel his own orgasm coming. But he knows if he cums now, he wont be able to hold you up and watch you cum on Chan's lap, so he stands back away from you. His dick throbs in his pants, but he knows he'll relieve himself later.

Chan continues bucking into you at an erratic pace, and every time his dick bottoms you out, you moan louder. You can feel your orgasm coming, and with one last thrust into your g-spot, you reach your climax.

"Daddy," you moan, clenching your walls against him, and a wave of liquid flushes out of you, drenching his cock with your cum.

"Oh my god," he moans out, feeling your juices spurt out of your pussy and onto his body. He grabs your hips, and rams into you harder, not letting you have a moment of rest as you come down from your high. His pace is unrelenting, and you spasm on his body as he thrusts into you. You hold onto his shoulder, trying to keep yourself up. He doesn't stop, and Minho helps him bounce you faster on his throbbing cock. The feeling overwhelms you, and you can't control your moans as he slams his dick into your sensitive cunt.

His own climax finally comes, and white hot liquid fills your pussy as he finally slows down. Minho's gently lowers you down, holding your ass as he hovers you over Chan's lap. Chan keeps humping into you, thrusts getting weaker as he rides out his high. Finally, he stops, and Minho lowers you down completely on him. Chan bottoms you out, but you're both too tired to do anything more. Chan leans back on his chair, and you lean back onto Minho.

"Fuck," is all Chan manages to say.

Minho begins to lift you up, and the movement of Chan's dick slipping out of you causes you to twitch, while Chan groans. He lifts you up completely, and your legs feel like jelly. Luckily, Minho is there to keep you standing.

He helps you walk, using considerably more effort than before. Before you leave, Chan calls out to him.

"Thanks... that was amazing."

Minho gives him an awkward thumbs up, and you both leave the room.

You collapse onto the toilet seat when you arrive at the bathroom.

"I'm gonna go get your clothes. You... catch your breath."

You can only nod in response, too tired to speak, and he leaves you there.

You can feel your mind clear, and your pussy leak with Chan's cum.

It's done. Minho's roommates have all fucked you, used you the way they wanted. Jisung would be here soon, and you could finally leave this all behind. You no longer had to pretend to be a sex robot.

So why did you feel disappointed?

The door opens, and Minho has your clothes in hand, and a visible erection in his pants.

You snicker at him.

"I didn't know you were into cucking, Minho."

"What? No I'm not."

"You literally volunteered to help Chan fuck me."

His cheeks go red, and he can't look you in the eye.

"W-well, you seemed to like having them fuck you like a sex doll."

"I was just acting," you say, and this time it's your turn to blush at his accusation.

"Was it acting when you were screaming Changbin's name? Or when you were moaning daddy, daddy-"

"Ok! Stop!" you say, waving your arms to get him to stop talking. "We both discovered something about ourselves today."

"I guess we did," he responds, and places your clothes on the counter. He uses a fresh towel to wipe you down, and you get dressed.

"Jisung should be here any second," Minho says.

One last time, he opens the bathroom door, and walks you out.

read part 3 here

taglist:

@loeyscock @0325tiny @5starlee @miupow @mapofthemazeinthemirror @sadrosessing @luminouskalopsia @minghaosimp @curiousgworge @azuna-sz @piscesrising01 @g-bbzz @extrhotjne @nabi-tokoshi @weareapackofstrays

#stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin smut #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader smut #bang chan x reader #bang chan smut #bang chan #chan smut #chan x reader #chan x reader smut #lee minho x reader #lee minho smut #lee minho #minho smut #minho x reader #minho x reader smut #lee know x reader smut #multi

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #steddie easter #steve x eddie

[brayneworms]

i'll fetch you anything you like.

featuring. aki hayakawa x gn!reader

content. MDNI, smut, riding, begging, crying, smoking, light masochism, burning (reader puts a cigarette out on aki), mild codependency, pet names (loverboy, darling), gender neutral reader, agab not mentioned, sub!aki + dom!reader, a little angst, pining, kissing, vague love confessions.

word count. 3.2k

synopsis. aki's smoking is a nasty habit, but you're certain you can get him to quit. also, aki pines.

notes. minors don’t interact. anyways how’s this for a first post ( totally normal abt aki hayakawa )

Aki Hayakawa is an orphan in every sense of the word.

Literally being the one most people associate him with, but—Aki comes to a realisation when he's maybe thirteen or fourteen that the word runs deeper than that. It's not as if your entire life is defined by your relationship with your parents, after all; even people who have ones that are alive become something other than offspring in their life. Husband, brother, uncle, father. But orphan sticks, no matter how many people you fill your life up with to replace the parents you lost. Aki thinks there is something in the word that rings of loneliness; he could father a hundred children, become grandfather to two hundred more, gain friends and a partner, and still he would be Aki Hayakawa, orphan.

Alone.

"That's a bad habit."

Aki's fingers don't pause in their ministrations, thumb pressing down on the jut of the lighter as it zips to life. The cherry of his menthol cigarette glows in the blue-dark of the office. The sky outside the thin window is pale with the gloaming, and he breathes a haze of gritty smoke over it, sullying the view.

You've made yourself at home on his desk, legs swinging leisurely. You must be cold in only his work-shirt and boxers that cling to your hips and thighs. You watch him passively, head cocked.

"One of my least dangerous ones," he intones, which is true enough for a man who has three years to live at most.

"Oh? What tops the list?"

Aki eyes you serenely. "I dunno if you've heard, but I work for this place called the Public Safety Division."

Your laughter breaks the delicate quiet like a flock of birds taking off from a tree. "Put it out. I hate the smell."

Aki's dark brows crinkle. "I'm not wasting a perfectly good cigarette. If it bothers you so much, eat it."

"Eat it? You freak."

"At least then someone's getting something out of it."

You hop from the desk, yawning. In the dim light that is starting to grow just a little brighter, Aki can see the beginnings of bruises on your throat and collarbone, vanishing in an ugly rainbow trail down to the hastily-down buttons of his work shirt. Your socked feet pad along the threadbare carpet on your way over to him, and Aki inhales deeply. Maybe if there's enough smoke in his lungs it will encourage him not to breathe; that way, he won't do that god-forsaken embarrassing thing he does when you get close. His heart stutters, and it makes his breath hitch audibly. The worst part is you seemed to be goddamn attuned to it—there seems to be little you like more than knowing you have an effect on him.

Aki doesn't stop you when your fingers come up to encircle his cigarette, brushing his as you pluck it gently from between his lips. He hates that even the smallest kiss of your skin against his still sends liquid lightning zipping through him, like he's that seventeen-year-old he was when he met you, the one full of spite and anger who hadn't been held since his mother died.

You pull the cigarette away, still lit; the butt glows red and angry between your delicate hold, gleams in the reflection of your eyes. When Aki meets them, he feels his mouth go dry; your pupils are large and black, engulfing iris, barely blinking as you look up at him.

"Bet I can make you quit," you say.

Aki snorts. "Better men than you have tried."

"Anything can be unlearned," you counter smoothly. "All bad habits go away with a little punishment."

Aki feels his heartbeat quicken, tries not to let the way that one word sets his blood alight show on his face. "Hm," he says noncommittally, but frustratingly, he doesn't think he's fooled you for a second.

Your serene smile curved into something sharp as easily as breathing. "Gimme your hand."

And Aki does, though he knows where this is going. You turn his hand over gently at the wrist, leaving it palm-up, fingers splayed in your grip. You hold him so gently it makes him shiver. Carefully, slowly—Aki thinks, giving him much time to pull away—you raise the burning end of the cigarette and plant it in the centre of his pale palm, a stinging kiss. Aki hisses, grits his teeth, but dutifully doesn't move even as his hand twitches involuntarily at the contact. Just as tears start to needle at his eyes, you twist the butt and pull away, leaving a shallow pool of grey ash, a black soot mark, and a stinging red welt like a patch of burning leaves.

His eyes are glued to the masterpiece you've made of his boring skin. The burn throbs unpleasantly, but something low and hot has come alive in his abdomen at the lingering kiss of pain. It satiates something inside him just smoking the thing could never hope to touch. He likes the futility of feeding himself his own death, sure—makes him feel like he has marginally more control over it, despite what the Curse Devil might have to say about it. This sort of pain is different; it goes straight for the gullet, and it makes it all the more sweet that it's you doing it.

A stupid, lonely part of Aki—orphan—wants to believe you're doing this because you care for him. Because you want him to live as long as possible. The grown, cynical man he supposes he's become thinks you must be just as fucked up as he is. It doesn't really matter either way; Aki's loved you for years, and he's astonished he's even gotten this far with you, and he'll take anything you deign to give him, pleasure or pain because it's all sort of the same to him anyway.

You unscrew a bottle of drinking water and hold it over your discarded blazer, soaking the lapel before pressing it to the burn. Aki grunts, eyebrows knitting up as a strange cocktail of relief and pain throbs slowly through his body. Your hands holds the wet fabric over his one, like a ribcage encasing a beating heart. Oh, Aki would let you hold his heart in your hands, and who cares what you decided to do with it? It's hardly his business; it belongs to you anyway.

He leans in to kiss you, gets close enough to brush his lips against yours and feel his pupils dilate before you turn your head, ducking. Aki feels his heart stutter anxiously as you turn your serene face up to him.

"Hate the taste," you say.

Aki frowns. "I barely smoked it for thirty seconds."

"It lingers."

Aki isn't stupid; this is part of the punishment. And the goddamn annoying part is that it's working. Even as you take his other hand to hold the soaking blazer against his burn and turn away, every fibre in his body wants to stop you. Turn you back around, pin you against the wall, swallow any complaints with his lips. He wants to make you melt against him, wants to melt himself under you in that way you always manage to do to him. He likes feeling like he doesn't have to think with you; just await whatever comes next, pain or pleasure, and he'll take it because it's you.

But Aki doesn't move. He's not a problem dog. He stands quietly and nurses his burn, tracking you with his eyes as you re-dress yourself, his shirt tucked into your slacks, tie wound through the collar, work boots laced up to the ankle.

"I gotta run home and shower," you say, tugging your blazer on. "I'll see you back here in, like, an hour."

Aki nods. "Okay."

The grin you flash him is little more than poisonous; it makes it heart skip a beat. "How's your burn?"

He swallows around a dry throat, holding your stare with a touch of timidity. "What burn?"

Delight shivers over your expression like wind ruffling a field of grass, and you stride the length of the cramped office and kiss him. Aki grunts, rendered thoughtless the moment your mouth touches his, your hands in his collar and his hair; his hands go slack, blazer fluttering to the ground, and the welt on his palm stings horribly when his hands come up to latch around your shoulders and neck. He pulls you closer, a little frantic, and he has barely a moment to reflect on how worrying it is that he's this desperate for your touch after being denied only once, but before he can think to dwell on it you're parting your lips and he's tugged your body flush against his own. He's so close he could drown in you. For a moment, he wants to.

Far too soon, you pull away. You're delighted. "Good," you murmur, and he hates how his heart leaps into his throat. "You're so good, Aki."

His face is on fire. "I'm not a dog," he manages.

"Sure you are," you say matter-of-factly. "And I'm Pavlov. I'll break that nasty habit of yours if it's the last thing I do. Give you something else to focus on. Okay?"

Aki licks his dry lips. "You can try," he says hoarsely, hoping it doesn't sound as much like an invitation as he thinks it does. The impish smile you give him implies he's shit out of luck.

Aki is in hell.

He knows this, because every time the two of you have hooked up since your little conversation in his office, he hasn't been allowed to kiss you if you detect even a whiff of smoke on his breath. It's killing him a little, to be honest. Fucking without kissing just feels wrong. It makes him forget it's you, sometimes, his vision of you sliding out of focus 'till you could be just anyone. And Aki doesn't fuck just anyone. He fucks people he loves.

He loves you. But he can't have you. And he can't even kiss you so he can pretend he has you, if only for a minute. It's just fucking, a tumble of sweating limbs and gasps and grunts, of a thrilling cocktail of pleasure and pain and almost-confessions bitten back at the last second, hidden in the crook of your neck.

Your shitty wooden headboard creaks into the shitty thin bedroom wall, and Aki spends a moment in lucidity to send a silent apology to your neighbours. One arm braces against the wood, flexing with every fast jerk of his hips, and you're under him, eyes clenched shut and meeting his thrusts in a way that has Aki wondering why anyone could think being on top had to mean being in control. He's oiled to your machine, matching the rhythm of your hips and trying not to drown as your back arches up from the sweat-damp sheets, stomach curving into his, one arm holding fast around his neck.

You feel so good he could cry. Not that that would be an irregular occurrence, or anything—he'd practically sobbed the first time you fucked, and back then you'd been all fluttering concern, stopping even though he tried to sputter please, Christ, don't stop, I'll die if you stop, please. He supposes you're kind, in your own way. You'd stroked away his tears and kissed his damp face.

"Aki," you groan, bringing him forcefully back to the present; his dark bangs dangle in his eyes as he looks down at you, mouth agape and head cloudy. "Wh-what's got you so wound up?"

As if you don't know. Aki grits his teeth.

Your hand makes patterns on the damp nape of his neck as his rolling hips slow, as he breathes deep to try and regain a semblance of his dignity. "Loverboooy," you croon up at him, your free hand gripping at the junction between his hip and thigh. Aki grimaces; he hates that nickname. "Talk to me."

Aki glares at you. "You know—I want—you know. St-stop it."

He whimpers somewhere high in his throat as your body tightens around him, free hand coming up to scrub down his face. "D-don't!"

"Sorry, sorry," you laugh. "I'm sorry. Why don't you tell me what you want? Maybe I'm feeling nice."

It feels like a trap, like luring his feelings into the light just to snap a bear trap over them. But Aki wants, he yearns so deeply and desperately that he's just about willing to risk it. "Want to kiss you."

Your eyes gleam. "Do you?" you ask, as if this is news to you.

His arms shake. "Please."

God, he's pathetic. He's so used to being in control, to tailoring every facet of his life meticulously, grooming and tidying and cleaning. He knows the exact amount of calories he should eat per day. He puts his shoes on a rack so he never tracks mud onto the tatami mats. His shower utensils are organised in the order he uses them—shampoo, conditioner, face-wash, scented gel. He likes being in control. He thinks, anyway. You make him reevaluate. You make him reevaluate an awful lot.

You toss your head back against the pillows; you have the audacity to laugh. "Saw you smoking earlier," you tell him, and Aki's stomach goes cold. "Mm... full pack, too. A new one? When'd you buy that."

"Th-that was hours ago." And it's true; when Aki learns you're coming over, he puts his cigarettes in a locked draw and puts the key somewhere difficult to reach. "It won't still taste. I've eaten. I brushed my teeth."

That's just good manners.

"It's the principle of the thing, loverboy," you say, and your hand comes up to his chest and rolls him over. Aki gapes, whining at the loss of contact only to choke on his own voice as you sling a leg over his hips and slide him back into you. Your nails scrape red railroads down the pale skin of his sternum at the stretch, and Aki watches, mesmerised as you start to move, the flex of the muscles in your thighs, the vein bulging in your throat as you toss your head back. He wants to be all over you, a hand on your neck feeling your pulse go berserk for him, his teeth in your skin as proof he was there, nose buried in your hair, dirty and rough and the exact opposite of the way he usually wants you. That is—soft and kind, romantic, slow and heady as syrup.

He wants kisses that taste like tears, whispered confessions into bedsheets. He wants, painfully, the constant assurance he can never ask for. I love you. I love you. Oh, Aki, I love you.

"Kiss me," he gasps instead, writhing against the bedsheets, head thrown back at the brutal pace you set him. He's so close, teeth gritting and muscles locking up but without a kiss it feels cold and incomplete. "Please, please, kiss me, please—"

"You're a brat, Aki," you hiss, and Aki's heart twitches in his chest; he can hear his pulse in his skull. "You ignore the one rule I gave you, and you still think you get to ask for what you want?"

"It's a bullshit rule," he snaps. "I—I can't just, hah, I can't j-just turn it, off, oh, fuck—"

"You okay?" you ask in a fleeting moment of mercy. Aki's eyebrows knit up. "Am I—is it too much?"

Aki shakes his head. "I'm okay," he mumbles pitifully. "I'm close."

"I know, darling," you murmur. "It's okay. I'm gonna give you what you want. And you're gonna give me what I want. Deal?"

"I—I..." Aki chews the inside of his cheek till copper floods his mouth. "I'll try? I'll try, I swear."

You still for a moment. "You mean that?"

Aki nods frantically. "Yes, I—if that's what you want, anything, anything you want, please..."

The beam that breaks out on your face is a million watts. "Aki," you breathe, and finally you lean forward 'till your chest brushes his. Aki can't breathe, transfixed by every swoop of your eyelash and chap in your lip as you lean close. When you speak, you're so close that your lips brush his, and he has to keep every muscle taut to stop himself leaning forward and closing the gap. "Aki, I want you to live a long, happy life. You get that, right? Why I'm doing this?"

He feels his stomach flip, can barely comprehend the words through his dazed mind. His glazed eyes follow you, thunderstruck. "What—what d'you mean?"

"I care about you," you murmur. "I want you to live as long as possible. Want you to stick around with me."

With you? It's a wonder his heart doesn't explode. For a fleeting moment, there exists a future beyond the Gun Fiend, beyond Denji and Power and Nyako, one where he can love you freely. Tears needle at his eyes. It all seems so impossible.

Aki forgets himself, surges up to capture your mouth, but you turn at the last second, planting a kiss to his cheek before focusing on his jaw, his ear, capturing the lobe between your teeth and sucking gently as your hips resume their rhythm. You're faster now, gasping for breath, Aki's hands sliding over the skin of your hips and torso for a lifeline. You tongue at the cords in his neck, the shell of his ear and the sensitive divot just underneath till he's squirming.

Your hands are everywhere—scraping nails across his twitching abdomen, running up the valley between his pecs, tweaking a nipple and pulling. And Aki groans and gasps, every hint of pain from your lovely hands sending him rocketing closer towards the edge. Tears bead at his lashline.

"'M close," he gasps again.

"That's okay, loverboy," you say sweetly, words buzzing against the skin of his throat, and Aki shudders, arching impossibly closer to you. He can feel every nerve in his body sawed open and set alight, impossibly sensitive, boiling with love, and as he comes he buries his face into the crook of your neck with a hoarse cry. Two lone tears streak down his flushed cheeks.

You're not far behind, and Aki wouldn't dream of pulling out, so he squirms and gasps and whines with the prickling of overstimulation as you chase your own high. "Sorry—fuck—you okay?"

"I'm, I'm good," Aki whines. He cracks one steely blue eye open. It stands out against his red skin; he's so flushed as to look sunburnt.

"'M almost, fuck, almost there. Hang on for me?"

Aki raises shaking hands to grip your hips in answer. You laugh between pants, baring down at him.

"That's my boy."

You don't kiss him when you finish, but it's alright. You flop down beside him, taking in deep lungfuls of air, nuzzling your lips to the salt-sweat cooling on his chest. Usually, round about now, Aki would roll to reach his bedside cabinet where his open pack of cigs lay in wait. The lighter is right beside him, open and tempting. He can almost hear the flick of it, the zip of the flame bursting to life, the sizzle of the cherry scorching beneath that controlled flame. The grit of smoke in his mouth and down his throat, emptying his lungs of fresh air.

The pack goes untouched. Aki winds an arm around your shoulders and holds you close, your cheek against his thudding heart.

You don’t kiss him, but it’s alright.

Aki’s not a problem dog.

He's going to earn it.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

#🫀.scribes #chainsaw man x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #csm x reader #aki x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man x gn!reader #gn!reader #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #aki hayakawa smut #aki smut #hayakawa smut #hayakawa aki smut #dom!reader #sub!aki #sub!aki hayakawa

[number1mingyustan]

-Cuffing Season-

Your Call

boyfriend!mingyu x fem!reader

Warnings: established relationship, cursing, explicit smut, mutual masturbation (m+f), virtual sex, size kink, fingering (f.)

Summary: Even a thousand miles away you still have the same effects on him

Word Count: 1.8k

_______________________________________________

(a/n: i'm baaaack!! im so sorry for going MIA I was busy with school and now that I'm on break I've had literally no motivation to write but I've got a few more drafts I'm working on so expect me to be more active!)

The hotel door swings open and Mingyu walks through it, hand already pulling at the navy blue tie draped around his neck.

He undoes it with one hand before dropping it onto the carpeted hotel floor. He lets out a sigh of pure exhaustion and leans his back against the wall as his briefcase meets the floor.

He’s been in meetings all day and tired can’t even describe what he’s feeling right now. He’s away from you in Tokyo on a business trip and he’s miserable. His days prior to this were light, a meeting here and there and a couple of conventions. But today?

Back-to-back meetings with potential investors and clients have worn him out. He hasn’t even gotten the chance to call you yet today.

For the two weeks, he’s called you at least three times and you’ve texted back and forth every day. Now it’s nearing 1am and he hasn’t spoken to you at all.

He strips himself down to his boxers and lays down on top of the bed. He scrambles for his phone and immediately dials your number.

You pick up on the first ring. “Gyu?”

“Hi baby,” He rasps.

"Was beginning to think you forgot about me," you pout.

"Never, I was just swamped. I knew it was gonna be a heavy day, but I had literally no time to myself. I just now got back to the hotel," he sighs.

"You work so hard babe," You say. "I'm proud of you, but take it easy."

He nods. "It'll only be this bad for the next few days. I think it'll be worth it though, seems like a lot of good can come out of this for the company."

You shift on the bed, making yourself more comfortable as you lie down. "That's good Gyu, I would hope so."

The call goes silent for a few moments. You can hear each other breathing lightly into the phone as you lay in comfortable silence.

"I really miss you," Mingyu says, finally breaking the silence.

"I know, I miss you too." You sigh. "I've been miserable without you. I'm so lonely here, we should've gotten like a cat or something."

Mingyu lets out a breathy chuckle. "Noted. It'll be the first thing I do when I come home next week."

"Ugh," You groan dramatically. "Don't remind me I have to wait a whole week to see you again."

You can practically hear him smiling into the phone. "A week can go by fast, don't worry. I'll be home in no time."

"Good," You smile. "Bed's cold without you here."

"Must be," He yawns.

"Yeah Gyu, I hate it. Need you here now," Your voice is just above a whisper.

"What are you wearing?" He asks.

"You want me to tell you or show you?" You ask.

"Fuck," he whispers. "Show me."

Before he can even finish his thought, his phone is already ringing with an incoming Facetime call. He presses on the green button and sees you adjusting the camera.

Your phone is leaning against something to hold it up and you're sitting crisis cross applesauce on the bed in front of him. "Hi Gyu."

"Hi pretty girl," He smirks.

He rises to his feet, holding his phone in hand as he makes his way over to the desk in his room. He sits down, angling the camera so you can see him.

"Really missed you today," You tell him.

"Missed you too," He licks his lips. "You wearing my shirt?"

You nod. "Yeah. Still smells like you and everything."

You pick up the phone, angling it down so he can see the black and white striped button-up you have on. It fits you big, coming down mid-thigh.

He rasps. "Looks good on you baby."

"It does, doesn't it?" You smirk. "Think it might look better off though, right?"

Suddenly Mingyu isn't sleepy anymore.

"Shit baby, don't do this to me. You know I'm going crazy cuz I can't touch you," He groans, tilting his head back.

"This is the next best thing, no?" You lick your lips, allowing your hand to undo the first button.

"Damn right, it is," He agrees, slipping his hand into his boxers. To no one's surprise, he's already sprouting a semi at the mere thought of having phone sex with you.

It was only a matter of time before this happened anyway. You and Mingyu would rarely go this long without being intimate with one another.

"You didn't seriously call me in nothing but your underwear and expect me not to want you Gyu," You breathe out.

"Didn't do it on purpose sweetheart," He grins.

You've already undone half the buttons of his shirt. He can see your bra peaking through the open material. His cock twitches in anticipation.

He watches like a hawk as you slide the shirt off your shoulders and let it fall off your body entirely. "Shit," he whispers.

You're kneeling in front of the camera in nothing but your bra and underwear. It's a matching lavender set that he bought you a while back.

His eyes are glued to his screen as he watches you. You play with your bra straps, sliding them off your shoulders slowly to expose your breasts to him. He lets out a low groan and feels his cock harden more in his boxers.

He's suddenly feeling suffocated by the material on his hips. He sits up, sliding his underwear off and exposing his leaking cock. He lets out a breath of relief as he wraps his hand around his length.

He swipes his thumb across the tip, using the bit of precum to lubricate his cock. He licks his lips slowly, watching you as you slide your soaked underwear off your body.

"You're so big," you whisper. You're practically drooling at the sight of his cock.

He spits on his hand and starts pumping himself slowly. "Touch yourself f'r me."

You sit back on the bed and slide your hand down between your thighs. He watches as you spread your legs, revealing just how soaked you were for him.

You let out a shaky breath as your finger circles your clit.

"Need you so bad Gyu," You whine.

'i'm here baby-fuck," he groans.

He pumps his length faster, gliding his hand along his hard cock as he watches you touch yourself. He strokes himself, swiping his hand across the sensitive tip every time he pumps himself.

"Inside me.. need you inside me," You whimper. You slip two fingers into yourself slowly. You spread your legs wider to give him a better look. You push your fingers deeper, curling your digits against your inner walls.

"Soon baby, 'm all yours." He breathes out.

"You're so big Gyu, want you to fuck me so bad-ah," You pump your fingers deeper inside of yourself, desperately trying to coax yourself toward an orgasm.

"F-fuck y/n... keep talking," He drops his head back and groans. His muscles are bulging and his grip on his cock is tightening. "Missed your voice."

Even through the low quality of your phone camera, Mingyu was still in awe of you. His eyes were hyperfixated on the way your fingers disappear deep inside of you. His hips jerk up into his fist, warm blood pumping through his veins and making his limbs grow hot with arousal.

You lean back, fingers tightening around his bedsheets clumped in your hand as you push your hips into your hand. "Hah- my fingers are hardly big enough. Need your cock baby–" You whine.

You curl your fingers the same way he does when he touches you, pressing your fingertips against your inner walls. The sensation has your toes curling with a familiar feeling building up inside of you.

His dick twitches in his hand. Fuck, he's so reactive when it comes to you. No one can make him feel the way you do. He lets out a low groan, squeezing the head of his cock to stop himself from cumming when he hears you.

You continue pushing your hips into your hand with erratic movements. You look at your screen, watching your boyfriend strokes his cock. You watch the way his large hand glide along the length of his cock.

"Gyu–fuck, I'm cumming," You warn him.

Mingyu stops holding back the second the words pass your lips. He speeds up his hand, loosening his grip every so slightly. You cum together, bodies shuddering with sloppy movements as you drive yourselves into a state of euphoric pleasure.

He fights to keep his eyes open. They remain half lidded as he refuses to rip his eyes way from the scene before him. He's fixaed on the way your fingers dip into your pussy, coating them with more of your slick arousal as your body spasms and jerks.

He can feel the way his load spills all over his hand and onto his lower abs, but he can't take his eyes off of you. He missed being able to see you fall apart. It's one of his favorite views. Even a thousand miles away, he was still going to see it for himself.

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you come down. You draw your slick fingers out of your hole slowly, licking your lips as you tap back into all of your senses.

He blinks slowly as he comes down from his high. He grabs a tissue from the desk, cleaning up the mess on his skin. He discards it and slouches against the chair.

"Can't believe we just did that," He lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Thought it would've happened sooner. Been expecting it since your first night away," You smirk.

Mingyu yawns and decides to call it a night. He grabs his phone, plugging it into the charger and pulling his boxers back up onto his waist.

"Sleepy?" You ask.

"Exhausted," He turns off the lights and climbs under the hotel bedsheets. "I feel a lot better though."

"Good," You say.

You mirror his actions, redressing yourself, turning off the lights, and plugging your phone into the charger before climbing under the bedsheets. You're yawning too, snuggling in the sheets with your boyfriend on the phone.

The call goes quiet and it doesn't take long before both of you are fast asleep.

Mingyu can't wait to go back home and sleep next to you properly. For now, FaceTime calls will have to do. But once he can have you in his arms again, his home will feel complete again.

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© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.

#seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #mingyu smut #seventeen drabbles #seventeen mingyu #kim mingyu #mingyu drabbles #mingyu svt #kim mingyu smut #svt mingyu #mingyu fanfic #mingyu #cuffing season #kpop

[princedesnuees]

CROSSING THE LINE — afab!reader x mingyu.

pairing: afab!reader x mingyu. genre: smut. summary: you've cheated on your boyfriend and you're going to pay the consequences. warnings: cheating, punishment by sex (consensual), unprotected sex, pet names, degradation, rough sex, domination, big dick!mingyu, breast and nipple play, chocking, biting, breeding kink. words: 1.7k

You've been a bad girl and you know it. How are you going to face your boyfriend now that he's found out you've been cheating on him? And it was your booty call who taunted him by telling him everything. All the juicy details that go with it. Oh yeah, it made him mad, Mingyu. Mad with rage, and maybe mad about something else. You're sitting at the kitchen table, tapping away on your phone like crazy, trying to calm your man's ardor, but you know he'll be home any minute. You're scared because you know that an angry Mingyu is unforgiving. You jump as you hear the front door slam. Crap. "Mingyu...?" You go, not sure if it's still a human who's crossed the threshold. And you're right, because the way he glares at you tells you that words won't help you today. Pity. "Yo baby. Hope you had a good time?" "It's... it's not what you think." "It's perfectly what I think." He swings a bag of groceries across the table, it makes a thunderous noise that makes you jump back in your chair. You've really pissed him off. You bad girl... "I'll explain everything..." "There's no need. I've already been told everything. Was it fun, being fucked on the printer? You liked it? God, you even screamed his name." "Honey... I didn't... I didn't mean to..." The truth is, you wanted to. You wanted it so badly, you couldn't resist. You wouldn't even have been able to resist a cock that big, because that's what you are: a bitch who doesn't assume she likes cock. "Are you that desperate for cock?" "Gyu..." He steps forward dangerously, crossing the meager distance that still separated you from him. His grip collides with your throat, rocking your body backwards. The table smashes into your back. You don't have the time to fight back, or even the strength. Everyone knows that your guy's not only got power in his pelvis, but above all in his arms. It's not for nothing that this godlike body was sculpted at the gym. He leans in. Glides up to your ear. "I'm going to have to remind you who owns you." "G-Gyu... I... My love..." "Spread your thighs." He clearly imposes himself, forcing your little legs open to let him settle in their center. His pelvis crashes into your crotch and the weight falling against your Venus mound causes you to let out a squeak. Fuck. You're so going to get fucked. "Gyu, I... I'm not going to know how to take you..."

You're not used to his big cock after the one you took on the printer. The guy was well-endowed, but never as well-endowed as your guy. Fucking angry dick. He rubs against you like an animal in heat. You feel the muscles in his chest pushing up to your tits. As he always commands, you're not wearing a bra. It's your nipples that graze directly against the fabric. "I'm gonna fuck you so hard, baby. You won't be able to walk, you won't be able to go back to that asshole." So this is the punishment that awaits you. "Gyu please... Don't... don't hurt me too much..." But you're used to his excess. It always leaves its mark. The one you desire as much as you fear is finally released, belt off and boxers down. His huge dick emerges, already large and well veined. It wobbles in the open air, before colliding with your belly. A white pearl fails on it, and it's not long before he's peeling your pants down to your knees, then ripping off those lace lingerie that no longer protect anything. His ragged breathing echoes in the hollow of your neck. He bites, licks, rubs himself like a rutting beast. Then he moves up, forcing a kiss that you don't resist, moaning at the touch of his warm, full lips.

God, you missed the taste of him. "You're such a little slut, aren't you..." "Your very own slut..." "I'm going to fill you to the brim." "Oh baby... Give me your cock... Your cum... Make... Make me a child..." The request makes him grunt as he grips, presses his huge glans against your tiny entrance. You fear the tear and arch your back as you feel him thrust into you without any gentleness. Without any protection. Your man has always been like that, loving to ride bareback, without any preparation, feeling you deep inside, and release a big load of his cum without the slightest restraint. He's marking his territory, after all. Take back what's rightfully his. And your pussy's part of it. "Hmmmm. Fuck..." he rumbles as he go deeper inside. You're so tight, it's hard for his thick centimetres to get through. God, you've always wonder if this excessive size was normal. "The cock that fucked you must have been tiny. I'm still having such a hard time getting through." He's amused by the observation. "M-Mingyu... Aaah... Your... Your dick... is so big...! Han...!" Because it is. And it's eating you from the inside out. He pushes, his veins disappear, swallowed by your already wet pussy. You're soaking wet like a slut. Higher up, his thick palms have lifted your top. Kneading your bare breasts. He rolls your nipples between his fingers, wringing moans from you like a horny bitch in need. "Honey...! You... you know how sensitive I am about nipples..." "Shut up."

He reaches down to catch them between his lips. Eating your breasts like a hungry beast. His tongue wraps around your nipples. He sucks every last drop of milk out of you. Your big baby is thirsty and he's letting you know it. But in the end, it's him who will pour his milk into you. Screwed up to the hilt, his back straightens as he rumbles his well-being. "Damn, you're so tight..." His pelvis starts a movement that makes you scream. You wrap your knees around his powerful hips, your arms knotted behind his neck. And you hold on. You hold on because his swell will eventually tip you backwards. "Gyuuu... Haaan!" His big dick pushes you back, you feel his glans tap into the bottom, throbbing against your burning flesh. You'd fucking forgotten about this incredible sensation. You'd missed your man's big cock so much. "Haaaaan! M-Mingyu... You... You make me so crazy for you!" Your flesh closes around his cock, you know you won't last long before being on cloud nine. He growls like an animal, biting the skin of your neck, grabbing your breasts as the muscles in his back dig in as he fucks you on the kitchen table. "You've been such a bad girl... I'm gonna... fucking kill him... Yeah, kill him... No one will touches you ever again..."

"I'm so sorry my love, I... I've been a naughty girl, I... I deserve to be punished." The shopping bag ends up on the floor. And you too would end up on the floor if his cock wasn't lodged deep in your hot cunt. You wet around his cock, it drips out of your little maternal nest, before dripping onto his balls. They slap hard against your pubic bone. You don't know how many liters these hot balls will pour into you, but you know in advance that you won't be able to take it all. "Did he fuck you good? Was his cock as big as mine? As good? Answer, bitch!" "No, no! It... It had nothing to do... He... He could never have been your equal, my baby... There's nothing better than your penis... Nothing at all..." "You're such a fucking bitch, don't you. Swallow my cock." He reminds you that this pussy of yours belongs to him. That only him can enter it at will. You feel yourself losing your footing. See trouble. Your breasts are being manhandled, tossed back and forth under his onslaught. You look like a cheap whore being vulgarly fucked on a piece of wood, but that's what you deserve for letting someone else climb on top of you. Bad bitch. His tip taps the bottom of your pussy. You feel it throbbing, a sign that the sauce is coming. You know your Mingyu's cock well. Every vein, the way his dick wiggles as if communicating with you. You love him. Fuck yes, you love him. "My love... Cum inside... Fill me up..." "I'm going to make your belly swell."

His grip comes up to squeeze your throat, momentarily depriving you of air as your loins deepen, welcoming a little more of his angry excess. His full balls slam against your rump and, finally, all his muscles tense. You hear him roar, digging his claws into your skin as something boiling pours into you. A flood gushes out, hot and thick, filling your feminine cocoon with a big amount of sperm. Invaded by your man's semen, you cum in turn, struck brutally by orgasm as your neck tilts back. And you scream like a slut, tits and nipples raised to the ceiling, pussy overflowing. You can't take it anymore. You've been ploughing his back like a madwoman. And he's still unloading on you. Fuck, his bags have no bottom. "Gyu..." You catch your man, whose silhouette crashes against you, onto your devoured breasts. He butchered them well. "Baby... It's so good to have you..." You whisper, as he stays lodged inside you. You feel his penis gradually deflate. Clogging the entrance to your vagina, preventing his sperm from escaping. He'll wait like this, until you're pregnant with him. As you begged. "Your beautiful cock... worked well." "I'll always be there to remind you who's the only one who can fuck you."

#mingyu smut #svt smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen smut #svt #kim mingyu #mingyu #smut #mingyu imagines #mingyu fic #mingyu scenarios

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Impressions

Pairing: Will Miller x Reader

Notes: Idk y'all my brain spit this out. I haven’t written Will in, like…..100 years?

Rating: Mature - mostly for language

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, angst, fluff. Not beta-read.

Length: 7.5K

Summary: Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

GIF by charllehunnam

Your first impression of Will Miller is technically...Good.

It's from Benny, is the thing.

You hear the sweet and the sour, the grumbling when Benny is training at the gym alone in the mornings—"He's a hard ass, but he means well."

It's said with a little smile, with sibling love and familiarity that tells you that Ben and Will have told each other to go fuck themselves just as much as they've said that they're proud of one another.

Your second impression of Will comes from Terry.

Terrence Owen McLowery is your best friend, your informal trainee, and is currently ranked in the Middleweight division, just a few spots behind Ben Miller (but gaining, and fast). He's one of the few openly gay boxers in your area and in his division, something that he might get more hate for if he couldn't kick the shit out of anyone slagging his name off behind his back.

Terry gets to as many matches as he possibly can, even when he's not fighting in them. You try to join him as often as you can, but there are times when you just can't swing it. He likes to scope out the competition.

"I'm gonna be in there, kickin' their ass one day," He tells you, "I should clock their weaknesses now, not then."

He spends more time ringside than he does in the ring for the sake of observation. And he's seen the Miller brothers at fight after fight.

"You oughta see 'im," Terry says, a dreamy look in his eyes—and you don't know if he's talking about Ben or Will, but you kinda figure it's both. Look, you've met Ben, you wouldn't be surprised if good genes ran in the family.

"He's real level-headed, ringside, even when Ben’s in a jam," Terry adds, and you realize that he's talking about Will, "Kinda like you, but without the taunting."

You roll your eyes a little bit, "You told me the taunting makes you try harder."

"Hmph."

"And I told you a real coach wouldn't do that,” You tack on.

Terry doesn't hmph at that one. He doesn't like it when you point out that you're not a professional coach. You taught him the basics a long time ago, back when the two of you needed to have one another's backs on the playground—and you keep him honest when he's training up now. But Terry needs a coach that'll actually help him in the ring, not do what you do. And sure, you don't do the worst job, but Terry could go further with a professional.

--

Your first two impressions that you get of Will Miller are pretty stellar. That said, they don't actually involve meeting the guy.

The day you do, well. That's another story.

--

You’re at the gym early. Terry is supposed to be there, too, but he took a late shift at work and couldn’t drag himself out of bed. You don’t blame him—a body needs rest if you’re going to put it through its paces. You’re striding past the ring at the center of the gym when you spot Ben sparring with another contender in the middleweight division. You spot an error, one that Terry makes frequently himself, and call out,

“Pick up your right shoulder, Miller!” 

The advice incurs a nod from Ben—and a glare from a golden-headed man standing ringside. Something in his cool gaze chastens you, and you hurry on toward the class you signed up for. 

--

“What was with that guy?” You ask Ben later as you’re stretching. 

“What guy?”

“Blonde, bearded…Glaring?” You remind him. Ben’s eyebrows shoot up.

“You mean Will?”

“That was Will?” You ask in a hushed whisper. 

“Yeah. Glaring?”

“He looked like he was trying to melt me with his laser vision.” 

It makes Benny’s laugh boom in the gym, and you glance around to see if you’ve attracted any attention. Sure enough, Will’s not too far off, his arms folded across his chest as he speaks to someone. His gaze darts between Ben and you, and his eyes narrow. 

“Aaaand there it is again,” You mutter, drawing your legs back from the stretch. 

-- 

“Hey,” You hear. You frown, turning back to the source, and find Will striding toward you. You’re about to offer your hand, to introduce yourself—in relation to Ben, or Terry, something—but he speaks again before you can get a word out:

“Ben’s got a fight coming up. He doesn’t need any glove bunnies distracting him.” 

Your mouth was opened to speak, but now your jaw drops, a scoff of indignation flying out. 

“Glove bunnies?” You repeat, stunned. Will waves you off. 

“Whatever Ben does in his own time is none of my business, but when he’s here, and when he’s in the ring, he needs to be focused.” 

Will doesn’t let you get in another word before he’s turning and walking away. You watch him go, stunned. Asshole. Asshole. As you turn to head into the locker room, you remember Ben telling you that he’s a hard ass, but he means well. 

Well-meaning or not, Will Miller is a dick. 

--

“There’s a man outside who’s looking for you,” You hear.

You glance up from your laptop, brows raised at your coworker. It couldn’t be Terry; he’d call or text you, not ask for you. And it can’t be…Actually, you can’t think of any other guy that would come looking for you at work. 

“Did you tell him I was in here?”

“I said I wasn’t sure anyone by that name worked here and that I’d check,” Molly relays. You nod a little bit, muttering, “Solid,” before adding, “He say who he is?” 

“Will Miller?”

You freeze, then, hands hovering over your keyboard. What the hell is Miller doing there? And how does he know where you work?

“Okay,” You nod, “Okay, tell him I’ll be out in a...A minute.” 

“Sure.” Molly starts to drift away from you before she turns, half-jogging back to your desk. 

“He is so hot,” She hisses. You can't help your grudging smile. 

“Yes, he is.” 

Asshole or not, you can agree that Will Miller is annoyingly, startlingly attractive. 

--

The man that meets you outside is a far cry from the one who accosted you at the gym just a week ago. In a well-fitting polo and a pair of khakis, he looks more like a suburban dad than a hardened drillmaster. You stop just a few feet from the door to your office, arms folded tightly over your chest. He clears his throat, approaching you slowly and stopping just a couple of steps from you. 

“Ben had a fight this weekend,” He says. Him starting that way makes your stomach swoop with fear. You immediately worry that something’s gone wrong, that Ben is badly hurt. But Will goes on: 

“He kept his right shoulder up. That little tip saved his ass a few times.” 

Your brows raise. You didn’t expect him to admit it, even if it did help. 

“I saw Terry, too,” Will adds, “And realized precisely how and where I fucked up when he showed me a picture of you.”

Will doesn't look like he's trying to melt you with his heat vision anymore. In fact, he looks...Genuinely remorseful.

“I see,” You nod a little. 

Will pushes a sigh out through his nose. 

“I’m sorry for approaching the situation the way I did. And for calling you a, uh—”

“Glove bunny?”

He winces with the reminder. “Yeah. I didn’t have all of the facts. Even if I had, it was still the wrong way to approach the situation, and I apologize.” 

You take a moment to drink in his face again, as if you’re seeing it for the first time. His blue eyes are soft where they were icy, and the once-harsh press of his lips is replaced with a regretful, almost contemplative pout. And then you nod a touch.

“I appreciate and accept your apology.” 

Something akin to relief seems to wash over him, and he holds his hand out. 

“I’m Will, by the way.” 

“Will?” You repeat, screwing your face up in mock confusion, “Will...Will...That certainly sounds familiar.”

A smile tugs his lips up just a touch as he pumps your hand up and down. 

“I train Ben Miller. I'm his brother,” He adds. 

“Oh, that Will. Right, of course.” 

You let his hand drop and folded your arms across your chest. 

“Blank slate,” You add softly. 

Will’s brows jump. 

“Completely?”

“Well, Ben says you’re a hard ass and Terry thinks you’re dreamy, but I’ll try not to let their impressions color mine.” 

“Pretty mixed reviews.”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you exchange curious smiles before you nod over your shoulder. 

“I’ve gotta get back to work."

“Of course.”

“See you around, Miller.” 

--

“Seriously, Terrence!” You call out as Terry spars with one of the other gym members, “Is this prep or are you trying to waltz him into tapping out?” 

Terry groans, reeling away from his sparring partner. 

“God, you’re a bitch,” He grunts as he walks toward you, bending over for his water. 

“And you’re a dumbass, Billy Elliot. Get back in there.” 

“He’s holding his breath,” You hear. You turn back to see Will Miller coming closer.

“When he punches,” He clarifies. 

“You can tell him,” You offer before you whistle sharply, stopping Terry from stepping more deeply into the ring. You nod toward Will and listen as he offers his tip. Terry takes his time listening, nodding, leaning against the ropes.

“...Think you got it?” You ask.

“Loud and clear,” Terry agrees before turning back to his sparring partner.

You glance over at Will, nodding your chin up. “Thanks."

“Sure,” Will smiles before walking away. Ben’s not too far away, working at a punching bag. You watch Will for a long moment before turning back to Terry in the ring. Terry ducks out of the way of an oncoming jab, and finds time to shoot you a wink before he turns back to his sparring partner. 

--

“Terry—” 

“Come on—” 

“I can’t tonight, I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow!” 

“Just a few rounds! Come with me, see Ben in action—and see what I mean about Will ring-side.”

“You just want me to go because you think you’ll be much less conspicuous drooling over them if I’m there.” 

“Maybe.”

“And for the record, you’d be just as conspicuous.”

“We don’t know that.”

“Yes we do.” 

“Come with meeee," He whines. "If you’re not there, I’ll curse out a redneck bigot and I’ll get in trouble for beating him up in the parking lot.” 

“Well then you and the Millers can tag team.” 

Terry groans loudly, tipping his head back. “Don’t. Don’t even think about putting ‘Miller’ and ‘tag team’ in the same sentence. My mind just went to about eight filthy places.” 

“Just eight?”

“Alright, nine.”

“Terry. Sweetheart. Angel. Not tonight.” 

“Four rounds.” 

“No.” 

“Two rounds.” 

“Terry—”

“Ben’ll probably take ‘em down in one.” 

“I’m sure he’d love that you have so much faith in his skill, but we’ll have to get through the matches before his, and that’ll already be way late.” 

“I won’t make you come to the gym with me tomorrow.” 

“Probably because you won’t make it to the gym tomorrow.”  

“That’s not the point.” 

--

You didn’t always love the atmosphere around the fight. You used to hate the screaming, the overpriced beer, the rednecks. It used to make you wary, going with Terry. People knew him. It's not secret that he's gay. He used to catch more shit for it before he bulked up and started fighting. Even after he had, the slurs hadn’t stopped. It used to raise your hackles—but Terry’s got more of a handle on how he approaches those incidents, and he’s made a lot of friends that frequent the ring, both as spectators, and in the Middleweight division.

You wouldn’t say that you like going to fights now, but you don’t find it as daunting as you used to. Now, the atmosphere is exciting—it zips through you like lightning; it makes your fingers tingle, and your heart pound. 

“Here,” Terry calls out, pressing a beer into your hand. 

“I told you I’ve got work tomorrow!” 

“I got two for myself, you’re just holding that one for me.” 

“Bullshit,” You laugh, looking up at the ring as the bell sounds. 

By the time the first two fights are down, you know you should leave. It’s late, and it’s only going to get later—you’ve had three beers, and Terry’s coming back with another one. 

“Terry, I really shouldn’t—”

“Ben’s coming down the hall,” He half-yells into your ear, and you have to stop yourself from muttering, ‘Fucking finally,’ when it bubbles up in you. You push it down with a gulp of beer, glancing back and trying to catch sight of the Millers. You see Benny’s chestnut hair; Will’s bright head bobs into view just moments later. You and Terry begin to cheer almost on instinct as they come more fully into view—as Benny heads into the ring, and Will rounds the corner. Will looks around, and his eyes catch on you and Terry. He raises his hand to give Terry a pat on the shoulder, and meets your eyes dead-on. 

It’s a half-second, that’s all, but it seems to last for far longer. If anyone asked you what happened in that half-second, you’d tell them that you nodded to him—you know that for sure, because he nods, too. You’re not sure if it’s the beer, or the crackling of the air around you, but your skin feels hot. You don’t even know if you’re smiling. But Will’s gaze holds on yours for a long time, even as he walks on. When he finally looks away, you can feel your heart thudding in the vicinity of your throat. 

Terry leans over, his shoulder nudging yours as he speaks into your ear:

“Distracted much?” 

“...What?” You manage, tipping your head back toward him as you watch Benny climb into the ring.

“Uh-huh.” 

When you glance up at Terry, you find him grinning smugly, and you reach out, shoving his shoulder as you grumble, “Shut up.” As the bell sounds, you yell out, “Let’s go!” and vaguely register Will’s yell of, “It’s time to work!” 

--

Ben is a hunter in the ring.

You can’t help but compare the way he fights with the way Terry fights. Terry prefers to hold back, to let his opponent dance around and tire themselves out. Terry is a slow-burn; Benny is a wildfire. Will is as much wind to guide his brother as he throws gasoline on Benny’s flame, honing his path and stoking his focus on the rare occasions that Benny takes a hard hit or seems to flounder. 

You plan to only stay for a couple of rounds, but before you know it, you’re cheering Benny as his opponent is knocked down, and stays down. The ref takes hold of Benny’s wrist, holding it up as he proclaims him the winner, and you and Terry crow with excitement. As the crowd begins to flow—as Benny is led out to be checked over by the ring doctor—you turn to Terry, ready to insist again that you have to leave. But you feel a hand land on your shoulder, and turn your head to see Will leaning in. He gets close between you and Terry, and asks over the hum of the crowd, “What are you guys doing now?” 

--

You should be more concerned about the fact that tomorrow morning (well, later this morning) is going to be absolute hell for you. You should be concerned about the fact that when you get home, whenever you get home, you’re probably going to need to have a couple of pieces of toast and a few glasses of water. Your head is buzzing with the beers you had at the fight, and now with the two that you’ve had at the bar. But the zipwire-tense feeling that had ripped through you is ebbing as you watch Benny return from the bar with a massive basket of fries and a fresh round of beers.

Oh, man. You’re really gonna regret this tomorrow. 

You push the thought away as you reach out, taking up a precariously full beer and leaning back in your seat. 

“Surprised you’ve got such a sedate after party,” Terry comments as he takes one of the beers. 

“Fewer glove bunnies than I expected,” You add, eyes sliding to Will’s, where he sits across from you. He appears to bite back a smile, eyes dipping to the table. Benny’s eyes dart between the two of you, brow furrowing, and you give a small, reassuring shake of your head. 

“I have a question,” Benny declares, leaning against the table. 

“Has it got anything to do with that swelling cheek?” Terry asks, waving a finger toward Benny’s face. 

“No,” Benny huffs, “I know how all about that. How’d you two meet?” He asks. You glance at Terry, arching a brow as he turns to you with a grin. 

“School,” Is your short answer. 

“I moved in around, like…Fifth grade-ish?” Terry’s brow furrows. 

“It wasn’t fifth-grade-ish, it was fifth grade,” You correct. 

“I wasn’t the most social kid, and that caught me a lot of shit. I got picked on, and this one,” Terry pushes his shoulder against yours, and you sway with it, bobbing back and forth, “Taught me how to keep from getting my ass kicked on the way home.” 

“Seriously?” Ben asks. You shrug a little. 

“It started with short-cuts to get him home, but when other kids caught on, things got a bit more…Physical.” 

“Did you already know how to fight?” Will asks. 

“I wouldn’t say that. I knew how to swing a fist, I didn’t really know how to fight. We both learned to, though, because we…Had to.”

“She’s been stuck with me ever since,” Terry sighs dramatically. You roll your eyes, turning a fond smile up at him. 

“He’s like my taller, irritating younger brother,” You add.

“I know all about that,” Will pipes up, and you can’t help but turn a laugh at him. 

“So what about you two, how did you two meet?” You tease, waving your finger between them. 

“Oh, man,” Ben mutters. 

“Well I came home one day and my mom said, ‘We have a surprise for you’,” Will says, “And then six months later, this dick shows up.” 

“And he’s been stuck with me ever since,” Ben smiles, glancing at Will. You reach out, plucking up a couple of the fries and dipping them in ketchup. 

“Did you guys get along growing up?” 

“We don’t even get along now,” Ben teases. Will chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Not always. We butt heads as kids, and we do sometimes now, but…We get our shit done.” 

“He’s a hardass,” Ben cuts in.

“And he’s a dumbass.”

You grin. “So you complement each other is what I’m hearing.” 

--  

“Haven’t seen you in a couple of days.” 

You’re taking a long pull from your water bottle, fighting the dryness in your throat when you hear Will. 

“What can I say,” You manage as you lower it. “I only just recovered from going out with y’all the other night.” 

Will chuckles, leaning against the pillar beside you as you wipe down your treadmill. 

“Didn’t mean to tire you out.” 

“I’m out of practice. Terry hasn’t had a fight in a couple of months, so I don’t stay up that late anymore.” 

“No?”

“Nope. I’m in bed at 9:30 and I like it.” 

You take up your water bottle, and the two of you start drifting away from the treadmills.

“Why hasn’t Terry been in the ring?” Will plies. 

“His rotator cuff’s kinda fucked up. He’s been taking it easy—Well. As easy as he's willing to take it. He has a check-in with his doctor in a couple of weeks.” 

“That must be driving him nuts.” 

“Oh, he’s losing it. He’s trying to go to as many fights as he can, though.”

“I’ve seen him at a few lately—Besides, Benny’s, you know. I was wondering why you didn’t go with him.” 

You stop at the door to the women’s locker room and turn around to face him. 

“Bed. 9:30,” You reiterate.

“Well I know that now.” Will tucks his hands into his pockets, smiling. “I wanted to ask: Do you think you could see it in yourself to duck your bedtime again?” 

“Depends on what for.” 

“There’s a fight down in Fernsworth this weekend. There’s a new kid on the bill, he’s apparently pretty vicious.” 

“Oh yeah? When this weekend?” 

“Friday.” 

You consider, lips pursing, and Will chuckles at your expression.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Terry’s got work that night.” 

“So’s Ben.” 

Your gut swoops in surprise, a brow lifting and falling quickly, but Will’s face remains as calm as ever.

“So?” Will presses. If you were reading into it, you’d think he was batting his pretty eyelashes. Before you can overthink it, you hold your hand out and order: “Phone.”

Will rifles into his pocket and pulls it out, passing it over. You add yourself as a contact, your heart thudding in your chest, ears going hot as you double-check that it’s right. You pass it back to Will, meeting his eyes again. “You can send me all the details.”

“Don’t feel like talking to me anymore?”

“I have to go to work, Miller,” You laugh, taking a couple of steps back. “Text me—And keep an eye out for those glove bunnies.” 

“Always.” 

You get one last look at Will, at his sweet, amused smile, and you turn, heading in to take a shower (and maybe to silently scream into your hands, a little). 

--  

You don’t dress up, and you do not tell Terry where you’re going, or with whom. It’s been bad enough that he clocked your swell of interest when you’d gone out with all of them, and worse still that he’s encouraged it. You’d been pressing your hands down onto the tops of his shoes, ensuring that his feet stayed flat as he worked on his core.

“At least—fuck him,” Terry had insisted as he’d come up from reps of crunches. “Do you—have any idea—what’d I’d do tuh—Phew—Have those pretty—blue eyes pointed at me—like that?” 

You’d raised your brow, casting a wary eye about to ensure that neither of the Miller brothers were anywhere nearby before you’d insisted, “Nothing is going to happen between me and Will.” 

“Why—the hell—not?” Terry gasped, finishing out his reps. He groaned, sweeping his hand across his sweating brow before planting both hands on the mat behind himself. “He’s leaps and bounds better than the other assholes you used to fuck with.” 

Like it or not, you knew Terry was right.

For your rough and real first impression, Will is actually kinda sweet. You still don’t know him all that well, and maybe tonight could change that. But you insist to yourself that you’re not going out to flirt with Will, you’re going to see this new fighter (Charlie “Shredder” Klein: 5’9, 194 pounds, rookie, southpaw) and gather some info for when, inevitably, Terry winds up fighting the guy. You dress…Comfortably, in one of your nicer pairs of jeans and one of your favorite tops. You feel cute, and you feel cute for you. If Will thinks that you’re cute in the outfit, well…That’s just a bonus. 

You don’t think he would tell you, though. Will Miller seems like the type to keep his cards close to his chest. 

The ride down to the venue is filled with polite small talk. The feeling in the cab of his truck is almost like the same nervous air of a first date. Your stomach is twisting like a nest of garter snakes; your skin is hot with nerves; you rub your sweaty palms nervously against your jeans. The two of you stick close together at the fight—though you don't exactly have an alternative; the venue is packed. Now and again, if you get nudged too roughly by someone else, or pushed one way or another, Will cuts a sharp, warning look at them over your head at the perpetrator. The third or so time it happens, you reach out, resting a hand on his arm.

“Don’t worry about them,” You say into his ear, cutting over the noise, “The fight’s in the ring, not with these dickheads.” 

Will’s lips twitch with a smile as he leans in to speak into your ear in turn. He says, “It’ll be here if they’re not careful,” But you almost don’t catch it. You’re too focused on everything else—on the press of his warm and firm body against your side; on the way his hand rests on your lower back; on the whisper of his beard against your cheek; on the brush of his lips and breath against the shell of your ear, and the way his voice seems to drown out the clamor of the spectators around you. It makes your heart tick up in your chest, a shiver tripping down your spine and stopping right where his hand sits. 

When your mind catches up with what he’s said, you laugh, nudging his hip with yours.

“Eyes on the prize, Miller,” You urge.

“They are,” He answers without missing a beat. It makes your stomach flip, and for a moment, you can’t bring yourself to look away. You finally force yourself to, and to clap as the announcer brings in the first contender, looking around to try and catch a glimpse of them—and not to overthink the way that Will’s hand is still resting on your back. 

--  

“Weak spots?” Will asks. You consider for a moment, running your finger along the side of your beer bottle. The buzz from the fight is wearing off, and the bar that you've gone to is far more quiet compared to the venue.

“He doesn’t go in…With a plan,” You say after a moment.

“His coach was calling plays.”

“Yeah, but Klein wasn’t listening. I mean when you tell Ben to back the fuck off or get away from the ropes, he backs the fuck off or gets away from the ropes, because in that moment, you see things in a way that he doesn’t. He trusts you to steer him. Klein’s coach can yell whatever he wants, but it’s not heard. Klein’s in the fight, he’s on the inside, he thinks he knows best, and that…That got him fucked up tonight. Might not always get him fucked up, but today’s outcome, you know. Not so much.” 

“Strong indictment.” 

“You asked me what I thought.”

“And I got it. I appreciate that.” 

You raise your brows at Will’s calm, honest expression.

“What about you?” You ask, nodding to him, “What do you think his weak spots are?” 

“He’s a brawler, not a fighter. He likes to go in for little…squirrely swiping matches. He wants excitement, not wins.” 

You shake your head at the assessment. “That just spells trouble for our boys.” 

“Less trouble if we go in with a plan.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

The two of you lightly clink your beers together, sharing a smile before you take sips.

“I’m surprised you came tonight,” Will admits as he sets his bottle down. 

“Really?"

“Little bit.” 

“Why?” 

“We didn’t exactly have the nicest start.” 

“No, we didn’t, but…I don’t know, I thought we were on a more level field now.”

“I think we are.”

The two of you watch one another for a long moment, considering, and before you can say anything, Will adds: “I’m glad you came with me.” 

“Yeah? Didn’t wanna brave the hillbilly circus alone?” 

“I have before and it’s never fun.” 

“It wasn’t so bad tonight.” 

“I had good company.”

You smile a little bit, eyes sweeping Will’s face as flattery wells in your stomach.

“...You knew Terry had work tonight, didn’t you,” You accuse softly. Will shrugs a shoulder, raising his bottle to his lips again. You can’t help your flattered smile, and you force yourself to keep your eyes on him.

“Ben might’ve mentioned it,” Will finally concedes. 

“Interesting.” 

“Is it?”

“I think so.” 

“Good interesting or bad interesting?”

“I'm still sitting here, aren’t I?” 

Will’s smile widens, and your stomach flutters. “You could’ve just asked me out,” You add in a mutter.

“Well, now I know that for next time.” 

Next time. Your face goes hot; the beer in your stomach feels like it’s bubbling. 

“Yes you do,” You agree, nodding a little.

“When I do,” Will adds, leaning against the table, sending another burst through your chest at his use of ‘when’ where you'd expected 'if', “You alright with it being this sort of thing?”

“What, a fight and a beer? Hell yeah—Long as it’s before 9:30.” 

Will laughs, tugging his sleeve back and glancing at his watch. 

“You have any idea what time it is?” 

“No, and I do not wanna know.” 

-- 

You fold your across your chest, eyeing Terry’s form as he pounds the punching bag in front of himself. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask as he leans away from the bag, swiping at the sweat dripping down his face. 

“‘Bout what?” He asks a little blandly between pants. 

“The fight.” 

“You asking me because I got a fight, or does it have to do with who I’m going up against?” 

You purse your lips, eyes sweeping the gym for any sign of either of the Miller brothers. Finding neither, you answer, “Both?” 

Terry chuckles, turning back to the bag.

“I’m not gonna go easy on Benny just ‘cause he’s a friend, and he ain’t gonna take it easy on me, either—”

“I know—”

“I mean, we always knew this was gonna happen—”

“I know! I know, oh my god, I get it.” 

“I’m just sayin’,” Terry mutters, punching viciously at the bag again.

“I’d be a bad coach not to ask, you know half of the fight’s in your head. And speaking of bad coach,” You add, “You found anyone else yet?” 

Terry casts you an irritated look out of the corner of his eye.

“Are you really talkin’ about this right now?”

“...Okay, letting it go,” You sigh before tacking on, “And you’re holding your breath again.” 

“I was about to say the same thing,” You hear from behind you. You turn to see Will just a few steps away. You smile almost involuntarily. You haven’t seen Will since your not-quite date, but you’ve thought about him and texted with him plenty.

“Shouldn’t you be mindin’ your own fighter, Miller?” Terry asks, straightening up and raising his hands to stop the swinging bag.

“Don’t worry, McLowery. The second he needs minding, I’ll be on it.” Will takes a few steps back from you both, shooting you a wink before he turns away. Your stomach twists, and you carefully smooth your smile away before turning to face Terry again. 

“Alright, c’mon,” You wave him toward the bag again, “Let’s go, we got half an hour and then we gotta get going. I can’t be late for work again.” 

-- 

It’s odd, finding yourself on the opposite side of the ring as Will. As nervous as you are—for the way your body feels like it’s buzzing, a tingle in your fingertips—you know that the boys’ll take this seriously. It was going to happen sooner or later; you just didn’t think it would be so soon. You hope that they come out of the ring with their friendships (and their bones) intact.

You shift from foot to foot, drawing a shaky breath in through your nose as Ben and Terry begin to circle up. Your eye catches on Will’s for just a moment. You trade nods, then turn your eyes back to your respective fighters. It’s a heady moment. The room seems to quiet around you for a moment as Ben and Terry approach one another, each with one fist out and one by their cheeks. You hardly blink as they get closer and closer—

--

“I almost had you.” 

It’s a gravely mutter, the first thing that Terry’s said since leaving the ring. He’s got a fat lip, and his right cheek is going to make it look like he’s part chipmunk in the morning. It’s a moment before Ben offers a grumbled, “...Almost.” Then, “Didn’t, though.” 

Terry takes a swipe at his head. Ben ducks it, raising his arm to push at Terry’s shoulder. You shake your head, leaning against the bar and watching them teasingly grapple. 

“You think they’d be too tired to do that by now,” You comment, shaking your head. 

“Adrenaline’s probably still pushin’ em. They’ll crash later.” 

The both of you are speaking a little more softly than usual; you had yelled your heads off at the match, and you're not sure about Will, but your throat feels so fricking raw. You nod, smile widening as the guys scrap a little more. 

“Hey—Alright, alright,” You finally raise your voice as they knock back into a stool. “If your sorry asses get us thrown out, you're paying.” 

“Drinks are on me, anyway,” Benny turns to give you a grin, teeth bright beneath the shiner developing on his right eye. Still, it’s a relief to see the boys settle. You shift on your stool and lean back against the bar, twisting your seat back and forth. 

“How are you feelin’?” 

You glance over at Will, brow furrowing in confusion at the question. 

“I didn’t just go five rounds with those numbskulls,” You point out, nodding toward them. 

“I know. You seemed…Tense.” 

“I was worried about ‘em.” 

“Terry?” 

“Both of them.” 

Will nods, eyes sweeping across your face before he glances around to the guys. 

“They’re doing alright.” 

“I know. I’m—I’m calming down, I just…” You trail off, shaking your head. “So many of Terry’s other friends in the ring are in different divisions. This is the first friend he’s, like, fought-fought.” 

“He did alright.” 

“No, I know. Nothing too broken. And Ben’s fine, too, so. Like I said,” You raise your hands in a slight pushing motion. “Calming down.” 

Will smiles, taking a step closer and sliding his arm around your middle, bracketing you against the bar. Your stomach flips at the closeness, at the weight and warmth of his arm. 

“Glad to hear it.” 

“You’ve just been completely chill the whole time?” 

Will shrugs. “I trusted the guys to handle it. They handled it.” 

“Alright…Knowitall,” You mutter. You smile as Will takes a step closer. He seems to glance toward the guys again before he lowers his head, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Your stomach bursts with butterflies, and you gently lower your head, resting it against his. You turn your head as you hear the bartender’s, “Here you go,” behind you. The two of you straighten up, turning to the bar fully and reaching for your beers. 

“So,” Will clears his throat, “You busy this Friday?” 

You smile, trailing your finger along the side of your glass. 

“Is there another southpaw you wanna get a look at?” 

“Nope, just dinner. I thought maybe I could cook at your place—that way I won’t interfere with your bedtime.” 

You can’t help your grin, or the slight tip of your head as he crowds close again.

“That is so considerate of you, Miller.” 

“I do what I can.” 

-- 

You try to chip in for the groceries, but Will won’t hear of it. He won’t even tell you what he’s making. 

“You know that I can probably mentally tally up whatever it is you bring and, like, Venmo you that amount, right?” You ask. It’s a little huffed as it leaves you, your gaze and focus on the swinging punching bag in front of you. When Will doesn’t answer, you glance over, and do a double take at the sight of him.

He’s watching you with a warm, sweet look, his hands tucked in his pocket as he slouches against the wall beside you. You raise your hands to steady the bag and keep it from swinging and hitting you in the face, stomach fluttering at the way this man is looking at you—like you’re dolled up and wearing a goddamn ballgown, and not sweating in the middle of a gym. 

“Besides, what if I have an allergy or something?” You add. 

“I’ve already run the ingredients by someone.” 

You frown. “Who?” 

Will doesn’t answer, just shrugs and holds his gaze steadily on yours. You narrow your eyes slightly, turning to look around the gym. Terry’s not too far off—and he’s pointedly keeping his focus on anything but you. 

“...Terrence,” You call out. 

“Busy!” He yells back, plucking his water bottle and phone and hurrying to another machine. You roll your eyes, turning back to Will with a mutter of, “Spy.” 

His smile widens.

“I can be there by six, that alright?” He asks, pushes off of the wall. 

“Uh-huh.” 

“If I see any kind of calculator when I’m cooking…”

“Oh, you won’t. I’m like a phone ninja.” 

Will chuckles, leaning in and murmuring, “See you tonight.” 

The closeness of his murmur and his breath brushing against your sweat-slicked skin sends goosebumps skittering down your arms. 

-- 

Your plan to stealthily tally everything up disappears as Will unpacks the groceries. You blink, stunned, before you pick up a jar of sauce, turning it around in your hands. 

“Are you fricking kidding me?” 

Will doesn’t answer. He just backs off, an amused smile on his lips and his hand on his hip as you reach into the grocery bag and rifle through it before reeling back, screeching, “You took off all of the labels?!” 

“You thought I was just gonna let you look through everything and tally up how much this cost me?” He turns and reaches into the bag again, continuing to unpack. “Amateur hour.” 

You bite your lip, watching in silence for a few moments as you think. What sort of 3-D dating chess is this man playing? 

“You are…Frighteningly tactful, Miller.” 

His smile widens, and he seems to duck his head to unearth something from the bulging grocery bag, but you can see the creeping flush of flattering rising up in his cheeks. 

“I can still guestimate, you know,” You warn. 

He stops then, bracing his hands on the counter.

“Would you just let me do something nice for you?” His brows raise, his lips on the edge of pursing in disappointment. You’re stunned into silence as he adds, “Nothing has to be owed. I just…I just wanna make you dinner.” 

You pause before you nod a little. Will’s brows raise further, and you nod again, watching as he turns back toward the bag. You hesitate before nervously sidling up beside him, pressing yourself against his side and eyeing his steady hands. 

“Can I at least help?” You ask. Glancing at him, you find Will’s annoyance smoothed away, replaced with a somewhat serene consideration. He nods, concedes: “A little.” 

--  

Will designates you two things to chop (red and green peppers), and one thing to stir (vegetable stir fry). He keeps his back to you as he adds seasonings to your chicken (“It’s a secret recipe,” He insists before he shoos you away from the counter. All you get a glimpse of is the garlic salt).

You don’t know exactly what he puts on it, but when you take your first bite, it’s perfectly moist, and damn delicious. You don’t even bother to hide your groan, or the way you close your eyes to just savor—and try to work out one or two of the spices. You get hits of chili. Chili and…Cumin? Little pops of cumin—

“I’m not telling you,” Will’s mirthful warning floats across the table to you. Your smile widens, shaking your head and opening your eyes. 

“No idea what you’re talking about, Miller.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Is this your secret recipe?” 

“My mom’s.” 

“Did she make it a lot growing up?"

“In the summer, mostly, for barbecues and stuff.” 

“Tastes pretty good from the oven.” 

He grunts, nodding. “Better on the grill,” He admits, “With a little char on it.” 

“Mm, noted. Are you and your mom close?” 

Will quirks a brow as he reaches for his drink, and you realize that you’ve been bombarding him with questions. Before you can apologize, he offers: 

“Pretty close. I try to see her at least once a week. It used to be more, but she said I was smothering her.” 

You smile, chuckling. 

“That’s kinda precious.” 

Will shrugs a touch, pushing his veggies around his plate. 

“My dad passed a couple’a years ago and I think coming around as much as I used to might’ve helped, but mom’s got her own life, you know. She’s got a book club…She’s apparently a bingo assassin.” 

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Some people think she’s cheating.” 

“...Is she?” You tease. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her. What  she lacks in subtlety, she makes up for in sneakiness.” 

“Is that where you and Ben get it?” 

He chuckles, ducking his head and poking at the food on his plate. 

“Some of it, maybe.” 

“And the rest?” 

“Training.” 

“Do you think Ben would agree?"

“Do you always ask this many questions?” 

You lean back, poking at your food in turn and fighting the embarrassed churning in your stomach. 

“Not always,” You mumble. You hear Will huff a soft laugh, and smile as he reaches across the table to take hold of your hand.

"I don't mind," He insists, thumb sweeping along the side of your hand. "Long as I get to ask a few, too."

--

"This was nice," You offer, almost woefully trailing Will to the front door. You've wanted to make a move since he put you to work in your kitchen—you've been thinking about it as the two of you were at your sink, doing the dishes; since you were sitting on your couch, talking about work, and the gym, and who Ben and Terry are facing next. You've been so close so consistently—arm to arm, hip to hip, knee to knee. The tiny touches have made you crave more, and Will's sweet smiles have made you do whatever you can think of to seek them out.

When he'd told you that he ought to get going, that he was meeting Ben in the gym at five the next morning, you were pretty sure that he was telling the truth—but you were already mourning the loss of the moment, and his warmth in your apartment.

"It was...Once you stopped pestering me about paying," He teases as he pulled on his jacket. You rolled your eyes.

"Well, how about I bring a bunch of labeless groceries over to your place, make you dinner, and see how you like it."

"I think I'd like it a lot," He insists, straightening his collar. "How's next week?"

And it's so swift and so smooth that you're certain you look more than a little gobsmacked. But you nod.

"Yeah. I can do next week."

"Friday?"

"Sure."

"Okay." He opens your door. "It's a date."

Just like that—so easy and open, and such a far cry to the first time he spoke to you at the gym.

"Good," You agree, leaning against the wall by your front door. "Let me know when you get home."

"I will." He leans in, and your breath catches in your throat as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. You bite your lip at the gentle prickle of his beard against your skin, eyelids fluttering as Will stays close. He raises his hand, gently sweeping his thumb against your lower lip and tugging it from your teeth.

"Don't do that," He shakes his head. "Don't bite your lip."

"Why?" You mumble, leaning into the flirty urge that's rising in you. "There someone else that's supposed to do it for me?"

Will breathes out a groan, resting his temple gently against yours.

"I'm trying to be good," He warns. You sweep your tongue across your lower lip, letting the tip graze his thumb, and grinning as he swallows thickly.

"This feels good to me." You reach up, cupping his cheek.

"You realize if we do this, you'll be up past 9:30?"

"I'm willing to risk it."

You think for a moment that he'll draw away, that he'll call it—

Your stomach drops as he pulls away and you hear the door shut, but grin as he crowds up against you, lips pressing warmly to yours. You sigh, looping your arm around your shoulders and keeping you close. His hands slide over your hips, drawing you into his chest. You slide your hand up, gently teasing your nails against the nape of his neck.

"Remind me to apologize to Ben the next time I see him," You mumble.

"Why's that?"

"You're going to be very late tomorrow morning."

tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa​ ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices​ ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @lorecraft ; @kmc1989

#Will Miller x Reader #Will Miller x You #Will Miller/Reader #Will Miller/You #Will Miller fic #Will Miller imagine #Impressions #sorry this took 800 years

[kakashixhatakesxwhore]

How they sleep...headcanons

Includes my beloved Iruka, darling Kakashi, and dear Itachi (with bonus additions of lovely Shikamaru and sweet Sasuke) GN!Reader

Warnings: tad bit of language, and some raunchy bits (nothing crazy, reader discretion advised), tell me if this sucks

Masterlist💿

Iruka

He loves, loves, LOVES to cuddle

Even on the hottest nights of the year, Iruka still has his arm thrown over you, unable to get valuable sleep unless his bare skin was touching yours

Dies over being little spoon, adores it, and is internally screaming when you pull him close in your sleep

Sleeps in a pair of boxers, with the occasional t-shirt if he expects it to be especially cold in the night - the skin-to-skin contact with you usually keeps him plenty warm

Grinds his teeth in his sleep, and it makes his jaw pop in a painful way - but he refuses to get a nightguard because he heard it would make him drool

His hair gets messy in the night with how much he moves, but they're easy knots

Mumbles in his sleep, nothing coherent unless you prompt him, but he will always reply 'I love you more' even in the deepest slumber

Kakashi

Sleeps like the dead

If he's truly confortable, Kakashi could sleep through a tornado without so much as a stir

That said, you will be locked into whatever position you fall asleep with him in, and he insists upon falling asleep with his limbs entangled with yours

Kakashi goes through violent hot and cold swings in the night, because his internal thermostat is broken - he doesn't move a muscle, used to the sweats/chills, but it prompts you to move around him according to the temperature swings

Gets multiple erections during the night

Has about fifty pairs of pyjama pants, some even have matching shirts, but will almost always fall asleep in his boxers

Sometimes, even if he does fall asleep with pyjama pants, he'll take them off in a half asleep daze at some point in the night

Goodnight kisses are a must every single night and good morning kisses were necessary every single morning, Kakashi's favourite part of getting to sleep next to you was the fact that your face was the first and last he saw in a day

Groans in his sleep, occasionally sighs your name, but is very silent and still, except for his face, scrunching up every ten minutes it seemed

Itachi

Goddamn somebody get this emmaciated man a warm bed and a long cuddle

He doesn't sleep much, and when he does, it's not continuous

Clenches his jaw while he sleeps, making it pop and lock throughout the night

Needs everything to be pitch dark and quiet as church service for him to hit even Stage 3 sleep, Itachi sleeps like a cat and will rouse with any noise

Frequent nightmares, and if he's having a peaceful sleep, it's dreamless

Sleeps best after a few orgasms

Loves feeling your body curled against him, so much so that even while sleeping, he'll stroke your back and whisper his adorations

Itachi always wakes up first and then stares at you until you wake up, he might play with your hair a little, but otherwise will just watch you sleep soundly

When you wake up, if there's time, he'll roll around with you, cuddling and kissing for an hour or two before he starts getting antsy to get up

Shikamaru

Falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow, but that never stops you from cuddling up close

About twice a week, he falls asleep fully clothed, and you have to peel the clothes off his uncooperative ass or else he'll get all whiny in the morning if he wakes up in yesterday's clothes without a hangover

Truly a sweetie, Shikamaru's always pulling at you while he sleeps - never hard enough to pull you right to him, but enough for your unconscious mind to get the hint

Favourite thing is spending entire mornings with you in bed, talking, cuddling, smoking

Ticklish as hell so you cannot just be wandering your hands over him while he's sleeping, he'll smack you away harshly and turn away (but not remember anything in the morning)

Will fully open his eyes and sit up at various points in the night, says something strange, then just goes back down

You keep a small notebook to write down the ones you catch because you love how embarrassed Shikamaru gets to hear what he was saying in his sleep (he lowk finds it interesting as hell though)

Goes through phases where he cannot sleep, but hates it when you insist on staying up with him

Nah jk he loves the fact that you're willing to disrupt your own schedule for him but would never ever ask you to do so himself

Sasuke

Has a very long getting ready process, including a 40-minute long bathroom routine and then the selecting of pyjamas, then he might like to read a book to fall asleep in lieu to cuddling with you

Spending so many formative nights without so much as a goodnight from someone he cared about forced him to start this process as a way for him to say goodnight to himself

Likes it when you join him, but if he's had a long day, prefers to do his routine alone

While he reads, or stares out the window wistfully, he's not opposed to you lying on his chest and will kiss your forehead as you drift off to his heartbeat

Sasuke's always cold, so you guys have quite the thick duvet and he's always wrapped to the chin when you wake up

He prefers to wake up first, preparing tea for two before he wakes you up as gently as he knows how to

Gets out of bed immediately after opening his eyes, always ready to start the day (though much to his chagrin)

#itachi x reader #kakashi x reader #iruka umino #iruka x reader #itachi uchiha #kakashi hatake #shikamaru nara #shikamaru x reader #sasuke x reader #sasuke uchiha #headcanon list #naruto headcanons

[thir10th]

clothes-emily prentiss x fem!reader

summary: a slow morning with Emily when you've just started dating tw: make out, no smut, just domestic fluff w Emily A/n: i was just in the mood for a little drable, what can i say

You feel a paw lightly patting your face, the soft fur tickling your nose

"Serge, please, 5 minutes" you groan at the cat that has already set on your pillow, wrapping himself in a little black ball, you'd find it incredibly cute hadn't he just woken you up an hour before your alarm went off.

You decide it's a lost battle and move to leave him occupy your pillow, burying your face on the other one, it smells like Emily's shampoo.

The woman feels your body pressing against hers, and she turns around to meet your face, her naked body pressing against yours closer now.

Her eyes still closed, she's still half asleep but she gives you a soft peck on your lips "mh-morning" she mutters.

Her silky black hair tickles your face, but you don't move, you let it cover your forehead and you inhale the scent.

"why doesn't he wake you up? he's technically your son"

"because you spoil him too much" she twists around trying to grab part of the sheet falling off the bed due to last night's activities.

Her nose scrunches in comfort, you think it's adorable and can't help but to kiss it. She barely reacts, which makes you think she's probably still too asleep to correspond.

Last night had been your 3rd real date with Emily, the familiarity you already felt being the result of the time you had spent being "just friends" until you finally gave in on your attraction to each other. You wouldn't have it any other way.

It had been Emily's turn for last night's date, after getting back from work, she cooked, opened a bottle of wine, and you ended the night making out in the coach, and the bed, and the shower, and then the bed again. You felt exhausted in the most perfect way.

"so what, i give him a little too many him treats, he deserves them" you sigh, giving up on sleep coming back to you.

You stand up, unwrapping your body from Emily's strong grip around your waist, she whines, but ends up giving it up and wrapping herself around the pillow.

You scratch Sergio behind the ears, and move to pick up something to put on so you can go make breakfast

you grab the blue shirt that she wore yesterday, and a pair of her boxers, both were laying on the floor, scattered around along with the rest of both your clothes.

You follow the trail that was left on the corridor, you find your pants and Emily's, your bra, your shirt, all the way to the living room. You pick them up, leaving them on the couch, then following to the kitchen.

You secure your headphones in your ears and pull up a favorite playlist. Coffee percolating. Music going. You hum along and gather the ingredients you need to make pancakes, the easiest recipe you could ever memorize.

You crack the eggs carefully, making sure no shells fall into the mixture, you swing around to the music in your ears, dancing to it as you cook.

One by one, the stack of pancakes gets bigger until you run out of mix, you sip on your coffee, turning around to set the table, but when you do, you jump.

"Jesus!" Emily leans on the wall, she watches you with a grin on her face "How long have you been standing there? You almost killed me"

"just enough, are you making pancakes?" she asks, you can't help but to feel embarrassed, she says she's been there enough, which probably means she's seen all your musical number, at least most of it

"Yes, you can get this there until I'm done here" you tell her, turning around to finish up, but instead of doing what you asked, she comes around you, wrapping her arms around your waist, hugging you from behind.

"you smell so nice" she whispers, her head rests on your shoulder, she kisses you there, and on your neck, leaves a trail of small, sweet kisses along your shoulder.

Her hands caress your waist, "you’re wearing my shirt" she says, pressing her lips against your pulse point which makes you chuckle "i am" you say.

Her fingers slowly brushing the bare skin behind her boxers "and my boxers" she nibs at the soft skin on your neck, the smile on your face doesn't fade, you turn to face her, surrounding her neck with your arms

"do you mind? that- that i wear your clothes- I mean"

"no, no, of course not" her hand moves to take a couple of hair strands off your face, placing them behind your hear in a loving gesture

"in fact- you look really good in my clothes" the bright smile on her face turns into a devilish one

her lips crash against yours, lips and tongue, the wetness in her soft lips making you groan on her mouth, she swallows your sounds, her hand grabs your face, yours wrapping around her waist, gripping the flesh.

You separate you lips from hers to much of your distaste "let me just finish this ok? can you wait just a second?" you ask, but she doesn't let go off you, her hands on your waist lower to get your ass, giving a light squeeze

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Emily chuckles, the intensity of her kisses and touches increasing now, tugging you back into her chest. Emily kisses the side of your head, and groans about having to wait to have you.

You finish all up as fast as you can, trying to ignore the woman-koala that's wrapped around your waist, kissing your shoulder where the shirt keeps falling off.

"ok, I'm all yours now, try not to burn me, the stove is still warm" she lets out a devilish laugh

“mh, I like how that sounds, mine”

she loves hearing you’re hers, and you know it. She bites at your earlobe possessively.

she presses you into the counter, her kisses get heavier, hotter, deeper. "Ems-" you say breathlessly "mh?" she asks, her lips back onto yours.

"don't start something you can't finish" you say taking a moment to get away from her lips, but she's back at it in no time

"who says i'm not finishing this?"

Before you can even react, she lifts you up to the counter, you wrap your legs around her waist, your ankles pressing on her ass.

"I let you in my pants a couple of times and now it's all you can think about, who would've said SSA Prentiss was such a needy woman" you joke, her lips still kissing your neck, she snatches at you and kisses you again, biting your lip a little harder than usual

"well, i guess i just can't get enough of you" her lips crashing against yours once more "you're just lucky you're so cute, or i wouldn't let you get away with something like that"

Her words have an immediate effect on you, making you whine aloud "oh, please, don't let me get away with it"

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

I can write a thousand of this if you like them! I’m a sucker for intimacy and domestic Emily!!!! 😭😭😭

Like and reblog <3

#emily prentiss #wlw #criminal minds x reader #emily prentiss imagine #emily prentiss x reader #lesbian #lesbian pride #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #emily prentiss lesbian #Emily Prentiss x y/n #emily prentiss drabble #emily prentiss blurb

[0anonnymouslyours0]

a request!! i loved the scene where Spencer is giving a class and he finds out that ppl are auditing his class, and there’s a couple of girls who are kinda flirty with him

i would love a scene where his gf joins the class and sits in the back without Spencer noticing her at first, but then he does and idk maybe he can’t focus on the class because to him she’s sooo distracting. (preferably with smut at the end because i absolutely adore the way you write smut)

sure lovely! sorry this was like months overdue...

sex obvs +18

your slouched down in the very back, a questionably short skirt and half unbuttoned blouse on. spencers favourite. you haven't bothered to take out a notebook, or a laptop, to even pretend you might actually be here to learn. instead, your eyes watch spencer, only darting away when he looks up in your general direction. he looks good. very very good. dishevelled hair, which you know is partially from your morning activities, well structured navy suit. long fingers gripping the marker-

a cough bubbles in your throat, just as hes writing on the board and the class is silent. he turns in your direction, eyes widening when he spots you. smiling, you give him a teasing wave.

"right, err- so just copy this." hes frazzled now, gesturing at the board quickly and messing with his papers.

your phone buzzes.

"what are you doing?" you smile at the directness of it.

"just listening in."

he begins typing, but stops, looking up at you, eyes glancing up and down. clearing his throat, he puts his phone down.

"once your done taking notes, you can leave. these will be important for your exams so make sure you write this down."

students begin to scatter, and an suspiciously long line of girls form in front of his desk.

you get up, moving to his desk and skipping the line, ignoring the annoyed looks of the girls.

"so professor-" you cut the girl off, swinging around the corner of the desk and perching on his knee.

"oh. hi." he says, dazed at your sudden position.

"hi baby." you peck a kiss to his cheek, before getting up and standing behind him. eyeing the line of girls who are watching you.

"anymore questions?" he asks, distracted by your hand creeping down his chest from behind.

"no." the group grumbles, heading out the door.

it closes with a slam.

you turn spencers chair around. swinging your legs onto his lap.

"fuck." he breathes, taking in your thighs wrapped around his, and your little plaid skirt, and bra peeking out of your blouse.

"hey spence." you say, pecking kisses along his tilted neck.

"thought id come visit you."

"uh-huh." he stammers.

"but you just looked so good up there, so fucking hot." your hands unbutton his shirt, jacket already discarded on the ground.

"the door, its unlocked." he says, eyes blown at the sight of you.

you huff, climbing off his lap and quickly looking it. shedding your blouse, you walk back and sink to your knees in front of him.

"god-" he whispers, and you unzip his pants, shuffling them down.

"what did i do to deserve this?" his hands reach up to your hair, tugging it into a ponytail.

"did so good in your lesson baby, wanna treat you." you palm him through his boxers, before sliding them off.

placing a kiss on his tip, you run your tongue along his shaft, looking up at him, eyes wide. his head is tipped back, addams apple exposed and hair falling messily everywhere. such a pretty sight.

hes groaning, coming undone so quickly by the calculated movements of your tongue.

"fuck!" he gasps, as you pick up your pace, drawing his orgasm out.

"such a pretty girl on her knees for me." he says, fucked-out.

you smile raising off the ground and straddling his lap. his dick hardens underneath you.

"want you inside me baby.." you whisper, kissing his neck as you slide your panties to the side.

you tease your slit with his tip, before sinking down onto him with a groan.

it doesn't take much for you to both finish. messy and rushed kisses as you clean up and leave before his next class, promising more when he returns home..

#me randomly re-entering the fandom after ages! hi there! #oneshot #fluff #smut #female reader #masterlist #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds smut #spencer reid fanfic #professor spencer reid smut #spencer reid masterlist

[jellazticious]

bing bong bootleg SS au

very long ramble under the C

stuff are subjected to change

The working title isn't solidified but I'm leaning on either Candy Castle or Pastry Castle

Tho I think I'm gonna go for pastry cuz it has the same amount of letters as castle much like pizza and tower have the same number too

The tower is a gingerbread castle. According to a friend of mine (It's Beefy, it's always Beefy go follow him) that Hispanics love their bakeries and yeah, I guess that makes sense. Not only do I have a theme based on the protag's culture but also the theme gets narrowed down to just baked sweets. Candy in general is too broad, I would die figuring out how to put every kind of sweet in it, and if I did it's gonna be really cluttered hooboy

Noise is called Theo because that's Peppino's name formula. Peppino is a nickname for Giuseppe so I thought I'd give Noise's swap a nickname to Theodore as the main name

Hazel Nutt is pretty self explanatory cuz Noisette means hazelnut in French

Their outfits are pretty simple to mirror Peppino and Gustavo's with just coloured shirts and aprons

Hazel doesn't get a mount because she would have Theo's prototype rocket skates. Just like Gus, she would have different stages of getting used to the skates per floor. First she gets blasted from end to end cuz she can't control the thrust. Second, she manages to turn it off but she's trying to keep balance on it. Third, she catches her breath now that she could stand still without moving or slipping. Next she would make a card castle, in reference to the very castle they're inside. and lastly she'd be holding a box of sweets without giving a shit about the scary floor.

To parallel the og Noisette, Hazel would smile bigger when Theo faces her direction.

Hazel is also Theo's delivery gal to match and switch with how Peppino WAS Gustavo's delivery guy

The "kick the rat" function would be Hazel swinging one of the skates and the cops grabbing Brick would instead hold a weapon detector that also functions as a magnet

Unlike Peppino, Theo is more aggressive than anxious. Imagine an injured cat defending itself from what it thinks is a threat

the name of Pizzaface's swap is Pieface for obvious reasons 😭

but HEAR ME OUT

both pizzaface and pieface are used as insults. pizza face is used for people with so much acne and pie face is used for someone with a flat face or dull expression. It isn't just a pun on what food the characters are made of. Pieface is also a reference to the trope where people headshot other people with pies. With the mech floating towards the protag, it would look like a pie is being thrown and targeted at Theo

Honestly drawing what food makes his face is so fun. Did you know that before the croissant smile it was supposed to be syrup shaped to a smile? The nose was a long whip of cream before turning into a cut strawberry for the mustache effect

Pizzahead's candy version would be called Gingerhead because of how ridiculous it sounds.

Gingerhead is based on Willy Wonka much like how Pizzahead is based on Ronald McDonald which is why he has more of a showman look than a clown look

okay side note, it just occured to me how ironic PH being based on Ronald is considering McDo's isn't a pizza place

actually Wonka doesn't even sell cakes and shit so, I guess it's fair game

Theo has the nickname Muffinman to reference the rhyme. but this time, it's the gingerbreadman chasing the baker

Next up is Mr S, who would be Peppino but he becomes rich. Mr S is the stage name he uses. He is a known celebrity much as Noise is but he is more of a boxer than a host. Like Dwayne Johnson or something. His name is partially a reference to ResEvil's Mr X, another absolute unit of a guy

also the reason why he doesn't wear a shirt. He's committing to the bit. If he needs to cover himself when he isn't playing a role, then there's his robe. He doesn't take out his mask most of the time tho

Mr S's mask is based on the Chef Raider design but also part of the scrapped superhero design much like Pizzano. Actually speaking of Pizzano, S is characterized so similarly to him cuz Pizzano is the only SS character who was actually written well to my standards. To be fair we've seen too much of Peppino to flunk characterizing him sksksk

Since this is Peppino that Mr S is based on, he's not as tech savvy or as self centered as Noise so he doesn't have robots that look like himself. Instead he has ants for a crew

the ants swap the place of rats. the rats in PT reference the new york pizza rat while ants just generally eat your food especially if it's sweet when left alone for five minutes

the ants come from Mr G, who would be Gustavo's swap with Noisette. He's Mr S's lawyer. at the end of S's bossfight, G would snatch him away with Click (the ant) because S would make a foul and embarrassing move on live camera

I can't seperate Gustavo and Brick so Click stays with Mr G instead of assisting Hazel

inside what would be Noisette cafe, instead of Mr G and Click being behind the counter, they would be sitting as customers next to Caraman. the barista isn't seen anywhere

Honestly when I'm writing everyone, my logic of swapping them isn't "make them switch places AND personalities" but more of "write every single one of them with the og personality because giving them a different lifestyle/role would drastically change their motives and how they behave"

I'm practically just swapping each character's place of birth

I mentioned this because it's kinda funny with Noisette and Gus since they play the exact same role of assisting Peppino/Noise so swapping them won't change much in how they act. They also have the same cheery and welcoming personality by default so Hazel and Mr G would act REALLY similar to their og

The only difference is that Gustavo can be threatening whenever Peppino fucks up. It fits right in with being a lawyer for the same goon

Now we got Mel Caraman who would become this au's Vigi. Lemme just say off the bat that Caraman is just as delusional as Vigi. He gets hired as a guard for floor 2 and took it way too seriously that he thinks he's some sort of sentinel. Hired as a guard but thinks he's an ancient guardian or something

his name vaguely references James Bond because you also VAGUELY get "caramel" out of "Caraman, Mel Caraman"

Caraman is a caramel apple but he's half glazed to form an eyemask. he's also got a stick poking out his head that stretches his chorro hat. the big hat makes him look cooler anyways. Bro I was so ready to settle for a shitty wild west mayor hat and I owe Beefy one for suggesting a new hat. I was gonna make him look like Doug Dimmadome with the short brimmed tall hat😭😭😭

but yeah Caraman doesn't have the same dignity as Vigi does. He can fight crime decently on normal circumstances and badass when he's full serious. But like day in day out he's so obnoxious about looking for crime that people get tired of him nor would they take him seriously

he would also be mistaken for a pepper

Next to last, Cam M. Bert or just Bert who would take place of Pepperman. he's an artist who appreciates the world instead of himself, a freelancer also. There was only a bossfight because he was coincidentally commissioned to make a mural for the castle the same time Theo busts in. He didn't like how Theo ruined some of his works with his rush to open the door

Bert is a cream cheese instead of a cheese slime. his beret is actually a little cherry to distinguish him from the other creams.

Bert is really chill and humble, He's like Bob Ross, whenever he can, he'd try to talk about how every beauty in the world should be immortalized through a canvas

In parallel to Vigi's delusion of thinking he's a human, Bert thinks he's actually a living painting (which is completely possible for someone to be in the PT world since Pepperman was able to do it with his own art)

instead of a :{ face that Vigilante has, Bert has a :3 face

the naming formula is taken directly from Vigi

Vig E. Lantte

Cam M. Bert

There is a type of sweet cheese that's really creamy called camembert which his name is a direct reference from. Here is a picture of a camembert since it's hella cute

Camembert cheese was also suggested by Beefy, brother thank you for not allowing me to name this cunt Creamlad

Mr Lardo would be in place of Mr Stick but his motive is that he's collecting Theo's money on BEHALF of Mr Stick. They're probably the only ones who completely stay intact because there's not much canon info of Stick WITHIN the game itself I also feel he's a crossover character from his own "series" with how long McPig has him prior to PT so I just swap the character who makes the "cameo"

The toppins are still called toppins because they'd be used to decorate a cake or pie. They would be

Strawberry - Mushroom

Cream - Cheese

Cookie - Tomato

Icing (in a piping bag) - Sausage

actually I dont know yet for the pineapple but I'll get to it. I've only been figuring out this au since four days ago....

Lastly (of the characters), the Faker in this would be mechanical to match the original Noise's familiarity in robots

Fake Theo (temp name) would be engineered to be "Theo but way better" while actually being succesful with it. Faker would also sort of look like a mini figure of a ballerina. Referencing The Nutcracker

Opposite to Fake Peppino, Fake Theo is more graceful than terrifying but it's so uncanny how unnaturally pretty it is

and now some misc stuff

Title of the final level is When The Cookie Crumbles

the pepper pizza will be replaced with an extremely sweet pie and the immunity is caused by the sugar rush from it

Pizza Time is called Crunch Time

Pillar John would be a giant graham cracker since the walls are made of cookies instead of bricks. Gerome however, is a solidified bar of brownies. like a shittily made brownie that it just turned into a construction brick

Snotty is a pure white cream cheese and that's cuz he's actually made of glue. His name is Sticky

Pigs would either be bears or rabbits with how many times those two animals represented sweets

I'm gonna be clear with everyone here. I literally made this au cuz I'm going insane trying to make swap stuff with Pascal/Stefano when the au itself is so empty. sure it's colourful but it's so empty like I can't draw SS characters outside of poses

I tried like doing fanon modifications as I always do then there's so much I "modified" that at this point it's not Sugary Spire anymore. Just straight up a completely different au. The only similarity is that it's a swap au with sweets

it is what it is yknow. this is my life now. I said fuck it and went with the flow and boom, new personal au that I poured too much into

basically I blame Pascal for this

#Pizza Tower #tagging them as their og until I solidify the au #Pizzaface #Pizzahead #The Noise #Peppino Spaghetti #Noisette #The Vigilante #Pepperman #Gustavo and Brick #i drew this #Cookie Castle

[lostalioth]

𝐬𝐨𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝

→ premise: he only intended to check on you you, he didn’t however plan on you exacting your revenge for him throwing you in the pool at that very moment. though it works out in the end to finally break the thick lingering tension between you two.

→ pairing: s1!steve harrington x fem!reader

→ warnings: 2.3k words, smut | 18+, unprotected sex, shower sex, fingering, edging, semi-drunk sex, underaged drinking they are described as drinking but they are a bit drunk/tipsy, season 1 steve harrington and so tommy and carol are in it, Y/N IS USED ONCE, nicknames [baby, cutie], description of wet clothes

→ a/n: 05 kinktober

“Ahhh Steve noo please!” You squeal and heat washes over your body, your skin burns where Steve's hands are gripping your waist. His touch sends butterflies to start violently fluttering in your stomach. He lifts you up and you feel like the air is punched from your lungs at the strength and his hands all over you. You hear a chuckle eurrupt from his chest right before you’re thrown from his hands. You squeal as your body breaks the frozen barrier of water and you splash into the icey grimy pool. You hold your breath as you look up from under the water and see the stars sparkle in the night sky. Slowly you come up out of the water, pushing your body up on the side of the pool glaring in Harrington's direction. The cold water is working to sober you up a bit, however not as well as you wished it to. The alcohol still streaming through your veins from those last few swings of the bottle now making you only a tad bit tipsy. Tommy and Carol are keeled over laughing, nearly falling off the lawn chairs they were laid out on. “Before you kill me you're gonna need me for new clothes you know? Right?” Steve lightly whines and backs up looking like a deer in headlights as he backs himself up against the sliding patio door.

“Show me where the shower is in this damn mansion of a house and maybe just maybe I'll spare you” you groan and look down at your body as your clothes sag and cling awkwardly to your body, water dripping off of you and onto the patio tile below you making you feel like a wet dog. He slides the glass back door open quickly and waits on you, not daring to make a move. “You're so whipped Harrington, how can you deny that?!?” Tommy calls over at the boy whose frozen stood, making Carol burst out into laughter again. You and Steve glare in their direction as you make your way into the much warmer house.

They shut up and put up their hands in surrender and shrug as you and Steve walk into the house. He leads you up the stairs and points you towards his bathroom. You give him a grimace before you walk into the bathroom, you decide not to lock the door and even to leave it open a crack.

Steve gathers clothes of his own for you to change into as he hears shuffling in the bathroom before the water starts running. He grabs a baggy pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt of his as well as socks of his for you. He walks a few feet out of his bedroom, passing the cracked open bathroom door. The smell of his body wash wafts out the door and under his nose. You were using his body wash, and you were gonna smell all like him and be wearing his clothes. He feels his cock stir and twitch in his suddenly ill-fitting boxers at the thought, god it made his stomach turn. It would be like you were his, all his, only his. He shakes away the cloud of lust overcoming him and makes his way into the laundry room. Opening up the dryer he throws in the clothes he grabbed as well as a towel for you, setting it to run for around 10 minutes so that it all comes out warm. It might appear as though he was sucking up cause he doesn't want you to kill him for throwing you in the pool, but he does genuinely want you to be comfortable and warm. He let Carol and Tommy get the better of him and get in his head, always calling him whipped for you and saying he follows you around like a puppy. The two of you weren’t together in any capacity besides friends and it kills Steve. Cause he knows he's very obvious with his affection and infatuation and yet he's oblivious to yours. Therefore him throwing you in the pool was so they'd stop their comments about how close you two were sitting or how he was looking at you. He shouldn't have let them get to him but that was all he could think to do so they’d shut up.

Making his way back into his bedroom he stands frozen in front of the bathroom door, hand wrapped around the side where it was left open a jar. He takes a deep breath and walks in, looking down at his feet. His intentions were purely innocent and yet he couldn't fight the flush of his cheeks or the growing bulge making a small tent in his jeans as he stood there. This was his bathroom after all and so he knew his shower doors were glass and if he just looked up just an inch. He’d see your beautiful silhouette through the fogged up glass door, your hands running over your body as you rinse off the body wash. his body wash. Steve clears his throat to both catch your attention and regain his own composure enough to speak again.

“Hey uh i grabbed out some sweats and a shirt for you, even a pair of my socks, they're in the dryer with your towel so they can be toasty for ya’ i thought maybe i could take your sopping wet clothes from you to wash those” the words all practically come vomiting out of Steve's mouth in a hurry he was doing his best to make up for his adolescent action. The strain of his aching cock against his jeans persistent and annoying however.

It was killing him, knowing if he only glanced up just a bit he could see your body in all its beauty and yet he wouldn't, he couldn't. He wasn't a perv though it may seem like it sometimes, he just felt the need to check in on you, you were tipsy still and not at your own house after all.

With Steve's head bowed and his eyes apparently glued to his own feet he misses the small evil smirk that spreads on your face. “Yeah yeah that'd be great Steve thank-” you cut yourself off and let out a small fustrated string of curuses before you fake whine.

“Y/N? What happened, hey you okay?” A confused Steve stands even more frozen but he's gotten closer to the shower door and has a hand on the door handle. “Oh fuck- ughh i think i got soap in my eye. I can't tell if I rinsed it all away. Can you look at my eye for me please?” You question and fight back the smile that wants to take over your lips, forcing a squinted and pained expression instead.

Without a second thought Steve flings the shower door open, eyes now glued to your face instead of the floor and his feet. He leans forward trying to get a better look in your eye when you grab him by the collar of his shirt. Quickly before he can question you, you pull Steve into the shower with you, sliding closed the door so no water escapes.

The warm water suddenly spraying at his back, soaking his shirt and running down, working its way to soaking his jeans. His jaw agape and his shoulders raised and tense for a moment before he adjusts and they drop. His already tight jeans are beginning to cling around his now very obvious bulge. “Alright yeah I deserved thattt-” he chuckles but his voice gets caught in his throat and his last word dragging on when he lets his eyes drift down your bare, dripping, glowing wet body standing in front of him. You watch as his brown eyes darken and cloud with desire, your own eyes slowly taking in his own body and landing right on his excruciatingly hard cock that's begging to be let out of his strained jeans. Your own eyes glaze over with lust and reluctantly they scan back up Steve's body to meet his. His eyes droopy and brows furrowed, strands of his brown locks now soaked and a darker color as they stick to his forehead jaw still practically on the floor.

“Steve.. please” you whine, your voice coming out more breathless than you intended and full of vulnerability. “Oh fuck it” he grunts and surges forward, his warm hands wrapping around your slippery wasit pulling your exposed body flush against his colthed one as his lips crash against yours.

You let out a small gasp and shut your eyes tightly before kissing back passionately, lips molding together perfectly as hands roam and slide around each other's drenched bodies. Steve’s hand slips up your side, around your back and up your spine slowly before gripping the back of your neck deepening the kiss. You hum into his mouth and let his tongue invade your own mouth and take over dancing with your tongue. His other hand sliping the opposite way, down your hip and over your soft thigh before cupping your throbbing sex. A whimper escapes your lips, the steam from your hot shower filling the bathroom only seemed to double, surrounding the fogged up shower as well as your and Steve's entangled bodies. “Harrington..baby i need you please” you pull away from the heated kiss and whine leaning into his touch, your hands splayed across his lower stomach. One sliding under his soaked shirt and the other sliding down and starting to work at the button on his pants. The running shower head is still spraying right at Steve's back who's too entranced with you to care about the water bill that's raising higher and higher to longer it runs uselessly.

A cocky smirk is plastered on Steve’s face as water flows down his chiseled face and drips off his chin. His nibble fingers slide through your folds and slip through your slick before plunging deep inside you. His middle and ring finger work in tandem to thrust inside your aching cunt and reach that spongy spot that makes you see stars. Your pussy clenches around his fingers after every thrust inside, his long fingers buried knuckle deep inside you. You let out a loud wanton moan in relief and pleasure that gets muffled when Steve's lips collide with your own once again. You finish unbuttoning his jeans and do your best to push the fabric as well as his boxers down his thick thighs as they cling to his legs. His neglected cock finally springing free, his leaking red tip angry and desperate for attention.

All the tension and Steve's fast and well trained movements make the pleasure build up fast in the pit of your stomach. You moan and whimper into his mouth as his fingers keep thrusting hard and deep inside you, Steve’s thumb starting to rub slow circles on your twitching clit pushing you closer and closer to that edge. “You gonna cum on my fingers cutie?” His voice comes out taunting and condensing, the sound rebervating against the tile walls in the shower and bouncing all around you. You nod frantically and your knees buckle, your legs almost giving out from under you. Steve uses the hand gripping the back of your neck to make you hold eye contact as well as hold your body up steady as you grow limper in his arms the closer you get.

“Well you know how our little game goes right baby? Well you pulled me in the shower for throwing you in the pool” he starts explaining and you fight your eyes fluttering shut and your thoughts drifting away as you get closer and closer to tipping over the edge. You lazily nod in understanding. “Yes baby yes Steve I know i know!” You babble and moan out nearly incoherently as your eyes shut for a second but snap back open. Your cunt begins to throb and ache for releasing and holding it in starts to become painful. “Well it's my turn again and i think i'm gonna edge you cutie you know, for pay back?” He chuckles and as quickly as he slipped them in he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you empty. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you let out a long whine in protest as your head falls back and your climax dies back down.

A shit eating grin is glued to Harrington's face and he soothes the pain by circling your clit with the two fingers he slipped out softly. Your disappointment doesn't last long however once Steve grabs both of your arms, pulling them behind your back and spinning your body around to press your tits up against the cold shower wall. Your hips nestled and pressed against his, his cock sliding through your folds as he grinds against your ass. Your nipples harden from the shift in temperature from the shower water. The hand that isn't holding both of your arms behind your back comes down to slap your ass before Steve's tip spilling pre cum is pushing at your entrance and with one hard sharp thrust he's inside.

“Oh god~ Baby” you scream as Steve gives you no time to adjust to his size, the painful sting of your cunt stretching and accommodating his cock. He rubs his thumb over the small of your back as he pushes your arms flush to your back keeping your body right where he wants you. Steve thrusts deep and fast, desperately needing this feeling for so long he can't get enough. The sound of your moans and mumbled curses, sweet nothings and whines of ‘baby’ ‘more’ ‘yes!’ fill the room alongside the slapping sound of wet skin against wet skin. Steve's balls slap against your clit in this position adding to your pleasure. You let out a loud scream of pleasure the harder he thrusts, your climax right on the edge faster than you wished. Your hips slam back against Steves and any thought of being mad at him for throwing you in the freezing cold pool have long dissipated along with the steam in the bathroom and long forgotten about with the running dryer with your towel and Steve's clothes.

→ a/n: i got very carried away with this and it took two days to finish so it came out late and im sorry but im actually pretty proud of this one. fun enough this was sort of an idea carried over from last years kinktober that i didnt do and now finally i did it!! leave me feedback and sorry for any typos!

#lostalioth kinktober #kinktober 23 #kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 5 #steve harrington x reader #smut #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanficton #steve harrington #steve harrington headcanon #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x fem #fem!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n smut #steve harrington hc #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x female reader #female reader #blurb #oneshot #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington prompt #steve harrington masterlist #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington imagine

[stop-talking]

You're his ex, but he's desperate for a babysitter. (pt. 3)

Mike Schmidt x fem reader

2.8k words

Tags: 18+, mike x reader, no use of y/n, smut, porn with plot, gag, bondage, exes, enemies, enemies to lovers, slowburn? sassy mike, sassy reader, brat behavior all around, switch mike, sub mike, munch mike, dom reader, oral (fem receiving), pet names, banter, angst, love-hate relationship, hate fucking, aftercare, fluff.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

This chapter is pure smut. If you're here for the story (cuz pfft who reads this stuff right...) you can skip this and still understand part 4. TLDR: they fuck.

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You sit next to Mike on the couch as you down the last bit of your coffee.

"You know, I think I'd like to use one of my favors." You smirk and put a hand on his leg as you set your mug down.

"O-oh yeah?" Mike stutters out lamely, attention immediately pulled away from whatever stupid show you turned on the T.V.

"Yeah."

Mike yelps softly as you squeeze his thigh, but doesn't make any moves to stop you. Damn it, you know exactly how to push his buttons. You always did.

"What exactly do you want from me?" He narrows his eyes at you, brow furrowing as he desperately pretends he doesn't like to be toyed with.

"What do you think I want, Mikey?"

Mike's eyes go wide as your hand inches up his thigh, but he swallows and returns the sass.

"Why don't you tell me yourself, Princess?"

You huff and shift on the couch, throwing yourself across his lap dramatically. Your back arches from the way you're laying on his legs, and you stare up at him with a pout.

"Just take me to bed already."

Mike does just that, hooking one arm under your back, and the other under your knees. He fucking princess carries you. That's new.

"Damn, you been working out?" You tease him, feeling up his bicep with one arm as you hook the other around his neck for support. He doesn't look especially muscular, hell, he doesn't feel muscular either. Of course, that could be because of the soft hoodie he's wearing.

"What do you think?" He swings you around to face the bench press in the corner of his bedroom as he nudges the door closed with his foot. You'd never seen him actually use the damn thing, but... well, he was carrying you fairly easily.

"I think you've missed me." You look up at him, eyes trailing down to his lips.

"I'm just doing you a favor, sweetheart." He tosses you on the bed before you can get that kiss you were thinking about.

"You mean you're just doing me."

"As a favor."

His stubbornness irks you, and you crawl over next to him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

"Here, let me help." You grab his leg and start taking off his sneaker. Mike's a little confused, but he lets it happen. You take the other one off as well, then wave a dismissive hand at him as you start untying his laces.

"You can take off the rest yourself."

"Fuck are you doing with my shoes?" He grumbles as he removes his hoodie and shirt.

You don't bother to answer him, and when he looks over again he realizes you're completely un-lacing his shoes.

"I need the laces."

"Do I even want to know why?" He scoffs and starts to undo his belt and shimmy out of his jeans, leaving him in just his boxers.

"Oh, you'll find out. Lie down and wait."

Mike stays put, scowling. However, It's a little hard to feign annoyance when he's, well, a little hard. He finally gives in when he realizes you're not gonna throw him any hints, and sighs as he scoots back on the bed.

"Good boy." You tease him, finally pulling the 2nd lace completely free of his shoe.

He groans, but makes no effort to stop you as you climb up on him in a straddling position. He only wishes you'd taken your shorts off first. Oh well. Not like they're covering much, anyways.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Not as much as you'd regret not doing this."

Mike can't argue with that. So, he doesn't try. He wraps a hand around the back of your neck and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand finds its way to your lower back and he gives a little tug down, silently begging you to lower yourself onto him.

"Mmmph... nngh..." When the gentle tugging doesn't work, he tries whining, but everything comes out muffled with your tongue practically down his throat. He's not usually the type to just take what he wants, but damn it, he might try it soon if you keep tormenting him.

"What was that, Mikey?" You pull away from the kiss and sit up on him, finally making contact with the twitching hard-on in his boxers.

He's already breathless from the kiss, and now that he can feel you... he can't even talk. You've broken him already. He just pants and looks up at you with those big brown puppy eyes of his.

"Use your words." You scold him, and adjust yourself on top of him to brush up against him. When that doesn't get him to talk, you gently trail your nails down his chest with both hands. That really gets him going.

"Please." He hates begging. He hates this. Wasn't HE supposed to be doing YOU? And yet, here he is, already melting.

"Please what?"

"Please just do whatever-the-fuck you want." He sighs and goes limp, letting his arms drop to the bed as he tries to get his breathing under control. All that kissing made his brain go fuzzy.

"Thank you. I will."

Mike practically growls as you lean down and bite him in the crook of his neck. It quickly turns to a whimper when you start rocking your hips as well, grinding into him with those infuriatingly tiny shorts.

"Shh... Abby's asleep, remember?" Shit. The last thing he wanted to think about right now was his little sister in the room across the hall. You were right though, the walls here are thin. Mike nods and bites the inside of his cheek to quiet himself, then tugs desperately at your hips. He wants you to keep going. He needs you to keep going.

"Aww, you're so worked up already." You can't feel much through your shorts and his boxers, but you can tell his moves are getting desperate. After a minute or so of biting all down his neck and grinding on him, you decide to switch things up before he explodes.

"Fuuuuck." Mike lets out a low groan as you climb off of him. He tries to pull you back down by the hips, but you swat his hands off. No fair.

"Here, gimmie." You take his wrist and hold his arm up, fiddling with something. Before he can even process what's happening, his wrist is tied to the bedpost. Is that... his shoelace? He's not sure whether he should laugh or try and get out while he can.

"You're an evil woman." He groans, but doesn't even try to pretend he doesn't like this. Not with it literally jumping in his boxers.

"This evil woman misses your tongue, Mikey." You tsk at him quietly as you tie up his other wrist. Tight. Damn it, that's gonna hurt later.

"Fuck... sit on my face."

"What was that?" You look down at him with a smirk as you slip out of your shorts and panties, kicking them to the floor.

"Sit on my face." He repeats. "Please."

"Only because you asked so nicely."

Mike nearly dies right there when he feels your thighs wrap around the sides of his head. You aren't quite on his face, instead choosing to sit up on the top of his chest. It's still enough to drive him mad. Damn it, he shouldn't enjoy this so much.

"I... You're so..." He looks up at you, his usual scowl replaced with that dreamy expression you only ever got to see in times like this.

"So what, Mikey?" You prompt him, running your fingers through his dark brown curls with a hand. "Hm?"

"Sooooo mean." He closes his eyes and groans, leaning back into your hand as you play with his hair.

"I wanna be meaner. Suffocate you a little."

"Evil woman." His eyes twinkle as he looks up at you again, unable to hide how eager he is.

Laughing softly, you lift your hips and position yourself over his face. Much to your amusement, his arms tug at the restraints. Has he forgotten he's tied up?

"Hold still." You scold him, carefully lowering yourself. His stubble tickles a bit, but it's a familiar feeling. This isn't your first rodeo, especially not with him.

Mike already has his tongue out before you even touch his face. Honestly, he probably wants this more than you do at this point, even if you are the most infuriating person in his life. He moans when you finally make contact, surprised at just how wet you are. Damn it. You really do love toying with him.

"Shush. No moaning."

Mike whimpers a bit when you scold him, and starts bucking his hips into the air. God, he wishes his hands were free. He can't even bring himself to beg for it, too absorbed in you.

"Fuck, right there." You start to buck your hips slightly as well, grinding onto his face. His tongue is hitting just the right spot, and he fuckin' knows it. Bastard.

As soon as you give him that little sliver of praise, he loses it. Completely. He's a desperate, writhing mess beneath you, pulling against his restraints and thrusting up into the void while he eats you out like he's starved.

With one hand gently pulling his hair, and the other clinging to the headboard to steady yourself, you rock your hips. This earns you another low moan from Mike, and while the vibrations feel amazing against your clit, he needs to shut the fuck up.

"Quiet, or I'll fuckin' gag you." You hiss, yanking his hair a little harder for a moment to make a point. He returns to whimpering, for now.

God, you missed this. Mike Schmidt was a jackass, but he was a jackass that knew exactly how to make you squirm. In fact, you were squirming now. Fuck.

"I'm almost... mmm.... Mike..."

Fuck, now you're moaning his name?

Mike wants to grab your hips and pull you down into his face harder, but his hands are restrained.

He wants to grab himself and finally get off, but again, restraints.

He wants to moan, but you're threatening to gag him.

He wants to keep you in this bed with him forever, but he can tell you're close, and pretty unlikely to stick around afterwards. Even if you could be convinced, he's too stubborn to ask.

He wants to taste your cum. So he does.

"Fuuuuuck." You turn into a trembling mess on his face, your legs going weak as he licks and sucks in just the right way. He knows your body so well.

"Nngh, Mike, stop." You lift your hips, leaving him licking at the air for a moment.

"God, that was..."

Mike watches as you scoot back to sit on his chest again, and feels your thighs gently squeeze his face. When you run both hands through his hair as well, he's in heaven. He doesn't need you to say he did a good job to know he did well. He can tell by the way you caress him, and the slick dripping down his chin. He smiles at the glazed over look in your eyes, and he's sure.

"Did I earn the right to use my arms again, Princess?"

That little smug comment breaks you out of your trance. Bastard.

"Yeah, yeah. One minute." You sigh and stare down at his face. Poor boy is wrecked, your mess all over him.

Mike's eyes go wide as he watches you take off your little white tank top, your only remaining piece of clothing. He only gets a brief look at your tits before you swipe it across his face, cleaning him up.

"Hey, I was gonna eat that." He teases, staring up at your chest with hunger in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you still can." You chuckle and stuff the tank top in his stupid smug mouth, a makeshift gag for what's to come. or cum. hah.

Mike can't help but be annoyed with you. He's clearly going insane with how badly he needs to cum, he just worked so hard to finish YOU off, and his wrists hurt. And what do you do? Gag him. Wonderful.

As soon as you finish untying one of his wrists, Mike uses his newly freed hand to yank the gag out.

"What was that for?" He scowls, reaching to untie his other wrist himself as you crawl on top of him.

"You're loud when you cum. Put it back in and bite down or you're not getting any."

He rubs his wrists and looks at the woman straddling his legs so confidently. If you'd just scoot up a little, you'd be where he really wants you, right on his cock. But he figured that probably wasn't going to happen.

"You're infuriating." He willingly shoves the gag back in his mouth, attempting to scowl through a mouthful of cotton. All his anger melts away when you tug his boxers down and finally wrap your hand around his dick. He shudders. Fuck, he's not gonna last long.

"Just let it out, Mikey." You coax him, using a soothing voice and quick hand to finish him off. He bucks his hips up into you and whimpers through the gag, eyes rolling back into his head. Precum drips from him almost immediately, and you smile. He definitely had fun.

After hardly a minute of pumping, he explodes all over his stomach and chest. Fuck, some even gets on his neck. You laugh and make a show of licking your fingers clean, eyeing him up and down.

When Mike's eyes finally flutter open, he almost gets hard again. He tries to let the image of you straddling him, completely naked, and sucking his cum off your fingers soak into his brain. He wants it burned into his eyes, Christ. Why did he ever let someone so hot get away from him?

"That was fast."

Oh, right, because she's a total witch.

"You told me to let it all out."

"Mhm. And now look at you. A mess."

Mike props himself up on his elbows and snorts.

"Gonna lick me clean too, sweetheart?"

"Nope."

God, why did he even ask? He lies back down on the bed, sexually satisfied, but mentally and physically exhausted. He hardly registers you climbing out of bed until he hears his bathroom door close.

A few minutes later, you return and toss him a rag. It's warm and damp.

"Clean yourself up, you're a big boy." You taunt him while you slip back into your shorts and panties.

Mike sighs but accepts the rag and starts to wipe himself down.

You reach for your tank top, lying discarded at the edge of the bed. Then you remember you used it to wipe up... hm. Probably best not to wear it.

"I'm stealing a shirt." You announce, turning to rifle through his dresser. Is this the shirt drawer? No, this one?

"Keep the tank-top. Free souvenir."

"Stealing? Not borrowing?" Mike scoffs, sliding his boxers back up.

"Yep. Can I take this one?" You turn and hold up a faded grey shirt with a cheesy pun on it.

"No. I like that one."

"Oookay... what about this one?"

"No. Sentimental value."

"This?"

He's tempted to keep denying you, if only to see you shirtless for longer. Damn, if you hadn't tied up his wrists he would have been all over those...

"Mike? Can I have this one?" You repeat, annoyed.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Sure." He grumbles, turning away in an attempt to hide his blush. It was stupid. He just ate you out, and he blushes at the sight of boobs?

You chuckle to yourself as you throw on his shirt. It smells like him. Or at least, smells like his detergent.

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

"Hope you had as much fun as I did, Mikey." You lean against his bedroom door, preparing to leave.

"You don't wanna stay for a bit?" Damn it. He sounded pathetic, begging his ex to stay. This was just a favor to you, a quick release. He couldn't help but try, though.

"Hm. Don't you have to take Abby to school?"

Mike glances at the digital alarm next to his bed. Shit. They're definitely running late now.

"...Yeah. I'll, uh, see ya?"

"You promised to get a new babysitter this weekend."

He swallows, heart sinking into his stomach. Yeah, he did say that, didn't he?

"Right. Yeah."

An awkward silence lingers in the air for a few moments, so you clear your throat and speak up.

"You wanna walk me out?"

・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・・・・・・○・

After quickly shuffling into some shorts and a t-shirt, Mike walks you to the front door and unlocks it for you while you gather your things. His heart wrenches at the sight of you in his shirt, though he tries not to show it. That sort of thing would usually mean you're his. But you aren't. Not anymore.

"Tell Abby I said good luck in her witching endeavors."

"Will do."

He watches you leave, and the exhaustion finally crumples him. Fuck, Abby's just gonna have to miss the first few hours of school today. He needs a nap. Or a medically induced coma.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

Author's note: This was my first time writing smut so uh hope y'all enjoy. This series is also my first attempt at fanfiction in general. I'm so excited to write the last chapter! Sorry to end on a sad note. I love angst. Sad little babygirl Mike. <3 <3

Also, is tying Mike up with shoelaces very realistic? Probably not. But it's hot. And I can't imagine he keeps bondage stuff.

Edit: Part 4

#fnaf movie #fnafmovie #jhutch #josh hutcherson #mike schmidt #mikeschmidt #josh hutcherson x reader #mike x reader #josh hutcherson x you #smut #no use of y/n #x fem reader #josh hutcherson smut #mike schmidt smut #angst fic #angst

[infamous-if]

out of pure scientific curiosity, how would the ROs have handled the situation if they came across those guys in ch2 harassing mc? 👀

I haven't done a scenario ask in ages but I quite liked this one so here goes!

Orion: is a boxer and we see a bit of that heat in him in chapter 2. Also he’s very visibly strong, so people are naturally intimidated by him at first glance. Orion does take the polite approach as much as he could, so he’d ask them nicely to back off. If that doesn’t work, he’d warn them he’d have to turn violent. Isn’t he so polite? telling them how he’s about to hit them beforehand?

Orion has scrapped before. He has a good swing on him.

Sebastian: would try to be a peacemaker, tell everyone to calm down and if that doesn't help he'd prob take MC and leave lmao Seb doesn't like to fight.

August: I think August just being eternally nonchalant would scare them away, but also they're kind of scary when they get upset. They'd most likely tell them to leave, or somehow convince them to back off without raising their voice.

Victoria: Victoria would prob curse them out and use pepper spray if they get too close. She'd definitely want to fight and it'd be MC who is like...I don't think that's a good idea...she has a whole purse full of things for self defense lmao

Seven: Would definitely try to fight. Seven thinks they can take on two grown men at once even if the odds are against them, they'd definitely provoke it to the point where MC has to pull them away.

G: Probably annoy them enough to scare them away with their charming personality. Or G would insult them without directly insulting them and then would pull MC away to leave. G would be a bit braver with one guy but two guys...they'd rather just cut their losses lmao

#inbox #infamous cast #scenario ask

[bruciemilf]

There's no one, dead or alive, that knows Bruce quite as deeply as his children.

They have no idea how they could've possibly mossed the relationship between Bruce and Harvey's relationship. In retrospect, it was very in your face.

Dick should've known when he was 10, reassuring Bruce he'll get them out of Two-Face's evil crutches.

He didn't even bother tying them up! In fact, it was rather odd. No other rogue brought them to their penthouse, and patted his head.

(Maybe just Selina. ) Bruce didn't shed the Batsuit in favour of a huge shirt.

And none of them, certainly, cooked them pasta.

", -- And I would've beat you, by the way! I would've done a kick, and a backflip, and ohhh, I would've gotten you good!"

Harvey listens and nods along. He and Bruce share one of those secretive smiles. They looked so much like Mary and John in that moment.

-

Jason should've known when he was 12, idle and careless, swinging his feet on the batmbile's roof, "Told you it makes no sense to race with Flash."

"Not helping, Robin,"

Bruce isn't exactly an expert in being stern. He looks at Jason like he's made of porcelain, and speaks to him like he might bruise with just a word. It's sweet.

It was the way a familiar two-toned Cadillac pulled up next to them, with a grumbling Harvey holding a toolbox in a wifebeater and boxers with hearts on them.

It was between 3 and 4 in the morning, and there Harvey was, muttering low complains under his breath so Bruce won't hear him.

Still, he doesn't pull away from lips kissing his cheek as he gets to work.

"Hi! Harv, Hi! Look at this trick Dickie thought me! Harv you're not looking!"

"I am! Surprised that brat called..."

"Don't you say a word about our boy, Harvey Joseph Dent."

"No boy of mine is a PIG. "

-

Tim should've known; Out of all of them, he should've known.

In his defense, he was barely 7. No seven year old knows why their neighbour waited until all lights were off to sneak out of their own house, and dramatically run in the arms of Gotham's notorious fallen angel In a pink robe.

When he tells that, Harvey, head on Bruce's lap, smirks, " Your old man just couldn't stay away from me, Timbo."

"You said you'd bomb the national bank if I didn't have dinner with you."

"It worked, didn't it?"

-

Cass should be given some leniency.

People were difficult by themselves. They're even more difficult when they come in pairs.

She soon learns everything in Gotham is perfectly crafted to maintain a balance.

There's a script everyone must follow to the sharpest detail. In such circumstances, elements cannot live without the other.

Chaos needs Rogues. Rogues need Batman. Batman needs Hope. Batman needs Robins. Robins need love. Robins need Batman.

As she surveys the rows of seats at her show, looking at Harvey's arm thrown over her dad's shoulders, she knows Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent need eachother.

And Cass needs her father's happiness, in whatever shape it breaths.

#bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #batdad #twodad #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #bruharvey #twobats #batfamily #writing #my writing #writing prompt #if you will!! #wanted to add Damian too but this was getting long shshs #harvey dent #text post

[vividwritinglove]

gray sweatpants - Pierre Gasly

I don’t know why but I kind of have the feeling it’s the magic of this campaign that makes me want to write so much at the moment 🔥 and according to that, gray sweatpants are next to a suit the most sexiest thing a man (especially this one) could wear!

warnings: smut (minors dni)

word count: 1.3k

~

The 2022 Formula 1 season has been over for a week now and after a short vacation in Abu Dhabi, you are finally back home in Milan. For Pierre, however, the work is far from over, his move to Alpine is in full swing and in addition to his training camp for the new season, many more appointments with the new racing team are pending. Because of your work, you won't be able to accompany Pierre often, so every moment you can spend together is sacred for you. However, this is disturbed with the constant work calls that Pierre is receiving.

The first call woke you up shortly after 7 a.m. No morning cuddles. You also did the morning jog alone and brought breakfast from his favorite bakery on the way back home. As you enter the apartment you hear the shower running and you decide to prepare breakfast for both of you. Besides the things from the bakery, you had also stopped at a kiosk to get some magazines to improve your Italian. The table was set, you were sitting in front of your porridge bowl and flipping through a magazine as Pierre left the bathroom in just his gray sweatpants. You look up briefly and the spoon almost falls out of your hand.

Those gray sweatpants are your kryptonite. And he knows it! They hang loose and low around his hips, the waistband of his boxers and his V-line quite visible. Although he has no erection, his cock stands out clearly. His hair still wet and some strains of hair were stuck to his forehead. His skin was noticeably tanned again from the Abu Dhabi sun and defined his muscles at a different level. His body hair had lightened a bit.

Again he had the cell phone to his ear and discussed something in French with the caller. He tapped barefoot into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, which you had already prepared for him. Your magazine was long forgotten. Thinking of your hot boyfriend and his incredible upper body, you nibble on your spoon with your lips and suck on it from time to time. Pierre doesn't pay any attention to you, at least you think that, because he doesn't look at you and continues to talk on the phone. You continue to languish shamelessly at him. Pierre keeps stroking his own chest and you wish your hands would touch his incredible body. Pierre turns away from you and now you can admire his wonderful back. You love his broad and muscular shoulders, his bull neck and the strong lower back muscles. Still visible from last night, some streaks from your nails on his shoulder blades, as he fucked you without restraint. Not to mention his well-shaped butt, which looks perfect in those gray sweatpants.

Pierre ends the call and now looks at you. Hands propped on the countertop so his arm muscles are tense.

"You have to stop looking at me like this when I'm having important calls," he admonishes you, looking at you seriously. You feel caught and put your spoon down on the table. Pierre's expression changes immediately and he grins cheekily at you. He could never be angry with you, especially not when it comes to the most beautiful triviality in the world.

"Come here." he asks you gently, holding out his hand and you listen to his word. You are crazy about him and would do anything for him.

As soon as you stand in front of him, he pulls you into a tight embrace and lets his big hands roam over your back, down to your butt. He loves it when you put on tight yoga pants, your butt always looks fantastic in them. His hands are now kneading your butt cheeks and your arms are wrapped around his neck. Your foreheads are leaning against each other and your noses are touching.

"I have to leave in two days already." he sighs softly. You had hoped to spend a little more time with him, however you were aware that you would not have an ordinary relationship with him. You knew that you would have a long distance relationship. But your time together is incomparable and makes up for any separation.

Pierre's hands grip tightly into your butt cheeks once again and the next moment he lifts you onto the countertop. Your legs wrap around his middle, pulling him even closer to you. You feel his semi-hard cock through the fabrics on your now wet core.

"What's our sex high score in a day again?" he asks against your lips, then kisses you.

"Probably 5..." you say inbetween kisses, "Maybe 6."

"Hmmh, I think we can top that." he grins into the next kiss.

"Then we shouldn't waste time." you agree with him, opening and taking off your track jacket. Pierre's hands literally fly to your sports bra and massage your tits through the elastic fabric.

Your hands wander from his neck into his hair. By now it was half dry and it was getting a little curly. You love it when his hair is wild and untamed. Pierre's hands are on another foray and find themselves at your waistband. Quickly you prop yourself up on the countertop with your arms so that Pierre pulls down both your tight gym pants and your thong in one go, tossing both carelessly behind him. You spread your legs and present yourself to him shamelessly. Pierre licks his lips. You naked, in his kitchen is an image that he would keep in his mind forever. Pierre also eagerly pulls down his sweatpants and boxers, both landing in a puddle of fabric around his ankles. You slide even closer to the edge of the countertop. Pierre immediately seizes this opportunity and grabs his cock to slide it through your already glistening folds.

"Ouh, already so wet for me." Pierre murmurs and lets his tip roam around your clit. You lay your head back in your neck moaning.

"Do you want to talk or fuck?" you mumble a bit annoyed and start to get impatient.

Pierre has to grin, he loves your unfiltered and direct way. He positions his cock at your hole and thrusts into you bluntly.

You moan and bury your face in the crook of his neck. His hands wrap around your waist to keep his pace even. You want to feel him even deeper inside you and your legs only wrap tighter around his middle.

"Fuck Pierre!" you almost cry out, because by now he's pounding into you recklessly. His pace is getting faster and you know he's about to cum.

You firmly suck the skin on the crook of his neck into your mouth. This will leave a thick hickey and you like the thought of having him marked by you for everyone to see. You were both a few thrusts away from climaxing and as the sweet relief washes over both of you, you linger in the tightly entwined position a little longer.

"You didn't seriously give me a hickey." grumbles Pierre against your collarbone, as he leans his head exhaustedly against your shoulder.

"Oops, sorry..." you say with a grin, and not being sorry at all.

"Cherie, I have photo shoots with the new team. It won't be gone by then..."

"Oh, it’s not that bad." you try to brush off his concerns and examine your artwork. The hickey is more severe than expected, even imprints of your teeth can be seen and your look speaks volumes.

Pierre rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "First the nails and now this..."

"Don't act like you're not into it." you purr as you hop off the countertop and reach for your underwear. As you bend over for it, Pierre gives you a hard slap on your bare ass.

"Such a naughty Madame." he grins.

"The only thing to blame is that gray sweatpants..."

"Thank God for those fucking gray sweatpants!" he mutters as he slips the said pants back over his butt.

#pierre gasly #pg10 #pierre gasly one shot #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly x reader #f1 smut #pierre gasly imagine #f1 x reader

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Clandestine. Part Two.

The affair was always a ticking time bomb. No one could have predicted how big the explosion would be.

Part One. Part Three.

Pairing - Stewy Hosseini x Female Roy Reader

Age Rating - 18+

Warnings - cursing. so much angst. sorry not sorry <3

Word Count - 1.7k

Author's Note - thank you thank you thank you for all of the love on clandestine!! it makes me so happy that so many people love reading stewy fics, because there is a criminal lack of them on here. i am more than happy to provide <3 as always, feedback and reblogs are massively appreciated !!

Series Masterlist.

Masterlist. Requests.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Your eyes blink open, sunlight streaming through the sheer curtains. You’re resting comfortably on Stewy’s chest, both of his strong arms wrapped around you. You yawn sleepily, wondering what’s awoken you.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Oh. That. You check the clock on the nightstand, realising that it’s only 7am. On a Saturday. Who’s knocking on the door at 7am on a Saturday morning?

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Fuck, is the noise getting louder? You nudge Stewy carefully, waking him.

“There’s someone banging on your door,” you whisper.

He groans and untangles his legs from yours. He throws on a pair of boxers, and moves to investigate the source of the knocking. You listen intently, curious to know who’s trying to gain Stewy’s attention so determinedly.

The door swings open.

“Ken?” Stewy questions, and you can almost hear the fear in his voice.

“Hey, man. Where the fuck is my sister?”

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You're half awake and disorientated. Stewy got up to find out who was at the door 10 minutes ago, and frankly, you're getting worried. Against your better judgement, you throw on his shirt from the night before and make your way out of the bedroom.

You enter the living room to be met face to face with Kendall. Shit.

You briefly wonder if you can play it off, fabricate a story, tell him it's not what it looks like!

Apart from, it's exactly what it looks like.

Someone from Kendall's team saw you and Stewy leave the gala together. And now you're here, in his living room, wearing nothing but his shirt. And your shoes are by the front door. And there's a wine glass with your lipstick print on it abandoned on the counter.

There's no getting out of this one.

Stewy wants to scream, yell at you to go back to his room. He wants to pick you up and throw you out of sight, praying Kendall hasn't noticed all the tell tale signs. But it's too late. He has.

"Okay. Uh - what the fuck is going on?"

Kendall asks the question while looking between the two of you like some sort of cartoon character doing a double take. It doesn't require a genius to figure it out, but Kendall needs to hear one of you say it out loud.

"Listen, Ken-"

"Ken, don't get mad-"

You both speak at the same time, verbally tripping over each other. You've never actually discussed what you'd do or say if you got found out. You both just always naively assumed it wouldn't happen.

You sit down on the edge of the couch, and look at your brother earnestly.

"Ken, I'm not going to sit here and lie to you. It isn't fair. But you can't get mad when I tell you the truth."

"I'll be the judge of that," he mutters sassily. You decide the backtalk is a result of his confusion, and give him a pass.

"Will you come and sit with me, please? The standing is making me nervous. I feel like I'm on trial."

"You might be. I haven't decided yet."

You can't tell if he's joking. He's certainly not smiling.

Kendall moves to sit down next you. Stewy follows, perching himself on the opposite end to give you space. Close enough if you need him, far enough that it won't upset your brother more.

"Start talking," he commands, still confused.

"It's... well I - we - me and Stewy, we're -"

"Together," Stewy finishes for you. Kendall glares at him, and he decides he'll keep his mouth shut for a while.

"Yeah, we're together," you continue. "We have been for over a year. It isn't just sex, or anything. I'm in love with him."

It's weird to finally bear this truth after keeping it a secret for so long. It feels wrong, but also refreshing - like a bitter lemon on a hot day.

Kendall is scarily silent.

"You're... kidding, right?" he asks, finally breaking through the quiet.

"Do I look like I'm kidding?" you question, anger bubbling up. "It's my life, Kendall. It actually doesn't matter who I date. It doesn't change anything. It doesn't make a difference."

He looks at you incredulously.

"You're so fuckin' naive. How can you sit here and tell me this doesn't change anything?"

You go to speak, but he continues.

"You lied to me, first off. Both of you. For God knows how long-"

"Kendall-"

"Let me fucking finish."

You shrink back into the couch, willing it to swallow you.

"You both lied to me. You broke my trust... and uh, that fucking hurts, actually. And then there's the business side of things. You work for Waystar. Stewy is a board member. That's a conflict of interest."

You scoff at him, but then realise he's deadly serious.

"... A conflict of interest?"

"It's against company policy. How am I going to trust you? How is anyone? Information might get leaked. What if I tell you something, and then you tell Stewy? And he tells Sandy and Sandi, and then the Pierces, and all of a sudden nothing is private anymore. I. Can't. Trust. You."

Tears are welling up in your eyes quicker than you can control. You're trying to take deep breaths, begging yourself not to cry in front of Kendall.

"You're breaking my fucking heart, Ken," you whisper.

"Yeah? Well I walked in here this morning, and you broke mine first."

A choked sob escapes you, and the floodgates open. Fresh, hot tears sprint down your cheeks, landing in your lap. Stewy can't stand to sit and watch any longer.

"Okay, man, that's enough. This isn't fair."

"What's not fair is the two people I trust the most both lying to my face for a year. That's what isn't fucking fair."

With that, Kendall stands up and strides towards the front door, slamming it behind him as he leaves. The minute he's gone, Stewy is wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into his chest.

"It's okay, baby," he murmurs, stroking your hair. "He'll come around. We'll be okay. If we stick together, we'll be okay."

His reassurances are only making you cry harder, sobs escaping you uncontrollably. You eventually exhaust yourself, falling into a restless sleep in Stewy's arms on the couch.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

You wake up in bed. You've temporarily forgotten the events of the morning, before it all comes crashing back down around you suddenly. Distantly, you can hear Stewy in the kitchen, talking on the phone. You look around the room, and know what you have to do.

You leave the bedroom with a bag in hand, throwing it onto the ground as you grab your shoes. Stewy clocks you, and hangs up the phone.

"Can I call you back? Thanks, man. I'll see you tomorrow."

He runs over to where you're slipping your heels on, precariously balanced against the side of the couch.

"Honey, where are you going?" he questions, panic washing over him at your frantic state. "Wait, have you packed a bag?"

He's trying to catch your eyes, but you keep looking away, desperate to avoid his unrelenting gaze.

"I'm going home."

A pause.

"... This is your home."

You knew he'd say that. It hurts just the same.

"No, Stewy, this is your home. My apartment is across town."

"You haven't been there in months. All your stuff is here. Baby, talk to me. What's going on? Did Kendall get in your head?"

"Kendall's right!" you shout, trying to pick up your bag. Stewy gets there first and grabs it, flinging it behind him, out of your reach.

"About what? He's just in shock, baby! He's confused and he feels betrayed. You don't owe him fuckin' anything. Not after everything that family has put you through."

"They're still my family. I can't lose my entire family, Stewy!"

"What kind of fucking family stab each other in the back? Lie to each other? Sell each other out for business? You're better off without them and you know it."

You know he's right. You're trying to convince yourself he isn't.

"You heard what he said! He won't trust me anymore. No one will. It's shitty, but my job is important to me. I can't be known as the Roy liability."

"Trust me, honey, you're the least likely to be named the Roy liability."

"That's not the point! You're not listening to me. I'm the youngest, I've had to fight for respect every fucking day of my life. I'm finally where I deserve to be. I can't throw it all away for... for love!"

Stewy flinches like you've punched him in the gut. He takes a step back and leans against the kitchen island, trying to keep his balance.

"What happened to 'you and me against the world', huh?" he murmurs.

"I think I got too wrapped up in this - in us. I was stupid to think it could work. We both were."

"I wasn't," he replies defiantly. "I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew it would be really fucking difficult and I loved you anyway."

Stewy swears his hard breaks so hard, the both of you hear it shatter. A silent tear rolls down his cheek, big brown eyes filled with sadness.

"I'm not sorry for loving you," you whisper. "I'm sorry for a lot of things, but never for loving you."

"If you meant that, you wouldn't be giving up."

You duck your head, unable to look at him any longer.

"This isn't giving up. This is... quitting while we're ahead. If we keep going, we'll just end up having a huge, horrible, public breakup," you stop, and take a deep breath. "I think we were always doomed to fail."

Stewy thinks about the diamond ring that sits in a box in the top drawer of his nightstand. Doomed to fail.

You finally look up at him, and all the air leaves your lungs. You've never seen him look so defeated, so vulnerable. You're the cause of this. And you hate yourself for it.

You pad across the kitchen and pick up your bag from where he threw it, before stopping in front of him.

"I don't regret you, Stewy Hosseini. I never will."

With that, you stride out of the front door, closing it gently behind you. Stewy is left, cold and empty, in the apartment that no longer feels like home.

so... part 3??

Stewy Tag List -

@shawty-writes-a-little

@616wilsons

@justacaliforniandreamer

@isuspectitwasthenargles

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