#he's so inappropriate when he's drunk i think like he just doesn't know how or when to shut up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyseokmins · 11 months

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size matters • l.c.

Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬

"I'm worried my dick's too big."

Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.

He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.

And no one wants that.

"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."

Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow — but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression.

He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.

"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"

"You're drunk."

"So are you."

Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.

"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."

You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."

"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."

"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."

Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?"

"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…"

You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows?

He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."

"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."

"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."

"You know I'm not!"

"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."

Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"

"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."

Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.

Or maybe that's just the alcohol.

Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs.

"Are you flaccid right now?"

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."

He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."

"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression.

"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.

"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"

Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him.

"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"

"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."

"Then you should try harder."

He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together.

Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you.

Like always.

Except it's not.

All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick!

You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.

"Am I boring you, baby?"

"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"

He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"

"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."

"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."

"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."

"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"

Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."

"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"

The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.

You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"

"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man.

That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.

"Ah, well, so do I!"

Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.

Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.

Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now.

While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips.

"I wanna go home."

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just feel like leaving."

He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."

"Ooh… are you jealous?"

"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."

"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."

His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.

Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure.

Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.

"You want to go to my place?"

"Yeah."

He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"

"Sure. Maybe condoms too."

"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"

Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it.

There's no one there, of course.

"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."

"You do? Good."

"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"

Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"

"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"

"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."

His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"

"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"

One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."

"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."

He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"

"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."

"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"

"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?"

Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!"

"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."

Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier.

But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly?

He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.

"You've been thinking about me?"

"Uh-huh."

"Your pussy has too?"

"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."

"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"

And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.

Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.

He needs to get home fast. Now.

The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.

"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."

The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in.

"No. You have to wait."

"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."

"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"

You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood.

He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.

"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."

His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore.

"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.

"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."

"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."

Neither one of you care.

In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future.

Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth.

"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."

Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you.

Oh, you cannot wait.

He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!

Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.

Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall.

"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will."

Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.

"C'mon bestie, please."

"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."

"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"

Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face.

"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"

His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt.

"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.

And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.

The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight.

Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.

"You can't make me cum."

"What? Why? Need to stretch — "

"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"

"God, yes."

You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."

Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.

It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.

He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.

Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.

There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face.

It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.

And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it.

The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material.

Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.

You're on the brink of climaxing.

And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.

Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.

He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle.

"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.

"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."

"Can't believe you didn't rip them."

"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.

"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"

"Huh?"

It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."

With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.

"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."

"You love it."

"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."

You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.

"Someone's full of surprises."

"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."

Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "

"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy."

You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.

"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.

His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.

It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.

"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.

You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.

It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate.

Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.

He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.

It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.

"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."

"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"

"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"

You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips.

"Mhm… yeah."

"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"

"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"

"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"

"Mhmph! More… more!"

A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength.

Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.

He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.

Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.

"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"

Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.

"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."

"All… all for you!"

Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"

Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.

That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!"

His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.

"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."

You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."

"That's not how it works."

Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it.

You're honestly a little offended.

He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock.

Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot.

You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible.

"Good thing I'm flexible."

"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut."

"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — "

You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall.

"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."

What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue.

To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core.

Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal.

But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.

Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you.

It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"

And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.

White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays.

Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.

"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."

He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.

Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring.

Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.

It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.

"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.

He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion.

Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"

You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.

There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."

"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."

"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"

"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."

"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."

"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."

It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.

"So, you're mine now too?"

"If that's okay with you."

And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter. After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.

onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©

#ez.creates #lee chan smut #svthub #svt smut #seventeen smut #dino smut #kpop smut #smut #nana 🦕#ez.mootz #1k 🌟#2k 🎇#svt.smut #3k 🎆

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yuki-world · 5 months

Text

刃 | BLADE ; DRUNK

summary | you get drunk; words that shouldn't be said come spilling out. blade indulges, no matter how how annoying he finds youー or so he wants you to think.

tags | nsfw (smut), fem!reader, drinking/alcohol, fingering, clothed sex, vaginal penetration, creampie, 2.3k words

a/n : basically i have inappropriate things to say about blade

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

"is it in your nature to be this annoying?"

"what? you're no fun," you pouted, retracting your hand holding the shot glass. "don't tell me... you can't handle hard liquor?"

blade grumbles, crossing his arms. "don't be ridiculous."

it was supposed to be a celebration for the end of you and blade's mission, but it seems like he wasn't too into these sort of things. you were quite the opposite of him. outgoing, extroverted. he's coldー exactly like ice. it's not the easiest trying to have a conversation with him, it's almost like he shuts you down in an instant with a one-liner every time you try. however, he has more or less opened up to you compared to the first time you joined the stellaron hunters.

blade finds it weird how he naturally gravitates towards you. everyone knows he likes to keep to himself, it's just how he is. but somehow, he was entertaining you and this silly celebration of yours which he has told you multiple times that it was unnecessary. you just make him feel so... welcomed, is the only way he could describe it. though you can be quite annoying at timesー or all the time, he doesn't find himself mad at you.

even now, when you're drunkenly babbling nonsense, he's still entertaining you. even you find it weird. that thought lasts no longer than a few seconds though, as you downed the shot that you had poured for blade prior.

you're handing him a shot glass again, and your face is so... red. you looked so vulnerable, a sight he's never seen before. were you drunk? it seemed so, with the way you were swaying, pushing that shot glass in his face. how annoying, he thinks. you couldn't even handle a few shots without being drunk? "just one? c'mon, blade."

fine, he will. only because he wants to drinkー not because he thinks you're too fucking cute with that pout on your face begging him to down one together with you. definitely not.

and so, he does. he takes the shot glass from your hand, and he feels the heat radiating off your skin; a pleasant kind of warmth. he downs it in one go, and your eyes light up immediately. "so you can take hard liquor," you chuckle, clapping your hands.

"i never said i couldn't," he sighs, setting the empty shot glass down.

you've been pouring him glass after glass, matching every shot he takes. at this point, you're already more or less at your limit from the way you're speaking with no filter. to be honest, he's not really interested in whatever stories you have to tell. he's more so worried from the way you're clumsily spilling the liquor everywhere.

"enough already. you're drunk," he says, but you don't think so, at least not yet. you can still think. "i'm not," you try, hands reaching towards the bottle yet again.

"don't bother trying to convince me," he says, taking the bottle away from you swiftly. "bladeー"

"don't 'blade' me," he stands up, glancing in your direction. "get up, we're going."

you shake your head. "please, just a little longer," you plead, pulling on his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. "i have something to tell you."

"save it for tomorrow. stand up," he says, unmoving. he sees you stumbling as you try to stabilize yourself, holding onto the table for support.

his attempt to support you proves futile, with you falling backwards onto the couch and dragging him down with you. he's on top of youー in such close proximity you feel his breath fan against your face. non-drunk you would've been blushing profusely and pushing him off, but partially-drunk you couldn't be bothered to be embarrassed about this position. before he has a chance to get off you, you blurt out the words, i want you.

"nonsense," is the first thing he tells you. noー you probably don't mean it. it's just you spilling out drunken nonsense again. what do you even mean by that anyway?

it's when you shake your head, repeating the same three words, even adding a 'really' before 'want', that for a split second, he thinks it might be genuine. it all happens too fast, he barely registers you grabbing onto his shirt, and before he can say anything, you're pulling him down for a kiss, slamming your lips onto his.

there’s no hesitation; he relaxes into the kiss immediately. you taste like pure alcohol from the drinking session just a while ago, but even so, there’s an underlying hint of sweetness on your lips. he finds it hard to pull away, you’re just so intoxicating. he wants more, more of youー more of everything from you. you can tell he does, just by the way he’s slipping his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss even further.

you feel so hot, so warm, almost as if someone turned off the air conditioner. you pop the first few buttons of your top open, revealing just a little bit more skin. subconsciously, your knee starts rubbing against his crotch, and he breaks away from the kiss immediately.

“and what do you think you’re doing?” he asks, making you freeze. “mm, nothing.”

“nothing?” he repeats, moving your knee away. “you’re drunk," he says for the umpteenth time tonight.

“then tell me to stop,” you boldly demand, moving your knee back to the same position, grinding against his crotch once more. you don’t miss the way he lets out a soft exhale, the bulge in his pants growing bigger each time you rub against it. “tell me you don’t want it.” your hands glide across his chest, finger hooking onto the neckline of his top. “tell me you don’t want to fuck meー tell me."

…he won’t. he won’t tell you to stop. to say he’s been waiting a long time for this was an understatement. he wants you, so, so bad. he’s not going to let an opportunity like this slip away, for it might not happen again. in fact, he might not even know if any of you would bring this up after; you might not remember. but for now, he’ll make this worth his timeー and especially worth yours.

large hands pry your knees apart, slotting himself in-between. “oh, i’ll fuck you alright,” he assures, pulling your shorts down, rubbing his thumb against your covered cunt. you’re absolutely soaked. he couldn’t wait to see your bare pussy in all its glory, and of course, his dick inside it. he grinds his clothed bulge against you, eliciting a gasp from you.

he doesn’t bother to take your panties off, it wasn’t necessary. after all, blade is an impatient man. he's not going to waste anymore time removing those pesky undergarmentsー he needs to feel you now.

he slides your panties to the side, slotting two fingers into your cunt. you take them so easily with how wet you are. it squelches embarrassingly each time he pumps his fingers in and out of you, but you're too focused on how his fingers are making you feel to be ashamed. "blade," you moan out, his fingers curling inside you.

too good. his fingers felt too good. his thumb rubs circles on your clit, your back arching into his touch. were you just super turned on, or was he just that skilled? not that it mattered, you felt like you were in heaven. you don't even want to imagine how skilled he would be with his cockー you're just drooling thinking about it.

"too loud," he complains, but he fucks a third finger into you anyway, as if you wouldn't moan louder. it's the middle of the night, door locked; no one's going to hear. he knows that very well, but he's not going to admit that he wants to hear more of your moansー it's more fun that way. your moans go straight to his cock, making it twitch and throb against his pants. he's so mean, you think. always says one thing but means the opposite.

his fingers pull out of your sopping wet cunt, translucent strings following as he pops his digits into his own mouth. he lets you watch him; his tongue slurping your juices off his fingers, making sure he gets to savor every taste of you. fuck, you taste so good, it has his head spinning. how? he could taste you for the rest of his life.

he would go straight for the source of your delicious taste, but he doesn't have the patience for that right nowー he's sure you feel the same. his fingers are eagerly undoing his pants, pulling them down slightly to pull his cock out.

"what? stop staring," he grumbles, but how could you not? the length and girth of his cock had your jaw dropping. it honestly intimidated you a bit; it'd be a challenge to fit it inside you. "i'm not staring! just..."

he spits in his hand, rubbing the liquid all over his cock. he catches the way your eyes flicker between his face and his cock in worry, and he can't help but give you some reassurance.

"i'll make it fit. you just lay here andー" he starts, rubbing his cockhead around your hole. he slowly pushes in, your hole opening up and swallowing him in immediately. "ーtake it. fuck."

"ahー blade, nnh," you whine in satisfaction as pushes more of himself inside you, your legs spreading open on its own to take more of him. he leans down, letting you wrap your arms around his neck. he pushes your legs further back, finally bottoming out inside you after what felt like ages. he lets you take a short breather, before he starts thrusting.

blade isn't the type to go slow and let you adjustー he fucks you as fast and hard as he can from the beginning. it's not like he doesn't have the stamina to back him up. he wants to hear you scream in pleasure, to fuck you dumb until you can't say anything but his name.

but he can't exactly do that when you're squeezing around his cock like that. it was clear from the start how tight of a fit it would be, but he didn't know it would feel this tight. he doesn't know if you're doing it intentionally, but you clamp around him every single time he thrusts, and it's driving him crazy.

"shitー stop clenching," blade says, licking a stripe up your neck. "or i'll really fuck you 'till you can't walk tomorrow."

"is that supposed to be a threat?" you chuckle, and he grunts. you wrap your legs around him, pushing him deeper into you. he shudders.

you make him so hard, he wants to blow his load in you, on you, everywhere. you're not hisー yetー but he wants everyone to know that you are. "annoying... even when i'm fucking you."

he pulls his cock out until only the tip is left, before slamming his entire length back into you. you cry his name out again and again, the room filled with nothing but moans and groans, skin-against-skin slapping. he's pounding the air straight out of your lungs, you find it hard to breathe. you find yourself kissing him again, this time, sloppily, as he continues thrusting into you.

blade flips you around so that you're on top of him. his fingers grip your waist tight, guiding you up and down his cock as you ride him. you grind against the base of his cock occasionally, letting his cock rub against your cervix. where did you learn this from? who taught you how to please a man this well? fuck, don't get jealous now.

"so close, blade, i can't," you're whining, hands on his chest for support. you're panting, and your legs feel like jelly every time you try to lift yourself up. you're so fucked out you can barely catch your breath, but you need to cum so bad. "i knowー shit, stop moving."

and you do. you sit prettily on his cock, letting him fuck his cock up into your sopping wet pussy. you take it, take it so well for him he can't help but pull you down into his arms. you're so good to him.

you're definitely drunkー drunk on his cock. you're drooling on his shirt from the way his arms are tight around you, his dick drilling deep into your insides. blade pants in your ear, one hand reaching down to slap your ass.

"make me cum, please, pleaseee," you whine into his chest, coming out muffled. but he hears you loud and clear, and he flips you around yet again. "yeah? you wanna cum?"

his fingers furiously rub against your clit, and you arch your back in response. maybe the alcohol in your system was intensifying every sensation, but for a moment all you see is a flash of white, and the knot near your stomach snaps. "blade!"

you cry out his name as you cum, your nails clawing into his biceps, body twisting around. your orgasm makes your pussy squeeze around his cock to the point that his cock starts pulsing inside you. he couldn't stop himself from cumming, you felt too good.

"oh fuck, cummingー" he's stuttering as he nestles his cock deep inside you, releasing his warm cum all inside you. you tighten around him again at the feeling, milking him for all that his worth. he pulls his spent cock out of your hole instantly, rubbing the dribbles of cum on his cockhead against your folds. you pout at the loss of his cock filling your insides. you're so tired, your eyes are closing.

it takes only a few seconds before thick white globs drip down your ass, ultimately staining the surface the both of you were on. "why did you pull out?" you asked lazily, relaxing your body.

"what, you're not satisfied?" he questions, playing with the mess at your entrance. "i'll stuff you full againー if that's what's you want."

...

"...y/n."

too bad you don't hear him; you're already fast asleep, tiredness overtaking your body. you looked somewhat peaceful.

"annoying," blade mumbles to himself.

but he thinks you’re cute.

ー @yuki-world

#雪| 刃 blade #blade x reader #blade x you #blade smut #hsr #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #honkai smut #honkai stair rail x reader #honkai x reader #blade x reader smut #hsr smut #hsr blade smut #honkai star rail blade smut

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lanadelnegan · 6 months

Text

Cherry 🍒

S7 Negan x Virgin Female Reader

Summary: You sneak into Negan’s bed in the middle of the night and seduce him into ‘popping your cherry.’

Warnings: 18+, smut, age-gap (reader is 18, Negan is mid 40's), unprotected sex, Negan taking your virginity & being sweet with you, mentions of family death, bleeding during sex, oral (both receiving), sitting on Negan’s face, breeding

Note: this is pure filth. If you’re uncomfortable with extreme age-gaps, please don’t read.

You shivered as your bare feet quietly shuffled down the cold hallway, stopping right outside the leader's bedroom door. The sounds of Negan's light snoring filtered through the cracks as you softly pushed the door open, pleased to find it unlocked. You tiptoed your way over to the empty side of his bed before sliding underneath his soft white sheets and inhaling the unique scent of him - leather and fresh linen.

You've always felt comfortable with him. Negan welcomed you to the sanctuary with open arms about a year ago when you were seventeen, after your father passed away. His men found you walking along the road one day and brought you back to Negan, who immediately took you under his wing and made you feel safe for the first time since your father died.

You're not like his wives. More like the daughter he never had and he's made that boundary crystal clear on more than one occasion. You've made several subtle advances towards Negan in the past.. All of which he has politely rejected by changing the subject or blatantly ignoring you.

Still, this doesn't stop you from quietly moaning his name when you touch yourself at night.

"Negan.." You whispered cautiously as you snuggled into the sheets. This wasn't the first time you crawled into his bed at night, feeding him lies about nightmares you never even had. However, this time.. you were determined to get what you wanted.

During your recent previous attempts, you'd remain on your side of the bed and Negan wouldn't even know you were there usually until the next morning - lecturing you when you woke up about how sneaking into his bed is inappropriate. You hated when he used that word. Like a strict school teacher.

A few moments of silence passed until you boldly shuffled closer to him, wrapping your hand around his arm and snuggling your face into his bicep. You breathed in the intoxicating aroma of his soft skin as your legs delicately pressed into his underneath the blanket.

"The hell are you doin' y/n?" He asked, his sleepy voice deeper and raspier than usual and it made your heart flutter.

"Can't sleep."

"I think we both know you're lyin', doll. You know you can't stay in here. We've had this discussion. It's ina-"

"Yeah yeah I know. Inappropriate, geez." You interrupted him, rolling your eyes in the dark.

"Exactly, so why are you in my bed?"

"My.. dreams. They keep waking me up."

"Nightmares again?" He asked, using a softer tone this time.

"No.. no nightmares this time. Just.. dreams."

Negan shifted uncomfortably next to you, scooting up a little in the bed and wrapping his arm around you in the process. "What kinda dreams, doll?"

You snuggled into the nook of his armpit, getting practically drunk off his manly smell as your hand carelessly glided over his shirtless, hairy torso until settling on his lower abdomen.

Without missing a beat, Negan placed his hand over yours, moving it higher on his torso. "Y/n.." He said like a warning, sternness dripping from his tone.

You ignored him, refocusing your attention back to his previous question. "I dunno.. they're just.. like.. sexual dreams, and then I wake up and I'm all frustrated because I don't know what I'm doing-"

"Stop." He sighed with frustration, running a hand down his face. "Fucking christ, y/n. You cannot say shit like that in front of me."

"Why not? It's not like you're my daddy or anything." You teased him, sliding your hand to his lower stomach once again. You almost whimpered when your fingertips brushed over the soft curls peaking out of the waistband of his boxers and your stomach fluttered when he didn't stop you this time.

He let out a long sigh, glancing down to your hand that teased the sensitive skin under his waistband. "Baby...fuck. We can't." He said almost painfully.

"Okay.. I get it." You said defeatedly, removing your hand and shifting to turn over before he stopped you, pulling you back in.

He sighed, like he was about to regret asking you this. "What happens.. in your dreams?"

With the moonlight beaming through the window, you managed to catch a glimpse of the lust that flickered in his gaze before his hazel eyes dropped to your lips.

"You treat me different.. like.. one of your wives."

"Yeah? And how's that, baby?" He asked curiously as his lips hovered next to yours.

"You.. kiss them." You stated hesitantly, hoping it was dark enough in the room that he couldn't see your cheeks burning red.

"Oh? Are you jealous, doll?"

"...a little." You admitted, making him chuckle.

He tilted your chin up, lightly gripping your jawline as his eyes dropped to your lips. He stared at them as if he was contemplating if he should give you what you want.

"One kiss, y/n." He said, closing the gap between you and pressing his soft lips to yours. You whimpered into his mouth, earning a slight smirk from him as he pushed his talented tongue past your lips. You couldn't believe you were finally tasting him and you savored every second of it.

He kissed you until your lips were sore, tangling his fingers through your hair and groaning every now and then, making your panties soaked.

You slid your leg over his until his muscular thigh was pressed right up against your aching center and you couldn't help but grind against it, desperate for some friction.

"Y/n." He warned, knowing what you were doing beneath the covers.

"Please, Negan."

His solid erection pressed into your stomach each time you moved your body against his and you imagined the way it would feel inside of you.

“Please what?” He said in between kisses, allowing you to use his thigh to get yourself off.

“Please let me come."

"I'm not touching you, y/n. But I can't stop you from coming."

And that was all the permission you needed to grind against him harder and bring yourself to an orgasm just from humping his thigh.

You buried your face against his neck and rode out your high, whining and whimpering as you soaked through your panties. "Oh my god, oh my god, Negannnn."

"Satisfied now, doll?" He chuckled.

"No.. I need this." You said, pressing your palm against the hard bulge in his boxers. "Please."

"You don't know what you're asking for, sweetheart."

"I do, Negan. I know exactly what I want.. And I've wanted you for so long." You kissed his neck as you rubbed his cock through the material. "I see the way you look at me. I know you want me too."

He sighed, accepting that you were right. "Maybe. But we can't always get what we want, doll."

You grinned, taking that as a challenge as you slid lower beneath the blanket, kissing his chest. "Why not?"

"Baby.."

"If you tell me to stop, I'll stop." You said, wanting to earn his consent before climbing over his legs and settling in between them. He sighed again, turning all the way over on his back to allow you better access.

You licked a line from the bottom of the trail of hair that led up to his belly button, earning a moan from him as he slightly lifted his hips in response. "Baby, you don't have to-"

"You said you wouldn't touch me, but you didn't say I couldn't touch you." You explained, pulling his boxers down slowly. You watched closely as his cock sprung free, and your mouth practically watered at the sight of it. You wondered how you'd fit it in your mouth, much less your pussy.

"It's so.. big.." You said, wrapping your hand around it. Your mouth fell slightly open at the velvety feeling of it as you stroked it up and down in your palm.

Negan was propped up on his elbows as he watched you through heavy, lust-filled eyelids. For once, he was speechless, waiting for your next move.

You lowered your head, taking the tip of him into your mouth and wrapping your lips around it softly. You sucked on just the tip as you looked up at him through your brows and watched his head fall back while the prominent vein in his neck bulged against his skin. Lowering yourself deeper, he let out a long groan when he felt himself in the back of your throat.

"Fuuuuuck, baby. Feels so fuckin' good."

You bobbed your head up and down on him until your jaw ached, wanting to make him proud. Finally, he pulled your head off of his length, and you watched as the precum leaked from his red, swollen tip. His breaths were heavy as he looked down at you. "Fuck, that's enough. You're gonna make me come, sweetheart.

"I want to taste you, Negan.. please?" You begged, looking up at him innocently.

"Yeah? You want me to come in your mouth?"

You nodded as wrapped your lips around his thick length again, tasting the bead of salty precum. You moaned at the new taste, sucking firmly over and over until you felt more of his warm liquid spurt out, coating the back of your throat. You moaned around him again, not taking your mouth off of his cock until you swallowed every drop.

Sweat ran down the side of his face and his chest rose and fell heavily as he watched you. "Goddamn. What happened to my sweet, innocent girl, huh? When did you learn to suck cock like that?"

"Just now. That was my first time." You shrugged, shuffling up his body until your legs straddled his waist and you pulled your shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor and exposing your perky, bare breasts to him.

You pinched your own nipples teasingly as you bit you lip and stared down at him.

"Fuck, you are so beautiful.” He said, watching you play with your nipples.

"You don't wanna touch?" You pouted, sticking out your bottom lip.

"Of course I wanna fuckin' touch you, y/n. You have no idea. I wanna touch every inch of you." He sighed, leaning up on his elbows again until his face was inches away from your chest. "But, I can't."

"Then don't use your hands.. lick me instead." You insisted.

He looked up at you through his brows before his gaze returned to your breasts. You leaned forward, brushing your nipple against his beard until it hardened even more. When it brushed his lips, he instantly took it into his mouth and groaned, sucking it gently. After a few moments, he switched to the other one, flicking his tongue against it. Your head fell back while your fingers intertwined in his slick, black hair.

"Negannn." You breathed out, and he finally pulled away.

"Take those panties off and sit on my fucking face. Now." He demanded, laying flat on his back.

You eagerly obeyed him, quickly removing your panties and climbing over his face before lowering yourself down slowly. You hovered over him lightly, not wanting to press all the way down until his hands roughly pulled you closer.

"I said, sit." He said before burying his face in your cunt. The tip of his nose pressed against your clit as his tongue devoured your dripping hole and he moaned with approval.

You lifted slightly, being too sensitive too his touch, but he leaned forward, taking your clit between his lips and sucking. You cried out as your orgasm instantly rushed through you and you soaked his face. You came hard and fast, but he didn't mind as he moaned loudly, lapping up your juices. You tried to climb off of him, but he held you in place, still licking you like his life depended on it.

"Negan.." You blushed.

"Hm?"

"That's enough." You giggled.

"I'll never get enough of this sweet pussy, doll. You wanted me, now you've fuckin' got me."

His words made the butterflies somersault in your chest. You hoped he meant it. You hoped he loved you the way you loved him.

"Lay down for me." He said, finally letting you climb off of him.

You did as he said, getting comfortable on your back as he crawled over you and settled between your legs. Looking down, you noticed he was rock hard again and he rubbed the tip of his cock teasingly in between your wet folds.

"Negan.. I need to tell you something."

"Hm? What is it, doll?" He asked, leaning over you and holding himself up with his palms on either side of your head on the mattress.

"I-I've never done this before."

He smirked, looking into your eyes. "I know."

"What do you mean you know?"

"I hear everything in this place, y/n. I've heard you talking about me to your friends." He pressed his lips to yours before looking at you again. "I've heard you moaning my name at night in your bed while you touch that pretty pussy. I know everything about you, doll. I pay attention, even when you think I'm not."

You blushed at his words as you stared up at him speechless, making his smile widen. "So adorable when you're embarrassed."

He kissed you again, so hard that it took your breath away and in that moment, you knew you were head over heels in love with this man. You just wondered if he felt the same.

“What else happens in your dreams, baby? Do you let me fuck this little pussy?” He whispered in your ear, causing a chill to run down your spine.

“Y-yes.” You managed to choke out, making him chuckle.

He leaned back up, placing one of your legs over his shoulder as the other fell open for him.

“You ready for me to break you in, sweetheart? Pop that sweet little cherry?”

"Fuck, yes. Please." You whined, scooting closer to him until the tip of his cock brushed against your sex.

Negan chuckled lowly, pressing the head of his cock right against your hole. He watched you intensely as he pushed just the tip in, stopping before he went any further.

“You good, baby?” He asked, making sure you were good to continue. Once you nodded, he slid slightly deeper, feeling resistance before pushing through with a force.

You cried out at the sudden ripping sensation, making him stop again.

“No.. keep going.” You urged him, already aching from how he was stretching you, but you needed him to fill you completely. So he did, pushing himself all the way in with one swift thrust.

Your mouth fell open silently as he pressed against your cervix and let out a growl.

He fell over you again, kissing your lips as he thrusted into you at a steady pace. “You did it, baby.” He praised you softly. “I am so fuckin proud of you.”

He moved slowly, making you deliberately feel every inch of him. He repeated this motion until your face was on fire and your lower abdomen tingled.

"Fuck, y/n. You are so fucking tight." He said through gritted teeth, looking down between the two of you as he leaned back up on his knees.

"Oh fuuck, look. at. that, doll."

You leaned up on your elbows, looking down and widening your eyes when Negan pulled out of you, revealing his blood covered cock.

His thumb reached down to swipe a trail of your blood off his dick before bringing it to this mouth. You watched him enamored as his eyes rolled to the back of his head at the taste of you and he moaned with satisfaction. You blushed hard at the sight of Negan tasting your blood.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Negan.” You answered without question, following it with a moan as he pushed back into you without warning.

“That’s right, doll. This pussy? Is mine now. Understood?”

“Y-yes sir.” You cried, as he pumped into you faster.

"Ow. Ow, fuck. It hurts."

“I know baby. I know. You want me to stop?”

“No.” You said quickly. “Please don’t stop. I want it harder.”

He smiled down at you proudly as his hips bucked into you harder and your eyes clenched shut as your fingers gripped the sheets.

Looking down between the two of you again, he groaned at the sight of your blood completely coating his cock and leaking out of you with each thrust.

You whined and whimpered, desperately wanting to come again. He grinned knowingly, pressing his thumb to your clit and making your body shutter. "You gonna come on my cock, sweetheart?"

You nodded as tears flooded your eyes and his finger started working over your clit more intensely.

"Yes, yes. Please make me come."

He fucked you fast and rubbed your clit in perfect circles, watching you come undone around him. Once your walls were done convulsing around him, he fell over you again, kissing your neck and groaning in your ear. "That's it. That's my good girl."

Wet noises filled the air as he fucked you unforgivably hard. "You gonna let me cum in this pussy, baby?" He asked, biting your earlobe.

You couldn't speak, so you nodded as your vision went cloudy and his thrusts became more erratic until he stopped suddenly, pushing himself balls deep inside of you as his dick pumped you full of cum and he growled in your ear.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuck, baby." His thrusts started again, soft and light this time as he pushed his seed deeper inside of you. He kissed your jawline, then your lips, before pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

"Y/n... I love you. I love you so much, sweetheart. And goddamn I love this pussy."

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meadowscarlet · 1 year

Text

being in a secret relationship with jj maybank.

pairings: jj maybank x fem!cameron!reader.

warnings: nsfw under the cut and inappropriate language used.

author’s note: last post for now i’m going to be busy this week and the next week so i’ll take a break from writing atm and hopefully i’ll get inspo to finish my james fic soon. do not copy, post on another site, translate or claim any of my works as your own or you will be reported! nav.

the forbidden relationship

• he always considered himself lucky to have you as his girlfriend—you were literally the embodiment of perfection, something that he clearly wasn’t and you were someone who is way out of his league

• but he wanted to fucking show everyone that you were his and he was yours

• unfortunately he can’t. you and he both know the risks associated with being together, which is why you persisted in keeping this relationship a secret although jj doesn't want to, he goddam knew you were worth every risk but because of the way you pleaded with him, telling him that your family wouldn't want this, he relented

• only sarah knew in your family about your relationship with jj but thankfully your sister swore not to tell anyone, especially to rafe and though jj doesn’t give a single fuck about that snobby asshole, he knew rafe was still your brother (though sometimes he had a difficult time comprehending that—you were an angel and rafe was... rafe)

in the relationship

• a literal golden retriever boyfriend

• super!!!! duper!!!! obsessed with you

• the pogues, whenever they are at john b’s shack (especially pope, bless his poor soul) has to put up with jj constantly rambling about how much he loves you

• like he never shuts up about you and the pogues were convinced that the lovesick fool was so fucking whipped that they weren't sure whether to be concerned or amused

• “like i just can’t even explain it, man, i love my girl so fucking much.” he would say with a goofy grin, head already filled with everything about you

• pope, looking exasperated, would grumble. “you literally just gave millions of reasons why you love her, we get it, jj.”

• will always give you compliments and shower you with praises

• “you’re so beautiful,” “have i ever told you today how hot you look?” “jesus christ, you’re unreal, love.”

• calls you “my girl” “babe” and “love”

• always. demands. your. attention.

• he’s literally soooooo clingy!!!!!

• and easily jealous

• “he was literally eye fucking you.”

• whenever a guy approaches you and openly flirts with you, he would scowl. sometimes, even though jj wants to approach you, punch the asshole, and drag you along with him, he can't because it would be obvious to people that there’s something going on between you two when he promised you he would keep it lowkey but it was just so hard

• you always reassure him by pecking his lips and saying that he’s the only guy you love

nsfw

• a total fucking tease

• when no one was looking, he would slyly palm your ass or place his hands inside your skirt, delicately caressing the fabric of your underwear where his finger brushes your covered pussy

• “my god, babe, you’re soaking already and i haven’t even touched you yet.”

• you can practically hear the smirk in his words

• so horny. you would literally just breathe and he would get turned on

• he would sometimes sneak into your room (which was beside rafe’s) and would fuck you there

• jj maybank is a fucking sex god. he knew exactly where to put his mouth on every part of your body, including your cunt, your lips, and your sweet spot in your neck and he also grasped how much of an impact his thrust would have once he was fully inside of you, given how you struggled to contain your whimpers and clung to him as he rocked into you

• “i wonder what your brother is going to think when he sees his precious sister drunk on my cock.”

• “as much as i love hearing your sweet moans, love, you don’t want to get caught, do you?”

• gives the best orgasms and he knows it

• aftercare!!!!!

• would pull your naked body to him, lay your head on his chest as he hug you close to him, whispering how good you were and reassuring you while pulling your hair in one shoulder as he kisses the other bare shoulder softly

• “soon we can do all this without hiding from everyone. i’ll make sure of it.”

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nina-ya · 6 months

Text

Patching up Sanjis Wounds

Zoro Law Sanji Shanks Ace Luffy Sabo Doflamingo Pairing: Sanji x Reader CW: Blood mentions, light wound descriptions, Sanji being a little flirty shit as usual. WC: 756

The chances that the love cook would take a huge hit for you and leave you to be the one to patch him up are high, and unfortunately this exact scenario just unfolded. Sanji is currently sprawled out in front of you after taking a major hit for you, bleeding from every place imaginable. The bleeding from his nose is most likely from the fact that you’re currently compressing some of the cuts on his chest so they can clot and those lovesick eyes he is directing towards you is practically confirming your suspicions. “Why did you do that?! Do you know how reckless that was?!” You practically yell at him as you scramble to help him. “I always help a lady in need, especially you~” he slurs out. You can’t tell if he’s love drunk or has lost too much blood based on the way he’s speaking. You roll your eyes at his response and start unbuttoning his shirt to take a better look at his wounds. He seems to light up at your touch. “Mademoiselle, I didn’t think this would be how our first time would go. I imagined preparing a lovely dinner fir-“ You groan loudly. “Sanji! With all due respect, this is not what you think it is. Get your mind out of the gutter and tell me where it hurts.”

He pouts when you shoot his advances down. “It hurts right here,” he says, guiding your your hand over his heart. Before you scold him again for his flirtation at this inappropriate time, you see the deep red that has enveloped his chest and you gasp softly. Sanji's injury is much worse than you initially thought, and the sight of the deep red seeping from his chest was enough to fill you with concern. You hold back your frustration and focus on the task at hand. "Sanji, where else does it hurt?" He winces and lets out a heavy sigh, his usual confident demeanor momentarily fading as he admits, "Everywhere, honestly." You fight back the pang of frustration and set your focus on treating him. "Alright, let's get you patched up. But seriously, Sanji, no more of your romantic fantasies right now. We need to stop this bleeding." As you work to remove his blood-soaked shirt, Sanji can't help but show his appreciation, although his pain is clear. "You have the gentle touch of an angel, ma belle." You can't help but let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Sanji, I'm trying to save your life here, not audition for a romance play." He manages a weak smile amidst his discomfort. "Sorry, it's just hard not to admire your beauty, even in the midst of all this." You smile slightly and focus on cleaning his wounds, and begin to wrap up some of the deeper gashes. Sanji winces and grits his teeth, but he doesn't complain about the pain. He seems to understand the gravity of the situation, and it has sobered him up, for the most part. “You know this was stupid, right?” You mutter softly, your voice filled with care. “Nothing is stupid when it comes to you.” he retorts. You let out a sigh. “Sanji, this was very stupid. If you had gotten more hurt than this, if you had… if you had died, I…” you trail off, suddenly becoming emotional. Your lip quivers as you try to focus on holding back tears so you can help him. Sanji sees your distress and lightly grabs your hand. “I will not die, not any time soon at least. I need to at least get a kiss from you before I can say I have lived a satisfied life.” You sniffle, your emotions still raw, but you manage a small laugh in response. “Yeah, well, I don't think ill be satisfied with just a kiss.” Sanjis' blue eyes sparkle with longing and a grin spreads across his face. “Oh? Do tell what it is you had in mind.” He says cheekily. Your laughter fills the air and affection floods your voice. “Hey, lets get you to Chopper first, okay?” You say, finalizing the wrapping of the wounds. “But for now, I will leave you with this.” Leaning in, you press a kiss to his lips. Its a tender and affectionate kiss, conveying all the emotions you had been suppressing: relief, gratitude, and an undeniable connection between you two. Sanjis' Lips were warm and warm and welcoming, and for that moment, you can forget about the chaos of the world around you two.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji x reader

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nicksolemnlyswears · 10 months

Text

HAN LUE HEADCANONS

TOKYO DRIFT

pairing: han lue x waitress! reader

word count: 6.3k words

warnings: some smut

notes: after simping for this man for years i’ve finally caved and wrote some headcannons for him.

PT. 2 PT.3

-meeting him...the first time you ever saw han was at work, an american themed diner where you were a waitress. at the time you didn't think much of him, he was just another customer who came in and out. that was until he became a regular.

-once a week became three times a week. next thing you know he was there every night ordering a cup of coffee along with a plain old burger and fries. no pickles.

-han became a familiar face, something to look forward to on your late night shifts. you knew to expect him to come around at 2 or 3 am, never earlier.

-han always scoped the small diner to see which part you were working at and sat there. his excuse was that you already learned his order. "it makes everything so much easier, don’t you agree?" he'd say with a smirk on his handsome face.

-you accepted it. it’s a harmless gesture and you'd rather serve him than the drunk american tourists that swung by the diner. that’s the thing with han, he chose you to serve him but he never acted weird towards you, no inappropriate comments or handsy actions. he made you feel comfortable in his presence, calm even.

-whenever you see him walking by the front of the diner you'd prepare him a fresh pot of coffee. as soon as he sat down on his chosen booth you'd place the steaming cup right in front of him.

-you've made it your mission to tell han how bad consuming one pot of coffee in such a short amount of time is. especially at 3 am but he always shrugs it off, taking a sip of his coffee and locking his eyes with yours, challenging your statement. you’d roll your eyes and mutter a ‘whatever,’ rushing to serve another customer.

-best believe han would watch you walk away to admire your ass, your tacky diner uniform framing it perfectly.

-han tended to order one of two things. either a bacon burger with fries. no pickles. or pancakes drenched in syrup with lots of bacon on the side. with time you get so comfortable with him that when you serve him his food you steal a fry or strip of bacon. its your service fee for being his chosen waitress.

-han is the only one that leaves a tip when he leaves the diner. in tokyo nobody tips, but he insists for the sake of the whole american diner experience. in reality, you're his favorite and he likes you so he doesn't mind dropping a few extra bucks.

-you use that tip money strictly for your manicure. every week a new color covers your nails without fault. han being so observant notices this and looks forward to every thursday to see what color you've chosen. he doesn't make his observation known but he can't help but compliment them when you get your nails done in the same exact orange as his car. pure coincidence because you've never seen his car.

-it takes months of seeing his face for him to make a move of any sort because at first he had no intention of pursuing anything. he went to the diner cause it reminds of home, california. seeing your pretty face was an extra.

-when han gets wrapped up in takashis business and skips a few days he finds himself missing you, wondering what you were up to. if it was a busy night at the diner, were there any rowdy tourists you had to straighten out, and most importantly, what color did you change your nails to?

-one slow night its just the two of you. the cooks are on the back, the other waitress is taking her break. its 4:30 am most drunks are home and the early birds are on their way to the diner

-for once han is sitting on the bar, you across from him, drying mugs and cups. it's now or never. taking one last drink from his coffee han says “you know i have a theory about you.”

“and what’s that?” you ask him, looking up at him through your lashes. your hands busy drying a mug that's already dry.

“you’re a vampire,” he says simply. no smile or sarcastic remark.

laugh bubbles out of you, “han, what the hell?”

only when you laugh does he allow himself to smile. “it’s the only explanation as to why i only see you at nighttime. you’re gone before sunrise too,” he says nonchalantly.

“where is this coming from?” you ask raising an eyebrow, a grin still plastered across your face. the damp towel thrown across your shoulder. you lean forward casually on the counter, coming face to face with the mysterious han.

“just that i’d like to see you during the day time to prove my theory.”

you stare at him, eyes slightly narrowed and he meets straight on. there's no fear in his eyes but there is a hint of expectancy. despite looking at you his hand twirls the remnants of cold coffee in his cup, emanating coolness and nonchalance.

“is this your way of finally asking me out?”

"is it working?" han asks, eyes briefly looking away, before landing on yours again.

"it is," you smile, grabbing a napkin and a pen from your apron to scribble down your number. "text me."

-the date takes place a few days later. han offers to pick you up from your apartment. when you walk out your building han falls harder for you. he always believed you were beautiful even when you barely tried when working at the diner but seeing you out of your uniform all dolled up for him with makeup and hair done. you were more than beautiful, you were stunning.

-you approach him as he leans on his car, trying to act cool. it doesn't make a difference, you already think he's the coolest ever. this is the first time you see his car and it's expensive. you don't know shit about cars but you do have expensive taste and the orange car was ringing alarms in your head.

-one thing is for sure...you have lots to learn about han lue. if all goes well he will not hesitate to tell you all about himself.

-“there you have it i'm not a vampire,” you say as you near him. he chuckles and opens up the door for you. "although i can't promise i don't bite."

“good to know,” he responds in his usual calm tone. your comment does nothing to deter him instead it eggs him on.

-han goes all out for the date. he impresses you with his driving skills, he pays for EVERYTHING, and acts like an outright gentleman. there isn't a red flag on sight. you're not one to put out on the first date but he's treated you so well you heavily consider it.

-something you had never experienced in the past is finding driving sexy. han dominates the car as if its an extension of himself. throughout the entirety of the car ride he's speeding 100 miles and you barely feel it. he swerves between cars to get past them without a beat of hesitation.

-you can look at the streets of tokyo another time. right now your focus is on him. how he grips the steering wheel with one hand, the other on the gear stick. he glances your way and smiles. he knows exactly what he's doing.

-by the end of the date you are more than turned on. the tension between the two of you is intoxicating. you tell yourself you just want to get rid of your dry spell but it’s all a lie. han turns you on in every way possible.

-at the end of the night you shyly invite him into your apartment, hoping he'll say yes and he does. you entertain yourselves with fake pleasantries, asking him if he wants anything, handing him a beer, making small talk.

-the space on your small couch turns smaller and smaller as you both inch towards each other. with one shy glance towards his lips, he takes it as an invitation and smashes his lips against yours. it’s game over. clothes are thrown around, beer is left to warm on the coffee table, and clumsily you make it to your bedroom

-although the moment starts rushed, he slows it down. enjoying your body and everything you had to offer. it's so good you're glad you broke your 'no sex on the first date' rule. because han takes you to highs you haven't experienced in a long, long time

-it’s laying in bed that night that han pops the question, "do you want to be my girlfriend?" he could've waited a few more dates down the road but you two had already skipped a few steps and you've known each other for so long as well. he couldn't wait any longer.

-dating han is unlike anything you expected. first of all you didn't expect him to have so much damn money. it's his treat everytime you go out no matter how much you argue, he already has his card out and manages to pay without you even noticing.

-if you manage to sneak around him and pay, he finds a way to make up for it by buying you stuff you don't need. teddy bears, flowers, jewelry, shoes, clothes, lingerie. okay that last one you really like because it's worth his reaction. he might've picked it thinking it would look good on you but the real thing is so much better.

-now that you're dating, han has even more reason to go see you at the diner. he has his late dinner and gets to chat with you in between serving customers. although your uniform is the definition of an american stereotype he adores it, especially when you pair it with a pair of beat up, high-top red converse that are reserved strictly for work.

-he takes you to the back of the diner to fuck you on your break, it's a given. since he loves your uniform and you are on borrowed time han only lifts the skirt up your hips to have his way with you in it. you brace yourself with your hands on the hard wall, panties pulled to the side, hans hard cock pushing into you from behind. his hands dig onto your hip as he pulls you back to meet his thrusts. the rest of your shift you spend it with sticky panties, a reminder of your activity with han.

-everyone and i repeat everyone knows what you're up. how can they not? you leave looking somewhat put together and comeback with a wrinkled uniform and messed up hair.

-han is such a good boyfriend that he picks up you after your shifts at the diner. either way most of the things he does in his life are at nighttime, waiting for you to finish work at 5 am is nothing. if he so happens to have business he leaves and comes back to pick you up without question. that way he can fall asleep with you in his arms.

-eventually you start wondering where han gets his money, he's never told you he has a job. when you ask him he responds that it's from a job he had in brazil. you don't question it because you refuse to get too in your head about it and ruin something great.

-inevitably you learn about the drifting underground in tokyo and hans participation in it. you're also not interested in that so whenever han invites you to the races, you politely decline. again, cars are not your forte. you'll get bored and wish to go early and you don't want to ruin anything for him.

-it all changes when han brings along an american kid named sean. when the kid finds out you’re his girlfriend the first thing that pops out of his mouth is, “no wonder you never go home with the chicks falling on your lap in the races.”

-your demeanor changes so quick, your smile gone, eyebrow arched, tongue in cheek, glaring intently at han while he avoids your deadly stare. it never crossed your mind that there would be groupies lusting over your man. you're many things and jealous is one of them.

-han begs silently for sean to shut the hell up. bringing him here was a mistake, next time the boy's homesick he’s on his own. until now you've never had a problem with han, if anything there have been stupid fights about him always paying for everything.

-the rest of the time they’re in the diner you act very passive aggressively, smiling at sean but glaring at han. almost slamming his plate on the table, barely any fries on there, while seans has double the amount. for once han has to flag you down to get more coffee to which you pour him a cold cup.

-after dropping off sean at his house he returns to pick you up, finding you walking to the train station when you know he’s gonna pick you up like always does.

“Need a ride?” he asks, sliding the cars window down.

you continue walking, arms hugged to your chest to shield off the cold. the crease on your forehead an indication you are still angry at him. “no.”

“come on, baby. why are you mad?” han parks the car and follows you, grabbing your arm to force you to stop walking.

“because,” you scoff, refusing to meet his eyes.

han holds your shoulder and with two fingers lifts your chin up to look into your eyes, “because?”

“you didn’t tell me that there are girls throwing themselves at you!” you exclaim with a pout, ripping your chin away from his grasp.

“you heard sean. i don’t pay attention to them. i didn’t think it mattered!"

“it does to me!” you yell, punching his chest lightly. “i hate to think that while i’m at home or working you’re out there wooing these girls making them think you’re single and shit.”

“the only girl i’m wooing is you,” han reassures you, grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a hug.

“but they don’t know that,” you say but it comes out muffled as you hug him back and burry your face on his chest. he always smells so nice.

“then come with me to the next race,” he says, rocking you both from side to side.

“fine,” you pout, tilting your head up asking for a kiss. han gladly gives you what you want, slotting his lips between yours and going as far as slipping his tongue in when you part your sweet lips for him. yeah you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk but who cares.

“can i take you home now?”

“please, my feet hurt.”

-as promised han takes you to the next race, to say everyone was in shock to see han arriving with a new pretty girl is an understatement. the girls you call groupies all glared at you from the moment you stepped out, because no matter how hard they tried, you had hans full attention.

-han has always been the mysterious guy in the underground who appeared out of nowhere and became partner with takashi. no one truly knew where he came from. he was seen with tons of girls at the races and was known to have slept with a few of them but none got as far as to be exclusive with him. the girl who achieved this has the underground intrigued.

-you’re intimidated by the whole situation, the girls glaring, the loud roaring of engines, the fast cars whizzing by you. the only comfort is hans arm wrapped around your waist.

-that uncomfortable feeling vanished when a random girl approached han. she fully ignored his arm wrapped around your shoulder and approached him hands all over his chest and free arm. your inner bitch came out. you said things you cannot repeat and sent her the nastiest look. she had no other choice but to run away with her tail between her legs. han enjoyed every moment of it, kissing you in front of everybody to see. your his girl and most importantly he's your boy.

-you didn't return after that day. you had asserted your dominance once and that was enough. to remind people he was still taken you would just leave hickeys all over his neck. that would do it.

-han still leaves you tips, it’s his way to give you your nail money without you refusing profusely. he’d pull you by your apron kiss you, and stick the money down your apron's pocket with two fingers. he wants to keep you pampered and happy. you're repping him now.

-further down your relationship han learns you’re a college dropout. your family forced you into a degree you hated and was not good at and when you tried to switch they cut you off. now you’re a waitress with no money for school. han assures you that you can be so much more than a waitress even without a degree. it’s a matter of my finding your thing. he would know.

-your passion is cooking. your family is wealthy and when you were young they'd take you to the greatest restaurants in japan and asia. your tastebuds have been trained your whole life.

-when han learns of this he asks you to cook for him and offered to be your sous chef. if this was your passion he wanted you to share it with him.

"what do you think?" you ask him, offering him a taste of the sauce you were making.

"it almost tastes as god as you," he replies, kissing your cheek when you blush. he'd been assigned to peel potatoes. that's as far as his ability went either way. he was more than happy to see you waltz around your kitchen chopping vegetables and sprinkling herbs into the pans.

"han, i'm serious," you whine, taking a taste of your creation yourself.

"so am i," he laughs softly, "it tastes really good."

-you want to impress han with your cooking skills. for some reason you feel the need to prove that you're good at something. you prepare your small table with a white tablecloth and skinny candles. you even decorate the dishes with extra herbs and sauces.

-han has been with you the whole time, refilling both of your wine glasses but when you place the plate in front of him, he's at a loss for words. you turned the chaos in the kitchen into this beautiful dish.

-you're cooking is incredible. his palate is not as developed as yours but he can see you owning a restaurant and earning a michelin star for your cooking. there's no hiding how much he enjoyed the mix of flavors you put together. you're a smiley mess for the rest of the night. seeing han enjoy your creation brings you lots of joy.

-from that day on han and you make it a habit to cook dinner once a week at the least. he takes it as an opportunity to learn as well. the more you cook together the more responsibility you let him have. one day you deem him ready to use the fancy knife chef you spent months saving for.

-something else he learned about you is that you are a freak for skin care. you do it in the morning, at night, and if you need some sort of boost during the day you’ll do it again. many times you’ve fallen asleep in his arms only to wake up in the middle of the night to do your routine. han does not understand it but let’s you be.

-because of this he spends a lot of time watching you apply toners and lotions to your face. face masks are a must in your house and to not make han feel excluded you apply one on him too, including the fuzzy headband so his hair doesn’t get in the way. you sit on his lap afterwards and massage it onto his face. he secretly adores it. especially when you peck his lips to signal your done. now at his place he keeps a stash of face masks. japanese, korean, chinese, american, all sorts of face masks.

-hans habit of snacking on chips and crackers doesn’t go past you. when you ask him he replies truthfully he was a heavy smoker and this is his way of coping and getting the edge off.

-you're relieved by his words. you used to suffer from asthma growing up and your mom did nothing to help as she herself was a 2 pack a day kind of woman.

-now your house is stocked with snacks. you have a stash just for han and whenever he’s in your apartment or you guys are going out he takes his pick and stuff them in your small purse. it's led you to have accumulated points in your rewards card from the convenience store. a win win.

-han is the first to say i love you. he had offered to do your skincare routine for you wanting to challenge himself. he believed he had it down to a tee. fully trusting him you closed your eyes and let him do his thing. he pulled through and only made one mistake throughout the whole thing. nothing catastrophic. when he’s done he kisses your pouty lips layered with some sort of berry lip masque and whispers it “i love you.”

you open your eyes and look at him with a smile. it was only a matter of time till either of you confessed. both of your feelings bubbling under the surface. "i love you too.”

-if there is one thing that shook han to the core was learning that you didn’t know how to drive…at all. you're lucky he loves you or it would've been the end of the relationship.

“here. you can drive today,” han says, throwing you his keys as you leave the diner.

you catch them and throw them back, “no, that’s okay. you can drive.” there's more than one reason as to why you don't give a shit about cars and that's that you never learned to drive.

“please baby. i barely slept last night,” han pleads, kissing your cheek and placing the silly tokyo keychain in your palm.

“i don’t want to ruin your car,” you lie through your teeth, shooting him a sickly sweet smile.

“nothing will happen to it,” han insists.

defeated you sigh and reveal one of your most embarrassing secrets you've kept from han, “you don’t understand…i don't know how to drive.”

han goes slack, staring at you in disbelief but nothing about you said you were lying. it would explain why you've never asked to drive or why you always take the train or bus.

he can't live knowing his girlfriend can't drive. his life depends on his ability to drive and out of all the girls in tokyo he picked one that never found it important to learn.

nodding he takes the keys away from you and opens the passenger door for you to get in. “as soon as i get some sleep i’m teaching you to drive.”

-first thing the next day han has you behind the wheel in an empty parking lot. you’re sweating buckets, nervous. You’re not even in hans expensive car, he brought out a beat up car for you to practice on.

-"driving is as easy as riding a bike," those are hans words as he starts his driving lesson. he doesn't need to know you don't know how to ride a bike either.

"the pedal on the right is gas the one on the left is the brake. you need to press the gas lightly…baby you need to change the shift to drive first,” han says when you press on the gas and the engine revs.

“i can’t do this han. we're going to crash and we'll get hurt or worse...die," you ramble on, trying to unbuckle the seatbelt.

han rolls his eyes and grabs your hands to place them back on the steering wheel, “yes, you can. it’s important for emergencies.”

with a shaky hand you change the gear to drive and step on the gas lurching the car forward. instantly regretting it you slam on the brakes, jostling the both of you violently.

han breathes out loudly, his hands pressed against the dash to steady himself, “slowly, gently.”

out of all the crazy, stupid shit he’s done in the past this is the most scared he's felt about losing his life. you're not a quick learner by any means. just after a short hour he decides it's been enough. you barely managed to get the car running without going 40 miles instantly. don't get him started on how you brake. you don't seem to understand the meaning of gentle.

-han is as much of a taker as he is a giver. he can be the most doting boyfriend ever and suddenly have you on your knees using your mouth as he sees fit, leaving you a mess of saliva and cum.

-you seriously don't mind. that man gives you so much not only material things but love and orgasms. you're more than happy to get bruised knees if it means he's enjoying himself.

-nobody would expect it from him but he's very adventurous in bed, han is always up to trying new things he's read on the internet or hear people talking about. most times it's a success and you incorporate it into your sex lives.

-one thing he had to convince you to do was to give him blowjobs while he drove at ridiculous speeds. you agreed to try it once and it went so well it's become a not uncommon occurrence. most times it’s when you're driving aimlessly with nowhere to go.

-he'd start at a normal speed, let's say 60 miles an hour. you'd lean over the center console and unzip his pants. han would already be sporting a semi knowing what's coming. you'd pump his cock on your hand, letting your spit dribble down as lubrication.

-once he's fully hard you'd lick him base to tip. he'd be going up 90 by then. he can only afford quick glances down to where you're squeezing his cock. when you take him into your mouth he steps harder on the pedal, 100 on the dash.

-the deeper you go the faster the car goes. han leans his head back on the seat to try and control himself. a hand leaving the steering wheel to press against your head.

-the speed of the car and the pleasure of your mouth bring han to highs he's never explored before. when he slows to an acceptable speed you lift yourself to settle back on your seat, buckling your seatbelt. the taste of cum on your tongue.

-han's the type of boyfriend who isn’t so much into hand holding in public. he’s more of a hand around the waist or arm around shoulders guy.

-when you’re fucking though? oh, he’d lace his hands through yours. he's thrusting into you? both or one of his hands is intertwined with yours. he's eating you out? one hand extended to grab one of your boobs and the other in yours. maybe that's why he can't do it in public...it reminds him of more intimate moments.

-when you go awol your friends know there must be a new man on your life and they beg to meet him. they're all pleasantly surprised at the looks of him, especially when the two of you arrive in an expensive sports car and he offers to pay for everyones lunch.

-they are happy for you. it's been a long time since you've dated anyone, your last break up leaving you terribly heart broken. they can all see han loves you and that you love him. it's clear in their eyes this is not about money or lust.

-sean lets it slip that han has a girlfriend and twinkie begs to see who she is. sean agrees to take him to the diner where they sit at one of the booths being served by the other waitress. he points you out as you take someone else's order. twinkie and sean naively believe you haven't spotted them.

-twinkie doesn't fully believe sean just yet. he's having a hard time processing that han has a secret girlfriend, then again when was the last time he saw han hook up with a girl? a long time.

-like most nights you work, han makes an appearance. you have his cup of coffee on the counter and greet him with a peck on the lips as you stretch over it to meet him in the middle.

"your friends are over there," you whisper, softly signaling with your head in their direction.

han looks over at them. sean and twinkie pretend they are engaging in a very interesting conversation and they weren’t staring at han and you. "i'm sorry. have they caused you any trouble?"

"nah, they think i haven't noticed them gawking," you laugh, still leaning over the counter. "should we give them a show?"

"later," han says, tucking a rogue stand of hair behind your ear.

you lean into his touch, a graceful smile blooming from your lips, "as soon as mina gets here we can go." you softly tell him, eager to get out of the diner and go home where you can cuddle with han. there's barely a night you spend apart.

-han easily strikes a conversation with you to pass the time. he tells you about his friends all over the world and the places he's been. in your eyes han is the most interesting man in the world so you hang onto every word he says.

-when the other waitress relieves you of your shift you grab your jacket and meet han by the door. twinkie and sean are still in their little booth, sneaking glances at the two of you. han finally acknowledges them by nodding in their direction and grabbing you by the back of your neck, kissing you deeply. you lean into it, wrapping your arms around his sides. he pulls apart with his teeth biting your lower lip, hands trailing down to your ass to give it a squeeze. making sure your skirt is on place with a little tug, he opens the door for you. as you walk out he sends the boys a little shrug and a smirk, following you outside.

-sean and twinkie sit in their booth, mouth agape at the spectacle han put on. in their head you're way out of his league. you're too hot. their waitress glares at them as she slams the check on their table. they've been there too long.

-the next day at han's garage twinkie tells everyone. “yo han why didn’t you tell us about your girl?”

han doesn't look up from his magazine as he responds, “i didn’t realize i answered to you."

earl and reiko look up from the car they are working on to stare at han. they didn't realize han had a girlfriend, he's always been a...free spirit. not one to settle for just one girl. then again they've only known about his life in tokyo not brasil, or the dominican republic, or california.

“out of courtesy, man! what if i had hit on her?” twinkie says jokingly. not going to lie had he seen you around he probably would've tried to get with you.

“i doubt you would’ve gotten far,” han mutters, taking a swig of his beer bottle. he likes keeping his private life, private. he likes having you all to himself. that way no one can use you against him if something were to happen.

“bring her around, han!” reiko tells han. "i'd love to have another girl around."

“eh, maybe one of these days,” han dismisses them, standing up and heading out to look for sean. they've got business to tend to.

-han is both an ass guy and a boob guy. it all depends on the situation. in public he’s more of an ass guy. he loves watching you walk away, the sway of your hips capturing his attention.

-when he kisses you on public he’ll trail a hand down your body to squeeze your ass lovingly. he's the type to walk with a hand in your back pocket. letting everyone know you're his.

-in private though he’s a massive boob guy. han likes laying in your chest, finding your boobs comfortable. if you're cuddling he'll bring a hand under your shirt (which is probably his anyway) and just caress your tits. he’ll play with your nipple, brushing it with his thumb. it’s not very sexual but it can turn sexual if you wanted.

-han would definitely bring up the idea of you getting nipple piercings. he finds them so hot and he knows they’d look great on you. is the pain worth it? probably. he promised he’d be there with you to hold your hand, he even offered to pay for them. it’s still an idea you’re heavily debating.

-the day you meet hans friends comes too quickly to his liking. you had left your phone in his car by accident and you were going out with your friends. before heading to a new club downtown you stopped by his garage. everyone stopped what they were doing to see who was in the SUV. out the passengers sear came out a high heeled foot and a long leg first quickly followed by the other.

-you walked out looking like a three course meal. hair and makeup done and hair flowing down your back like silk. a short black dress hugged your body, a slit on the side that came up high but not high enough to reveal anything important.

-you slam the car door behind you, entering the garage filled with cars and strangers. you're nervous yet your beautiful looks hid it well. spotting a familiar face you strut towards him. "sean...have you seen han?"

"up-upstairs," sean manages to choke out. pointing to the second level of the garage.

"thanks," you smile at him. you walk past twinkie, winking at him for shits and giggles.

the rest see you walk up the stairs gracefully, surprised that nothing could be seen despite the dress being so short. han's sits in a desk, handling money from his and takashis business.

"hey handsome," you purr, nearing him.

han hadn't heard you come in so when he looks up and sees you looking like that he does a double take. he pushes off the desk, the rolling chair making enough space for you to sit on his lap.

"you look beautiful," he says, caressing your exposed thigh with his fingers. "what're you doing here?"

"i forgot my phone in your car and i'm going out with mindy and the girls," you tell him, grabbing his face on your hands to kiss his lips. it slow and contained as you're careful not to ruin your lipstick.

"you sure you have to go?" han whispers, his palm grabbing a handful of your ass.

"i do, the girls are not happy i've missed several girls night," you tell him. running a hand through his hair.

he looks up at you and says, "alright." han carefully stands up, placing you back on your high heeled feet. he makes his way down the stairs to where his car is parked.

you follow after him until a girl intercepts you, "hi! i'm reiko one of han's friends, it's so nice to finally meet you!"

"nice to meet you too," you say reciprocating her enthusiastic smile.

"here you go," han pops up besides you once again, handing you your phone.

"thanks," you smile at him.

"i should get going before mindy starts honking her horn," you scrunch up your nose.

"you should come around again soon," reiko says, excited that there's finally another girl in the garage that isn't one of the models twinkie and han are used to bring around.

"sure!" you agree with the girl, finding her nice and genuine.

"let me walk you out." han grabs your waist as you walk back towards your friends car. he opens up the door for you as you slip in.

before driving away you lower the window and he leans against the the car, popping his head in. "you girls be safe, call me if you're too drunk to drive."

mindy rolls her eyes at han, "don't worry lover boy. we'll have her back in her apartment before sunrise."

your friend allows you to give han one last peck before she starts closing the window and driving away, "bye!"

-that night han waits for you in your apartment. he hears you before he sees you. the door slamming open startles him and in you stumble with a tipsy mindy holding you up. "i brought her back safe and sound. she's your problem now."

"baby!" you yell, letting go of mindy and falling into his embrace. you kiss him all over his face and hug him close.

"you had a good time?" he asks, looking down at you. your eye makeup is smudged and your lipstick is long gone. you can barely keep your eyes open as you stumble over your words.

"lets go get you ready for bed."

-i repeat, han is a great boyfriend. he takes you to the bathroom and sits you on the counter. he follows your skin care routine, taking off the layer of makeup left on your face. you giggle through it all even as he helps you brush your teeth and apply you lip balm.

-he guides you back to the bedroom, taking off your dress so you sleep comfortably. he takes off your bra as well, the metal decorating your nipples glinting under the artificial light. grabbing one of his tshirts you've adopted he slides it over your head and arms.

-han tucks you into bed and he promptly follows to pull you close to his chest. you've stopped giggling by now, snuggling up to him. "i love you," you whisper, wrapping an arm around his waist.

-"i love you more, baby."

part 2. part 3.

i’ll also accept requests for han if anyone is interested!

#han lue #han seoul oh #fanfiction #headcanon #tokyo drift #fast and furious #han lue imagines #han lue imagine #han lue headcannons #fast and furious fanfiction #han lue x reader #han lue fanfiction #han lue fanfic #han lue headcanons

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rerefundslocals · 1 year

Text

drunk on lust j.jk

Summary : drinking night with your best friend spills the truth upon secrets within you both.

>>paring - jungkook x fem!reader (she/her)

>>trope - best friends to lovers

>>genre - angst, fluff(smut in prt2)

>>warnings/tags - horny Kook, feeling and confessions, some tears, not many warnings as smut is in part 2.

a/n - soo this was supposed to be one thing but until I actually know how to put the keep reading thingy, my first will be longer, don't be shy, please help. But for now please enjoy and give feedback through reblogs or inbox me! Not proofread

~★~

"C'mon give me a kiss- infact make out with me and then make love with me. Pretty please ____."

"Jungkook, you drink too much beer. You're drunk." Internally his words make you hot inside.

Your feelings are kept at bay because you don't really want to ruin the ten year friendship with Jungkook. Though you always dream about having him in not so innocent ways, but that doesn't mean you don't think of the softer side of it.

Dreams of you holding his hand romantically in public, give him kisses when you feel like it and make love to him just like he'd said a minute ago,but it must be the alcohol in his system.

So you don't let it bug you too much.

"I'm not drunk, I seriously just want you." He smirks at you. It's a lazy seductive smirk, and definitely soaks your underwear right through. But your mind tells you it's inappropriate because the man is clearly drunk ; karaoke mic in his hand, the beat of the song acting as background music for this conversation.

Lips pulled into a light frown, you tell jungkook that, "it's time for bed, Kook."

"So yes? You'll make out with me and let me fill your cunt?"

"Jungkook, stop! Just stop it." You're hot all over. You wish he could stop putting ideas into your head and just call it night.

Just like every other night, the next morning is a harsh hangover and forgotten words.

"I'm sorry, love, I really am." He mutters, head thrown back with eyes closed, clear to see he I lulling to sleep.

"It's okay, Kook." You whisper.

You move closer to him out instinctively ; cuddling into his warm chest, your hand reaches up to his hair as you lightly brush his scalp.

Besides his words and his flirty demeanor, you nonetheless feel safe in his arms and everything almost feels the same, as if he wasn't talking about filling your cunt.

You irraduclly swallow your spit at that thought, focusing back on your mission, putting Jungkook to sleep.

Mission successful.

You know this because his snores and the burning candle are almost in sync.

You move even closer, if possible. Face tucked into jungkooks neck and his tattooed hand wraps around your waist, the blanket falling off your hips.

That's a normal night in Jeons household, the conversation long forgotten about and the mission is just sleep now.

~><~

The next morning is a cry for help as you turn to Jungkooks empty spot on the couch.

You can hear him throw up in his bathroom, the sounds making you jump off the couch to help your best friend.

Sliding onto your knees, next to Jungkook, you bunch up his hair in your hands allowing him more space to throw up ; your head is turned to the side as you avoid the smell of black noodles and beer.

"Holy shit." Jungkook, now leaned up against the wall mutters as he removes himself from your body.

"You okay, Kook? That was pretty bad." You ask.

He nods at you, simply standing up to flush the toilet and you feel dismissed as he walks out on you,not even muttering a thanks.

You wonder if it's still the hangover making him behave like that. It could be. The alcohol can't possibly wear off that quick.

That's what you tell yourself 3 hours later, sitting in jungkooks bed, cleaned up and feeling fresh as ever.

Except Jungkook hasn't spoken to you the whole day, only when he asked what you wanted on your pizza.

He is currently sat by his gaming setup, dressed in his black Nike tech, paired with socks and slides.

Most importantly, his incredibly sexy glasses.

You snap out of your sick thoughts as you stand up from the bed to finally get down to the bottom of this.

"Jungkook, can we talk?" You ask behind him.

He ignores you. As expected. He only responds to his teammates on the other side, shouting over at them to 'take cover'

Sighing with a prominent frown on your face, you shuffle on your feet, feeling really really sad. "I'll go home then. Goodnight." Despite him ignoring you, you'd never miss the chance to kiss him goodbye.

So you do that, leaning down to place a peck on his toned cheek.

Grabbing your duffel with a weight of a mini fridge, you start packing in your dirty laundry and other essentials you had left out in Jungkooks room, tant you had planned to keep for the whole week you were spending with him at his apartment.

But not anymore, you guess. The guy doesn't even want to talk to you.

"Where you going?" Pulled out from packing, you look up at Jungkooks hovering body over his nightstand, where you stand.

"I figured you didn't want me here, so I'm just leaving." Your response is straight forward.

"Oh, who said that?" Jungkook chuckles. For the first time today.

"I dont need to hear it from you. I can see it. Ever since this morning! You say different shit the night before but you're a different, bitter person the next day!"

"So what___ you want me to repeat the shit I said? I know why I did this. I figured you were uncomfortable so I gave you space." Almost shouting in response, Jungkook keeps his cool, his voice at a lower bass so he isn't scaring you away.

"You what-? I never once felt uncomfortable. I wouldn't have laid up with you or tried to help you if I want fucking uncomfortable, Kook." By the time youre done, the room is dead silent. It's just you and Jungkook locking eyes. Difference is yours are slightly watery, the tears threatening to fall.

At the Crack of your voice, you speak up, "I have feelings for you, Jungkook. What you said last night was under the influence of alcohol so I figured it meant nothing. And it probably still doesn't." You pause.

"You don't have to reciprocate my feelings, if it makes things awkward,I'll leave. I really am sorry that things turned out this way." When done with you mini speech, you turn away from him, continuing to pack.

He so then starts, "look, I...have feeling for you too and how I went about wasn't the best way. Yeah sure I was drunk and said some sexual stuff, and I do understand now that I should've been straight forward but you wouldn't believe me anyway. So yeah, ____. I feel the exact same way." He finishes.

You both stare into each other's eyes, shock in yours and hope in his.

"You really- really mean that?" You carefully ask. Not trying to ruin anything.

His lips lift in anticipation. A loving smile. "I mean that. Sorry it took so long. "

"It's okay. I kinda liked what you were saying." The last sentence was meant to be playful and Jungkook catches on, as his lips lift into a smirk.

Walking closer to you,hands in his pocket, and nose on yours. He whispers in question, "wanna make it come true?" You nod at him.

"I do."

~♥︎~

Part 2 here

2K notes · View notes

literaila · 4 months

Note

PETER PARKER ANGST????❤️🫡🛬🤭😍🗣🙀🫡😀🫡🫶😀😟🫶😟❤️ (if you dont write it ill sob violently on the floor ☹️)

we could call it even

tasm!peter x fem!reader

summary:

"peter parker," she says, "you're like a legend around here."

warnings: unspecified angst, series, no fluff, no explanation

a/n: might i introduce a playlist entitled stupid boy which i listened to while writing this (and the other parts????)

there's a specific time of night that is appropriate to go to the market.

or inappropriate, depending on how old you are.

if you're in your sixties and sometimes feel like your joints are just notches that need to be oiled, midnight probably isn't your designed time for grocery shopping. seven in the morning is typically the best time for swollen lungs and--literal--broken hearts.

but if you're you, exhausted from running around all day, unpleasant from all of the people you've talked to, and trying to avoid anyone (everyone) you might know--and secrets you don't feel like sharing--then midnight is a perfect time. and perfectly normal, thank you very much.

you're not even sure why meyer's is open this late. there's no way the owner, jerry, is staying up until midnight to check out the lowlifes or drunk teenagers stopping by, and you know that these aren't prime business hours--evident by the crickets you can hear behind the 'fresh produce' section. maybe he forgets that it's open, and that susan--the only person willing to work here--is still on the clock. or maybe he's just taking pity on you. you don’t think he’s ever there, but maybe he hides around corners, noting the new lines on your face so he can report it back to every person in town. gossip is like a disease, and you’re never alone in a place like this. never quite at peace.

you look around the next shelf for jerry, or a gust of wind that follows him running away. there’s only silence. the echoes of your footsteps.

it doesn't matter why meyer’s is open. you're thankful for this time alone. or at least by yourself.

it's a welcome change to have no one judge you for your selection of deli cheese and baked goods. or the three containers of instant coffee you've hidden underneath it all. just out of habit.

tuesday nights are yours, and the market is your chosen domain.

usually, that is. usually, you're all alone. usually, you can run around on the carts and pick up anything you accidentally knock over. you can spill an entire bottle of wine on the floor and no one will blink an eye. jerry wouldn’t even be able to hear it from three feet away.

but tonight--on this tuesday when your feet hurt a little bit more than necessary, and your eyes are twitching at all of the lights--apparently you're not alone.

which you wished you would have realized before you started humming 'single ladies' a bit too loudly.

you wished you would have skipped shopping at all, really, as soon as you see his face.

his wide eyes--surprised and silvered by age, much like yours--and his open mouth.

in a different world, you would be shocked--shocked instead of scared--and you might run to him. you might ask him why he didn't tell you he was coming? what is he doing here? in a different world, you two would be the only people in the market and it would be fine.

it might even be great.

this subtle shift in autonomy wouldn’t hurt the peace you’re looking for on this tuesday night.

there wouldn't be this obvious horror story standing between the two of you, this looming presence. the history of a thousand lies, bruise after bruise, and scars so red that they could burn through the ground. glass shattered around your feet.

the lights might as well start flickering. you should probably call out "hello?" even though he's right in front of you, and if he was going to murder you, he probably wouldn't answer. a door should creak.

you should probably go.

you should probably run away before he can take a step closer. you don't look a threat in the eye and smile at it. you don't feed a stray cat.

it always comes back.

why is he here?

you take a step away. as soon as you notice him--behind, between, all over you--silence ensues. you might as well be at a loss for words. you don't have much to say to him.

not to that look in his eyes, or his receding hairline, or that peak on his mouth.

because peter would be here. at this time. and he would be trying to hide a smile, a smirk, when he's not even supposed to be within a five-hundred-foot vicinity of you.

actually, maybe you forgot to mail that restraining order.

but the words come out anyway because your body has always betrayed you when it comes to him.

"peter?" you blurt out, and just saying the word stirs the simmering feeling inside of you. just saying his name is enough of a warning.

"hey," he whispers and takes a step closer. you step back. he leans away like he knows his proximity is toxic. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you."

i didn't mean to.

and yet.

you breathe and forget how to blink. he might disappear. "peter," you repeat, as a form of masochism. you don't breathe at all.

"sorry," he says, again. he doesn't say what for. there could be a million things.

"um," you choke out, looking around--away from him and his manipulative eyes. "what?" you laugh to yourself, hand running over your face. you roll your eyes back into your head and laugh again. you shake your head.

you look at peter, at his furrowed brow and inward stance, and you snort. look away from him before it's too late.

you're laughing like something is funny. it's not.

it's really not.

"are you..." peter is swallowing. you'd like to pretend that his voice is hollow and cold, much like that cave inside your chest, but it's not. you recognize that concern, that softness in his voice that used to be just yours. "are you okay?"

you almost giggle at him. it comes out as more of a cough.

you wonder if you look like a ghost. some remanent of who you used to be--the person that only peter used to know.

"peter," you sigh, and step away from your cart. into the shelf you've been backing yourself into.

you step away from him, still shaking your head.

"i've got to--" you trip as you turn around and say to mostly yourself, "i've got to go."

groceries, and peter, be damned, you think, as you walk out of the building and prepare yourself to never ever come back.

it wouldn't be the first time.

you are having your daily debate with mrs. brooke about the amount of calories in each pastry, in which you tell her that you only measure the amount of pleasure someone might get out of each one—which earns you a lovely sneer—and that she should try the blueberry scone.

she always rolls her eyes at you, says something about watching her weight even though she’s looked the same since you were five years old and sneaking through her yard to catch the neighborhood cat. and then she leaves with a breakfast sandwich.

it’s actually one of the most enjoyable parts of your day.

here’s the thing about knowing every single person that comes into the shop: you know exactly what they’re going to order, and you know what type of conversation you’re going to have with them.

mrs. brooke always stresses about her breakfast, her smile a tense sort of pleasant, but by the time she leaves her head is held a little higher. if she chooses the sandwich instead of the scone, then she’s started her day off right. you used to feel exasperated by her indecisive nature, but now you find it kind of adorable.

mr. meyer—jerry—just comes in so he can complain about the surplus of options on your menu. he wants a black coffee, and he wants to complain. you always smile at him and ask if he’s sure he doesn’t want to try the raspberry green tea. he finds this less than humorous.

every kid wants some kind of hot chocolate—which you actually have an excessive amount of—and no matter what their parents say, you sneak some extra marshmallows in. and everyone pretends otherwise.

susan—your kindergarten teacher, now friend—asks if you’ve met anyone special lately. it doesn’t matter that the selection of single people your age is always the same. there’s got to be someone special, she says to you and leaves with a cider she tells everyone is a latte.

there are the people who want their lattes and mochas, those who want some alternative milk that they complain about—even though you’ve tried every brand on earth—there are the people who don’t ever buy anything, and just come in to pretend they want something and talk to you. they gossip about the other people in town as if you aren’t well aware of everything that goes on.

you roll your eyes, but you appreciate the company. things get pretty boring when you can guess everyone’s schedule.

but you like your tiny tea shop. you like the consistency. you enjoy the smiles you throw out, and the complaints you receive. it’s a routine, and nothing goes wrong. you're in control of this one thing, and that's just how you like it.

in control, that is, of course, until you see him when mrs. brooke is walking away.

“oh!” she says, pausing, her drink shaking in hand, her pink fingernails a smudge against the shadow suddenly coming from right in front of you. she is just a foot too close to him. “is that peter parker?” she asks, saying his voice like an omen, turning around so she can set her cup and bag down, and then hugging him so hard you can see her muscles working beneath her sleeve.

“hey, mrs. brooke,” peter wheezes out, a strangled smile on his aged face. his same eyes.

he is just as surprised as you at her sudden outburst, the cooing noises she's making as she attempts to crumble him.

“look how handsome you’ve gotten! and so strong. what are those new yorkers doing with you?”

“definitely not trying to squeeze me to death.”

mrs. brooke laughs, somewhat vindictively, and she turns back around to look at you, with wide eyes. “did you know he was in town, dear? why didn’t you say anything? i almost had a heart attack.”

peter clears his throat before you can throw any type of face on. any mask. “it’s a surprise,” he mock whispers, and his eyes dash to yours, then away, just as quick. “don’t tell anyone.”

“it’s not like they’d believe me anyway,” she scoffs, “you’re a legend around here.”

“i’m honored.”

she laughs again, then grabs her cup. “oh,” she whispers, too loud. her eyes are tight, as if she’s intruded. “of course. i’ll leave and let you two talk.”

and within a blink of an eye, she is running out of the shop, faster than you’ve ever seen anyone escape from here.

and peter is there, standing in front of you. his face is smooth, calm, his eyes roaming over your face like he still has the privilege of knowing any of it.

and your heart might be racing, if it was still there.

"hi," he whispers. it is quiet enough for you to feel it in your chest. his voice and the memory of it.

does he sound different? has he really changed that much in the last two years? is his face a bit worn? are his eyes a different color?

but it doesn’t matter what rattles through your head—when you look at peter, you just see him. your peter.

except that he’s completely different.

you clear your throat, looking away and pushing off of the counter. “what can i get you?”

peter blinks. “oh, um…” he looks at the menu above your head, back to you. “what—“ he swallows. “what would you recommend?”

“it’s all good.” your voice is clipped. you should’ve said pure brewed black tea, no ice, no sweetener, no cup. just to get him out of here. you should've recommended the starbucks three towns over.

he swallows, again. a hand rakes through his hair. “i… just a sec.”

there is a single second where you grant him the patience you would give every other customer—smile politely and let them know to ask if they have any questions. a single second where you treat him like anybody else.

and then you say: “do you want a mocha, peter?” with an anger that shouldn’t—can’t—be contained inside of you.

you wince at his name. the singe of his brand on you, going down your throat.

peter seems to watch this on your face, because he’s even quieter when he answers, “sure, that’d be great.”

at least some things haven’t changed.

so you grab a cup, writing his name on it, and move to grab the milk.

you turn around and pretend like you’ve just forgotten he’s there.

peter doesn’t take this hint.

“so…” he says, his feet are loud as they tap on the ground. “you still work here, huh?”

you barely grunt a response, spilling chocolate in the cup recklessly. if peter dies of a clogged artery it won’t be your fault.

“that’s nice. felix always loved you. and you loved working here, back in highschool.” you have to face him as you steam the milk, and you try not to pointedly stare. not to roll your eyes or hiss at him. “it’s different though. the decor, i mean. but nice. i like it. did you do it?”

“yes.”

you grab his cup, pouring the milk and shoving the cap on it. “here,” your fingertips burn as you pass it to him, and you don’t think it’s because of the drink.

“thank you.”

you both stand there; peter blinks and doesn’t leave.

he coughs. “i didn’t pay.”

“mrs. brooke would kill me if i made you pay for your first drink back home.”

“well, she knows where you live,” his lip twitches, but he doesn’t laugh.

and neither do you.

“is it just you here?” he asks. “no felix?”

“he sold me the shop a year ago.”

his eyes widen. “oh. oh! that’s great. congrats.”

“thank you.”

you don’t move your eyes from his face, because it’s suddenly not fair that he’s here. that he’s allowed to intrude like this.

“it’s good to see you,” peter relents, a fake smile playing on his lips.

you falter. your heart turns in your chest, just so it doesn’t have to look at him anymore. “i’m working, okay?” you say, whispering. “i can't do this right now.”

“right. yeah.” peter trips on a step back. his eyes are scanning your face again. “i’m sorry. i shouldn’t—“ he blows out a breath. “i’m sorry.”

you nod. watch the ground as he stumbles over it.

“i mean it though,” he adds, like he hadn’t thought about it. “it’s good to see you.”

and then peter swallows. you blink at him.

when he turns around the bell rings as he pushes it. and peter doesn’t look back.

he’s right about one thing, at least. it is nostalgic.

"when were you going to tell me?" your mom asks, leaning against her kitchen counter--the same one you scribbled on as a kid, smiley faces still apparent. she's doing that fake smile thing. the one that makes you want to storm off and slam the door like some mistreated teenager.

you don't, but both of you know that you think about it. for at least five seconds

"tell you what?" you ask, instead, setting the groceries you brought for her on the counter.

"about peter."

your eyes close. he would follow you around, wherever you go. he's probably hiding in some vent, smiling maliciously.

there's that teasing voice in your head saying small town, small small town, but you just turn around, ignoring it, and her, and raise a brow. "peter parker?" you repeat, rhetorically. "twenty-six, new york. brown hair, brown eyes. lived here his whole life, has an aunt who lives next door, tried to steal our cat when he was nine..." you drawl off, making a point to smile. "ringing any bells?"

she throws a dish towel at you. "you know thats not what i meant."

"do i?"

you wipe the counter with the towel, then fold it nicely on the counter, all the while avoiding your mother's eyes.

but you know she won't leave it alone. the same way she hasnt left you alone once in the past four years, like she can dig your feelings up from whatever grave you buried them in.

there's a part of you that wants to crawl over to her and ask her to make you some hot chocolate, to watch some childrens movie on the couch with you. you want to be the little kid who would've depended on that knowing glance she's still giving you. the little kid who idolized her and wasn't afraid to admit the truth--even if you did steal that chocolate bar from under her sink.

but you're grown, and this doesn't matter. not in the long run, anyway.

you look up, expectant eyes. she has your same eyes, and meets them.

"linda told nancy, who told jerry, who told me over the phone..." she shakes her head. "but may was here earlier."

"yeah? how is she?"

"good, busy, i'm guessing, because you know how she dotes over him."

"yeah..."

you fold the towel again, running your fingertips over the embrodered flowers.

"have you seen him?"

you swallow, and nod absentmindedly. you're not going to tell her about the grocery store. "yeah, he came into the shop yesterday."

she taps your hand, and you let go of the rag. she hangs it back over the oven, the ebbing silence more like a threat, her hands falling to her hips. "why didn't you say anything?"

"it's not a big deal. he came in, ordered, and then left."

"and there were no words between the two of you?" she prods. "no wandering eyes? you just read his mind instead of taking his order?"

you grit your teeth, rolling your eyes. "he asked for a mocha and i made it for him."

"nothing else?"

"he said it was nice to see me."

she waves a hand at you.

"and i said that i was working." you sigh, leaning against the counter. "that's all."

"you're not freaking out?" your mom ducks her head so she can meet your eyes. her face is sullen, but her smile is genuine.

it's like talking to a counselor.

"why would i be freaking out? he had to come back sometime."

she scoffs. the little necklace your dad gave her dangles from her neck, and you watch it. "i don't know," she says, using the same voice you do when she tells you not to take a tone with her. "maybe because you havent spoken to him in the last three years?"

yeah, the same voice says, rough and patronizing, you haven't spoken to him in five years. why is that, again?

but you snort at your mom, a defensive smile making its way to your lips as you look at her. "water under the bridge," you say, dismissing it.

you don't want to talk about this with her. you don't want to talk about this with anyone.

because the only person who might actually understand is the same person who left three years ago. who came back with no warning at all.

"did may say when he got here?" you ask, voice escaping before you can stop it.

"just a day or two ago, i think. why?"

"is he here for the holidays?"

"yes. she said he plans to stay until at least january. he's between jobs, i guess."

"oh." you smack your lips and move away from her, back to the groceries, which is the reason you're here in the first place. you take out the milk jug, walking to the fridge, but a soft hand stops you.

your mom is smiling when you turn towards her. "you don't have to talk about it," she's saying, her voice smooth and comforting. "i don't--i don't know what happened between the two of you. i just mentioned it because may said he was talking about you. it..." she drops off, wincing.

"what?"

"it might be good to talk to him. put the water under the bridge."

you roll your eyes, nose twitching. you don't need to say anything, you won't. your mother is just another town gossip, and her opinion has no sway over you.

even ask the words sink in.

"now put the rest of those away," she says, ruffling your hair, "i know what happens when you take your 'breaks.'"

you push her and put the milk in the fridge.

you're mopping the floor when the bell rings, and a cold brush of air trails goosebumps up your skin.

it's late enough in the season to no longer smell like the leaves falling onto the ground, or the grandesur pine needles showing off their lifespan. it's cold in the shop now, and you have three coats in the back.

but the person who walks in is only wearing one. one you recognize from several years ago, with the holes in the sleeves from when he jumped over your fence and sprained his ankle. the stain on the front when may threw a plum soaked rag at him and you'd laughed so hard that you'd fallen to your knees on the floor and couldn't breathe.

peter's face is wain. his eyes are cautious as they meet yours.

you're not used to anyone coming in at 5:55. everyone knows you close at six, and the few people who'd dared to come in and order a drink a minute before you flipped your sign have learned their lesson.

but peter hasn't learned anything.

"i know," he says, like tracking your mind. "you close at six. may told me."

"okay."

you're still holding the mop, sure that his footprints would leave mud all over your floors.

"i don't want to buy anything. or--" he breathes out, hands wringing at his sides, probably from the cold. "i will. if you want me to. but that's not why i came. i wanted to see if you..."

he does a sweep over you, and his words fall in the air, as if he's just realized something.

you look down at the snowflake apron your mom bought last year. it's not that dirty.

you look back up, brows furrowed, and peter's expression matches yours. "yes?" you prod, feeling that anger simmer in the core of your chest. but you've been rude enough to him.

your mom's words ring out in your head.

it might be good to talk to him.

peter swallows, whatever emotion on his face fading. "i wanted to see if you would go to dinner with me. or take a walk. or--or i'll buy you groceries, since you left yours the other night. it doesn't matter. i just want to... talk to you."

"you want to talk to me?"

peter nods. "i can wait outside, while you finish." he waves a hand, like an explanation. "it doesn't have to be long. just five minutes?"

you watch peter, his face a world of feeling that you can't recognize anymore.

and maybe that hurts the most. not him being here, not the distance or the time you've let edge you apart, but the fact that it's changed things. peter has changed and you've just let that happen. he's got a life seperate from you and there's no one to blame. he'd reached out enough, initially. months of letting his calls go to voicemail and ignoring may when you saw her in the street.

putting yourself back together in the misshaped way you are now. peter probably doesn't even recognize you--not like this.

maybe it's your fault.

but you find yourself nodding anyway, ignoring the guilt seeping through the cracks of you. you nod, and peter's face changes.

it's not the first time you've noticed his eyes, or watched relief ease into him, but it's just the same.

"yes?" peter asks, his voice rough and dry. you look at that jacket again.

"where's your coat?"

"my..." peter looks down with you. "oh, my coat. all of the ones aunt may kept were too small, and i thought--" he scratches his neck. "well, i forgot how cold it gets."

you nod, slowly.

peter nods back.

you stare at him a moment longer, and then break away from his unfamiliar gaze.

"just give me five minutes. i just need to put this away, and grab my stuff, and..." you swallow.

"okay. great. do you want to me wait outside, or should i?" he gestures around, looking as uncomfortable as you've ever seen him.

"you can sit. just--don't get any dirt on the tablebases."

"okay. thank you."

you nod, one last time, and look away from him.

your heart runs circles around peter as he sits at one of your tables, his long legs not fitting beneath it. it taunts you again and again as you try not to notice him breathing, try to ignore him completely.

you dup the mop water, spilling it on your shoes. you wipe down the last counter, the syrup sticking to your hands like a scar. you walk around the shop trying to find something else to do so you can avoid this as long as possible. your feet are cold and your hands feel abnormally dry. maybe you need to go home and shower. maybe you shouldn't be doing this at all.

you sit in the office for a moment, wishing you could watch peter without him knowing. scope him out before you hear what he has to say.

and--

okay, maybe there's a part of you that's been waiting three years for this.

that dream where he's there even though you don't want him; that moment when he apologizes and you forgive him automatically, because your heart has always been small and fragile around him; that fantasy where peter comes home and he's the same teenager you used to walk around town with at two in the morning, the same brown eyes laughing as you both slipped on ice and fell on top of eachother.

you won't deny that you've thought about this before. what you might say to him if you got the chance.

but as you grab your bag and hang your apron around the chair in the office, the words have gone some place else. what could you say to him to make any of this make sense?

still, you clear your throat when you walk out, feet aching from standing all day. you blink at him as he struggles to get up, pushing your chair in, the legs scratching on the floor the only sound between the two of you.

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catt-leya · 1 year

Text

13/05

rick grimes x fem!reader

warnings: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, claiming, praise kink

Summary: Rick never touched you...but he watched

"Now?", Rick's deep voice vibrates in your body and you sit down on your bed, "Yes, please."

Groaning, he puts his head back and the vein on his neck comes out, "This is wrong in so many ways. So unbelievably wrong."

"I know," and you pull off your pants and panties.

With your legs spread, you sit in front of him and immediately his eyes lower to your wet center, "Baby, your father is going to walk in any second."

"Please, just this one more time," you pout and defeated Rick sits down on the edge of the bed and mutters, "I'm going to hell for this, guaranteed."

His eyes are on your exposed pussy and you notice yourself getting wetter, "You're not touching me."

It's true. Not once has Rick touched you in an inappropriate way.

Not once has he kissed you.

You know full well he wants to, but that little line your age sets for him, he just won't cross.

Yes, you're young as hell, but you're also a woman of age, yet no matter how many times you've offered yourself to him, he's never accepted.

You know he won't touch another woman, but he never touches you either and the only thing you can get from him is this.

It started rather accidentally and maybe in an embarrassing way.

"I can take her home. I have to get up early tomorrow anyway and I was going to leave now," Rick's pretty lips move and you stare at him openly.

The glasses of wine you've been drinking only make his beauty intensify and you reach for his hand, which he immediately pulls away from you and instead grabs your upper arm tightly because you suddenly start to sway.

"I'll take her to bed and put a bucket next to her. You can stay here for now," Rick doesn't pay any attention to you at all and as your father sighs and nods his thanks, Rick pulls you to his side and leads your swaying body out, "Have you even had alcohol once in your life before?"

Chuckling, you shake your head and try to reach for his hand again, "Nope, why?"

This time he doesn't pull it away from you and instead sighs, "Because you're drunk as hell."

"And you're gorgeous," you blink up at him and he rolls his eyes, "Like I said, drunk as hell."

You squeeze his hand tighter and press yourself against his body, "I think you're gorgeous even without wine-" a short hiccup interrupts you "beautiful."

A soft snort breaks the night and he tries to push you away from him a little, but you cling to him like your life depends on it.

You've had a huge crush on him for a long time, and you adore him.

You don't know when it started and when you started imagining him touching yourself, but now it's practically impossible for you to cum without having his face in your head or imagining his hands on your body.

His long fingers closing around your hand so you wouldn't fall would feel so good around your neck.

Groaning, you press your boobs against his side and you notice him wince, "Stop it."

At his rough voice, the tips of your boobs rise greedily, "Why? Don't you like me?"

Again he pushes you off him and pushes open the door to the house with one hand, "That's not on the table here at all. So just leave it alone."

You stumble over your own feet, but Rick holds you upright and you whine, "Answer the question."

Sulking, you refuse to take even a step and Rick growls in frustration, "Fuck, move your ass."

He stands so close to you that you have to crane your head back to face him, "The question, Rick."

Annoyed, he rolls his eyes and hisses, "I think you're pretty. Is that enough of an answer for you, or do I have to throw you over my shoulder to get you into bed?"

All you hear is "pretty" and "get you into bed" and you reach for his belt.

Your drunk body is way too slow though and Rick grabs your wrist before you even get near his belt, "Wow, what are you doing?"

You try to get to his waistband again, but his grip is unyielding and you cry, "Please, I think so often about how you'd feel in my hand."

He wouldn't let you close your hand around him, but right now the temptation is greater than ever.

How you offer yourself to him and beg for it does not leave his cock cold and your big eyes and the advanced lip in your beautiful face, let him think of forbidden things.

But you're only in your early 20s and he'd rather chop off his hands than spoil such a gorgeous young thing like you, especially in your drunken state, so he musters all the willpower he has and growls sternly, "I mean it: stop it and get your ass upstairs."

You clumsily make your way up the stairs, Rick walking close behind you to break your potential fall.

You try to make your hips swing, "You want me, don't you? Is it my age? Don't you think it's hot to lay a young woman?"

Rick takes a deep breath and you turn to face him in the middle of the stairs: "Just think how soft my skin would be under your fingers and how firm and hand-sized my tits are."

At the word tits, Rick's gaze immediately slides to your boobs, but a second later he forces himself to turn his eyes back to your face.

In that one small second, though, he saw what you promised him.

You would indeed fit perfectly in his hands.

Swaying, you lean forward, "Doesn't it turn you on to think of all the ways you could corrupt me for all the men after you?"

His pants are stretched to the breaking point and he forces himself past you, pulling you up the last flight of stairs by the hand, "Go on, go to your room and change. I'll wait here until you do."

Pouting, you actually do as he says and as you disappear into your room, he reaches over his pants for his cock and straightens in.

He can't remember the last time he'd been this hard.

Maybe a few months ago when he saw you in those shorts while gardening, or that time you asked him to bring you underwear from a run and he had to think the whole way back about what your ass would look like in the underwear he chose.

Lost in thought, he takes your quiet, "Okay, I'm ready." Hardly true and is already looking forward to jerking off in his shower later while thinking about you.

That's the only thing he allows himself, and he doesn't feel quite so much like a pervert.

Still thinking about his shower, he takes a step into your room and then stops as if rooted to the spot.

Yes, you are lying on your bed.

You are lying naked on your bed.

Naked, with your legs spread wide.

Your hair is spread out like a halo on the bed and your pretty legs are positioned so that he can see right on your pussy.

Your pussy that shines wetly and into which you now slide your fingers.

"Rick," your low moan echoes far too loudly through the room and his cock twitches.

Your fingers disappear into your hole and again you whimper, "Please Rick."

He can't move, can't stop staring at you.

You realize you wouldn't be able to get this stubborn man to fuck you, but you're so incredibly horny for him you can barely stand it, and pathetically you reach for the last idea your alcohol-addled brain can come up with, "If you don't touch me, that's okay. But please stay here. Just watch me. That's all I need."

Seconds pass in which the soft smacking sound of your fingers is the only sound in the room before Rick takes a heavy step in your direction, "Okay."

But now it has become a strange routine where Rick sneaks into your room every now and then and instructs you on masturbating.

Actually, that night when you first asked him to, he had resolved to just watch, but after a few seconds he couldn't help the first comments and praises, and then when he even just saw your pussy twitch and your moans get louder with every word he said, he kept it up.

Instead of just watching, he instructs you how to finger yourself and each time you come after a short time.

Even now he sits in front of you and murmurs in a low, raspy voice, "Come on, show me how wet you are for me, baby."

Without taking your eyes off him, you slide your finger between your labia and collect some of the wetness, then hold it out to him.

Moist, your fingers gleam in the dim light of your candle and Rick murmurs softly, "Good girl. This is just for me, right?"

Hectically, you nod and wait for further instructions.

The fear that your father might hear you dims his voice and his words are rough and an octave lower than normal, "How many fingers do you want to use today, baby?"

Your eyes dart to his crotch and he notices how greedily you're staring at his cock, which is showing in his pants, "You want my cock right?"

"Yes, Rick," your voice is so weak he can barely hear it, "Baby, you know you can't have it."

Again you nod and he bites his lower lips, "Well, but you'd need at least four fingers for me to even have a chance to fit in your tight cunt."

His words send a shiver down your spine.

Rick knows by now exactly which buttons to push in your head to make your clit swell and you squirm under his gaze.

Even now you are trembling with excitement all over your body and Rick clears his throat: "Come on, baby. Start with one finger and then you can use more, okay?"

"Hmmm," slowly you slide a finger into your wet hole and immediately your back lifts off the mattress and you squint your eyes.

Just the thought that it could be Rick's finger is enough to make you moan his name and immediately he hisses, "Shhh, keep it down or I'm leaving."

Panicking because you're afraid he'll make good on his threat, you press your free hand to your mouth and muffledly whimper, "It feels so good."

"I know, babygirl. Now be a good girl and play with your clit for me, will you?" his voice seems to have come closer and when you open your eyes a crack, he has leaned over and is resting his chin on his palms to get a better look at your gaping hole, "Baby?"

You nod and do as he asks.

Immediately your legs tighten and you draw little circles around the puckered knob.

It would be a hell of a lot better if it were Rick's rough fingers, but following his instructions is enough for now to make you shiver and insert a second finger with a muffled moan.

"That's it. You do that so well for me," languidly you see him again now and can barely breathe as he slides even closer to you.

Closer than he normally would be, until his broad shoulders rest between your ankles and you can feel his breath on the inside of your thighs.

Still he doesn't touch you and as you let a third finger disappear inside you and spread yourself wider for him, he's the one who groans.

You're a goddess and he can't believe you want him so badly that you're going along with his rules.

He would have thought you would find a new one after the first time, but each time you begged him to come to you and how could he refuse?

Each time your fingers slide out of you, your juice drips onto the bed and your soft weeping and whimpering fills the room.

"You're pretty for me, right?"

"Hmmm"

"Speak it out, baby."

"I'm pretty for you Rick," towards the end your voice breaks and you push the last finger inside you.

You hear him chuckle softly, "Yeah? Do I treat you so well that you're a good girl just for me? That's what you like. Being my good girl."

The stretch is unfamiliar and you bring out, pressed, "You're the only one who gets to do this to me, Rick. The only one."

Your pussy is overstretched and your clit throbs against your thumb, "Yes, I love it. Oh God, I love it."

With trembling legs, you keep fucking yourself, listening to Rick's praises over and over. Soft "That's my girl" and "So good for me" are all you register before howling, "I'm cumming, oh God."

Your thumb quickens and as you feel Rick's shoulder against your calf, you explode.

It's the first touch he's allowed while you finger yourself, and that alone is enough to bring you to unimagined heights.

Your pussy tightens around your fingers and you have to struggle to keep them inside you as you arch your back and moan, "Oh God, Rick. Rick...I...Rick."

You don't even realize you've taken your hand off your mouth until Rick lunges at you and presses his hand over your mouth, "Fuck, baby, I know you came hard, but trust me your father sure doesn't want to hear you moan my name."

Frozen, you stare up at him.

His hips are heavy between your still-trembling thighs, and his hard cock presses against your hand and still-throbbing pussy.

He too seems surprised at what he has done and releases his hand from your open mouth before returning to his original position.

"Please fuck me, I promise I'll be quiet too," the plea comes across your lips as it does every time and you know you've never been this close to hearing a "yes" from him as you are right now, but close doesn't mean he'll give in and hesitantly he shakes his head, "No, baby."

Smutty May Masterlist

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#rick grimes #twd #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #twd x reader #the walking dead #request #andrew lincoln #smutty may 2023

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