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confessedlyfannish · 7 months

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DP x DC Writing Prompt #5

Damian does not glance back at Bruce when he knocks on the door. Instead they both wait in silence.

After a moment, the door opens.

"Hello," Jasmine, Jazz, Fenton greets politely, unsurprised to find the Waynes on her doorstep. Damian's expression grows ever darker at this revelation.

"Hello Ms. Fenton, are your parents home?" Bruce asks, placing a firm hand on Damian's shoulder, to ground as much as to restrain. To his credit he does not shake it off.

"No, they're out of town for a conference," the eighteen year-old says, opening the door wider. "But I think you'd better come in."

Bruce would normally decline, but Ms. Fenton is a legal adult and he has already, even unknowingly, waited 16 years. Damian makes the choice for him, striding past the threshold.

"Please take a seat," Jazz says as she leads them to the living room. She ignores Damian's swinging head as he takes in the home. It is deceptively large, a 90s style house filled with modern furniture. The walls are bright, with purple and green accents that would normally feel garish but somehow work. The stairs leading to the second floor are lined with family photos that Bruce yearns to take a closer look at. "Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?"

"No, that's alright, thank you," Bruce says, taking a seat on the long plush couch. A men's windbreaker lies haphazardly thrown across one of the arms. A closed container of Oreo cookies sit on the coffee table next to a physics textbook open to chapter 16, half covered in highlighter and filled with sticky notes. There's a child's painting framed next to the tv, a handprint made to look like a thanksgiving turkey in bright blue.

For the home of experimental scientists, it is cozy and well lived-in.

Damian repeatedly glances at the stairs through the doorway.

Bruce clears his throat. "We were hoping to--"

"I've texted--oh, I'm sorry," Jazz says, having spoken at the same time. Bruce gestures for her to go on.

"I've contacted Danny, he should be here soon. He was out with some friends." Jazz explains. As she hadn't pulled out a phone in their presence, Bruce can only deduce they have some sort of camera at their front door. This also explains Ms. Fenton's complete lack of surprise at their appearance.

"So you know who we are." Damian says, the first words he's spoken since they arrived at the house and the longest sentence he's spoken since they arrived in Amity Park.

"I do," Jazz says, calm in the face of Damian's clearly simmering anger. Bruce trusts him not to attack Ms. Fenton, but he still watches him carefully.

"He told you about me," Damian says. It is the same question, but it is also not.

"He did," Jazz says.

Damian swallows. "I see," he grits out.

Jazz's neutrality slips and her face softens in sympathy. "Damian," she starts hesitantly, but before she can say anything else the front door opens.

A moment later Bruce's son walks through the doorway, and Damian is on him.

This is what Bruce hoped to prevent, but despite his numerous checks of Damian's luggage his son has still managed to smuggle a small dagger, which he now produces and swings in a calculated arc at Daniel Fenton's jugular.

Danny dodges cleanly, and dodges every swipe thereafter in a manner that speaks to continued practice long after his time at the League. Damian is a perfect product of his training, but it is up against Danny his flaws come to light. He is just as good as he always was, but Danny is better.

In a matter of seconds Damian grows frustrated and sloppy in his attacks, completely atypical for him. Danny takes Damian out at the knees and pins him down with one arm, pressing his face into the carpet.

"Calm down," he orders. His voice is deeper than Damian's at sixteen to his twelve, the accent that still traces Damian's words completely gone from his speech. Damian growls and thrusts his head back into Danny's face, meeting it with a sharp thunk. He rolls up as Danny recoils, putting distance between them. Danny glares at him from several steps away, hand to his forehead. Damian tosses the dagger into his other hand as he charges, and to Bruce's surprise Danny does nothing more than turn his face to the side, allowing Damian to draw a sharp line down his cheek.

Damian stops dead in his tracks.

"Are you done?" Danny asks, blood beginning to pool at the seam of the cut.

Damian's expression is stricken, eyes stuck on the blood starting to drip down his brother's face.

"I said, are you done, Damian?" Danny asks. His voice is cold.

Damian hears him this time, and he flushes red. "I--you--"

Danny sighs. He looks at Jazz, whose expression is back to carefully controlled.

"Are you alright?" he asks her. She nods.

"You left me," Damian accuses, standing there holding his bloody dagger limply.

Danny turns back to him, raising an eyebrow.

"You left me," Damian repeats louder, rapidly blinking.

"Yes. I did." Danny provides no excuse nor any explanation. His stance is unyielding.

Damian's eyes bounce wildly, shifting to Jazz and Danny slides smoothly in front of her, protectively. He looks at Damian warily, not as if he is his brother, but as if he is a danger. Damian flinches.

Hope is the last to die, Bruce thinks, watching as that last bit of hope Damian had is extinguished, the knowledge working its way through every inch of his body like ice in his veins. His eyes darken. He turns and runs from the room, the front door slamming shut not a moment later.

Jazz stands up, pulling a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. She presses them to Danny's face, cupping his cheek until he holds it himself. "I'm going to go get the first aid kit," she says gently. It is a thinly veiled excuse to leave them alone, and Bruce is grateful for it as she heads for the stairs.

They both wait until her footsteps have faded, taking each other in. Bruce looks at his mother's eyes and the sharp turn of Talia's nose. Damian's everything, four years older.

"You shouldn't have come here," Danny says, throwing himself on the armchair Jazz has just vacated.

"You know who I am," Bruce says carefully.

Danny glares. "I've kept your secret. She nor my parents know."

"I know," Bruce says. "That's not what I meant. You know who I am. And who I pretend to be. So you know I am familiar with masks."

"And?" Danny asks, looking vaguely bored.

"And so I can recognize when someone is wearing one. Damian will too, once he's calmed down."

Danny's expression sharpens. "No, he won't. Because you are going to go to back to whatever bed and breakfast you're staying in, pack up, hop in your private jet and fly him back to Gotham immediately before the League realizes you've gone. If they haven't already," he mutters.

"This is about the League then," Bruce says. "Do you not believe I can protect you?"

"I don't need your protection," Danny snaps, and watches Bruce actively extrapolate with a dawning resignation. "So this is the World's Greatest Detective at work," he says, slumping bonelessly into his chair, the first teenager-y thing he's done.

"Damian's in danger from the League," Bruce says. Danny glares from his slump. It's almost cute. "And as long as the League doesn't know about you, he's safe."

"Draw your own conclusions," Danny says, baring his teeth. Damian often makes the same face. "As long as you leave."

"I can protect him. I can protect you both," Bruce says. "Let me help you."

Danny closes his eyes. He centers his breathing in an exercise someone has clearly walked him through in the past. Bruce would bet money on the adoptive sister waiting patiently upstairs.

"Mr. Wayne. You are not my father," he says. "My trust in you extends to the point that I left Damian in your care, but that is where it ends. And that was when it was sanctioned by the League. By coming here you have endangered those sanctions."

Bruce disregards the sting, doubling down on his analysis. Talia had left Damian with Bruce well after Danny had left the League. But Danny speaks as if the decision had been his.

Or perhaps, Bruce realizes, it is not that Danny decided upon it, but that Danny allowed it to continue.

Bruce takes a second to review what Oracle had gone over with him before they left for Amity. Daniel Fenton had by all accounts, since leaving the League, lived a fairly normal life. His adoptive parents were eccentric scientists dabbling in the occult but their findings that bordered pseudoscience circulated a very niche community of like-minded eccentrics. The bulk of their income came from alternative energy, a more viable source of study that they'd veered harder into in the past year or so, a government contract with the EPA currently in the works. This had in part funded a vacation to an all-inclusive resort the family had taken that past summer.

Danny received average grades in school, above average in science and mathematics, declining sharply in his freshman year and sophomore year before evening out around the second semester. He had gotten into fights repeatedly with one student in particular, suspended for two weeks following an incident that resulted in a the student receiving a black eye. Teachers reported him to be highly intelligent but distracted and removed. They had recommended he be evaluated for an attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder. He had no social media. He had missed multiple picture days. The ones he had attended he was sneezing, or a blur of movement, even going so far as to fall off his stool, legs flailing. Bruce had drank up every last one as Barbara had waited patiently.

A normal life. A family vacation to Bermuda. Average grades.

His freshman year, distracted and removed. The same year Damian had arrived at Bruce's home. Masks upon masks.

"You have informants within the League," Bruce says. Danny, to his credit, has no discernible tell. But there is no other explanation. "What will you do, if they find out you are alive?"

"That is none of your concern," Danny says, but he might as well be saying whatever I have to.

He never stopped practicing, after all.

"If they go after Damian, it is my concern."

"And that is why you need to take Damian back to Gotham before they do." Danny says. "I will take care of it."

Damian had barely spoken since he had realized Danyal was alive. But Bruce had seen the reverence in his eyes as he looked at the file.

"الوريث الصحيح" he had murmured. The rightful heir.

"You are proposing going after the entirety of the League with no backup," Bruce says. "Even if you think they won't kill you, you won't win either."

"Maybe they will," Danny says lightly. "Kill me. That would also work."

Bruce inhales sharply. "Danny," he starts.

"Go home, Mr. Wayne," Danny says, pushing himself up with one hand. The other still clutches the wad of tissue to his cheek, partially soaked with blood. "Go take care of your son."

"I'll go," Bruce says, "I'll take him to the Watchtower. And then I'll come back."

"Mr. Wayne-"

"I should've come for you," Bruce interrupts. "Sixteen years ago. I should've come for you."

Danny's brow furrows. "You had no idea I existed."

"But if I had. I would've come. I never would've left you there. And now that I know, I am not leaving you now."

For the first time Bruce watches Danny be completely caught off guard. He openly gapes at Bruce.

"You would've died," Danny lands on, voice thin. "They would've killed you."

"Unlike you, I would've brought backup." Bruce says, mimicking Danny's lightness.

He's lying. Sixteen years ago he would've thrown himself at the League to save his newborn son without a plan, without a thought beyond rescuing his baby.

Danny barks out a laugh. "You would've laid siege to Nanda Parbat with The Big Blue Boy Scout?" he looks wistful. "That would've been rad."

Bruce sees his opening. "Danny," he stands, eye to eye with his son. "Let me help you."

Danny evaluates him. "The Batman," he says softly. "I didn't want you to come, then. I didn't need one more person I had to prove myself to. All I wanted was to live amongst the stars, in the quiet of the cosmos."

"You want to be an astronaut," Bruce says. At Danny's cocked head, he says without shame, "I read your essay on personal heroes. You wrote about Edward White. Ad Astra Per Aspera."

Danny smiles slightly, sadly. "It is a rough road."

"You can be whatever you want to be," Bruce says. "I won't stand in your way."

"Even if I want to be Danny Fenton?" he asks.

"Even then."

Danny sighs. "I don't need your help Bruce," he says. "No," he says as Bruce opens his mouth. He pulls the wad of tissues away from his cheek. Underneath the splotches of dried blood the gash in his face has cleanly knit itself together, a faint white line now all that remains.

"I don't need your help," he says clearly. He holds a palm forward, and a green fire grows from its center, until the flames are licking delicately up his fingers.

"I know The Batman does not kill. But I am not a Robin. I am something else entirely," Danny says, his eyes reflecting the green of the flames. Or not, as he looks up at Bruce, his eyes green all on their own. They are sad. This is why he stayed away, Bruce realizes. Not out of fear. Danny is not afraid. Danny is tired.

But for his brother, Danny will wake up.

"And If the League takes one step towards Damian, I will raze them to the ground."

#Danny I AM RETIRED FROM MURDER Fenton #the informants are ghosts #the thing about deductive reasoning is sometimes you deduct incorrectly #particularly when you don't know about the ghosts #danyal al ghul #damian wayne #danny phantom #batman #dp x dc au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dp x dc prompt #bruce wayne #this is an au where damian doesn't get blown up and lose most of his vital organs #like bruce still isn't a super responsible parent but no nine year olds blow up so that's something #danny: he only blew up once so he can stay with you #batman: he did get speared straight through but we fixed it #danny: he wHAT #i wrote this instead of eating dinner #because drafts are for the mentally healthy #tbh i don't think his name would be danyal al ghul in this one #he's trying really hard to stay under the radar I don't think he would choose essentially a homonym

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lemonlover1110 · 2 months

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𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒

Toji Fushiguro

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji's girlfriend can be a brat but he punishes her for it (he forgets about the punishing halfway through)

Warnings: Smut, Age Gap (Reader in 20s, Toji 40s), Daddy Kink, Praising, Degrading, Face Fucking, Titjob, Spitting, Cum Eating, Double Penetration, Sex Toys, Vaginal Sex, Anal Sex, Spanking, Creampie

*This is a repost LMAO here's the original one (I'm the author to both so don't come into my inbox bc you didn't look) anyway. I did tell my readers I would repost certain works for a reason❤️

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Toji simply adores when his girlfriend misbehaves. He acts as if he doesn’t and acts embarrassed when she’s suddenly a brat in front of all of his friends, but of course he won’t praise her for it. He punishes her for it, and God, does he love punishing her for it.

“You need to learn how to watch your mouth.” Toji tells you, nearly ripping the dress off you. You act clueless, batting your eyelashes as the very expensive dress is thrown somewhere else in the room. You take a seat on the edge of the bed as his hand goes under your chin and he tilts your head up. He doesn’t know what he wants to do with you. Or he does know, yet he doesn’t know how to start.

One hand begins to unbuckle his belt while the other squeezes your face. He looks into your eyes, you’re trying to look innocent but he can read right through it. He takes off the belt and ends up tossing it to the side before his hand unbutton his pants. “What will I do with you?”

He stops squeezing your face and takes off his pants along with his boxers. His hand goes to his cock and he strokes it slowly, deciding what he’ll do first. Before he orders, “Open your mouth, nice and wide for me.”

You shake your head until Toji furrows his eyebrows. He orders it once again, much meaner, “I told you to open your fucking mouth.”

You end up opening your mouth, and he pushes your head on his cock. Every inch that you can take of his cock goes into your mouth. You’re gagging, not being able to take it all. Drool falls down from your mouth to your chin, tears welling up in your eyes. You love it.

And you love it even more when he begins to move his hips, his hands gripping your hair. You look up at him with the eyes he loves to watch. He can tell that you’re loving this. You’re such a brat on purpose so he ends up doing this. “I hate how such a filthy mouth feels so good.”

He’s groaning, shutting his eyes as he lets himself loose. Your mouth feels so perfect around him, and the sound of your gagging is like music to his ears.

He looks down at you, seeing the tears stream down your face. It brings him satisfaction, and he knows that you’re satisfied as well. Otherwise you wouldn’t have been such a brat in front of his friends. They already criticize him for dating a woman nearly twenty years younger than him, it doesn’t get better when you act like such a brat.

His balls slap against your chin with his every move. His hips get faster as his release gets closer and closer. Watching as you struggle and hearing your gagging encourages him to go faster. It’s such a turn on for him– Everything you do is such a turn on for him.

“I love your fucking mouth. So fucking good.” He tells you, his thrusts getting sloppy. With a few more thrusts, his cum hits the back of your throat. He finally pulls your head back, and you gasp. The mascara is running down your face, and he finds you more beautiful than ever. Even with some cum and drool falling from your lips.

“What am I going to do with you now?” Toji questions as you reach behind and unhook your bra. He’s still hard.

“Whatever you want, daddy.” You answer, standing up. He gets an idea as you take off your bra. He takes a seat on the bed, and his hands go to your back and he pulls you closer to him. His hands go to your breasts, his mouth wrapping around one of your nipples while his hand plays with the other.

“Fuck me with your tits.” He says when he pulls away. You smile at him before getting on your knees. Your hand wraps around his cock and you spit on it a couple of times before you bring your breasts together and put his cock in the middle.

“Is this what you want, daddy?” You ask him, a smug look on your face. You begin to move your breasts, and Toji bites down on his lip so he isn’t louder than he has to be. He watches your pretty little face, and he holds back from giving you that satisfaction of hearing his moans. He let them out while fucking your mouth, but then he was doing all the work, you just had your mouth open.

“What a good slut.” He ends up praising, feeling your cleavage move up and down his cock. He grabs a fistful of your hair and pulls your head back. You stop moving your breasts for a moment while Toji orders, “Open your mouth.”

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, allowing him to spit in your mouth. When he’s done what he wanted, he lets go of your hair and you go back to moving your breasts. Toji now lets himself moan into the air while you ask, “You like it, daddy?”

“You’re doing such a good job.” He praises. Your head goes down, your tongue licking the tip of his cock. He’s going to come at any moment. He’s moaning, getting louder and louder with each movement of your cleavage and tongue. “Make me come like a good girl.”

“Gonna make you come, daddy.” Your tongue stops licking his cock, and you look back at him. He looks at your pretty little face, your makeup all ruined because of him and he smirks. He has to close his eyes, yet another release overtaking him.

“Fuck–” He groans, releasing his seed all over your tits. You smile at him, as his cum coats your tits. One finger drags on his cum and you bring it up to your lips. You begin to spread the cum on your nipples. You stand up and your head goes down while you bring your tits up to your lips, licking his cum off.

He watches you lick his cum off your nipples and he swears he could burst all over again. He sits quietly for a moment before he stands up. He unbuttons his shirt and ends up taking it off.

“Get on the bed.” He orders and you do as he says. You sit down on the bed while Toji goes to your nightstand. He opens the first drawer and he pulls out what he needs before walking back to you. “On your stomach, ass in the air.”

You take off your panties before getting on all fours on the bed. You arch your back and wait for Toji to do something with the dildo he pulled out of your nightstand. He pours cold lube on your ass and then on the toy.

“You want me to stick this toy up your ass, baby? Will you take it like a good girl?” He questions, smacking your ass cheek with the toy he holds.

“Yes, daddy.” You respond, making Toji smack your ass with the toy again. He teases your asshole with the dildo for a bit before he begins to push it in. A gasp leaves your lips as the toy fills up your ass. Toji chuckles at your reaction, still pushing it in until he can’t push it in more.

His hand begins to move the toy, and you begin to moan in pleasure. It always takes you a moment to adjust, but you fucking love getting your ass fucked. The toy feels nice, but you like it more when it’s Toji is the one inside of you.

“You like that, baby?” He asks and you hum in response. The moans that leave your lips are more than a good enough answer. He’s still going to ask.

He smacks your ass while he moves the toy faster, “It’s so good, daddy.”

“Oh yeah, baby? How would you like me to put my dick in your pussy too?” He questions, one hand reaching to grab one of your hands to bring it back, “Fuck your ass, baby. Be a good girl and fuck your ass.”

You begin to move the toy, much slower than he was, while the tip of his cock runs through your folds. He pushes his cock into your cunt, and he doesn’t waste any time. Every inch is pushed into your cunt and he begins to rapidly move. One thing about you that he loves is that you never complain.

“What a good girl. Taking it all with no problem.” He praises you. He’s hissing at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around him, and the sigh of you fucking yourself in the ass certainly adds to the pleasure. His eyes are practically rolling to the back of his head as he moves in and out of you.

“Your tight little pussy is so good, fucking love it.” He smacks your ass again. He wishes he could look at your face while you’re taking it all. Your eyes are probably rolling to the back of your head as he fucks you and that toy moves in and out of you.

One hand goes to your hip while the other grabs your toy and he begins to move it in and out of you again. You feel so good with Toji and the toy. You feel your orgasm approach as both his cock and the toy hit all the right spots. You’re moaning his name uncontrollably as you feel your climax approach.

He’s moaning as he feels your cunt tighten around him. The sound of skin smacking and your moans that get louder and louder are very preeminent in the room. “I’m gonna come, Toji.”

“Come all over my cock like a good girl.” Toji says. You loudly moan his name, your body spasming as you come on his cock. He takes the toy out of your ass and both his hands go to your hips, gripping hard enough to leave bruises. He’s chasing after his third release for the night. “Taking it like a good girl, so proud of you.”

Now he’s the one moaning your name, in disbelief at how good your cunt is making him feel. God, everything about you is just so perfect. He comes to a stop and his cum fills you up. He doesn’t pull out until he makes sure every drop is in your cunt.

When he pulls out he warns, “Next time I won’t be so nice.”

“Sorry, daddy.”

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katsu28 · 20 days

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lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?”

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard.

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando��s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours.

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment.

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst.

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one.

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.”

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?”

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—”

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them.

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could.

“I have something for you.” You said softly.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting.

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately.

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand.

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation.

“The place we first met.”

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers.

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.”

“Me?”

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.”

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.”

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.”

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.”

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.”

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.”

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.”

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.”

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!”

“Always so dramatic, you.”

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?”

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?”

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips.

“By hiding out in here with me?”

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.”

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.”

“Well maybe people should start!”

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?”

A sudden silence blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know.

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again.

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time.

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his.

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely.

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted.

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.”

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.”

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.”

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.”

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet.

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?”

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.”

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss.

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave.

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!”

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?”

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were.

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot

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seventhcallisto · 24 days

Text

Channie. Chris. ( bang chan )

MDNI ! 18+ CONTENT AHEAD !

smut and fluff. bang chan x afab! reader (nn: sweet girl used once). Unprotected sex (wrap it pls ffs). Breeding. Slight edging. I love u's during it. Can be considered soft dom chan, but there really are no roles here, yall.

Chan is such a soft lover. The type to wrap around your waist in the kitchen and kiss your shoulder, swaying you back and forth in a slow waltz. The type to kiss your neck as you let him message it. The type to go out of his way to get you something you want or like.

The type to hold an extra pair of shoes for you in case the heels you're wearing start to hurt. The type to love casual affection. The type to hold your hand and listen to you ramble with the most content and focused expression on his face. Chan was that type of lover.

Chan is also the type of lover to fold you in half as he gives you the dicking of a lifetime. With your legs over his broad shoulders and singing the sweet music only he knows how to drive out of you.

Watching your glistening cunt catch in the night light and shine with slick, creamy from the previous orgasms he has already pried out of you and yet- he's still to reach his own peak everytime he sinks back in to the hilt. Catching himself and slowing down to edge it on- he loves to talk you through it when he does it.

"Gonna cum soon sweetheart?" he'd murmur, husky and out of breath from the brutal pace he's already set for the two of you, slowing down til his thrusts are pushing you- digging deeper and deeper into your cunt until theres no space for him to go. "You're so good for me, baby. Gonna fill you real good, okay?" You're folded, yet he leans down to place his strong arms by your head. You're fucked out and it's all thanks to your boyfriend- your lover.

And he has the guts to smile, to bite his lip and kiss the corner of your mouth, leaning more of his weight onto the bed so he's practically on you- one with you. "Talk to me pretty," he'd ask again, stopping abruptly, then slowing to a grind- torture of pleasure on his handsome face, his cockhead hitting a part of you that has only ever been reached by him.

"I-I'm channie-" you hiccup as quietly as you can manage, jolting in his grasp due to the way everytime he does it, your clit throbs- sore from so many orgasms before, and you whimper once again when he slows down even more, telling you to respond in his own way. "Channie, need you to cum in me please- please please" you'd bargain- chans got a thing for breeding.

"Yeah? Say please one more time f'me-" His tired voice asks, his face hovering over yours. He watches your expressions - your feelings and the satisfaction of his sped up pounding wash over you. "My sweet girl, fuck-" he hisses when you clench again and again- signaling you're going to cum for the 4th time soon.

"Please- oh fuck- chan- chris," you whimper his name once again, something different this time - his name, which you know gets to him. That makes him weak in the knees, soft and mushy.

The way chan has you is everything to him - you're perfect, made just for him and him for you. He can't wait to marry you one day, to put a giant ring on your finger and settle down. You're everything to him- always have been- always will be.

And with another hard slam of his hips, you're scrunching up around him, calling his name with a shriveled cry and digging your nails into his back, not like he minds. Legs squeezing over his shoulder until he drops them down to place himself back between your parted and soaked thighs, hiking them up and over his arms to keep you spread for his wide form.

"Almost there baby, where d'you want it?" He groans, and it reverbs off his chest into yours, his head falling into the junction of your neck to place a sloppy kiss over the countless red blots of hickeys lining up over you. You shake with every push, every pull of his hips, and how hard he drills his cock into you, pumping you with his entire length and dragging out your already exhausting orgasm.

"In-" you stutter, whimpering once more when his dark happy trails skims over your clit from another thrust. "In me, inside chan, please chris?" And oh- it's everything to have you beg for him like this. His cock twitches- his groan deeper this time as he nears his peak.

The harder he bucks inside you, the farther you slip into his lap, his knees placed under you, your body halfway over his strong thighs, he holds you tight there with a grip to your waist, blow after blow, grunt after moan. His eyebrows scrunching, and his eyes locking with yours as he pulls back to lean his head on your forehead.

"I- fuck baby i love you so much," he strains as finally, his eyes drift shut and his face scrunches with pure unaltered bliss, his mouth falling slack. His cum floods you, warm and sticky and so much it has you gasping- his hips stuttering.

He falls over you with a heavy- breathless sigh, his sticky naked skin sticking to yours. You're finally able to catch your breath as well, thighs trembling from around his waist and then unfolding to straighten out cause they're sore, obviously. Chan breathes against you, steadying his breath and listening to yours do the same, your heart pounds against his chest and everything just feels to right to move.

He places a sweet kiss against your jaw, tugging himself to lean on his arm. His face is soft- lax and red. Yours is probably dazed, and fucked to oblivion. But chan smiles anyways, kissing you as softly as he's done hundreds of times before.

"You okay?" He questions with a hum, lips stretching out and his eyes curling to showcase how he's genuinely asking. You blink up at him. "I love you too, chris," you murmur sweetly. Chan falters, a chuckle bubbling up from his throat fondly before you pull him down into your embrace.

"I'm gonna take that as a yes, yeah?" He laughs into your shoulder. You hum happily, content to be in his strong arms and tough figure. Soft and warm and giving. Ready to show you in every way how much he adores and loves you. Just you.

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planete777 · 9 months

Text

꒰ EYES ON ME .:. LN4 ꒱

( lando norris x reader )

IN WHICH. y/n rides lando in his gaming chair (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, riding, unprotected p in v (safe sex guys!!!), slight dirty talk, pure filth imo 🤭

NOTE. when i saw this ask i was like 'YES.' so here it is!!! nothing much to say other than enjoy <33

SIDENOTE. requests are closed!! my brain has been milked dry of everything writing. i have 2 in-progress works so i will still upload those then probably go on a small writing break <3 also dividers are not mine, creds to the owners

edited to add tag on banner

lando's whimpering.

he's actually fucking whimpering and it's then he knows that he's absolutely drowning in everything y/n. her hands digging into his shoulders, her thighs squeezed into the impossible space of his gaming chair and her pussy, her fucking pussy is clenching him so tightly that he feels light headed, as if he smoked a joint.

sweat glistens on his forehead like oil, and the more y/n bounces on his dick, her breasts with her, the more whimpers leak out of his mouth and his eyebrows slant downwards.

"oh fuck— you're doing so good baby, so good," he moans, head thrown back like there's not a muscle in his neck, and y/n begins to grind as her lips suck and lick on lando's neck.

he can't do anything but just sit there and let her take control, he's completely at her mercy and his hands just rest on her hips, nails sinking into the flesh everytime a submitting flash of pleasure shoots through the nerves of his dick.

his cock throbs against the walls of her cunt, and his eyes squeeze shut so hard he swears he goes blind. it's too much, his t shirt clings to his chest like a lifeline and y/n's lips find his in a filthy, sloppy kiss that pulls his mind back to the present. he's instantly dragging his lips and tongue against her own, feeling the way her mouth grows slack and it gives him the chance to wrap his swollen lips around her tongue.

she's grinding faster, pressing so much on his cock that a loud, stretched moan escapes him like he's punched out every ounce of energy into it. it brings an insatiable ache for more, his hands gripping her ass with all it has to give and dragging her up and down his cock to milk it dry.

"fuck lando," her mouth whimpers with her head thrown back, hands on his chair's backrest. the sight is sinful before him, breasts spilling out her crop top, practically begging to be touched, and back arched so much it looks animalistic.

"come on, y/n," he pants, licking a stripe between the valley of her breasts before giving it a gentle kiss, "fuck yourself on my cock."

she's doing just that, beautifully, like she was made for his dick. her pussy squeezes and squeezes like it wants to kill him, and his hands lift and push her on his cock more and more, just as he feels her movements turn sloppy. the wet, dirty sounds of skin slapping sharply on skin makes his dick pulsate and lando's mind begs for it more as his hips raise desperately to meet y/n's.

"i'm gonna cum, lando, i'm gonna cum," she's sobbing. fucking hell, she's sobbing, and the tears glimmer in his purple leds light they're art. he's moaning and groaning, losing himself as he draws hickeys on her collar bones with reckless abandon.

"cum for me, baby."

she shakes as she lets go, walls constricting his dick like a mold and it completely shatters the tension building up in his balls. his cum shoots straight and deep into her pussy, mouth mumbling incoherently upon the skin of her neck as they ride their highs down.

"fucking hell, lan'."

he smiles tiredly, pressing a kiss into her mouth.

"you're gonna be the death of me."

that she is. for he would lose himself in the essence of his girlfriend, again and again, even if it meant leaving a game halfway through.

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.writes: ln4 #lando norris #lando norris smut #lando norris fic #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris scenarios #formula 1 #f1 #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula one #formula one x reader #formula one x y/n #formula one x you #f1 smut

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truetogaia · 11 months

Text

come awnnn ya'll knew I had to write a longer one..

pairing: fiancé!miguel o'hara x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+

synopsis: Miguel wakes up to a... hard... problem, one only you can help solve..

warnings: just pure smut with a lil plot, p in v, unprotected sex, depictions, mature n explicit themes, no pull out sorry lolz, size kink, morning sex, vulgar language, breeding kink,

word count: 950!

requests: open !

NOT PROOFREAD! I Miguel masterlist

His buff arms crept around your middle, wrapping securely around you as your head rested on his broad chest. Mornings like these were rare, ones where you could just relish in the loving embrace of your boyfriend, and soon to be husband. The newly acquired ring weighed heavy on your finger as you reached a hand up to tuck some loose hair behind his ear. The material of it shimmered in the gentle light of the setting sun, casting reflections onto a white wall just in front of you.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest, synced with his breaths, lulled you into a state of drowsiness. He had been asleep for quite a while now. You glanced at the clock on his wrist, careful not to move too much despite the tight hold he had on you. It was exactly 8:43. And as if he could sense it, he began stirring, throwing you on the floor in the process. You landed on the wooden floor with a loud thud, wincing as your tailbone took the hit.

Miguel shot up, looking around frantically for the source of the sound. His gaze landed on you, sprawled out on the floor as you tried to process what had just happened. A soft chuckle left your lips, which soon turned into a fit of giggles. Your fiance looked at you with a puzzled expression, one eyebrow quirked in response to your strange antics.

“What are you doing?” His deep, raspy morning voice sent a slight shiver up your spine, making you abruptly stop your giggling.

“Well, you woke up and I… found myself down here..” You said, smiling sweetly at him. He began removing the blanket from his body to get up, stopping suddenly as he realized. You peeked up at him, wondering why he had suddenly frozen.

“Hey, sweets, I've got a little problem, fear I'm gonna need your help..” You hummed, getting up as you rubbed your tailbone slightly. It stung, but it was bearable. Your eyes finally landed on said problem, raising your eyebrows slightly at his huge bulge.

“Morning boner? Really? At your grown age?” You teased, earning a light scoff from the man. He narrowed his eyes at you, before shooting up to catch you in a hug before pulling you down with him towards the messy bed.

“Come on, you love me.. So help me out, yeah?” You giggled, nodding as you gently pulled away from his embrace. Your legs straddled his hips, struggling to wrap all the way around due to the difference in size.. And muscle.

Now he had his large, rough hand planted on your love handles, pressing your soft hips down onto him with ease. His cock pumped in and out of you at a pace which had you blabbering incoherent nonsense, body slumping forward to rest against his chest. Miguel tried his best to stay as quiet as he could to relish in your sounds, but the way you were squeezing his cock just right sidetracked him.

Soft moans spilled from your plump, kiss-swollen lips as his own attached to the sensitive skin of your neck. He placed gentle, sloppy kisses along the curve of it, paying extra attention to your sensitive areas as if it would drown out the blissful pleasure of his length dragging in and out of your squelching heat.

Your hands tirelessly gripped at his larger forearms, nails digging into the skin in sync with his relentless thrusts. You were still sat atop him, legs aching from the stretch the width of his brawny hips offered.

“There sweetheart.. I thought I was the one.. who- fuck.. who was supposed to receive help.” He tutted, voice deep and dripping with.. adoration? love? lust? All of the above? He didn’t really know what to feel, all he knew was that he loved the feeling of his soon-to-be wife’s smaller body enveloping his.

“Y..yeah.. you’re just.. too big, couldn’t move properly..” You said between broken moans. He chuckled, gently grabbing your arms, hands sliding down your forearms to hold your hands. He leaned forward, catching your lips in a lazy kiss.

“Fuck.. can’t wait to marry you.. To have a family” he muttered in between sloppy kisses, tongue dancing with yours as he fucked into you from below.

“Mhmn.. Y’know, some people create families before they get married..” Your soft voice felt like clouds in his ears, and his hands found their place on your hips again, a groan escaping his mouth at your words.

“Yeah? You wanna have kids now? Want me to fill you?” He smirked as you nodded desperately, feeling your hot cunt clamp down on him and throb around him. “may as well give you what you want, no? Early wedding gift..” His hips stuttered, cock twitching inside of you as you ran your hands down his chest, mouth agape. With one final thrust, he came deep inside your womb, painting your gummy walls white as you spasmed on top of him, reaching your own high.

“There we go, now we wait” His voice was raspy as you laid on his chest, catching your breath. He smoothed a hand down your spine, resting it in the small of your back. You giggled lightly, the bedroom now filled with the smell of sex.

“Come on, let's take a shower, we stink!” You said, grabbing his hand to pull him with you. You smiled as you got up, hissing slightly from the ache in your legs. You heard a chuckle erupt from your fiance's mouth, turning around to scold him. “You owe me big time, mister.”

“Is a baby not enough?”

#miguel x you #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut

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dilftaroooo · 4 months

Note

Not sure if your requests are closes right now sorry if they are-

But you should do Yuji fucking fem!reader or eating her out and Sukuna switching with him in the middle of it 😊

nonnie im so happy to breath the same air as u

★tags: aged up characters + afab reader + she/her pronouns + spanking + oral (f. receiving) + fingering + implied piv sex (very brief tho) + praising + sukuna bashing yuji smdh.

Your beloved boyfriend always manages to find himself emerging in the sloppy heat that rests between your thighs. Salmon fields adorned with restless digits splay across the top of his head as he licks and laps at you desperately. It's good pussy for the soul and he would hate if he would've missed this opportunity to have you sing out his name while you involuntarily send pressure to the sides of his head with your rigid thighs.

Your chest heaves and ho's at the heavy mass of passion with each inconsistent breath you take--jagged whenever Yuji coos at your hard clit, telling her how he's obsessed with her and her owner before giving her a light peck.

"I want you to fuck me already, Yu." You croak impatiently, wiggling your hips to emphasize your desires but Yuji gives you a quick slap to the side of your ass and squeezes it right after.

"Not now, baby. Let me enjoy what's in front of me first. Can I get that?" He watches you under the rise of your pelvis. His words are soft and whispered in a tone he always uses with you whenever he wants to feel you clench. Honey-glazed globes look at the feast upon him amorously. Your previously shaven hairs start to grow into stubble as it retrieves itself back to its original state; wet and coated with your juices. He buries his nose further.

A moan was a good enough answer for your boyfriend and he keeps doing what he was born to do. You continue to plead for him as he eats you out. "I'm right here, lovely. Not going anywhere." He'd respond with each fervid call.

His sucks at your cunt arouses you tenfold once you feel yourself coming to that edge at the tippy top of a mountain as gusty winds roughly kiss at the apples of your cheeks and the lids of your closed eyes. It's easy to tell you're close as Yuji hums into wet folds causing you to rattle.

"Oh fuck, Yuji. Keep going, sweet boy. 'M gonna come soon..."

Your nails cautiously dig into his scalp, not enough to hurt him severely, and your legs wrap around bulging muscle for support of your incoming orgasm. His body glistens under the light of the living room and blesses you with each defined section of muscle to pop under dark shadows.

But the devil is a conniving bastard for your reach to climax was interrupted when you flinch at the harsh bite gnaw at your clit, sending you to scurry backward away from the abrupt pain but strong arms keep your legs in place to force you into more torture. Looking down, you noticed Yuji's canines were sharper than usual. His skin was tainted in elongated markings, ones Yuji had never worn. His nails were painted in a deep violet and you think to yourself, 'Yuji couldn't have possibly put that on so fast,'.

"That sappy shit was starting to churn my stomach. How about you do that whenever I'm not possessing you? I already get nauseous knowing I'm living inside a fucking idiot." His voice was deeper too.

"Y-You're Sukuna, right? Yuji told me about you." You've never seen eyes glaringly red like his--four of them. They all watch you with a look of interest paired with a cunning smirk.

"That's right, dollface. Very good. Glad you know of me already, so we can skip the greetings." He resumes his host's previous ministrations but turns it up a notch by adding a finger or two to your drooling pussy. He teases a glossy, purple tip along the quivering hole before pushing in deep. As soon as he learns you can perfectly take one, he puts the second one in. A grin remains still on his face when hearing your moans crescendo.

"My, my. You're already soaking my fingers, dove. Guess that brat is doing something properly for once. Slobbering all over the couch, fuck, can't remember the last time I've seen pussy like this." His index and middle fingers dance across the gushy ridges in you, he moves them in ways Yuji knows you love and that feature shocks you.

He gorges on your clit and eats your pussy out like it's his last meal on earth before being sentenced to death. Saliva runs down the length of your labia, bubbles forming along the way by his boisterous lapping. Your hips can't resist gyrating against his face, ruby red remains settled on your helpless figure as you revisit that same high as before. You bathe his fingers with cum til they prune and you're too overstimulated to feel sorry.

The couch dips and you're instantly turned around on your stomach, facing the decorative pillow you believed matched the aesthetic of your living room.

"Hey, what're you-"

"You said you wanted to get fucked remember? Your cunt is still drooling cus she's hungry. Didn't give her enough." The smacks he gave your ass were harder than Yuji's and that just goes to show how rough this curse really is but you writhed nonetheless.

He was gonna fuck you good. You already figured much as hands grip around the fat at your hips and his cock carefully grinds into you.

#itadori x reader #itadori smut #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #nonnies!

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gyuswhore · 5 months

Text

Fifteen to Forever

"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."

PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader

SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.

CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it

WORD COUNT: 6k

masterlist

[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33

It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me.

But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone.

There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside.

Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building.

You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years.

Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.”

By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you.

Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends.

You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day.

“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”

You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong.

They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey.

He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise.

“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung.

“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”

“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects.

“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ��cause of this guy.”

You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too.

You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand.

You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time.

There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own.

It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game.

If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight.

He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something.

“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say.

He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?”

“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward.

“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”

“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you.

“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile.

“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.

“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.

“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.

“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”

It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing.

“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”

“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”

You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating.

“Wait!”

You turn around at his voice.

“I never got your name.”

Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.

Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.

He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours.

His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled.

He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out.

“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.

“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.”

He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek.

You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off.

With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to.

Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before.

He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both.

Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).

It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do.

With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye.

“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.”

He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore.

He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time.

“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered.

“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it��s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”

“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”

“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”

“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”

“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay.

“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower.

His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left.

There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship.

“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?”

Slowly, but surely, he nods.

“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.

“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.”

In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home.

Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again.

As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade.

There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet.

But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.

Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.

Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own.

As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back.

By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you.

As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him.

You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other.

Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative.

You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon.

He let a couple tears slip.

And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest.

It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind.

You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes.

When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.

It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.

At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow.

By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies.

The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like.

Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption.

A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?”

“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training.

He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.”

A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day.

And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other.

Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for.

The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed.

You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year.

You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have.

“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.”

You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile.

“Oh, he’s here with me,”

You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens.

Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.

“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.

You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”

“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.”

“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?”

“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.”

He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”

“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him.

“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”

There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms.

“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.”

He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time.

“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like.

“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different.

You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears.

Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt.

“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden.

“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.”

It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill.

And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are.

“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.

You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”

“Marry me.”

It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all.

“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”

You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights.

That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”

You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away.

“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”

“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups.

“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.”

You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation.

You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”

You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring.

Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows.

He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward.

You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently.

He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.

“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.

He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”

If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow.

His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening.

You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now.

He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours.

Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself.

His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours.

“You okay?”

You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely.

He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance.

Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance.

He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you.

He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind.

Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself.

The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest.

You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”

“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”

You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak.

You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass.

Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina.

You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other.

He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture.

You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another.

Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad.

Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other.

You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain.

Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say.

“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”

taglist (strikthru could not be tagged): @rubyreduji @vampirexlotita @simqly-yunjin @tomodachiii

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen smut #seventeen imagines #seungcheol fluff #seuncheol smut #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol x reader #seungchel angst #scoups #svt #svt smut #em.writes

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luveline · 7 months

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Badass!reader in the verge of crying but still pretending like she isn't? Spencer doesn't even try anything and he just lets her be until eventually she cries? Just some hurt/comfort :)

If it's a no please feel free to ignore this! Have a lovely day jade <3

tysm! hope this is okay angel ♡ fem!reader, 1k

"Irresponsible, sloppy, and pig-headed." Spencer winces. "I expected more from you. I'm extremely disappointed."

Spencer winces worse. You can take a scolding. You can take a beating. But disappointing the people you care about, and disappointing Hotch? His chest hurts for you.

He pretends to have been reading as the door to Hotch's office opens and you step out, glancing up as you take the stairs down into the bullpen. Your desk is adjacent his and Morgan's, crowded by case files you nearly send flying as you hurry into your chair.

Spencer takes his computer mouse and clicks on the work contact page. Your instant messaging is still open, the last message he sent you glaring and awkward, hey, think hotch is going to call you in for cincinnati. don't stress.

You'd opened it but not answered. He peeks around your monitors to analyse you. You're staring hard at a single spot. The longer he looks, the glassier your eyes become.

He sighs and cracks his knuckles, thinking. The last thing you want is for him to make a big deal of this, he knows that, but he needs you to know that he's here for you.

"Did you want to get dinner tonight?" he asks without raising his head.

You respond eventually, two seconds too slowly, "Where from?"

Your voice is fraught with the weight of your upset. Spencer ignores it for now. "Luh Bem?"

"If you want to."

"What I want is a cup of coffee." He stands, still without staring at you —an impressive feat of self control— and begins toward the office kitchenette. Predictably, you follow him. He's already putting a second mug beside his own when you step into his reach.

"So, did you want to go?" you ask.

Spencer nudges your hip with his gently. "Duh. What else would I wanna do on a Friday?" He makes your coffee exactly how you like it without asking and leaves it billowing steam by his own as he adds his five sugars.

Bringing his coffee to his lips and turns, he leans on the counter. You do as he does, murmuring a thank you as you pick up your mug. Spencer lets his arm rest on yours, ever so slightly taller, more as your back begins to slouch unconsciously. There's no point in asking you if you're okay, because you'll say that you are. There's no point in trying to comfort you, because, despite your affection for him, you're not someone who cries easily in front of others. It would have you pushing him away.

You're a nice girl under all your hardened exterior, and Hotch's disappointment hurts. You try very, very hard not to cry, swallowing and taking little sips of your hot coffee.

You press your coffee into his hand and turn your body toward the cabinets, away from the office. Spencer waits, and waits, his relief immeasurable as you finally hide your face in his shirt sleeve and sniffle. Even though his heart breaks for you, he's glad you're giving in. You need to let stuff out before it eats you alive.

He puts the coffees down behind him one at a time so as not to disturb you. Hands free, he lifts the hand furthest from you to your arm. If you were somewhere more private he'd hug you to him by the small of your waist. For now, he rubs a short line down to your elbow. Up, down.

"He was being harsh," Spencer says quietly.

"Sorry," you whisper.

He can't imagine how mortified you are. You won't sob or even shake, but these hot and fast tears aren't unfamiliar to him. Theyll be followed by an abundance of remorse.

"What are you sorry for?" He pulls you in closer, a squeeze of a hug. "You're okay. It's okay, he's just– he's mad about other stuff, he's upset about Beth. It's not just you."

"He's right, I messed up," you say, your breath hitching.

"You messed up," he agrees. "It was an accident. You'll be better next time."

You sniffle rough and lift your face, wiping your tears with a cruel hand. Spencer takes your wrist in his hand to stop you, turninh to cover you from any nosy eyes. His fingertips are as soft as his voice wiping the rest of your tears away as he laments, "Please don't cry, don't get upset." Your face is hot to the touch. "Don't be embarrassed."

"I'm not crying," you say, a last teardrop streaking from the corner of your eye.

He wipes it away. "Okay."

You pout at him like you want to cry more, and Spencer wouldn't mind, he'd stand here wiping your tears for hours if you needed it, but that's your worst nightmare.

"Are people looking at me?"

"Nobody's looking," he answers honestly. "You're only making a scene for me."

You laugh but quickly cough. Spencer takes his opportunity to hug you and pats your back, considers kissing the side of your head but can't make himself commit to it.

"Do you still wanna get dinner?" you ask weakly.

"Yeah, I do. I really do. I'll get you whatever you want."

If it were Morgan offering, you'd step on his foot. For Spencer, your clear and evident favourite, you nod into his chest, your hand slinking low on his back.

He hugs you so hard he feels his ribs.

"Wanna sleepover and watch Golden Girls?" he asks, prepared for rejection. You're the type to lick your wounds alone.

But maybe in the privacy of Spencer's apartment you'll let yourself be upset properly, so he can comfort you appropriately. It aches how badly he wants to rub the tight space between your shoulders, tell you it's fine, you're fine, and one mistake doesn't define you, it never could.

It's evidence of your affection for him that you agree. "Could we get the dinner to go?" you ask.

Spencer tries not to look to triumphant. He's going to coddle and comfort you half to death, and by the looks of you, you're happy to let him. "Absolutely. Whatever you want."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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pseudowho · 4 months

Text

Reader Comes Home Drunk

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Nanami Kento manages his drunk fiancée, you, like an absolute champ.

A sequel to Kento Comes Home Drunk (link here).

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, bondage, mutual masturbation, throat fucking, thigh fucking, m!receiving oral, f!use of toys, stripteasing, BDSM

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"And one more twirl for luck..." Kento sang to you, pinching your pointed fingers above your head as you laughed, twirling obediently, feeling dolled up in your little black dress, building up for your evening with Shoko. Winding down, and drinking you in with lovesick eyes, Kento leaned down to press a long, slow kiss to your hairline, fingers grazing your jaw longingly, careful not to smudge your make-up.

"I love you," you said in unison, laughing with light apologies tumbling over one another. You held your finger to Kento's lips, biting your lip as he took your finger between his teeth, licking and teasing. You crooned at him to stop, I'm going to miss my taxi, and he sighed, stepping back with glinting eyes, still pinching your fingers between his.

"Be safe," he implored, "and call me when you're ready for pick-up."

"You don't have to pick me up--"

"I want to pick you up--"

"But Shoko can't go home alo--"

"Gosh, I wonder if someone will drop her home too--"

"Kento, I really mean i--" A curt finger pressed to your lips. Your heart fluttered as Kento leaned down, his amber eyes narrow and flicking between your eyes and lips, hungry and determined.

"I really mean it," he pressed, leaving no room for argument, "I'll get you both home safely." Rolling your eyes affectionately, you blew Kento a kiss, and he felt a pang of disappointment for being denied your cherry-red lips. Winking at you as you skipped through the doorway, he settled in for a night in his own company.

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Kento had spent a slow night, preoccupied by the anticipation of your call. His mind had wandered to your little black dress, the soft curves of your legs and arse, the barely-there underwear he knew you had paired with it. At points, he was distractingly half-hard at the thought of your painted lips on his skin, trailing down his belly, wrapped around hi--

Kento's screen lit up, a glimmer of gold in his vision as your name and face popped up. Unlocking it, Kento snorted at the blurry selfie of you accepting a sloppy-lipped kiss on the cheek from Shoko, accompanied by a message; "Readyyy!"

Grabbing his keys, and kicking into some slippers, Kento locked up as he stepped into the crisp night air, heading down to the car.

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"Christ, what have you been drinking?" Kento huffed, hauling a warm and floppy Shoko onto his back as you teetered along behind them, laughing, waving goodbye to your new best friends (two women whose names you didn't know that you had met in the club bathroom that night).

Delicately bending down to open the car doors, he placed Shoko onto the back seat, tutting at her as she moved to slump sideways, sitting her up and buckling her in instead. You had flopped, chatting about your night, into the front seat and Kento smirked as you and Shoko laughed uncontrollably at a joke he didn't understand. Dutifully, Kento had been a graceful designated driver, and carried Shoko to her door, not leaving until she was safely inside.

In the car again, Kento stared determinedly ahead as he felt your gaze across his body, wanton and sultry. He was used to you, drunk, and horny beyond belief. He would manage you with the same sexless affection he always did--

Kento felt your toes, suddenly un-shoed, glide across his lap; you were sideways in your seat now, your legs bent with the supple flexibility afforded to drunk women. Kento smiled indulgently, otherwise outwardly unaffected, as your toes glided up and down his crotch, catching occasionally at his zipper.

Your head was warm and fizzling with the unbridled confidence of intoxication. You were not so drunk that you didn't feel Kento's cock twitch under your toes. Your eyes glimmered, arousal thudding and deepening at Kento's feigned disinterest-- a challenge. Kento grasped your foot, moving it firmly off his lap as he stopped at traffic lights.

"Sit forwards," he commanded, "and behave yourself."

"I am behaving," you whined, sweet and breathless and completely ignoring his instructions.

A twang of annoyance glanced across Kento's vision as he grabbed your foot again, hardened to your drunken advances and stubbornly not participating in them. Kento frowned, tense, irritated by how his own body betrayed him; there you were, draped in his car like a silk chemise, liquid and malleable, your legs parted just enough for Kento to see your translucent underwear, flush and damp against your pussy, your thighs plush and full and--

Kento coughed once as his cock swelled, twitching in its uncomfortably tight confines. You knew, your drunken arousal like a heat-seeking missile. You smirked, goading and taunting Kento, your foot squirming out of his hand and rubbing softly against his hardening length pressed to his thigh. Kento gritted his teeth, focusing stubbornly on driving.

With a flash of alarm, Kento could barely keep his eyes on the road as you sighed, biting your lip, coy and seductive as you let your dress slip down just enough for your pebbled nipples to peek over. Kento didn't realise his jaw had dropped until you leaned to him, slipping two fingers into his mouth, and bringing your newly wet fingers to your nipples, rolling them, lubricating them with Kento's saliva as you keened, mewling at him, another hand slipping between your legs.

"You-- you are unbelievable," Kento rumbled, disbelieving and furious with himself for being so mesmerised by your performance. He gulped, spit thickening as you rubbed your pussy with two fingers, still coating your nipples with his spit. You moaned, high-pitched and airy as you masturbated in the seat beside him, shamelessly provocative.

"My fingers aren't as good as yours...Kento...they're not-- want you inside me, please," you begged, fingers slipping under your sheer panties to find your clit, shuddering as the alcohol turned every touch into a buzzing pleasure.

"Fuck, you're-- don't do that, how the fuck am I supposed to-- to--, " he breathed, white-knuckled on the steering wheel as you rocked your hips into your own hand, eyes half-open as you viewed him like pornography; cock twitching beneath your toes, Adams apple bobbing, veins pulsing in his neck and temples as he scowled at the road, angry with you for forcing him into this moral quandary.

His anger thrilled you, your orgasm building as Kento denied you and himself, feeling his thread snap fibre by fibre as the slick wet sounds of you pleasuring yourself filled his car.

As your moans increased in urgency, with your fingers quickening, Kento somehow managed to park smoothly in the driveway. Pulling up the handbrake and clicking out of his seatbelt, Kento shunted over to you, caging you in. His anger hit you like a sandstorm as he glowered down at you, jaw clenched and twitching.

Slowly, maintaining eye contact, he removed your hands from your breasts and pussy, raising your fingers to your lips. He pressed them into your mouth, pre-cum dampening his boxers as you licked your fingers clean, giggling.

"Clean yourself up," he forced through gritted teeth, "before bed." You hummed, nose rubbing against his neck, sinking your teeth into the taut skin of his throat.

"Bed?" You asked, sweet, suggestive. Kento's scowl deepened, reaching down to unclip your belt, reaching past you to throw open your door.

"Bed." Your lips puckered in disappointment, chastised and mulish. Trailing down Kento's shirt buttons until you reached his groin, you squeezed Kento's cock through the thin trouser fabric, and he groaned in anguish and shock, his elbows almost buckling beneath him. Kento snatched your hand away and left the car, stalking round to your door, hauling you out.

You teetered barefoot, and Kento sneered, throwing you briskly over his shoulder.

"You make it fucking hard to be moral, young lady," Kento fumed, kicking the car door shut and landing a bruising slap to your arse, and you squirmed against his jaw as you squealed at the sharp tang of pain.

You giggled again, still wiggling as he carried you through the front door, slamming it shut. You moaned theatrically and felt his forearms tense around you, the aphrodisiac smell of your arousal on your underwear and dress making Kento feel faint with want.

"Harder, Daddy--" Kento slapped your arse again, much harder this time, and tears stung in your eyes as you cried out, snapped out of your teasing. You pouted, nose pricking as you whined at Kento; "You promised."

Kento tensed, rendered immobile. There was a brief pause as he dropped you into a dining chair--

"I promised you nothing. Go and get ready for bed." You glared up at him, both of you knowing he was lying, both of you remembering the night you had given in to his drunk begging until he came in your hand in the shower, shaking and moaning your name. Kento turned to walk away, corded shoulders bunched with unfulfilled need.

"Make me." Kento stopped, silent. You gulped, arousal still thumping through you, and as Kento turned back, leaning down slowly, he trapped you with his massive hands squeezing the arms of your chair.

"Is that what you want?" He asked, low and dangerous, nose-to-nose. You gulped, your mouth suddenly dry as Kento smirked, humourless and wolfish.

"Any lesser man would fuck you, drunk and sloppy like this," he mocked, mean and sharp, fingering the edges of your dress, "but I doubt he'd be able to fuck the entitlement out of you like I could."

You trembled, feeling a trickle of arousal seep through your panties and onto your dress. As Kento brought his mouth to yours, your breath mingling, you parted your lips to kiss him-- and he pulled away, jaw clenched, denying you again as he walked to your bedroom. You felt bitter disappointment and humiliation trickle down the back of your throat.

"Coward."

You heard Kento go rigid with fury. Drawers snapped shut. His shadow edged in the doorway.

"What was that?"

You couldn't stop yourself, stupid with inebriation; "Perhaps you are that lesser man who couldn't fuck the entitlement out of me," you taunted, terror rushing through you as you heard heavy footsteps slamming towards you, "and you're too much of a coward to find o--"

Your words caught in your throat as one thick hand clenched around your neck, your taunting reduced to a squeak.

"I'm a coward, am I?" Kento clicked his tongue, words deceptively light, "I suppose anyone would look like a coward compared to how fucking brave you're being right now." Kento let go of your neck and lifted the whole chair, frighteningly effortlessly, and began to move you towards your bedroom.

"'Make me'," he mocked, dropping your chair and you to the bedroom floor, slamming the door shut behind him, "As you wish. I'll make you go to bed, and fuck the attitude out of you along the way."

Kento caged you into the chair again, his lips hot and dominating as they crashed into yours, his tongue plunging into your mouth as you whimpered into him. Your hands grabbed his tie to hold him to you, and you heard him rummaging blindly in the drawers beside you.

As they snapped shut, Kento dropped to his knees in front of you, placing his hands under your thighs as he yanked you forwards to the edge of your seat.

"Why-- what are you going to do to me?" You begged for answers, equal parts thrumming with desire and dread. Kento regarded you coolly, hooking your panties down your legs. You shivered with anticipation, feeling the cool air hit your folds. Kento raised your underwear to his face, ghosting the fabric against his lips and nose, breathing in deeply, and out with a low, shaking moan.

"Only what a woman as beautiful and determined as you deserves." Kento reached behind you, grabbing a bundle of items in his long-fingered hand. Your stomach leapt, face flushing with embarrassment as Kento held your dildo and rabbit vibrator, usually hidden, reserved for when he was away. You stuttered, opening your mouth to explain yourself as he wiggled it at you, thin eyebrows raised in an unimpressed grimace.

"Eventually, anyway," he goaded, "first we'll see if we can teach you a little patience." Spitting on the dildo, licking and coating it with lubrication, Kento forced your thighs apart with his elbows, groaning at the sight before him.

"God, what I wouldn't give to take you right now," he groaned, drinking in your desperate little mewls as he kissed and licked at your sensitive soft inner thigh, his breath fanning over your core, and you involuntarily bucked towards his face. Kento chuckled, smooth and mirthless.

Silently, Kento uncoiled three ties from his other hand, his lovely brown eyes darkening as he tied your arms and legs methodically to the arms and legs of the chair; his own spotted tie, the last to be unravelled, formed the final bond. Your hands clasped and unclasped against the arms of the chair, lips parted and glistening as your chest heaved in the low light.

"Because you really are..." Kento held your trembling thighs open as he slid the dildo into your quivering pussy, tantalisingly slow, thrusting a few times, captivated by your white creamy arousal coating it as it slid deeper and deeper into you, "...spectacular," he breathed, shaky with restraint.

Kento played with you, his neglected cock throbbing in his trousers; he thrust the dildo in and out of you, some long, gentle strokes, some harsh and fast, and his hips bucked upwards into nothing, imagining fucking you to the pace of his ministrations. You trembled and cried out, pleasure building uncontrollably at the irregular pace.

Kento seemed to forget you were even there, mesmerised by the bouncing resistance in his hand as the dildo pumped insistently against your cervix. Kento pushed against the resistance slowly, firmly, licking his lips and releasing a gravelly moan as you tried to chase your hips away up the chair, whimpering with the overwhelming stimulation.

"Kento, please-- please--" Your cries rolled off Kento's back, uninterested unless you used your safe word, grimly determined to give you exactly what you wanted.

"Don't give me that shit," he scoffed, tugging the front of your dress down so that your half-exposed breasts bounced free, pressed up by the tightly stretched cups of your bra.

"Stroking yourself in the car just to the thought of me, trying to make me cum with your foot while I drive..." Kento cupped your breast in one large hand, squeezing with restrained biting indignation, flicking your nipple in his work-roughened fingers while fucking you with your own 'secret' toy. Your head spun, gasping, wrists and legs straining against your restraints.

"All because I had the audacity to be a good man?" His voice was soft and threatening in your ear, his feathered breath sending shivers through you, and he rumbled a humourless laugh, "Well...I tried to be a good man. Sit back and be a good little cock sleeve, darling. I'm still not sure if you even deserve me." He thrust the dildo into you sharply, and you squealed, begging him for release, your orgasm trapped deep in your belly.

You were so distracted by his voice in your ear, that you didn't notice his hand at your pussy slowing...before turning the vibrator on, immediately positioning the base of the dildo so your pussy was full and your clit felt the blessed relief of stimulation so powerfully that you almost sobbed.

Kento stood, stepping back slowly as he watched you twist and pant in the chair. With trembling hands, holding your gaze intently, Kento began to stroke himself, his own hands caressing the thick muscle of his neck and shoulders, down his chest, fingers teasing at his buttons, with a wolfish grin. You bit into your lip with a guttural groan, head swimming with tequila and frustration, so desperate to see more of him, jealous that he could touch himself where your hands usually roamed.

Kento was glorious in his striptease; the peaks and planes of his mountainous body illuminated by sharp light and deep shadow. He panted with self-deprivation as you leaned eagerly forwards in your chair, breathless as one deft hand began to undo his shirt buttons, and the other stroked his V-line, palm flat as his fingers plunged under his belt. His lips quirked into a lopsided smirk as a trickle of your creamy arousal ran out of you and onto the chair, your thighs trembling with need.

"You're such a fucking mess," he spat, laughing at you as you blushed, humiliation pulsing through your cheeks and pussy, "and you're in way over your head."

When Kento's wandering hands reached his zipper, he teased you, stretching the fabric over the outline of his throbbing cock, a patch of pre-cum soaking through and darkening the beige fabric. Walking back to you, one hand running through his hair, the other unzipped himself, and Kento reached through to grasp his cock, wet with pre-cum.

Your mouth watered, lips parting involuntarily as he sunk his fingers into your hair, gripping harshly at the roots to bring your mouth down, pumping himself firmly, holding your mouth not quite close enough to wrap around his red, angry cockhead. Whining, your tongue darted out, and Kento hissed as it swiped against his slit, a spurt of pre-cum dripping out in response.

"Let's put that tight little mouth of yours to good use, hmm?" With one hand tangled in your hair, Kento stood behind you and tilted your chair back onto two legs, as you gasped, your head tipped backwards and neck outstretched, mouth pulled open in shock at the sudden weightlessness.

Kento stroked languidly from your throat to your breasts, and back up, before gripping your hair again.

"I think...I'll make you clean me up, seeing as that mouth is so filthy already." Kento teased his cock against your lips, glossing them with pre-cum, gulping and shuddering as your tongue swiped out to suck him in. Tilting your chair back further so your throat was parallel to the floor, Kento pressed his cock along your tongue and cheeks, holding you still as he hit the back of your throat, fucking it slowly, feeling every ridge and wet suck of your mouth around him, seeing stars.

"Fffuuuuuck," Kento moaned, cock twitching in your throat as you swallowed and gagged. Kento moved slowly as you whimpered around him, taking intermittent wet deep breaths, "More tongue...more-- aaaahhh-- that's it, good girl, behaving so nicely for me now."

Your thighs shook, and Kento stroked your throat tenderly as your hands clasped and unclasped the arms of the chair. A painfully hard orgasm built in you, your muscles aching with the effort of carrying you to completion. Your pussy clenched around the dildo, wet and slippery, the buzz against your clit curling your toes.

As Kento squeezed the sides of your throat, feeling his cock moving smoothly inside it, your breath caught and you bucked, spasming violently as your orgasm surged through you. Your lips gasped open, lights flashing in your eyes, and you cried out silently as Kento pressed into you, squeezing your throat with a raggedy groan, sweat dripping to his collar with the effort of delaying his own orgasm.

Pulling out of you, gripping his cock at the base as pleasure threatened to rip through him, Kento stepped back, panting, to enjoy the show. Now carried into wild overstimulation past your orgasm, you twitched and juddered-- "I can't, s'too much-- Kento please please please--" -- and Kento hissed his restraint, cracking his neck from side to side as he almost came in his hand. He refused to waste his seed like that, never letting on how thrilling he found it to cum inside you, wondering at the glorious image of your belly, swollen with him.

Another orgasm ripped through you and you humped the dildo with fervour, thighs desperate to clamp closed around it, head tossed back and sobbing with overwhelming, uncontrollable ecstasy.

Kento's eyes bored through you, smug and drunk on dominating you. His hand pumped along his wet length, continuing to edge himself to the sight of you. He left you this way for a few more minutes, shaking and desperate, pussy soaking wet and clenching on the chair; he swallowed thickly as you shuddered and mewled, unable to tell where one orgasm ended and another began.

"Have you had enough yet?" Kento sneered, continuing to pump his throbbing length, grasping your chin and jaw harshly in his big hand. He squashed your cheeks together like this, your wet lips plush and cutely pouted; with a surge of cute-aggression, he gave your cheeks a shake and gentle slap, smirking down at your squished, tear-stained face. He planted a hard, nipping kiss to your squashed lips, moaning against you, and laughing heartily as you shook your head urgently in response to his question.

"Is this what you want?" Kento hummed against your jaw, and you continued to nod frantically, sniffling, weeping, mascara streaking down your cheeks, lipstick smeared to the side, your glossy eyes needy and begging.

"Then ask nicely," he growled, cock weeping with anticipation for you to beg for him. You continued shaking your head, sniffling and babbling nonsense, no longer able to string a sentence together as electricity rattled every nerve and fibre of you, mewling again as Kento gripped your hair, tipping your head back to look at him.

"Then you get nothing," Kento snapped, glaring down as you as his pace increased on his cock, his hand squeezing and twisting at the top. He tilted your head thoughtfully from side to side, examining you;

"Where do you want me to cum?" He panted, his impending orgasm threatening ruin after edging himself for so long, "Your tits? Your mouth? Your pussy's already so wet, after all." You cried out in disdain, clenching pussy neglected, desperate to feel Kento inside you. Kento laughed richly again, verging on cruel.

"Come on, my love," he crooned, suddenly soft and loving, giving you whiplash, "beg."

Desperate, you forced the words out, shaking like a leaf; "Please Kento-- you promised you would-- I helped you--" You jumped, as Kento reached down between your legs, pulling the dildo out, the sudden loss of stimulation and exhaustion making you feel heavy and loose, still whirring as alcohol bounded through you.

"You are right, of course," he cooed, stroking tears off your messy cheeks, "I was only playing with you." You sobbed an appalled, indignant sound as Kento grinned down at you again, wicked and hungry. Making quick work with clever fingers, he completely released you from the chair, throwing your ankle ties over his shoulder, but keeping the wrist ties attached to you, he helped you to stand, like a baby deer on wobbling legs, offering you one sincere, brisk smile.

You felt like you were falling through space as Kento lobbed you face down onto the bed, flat on your belly, with Kento kneeling over you and undoing his belt as he chased you up to the headboard. As your hands grasped above the pillows to pull yourself up, Kento's hand pressed the back of your head so you were face down, muffled against the pillows.

"Stay down," he growled, and you sniffled, obedient as he stretched your arms out, tying them to the headboard, then tied your knees together so your pussy was clamped, tight and wet between the soft fat of your thighs. You lay prone, arched upwards by your outstretched arms, bound.

You quivered as you heard the clinking of Kento's belt, and you felt his throbbing cockhead brush against the arousal-soaked plush of your clamped thighs. Kento was flush to you as he whispered in your ear; "Is this what you wanted? Out of control, fucked, pathetic and wet for me on our bed?" You nodded, dumbly overstimulated, eager for more, to be fucked so hard that you couldn't remember your own name.

Kento hummed, groaning with shaking relief as he slipped between your thighs, gripped by your hot, wet plush. You felt Kento slowly fuck your thighs, jolting as the length of him stroked between your folds, catching your bruisingly overstimulated clit. Kento sighed, biting the back of your shoulder, lost in your wiggles and the press of your curvy arse against his hips. He reached up, gripping his fingers into your bum, placing a single harsh slap there as you cried out, before rubbing the area with soothing hushes.

"Just fuck me already Ken--" You cut off with a strangled gasp; Kento's last fibre of restraint snapped and he rammed his cock into your clenched pussy, bottoming out in an instant, slamming against your spongy deep walls. Leaning on his thick forearms he hammered into you with total abandon, tired of denying you, eyelids heavy and teeth sunk into the back of your neck. Divine ecstasy ravaged through him like wildfire.

Your muffled cries into the pillow spurred Kento on, his shirt soaked with sweat and sticking to his back as he fucked you to delirium and back again. Low, jolting grows rumbled through him in interrupted streams, his heady warm voice alternating with the strength of his thrusts. Kento's cock ached with bittersweet need, finding your wet friction so delicious, and he reached up to your bound hands, squeezing one affectionately to ground himself and you.

Kento's orgasm approached, seeping down his spine towards his cock, hot and urgent.

"My name," he growled into your ear, biting it as you whimpered, pussy fluttering weakly in bliss around him, and you mumbled. Kento punished you, hammering into you as you squealed, "Louder. My name."

"Kento," you sobbed, "Kento Kento Kento-- aaaahhhh!"

Kento came with a bark, legs failing him as he crushed your hips to the bed under his weight, splashes of hot cum spurting through your cervix, leaving Kento as drunk and intoxicated as you, ruinous pleasure tumbling through him.

He shook above you, his vision coming back to him in patches as he released his ties from your hands. Grasping your hips, he rolled you sideways with him, keeping his cock deep inside you, a glint of hope skipping through his mind, picturing you, full and round, his own captive goddess.

Humming, he nuzzled into your neck; "Too much?" He mumbled, droopy-eyed and concerned.

"More than enough, thank you," you reassured him, sated and dropping into a hazy sleep. Kento gave you a little shake.

"I'm not finished with you," he scolded, "We need to have words about your frankly dangerous behaviour in the car--"

"Custard," you cried, "custard, custard, custard--"

"-- don't try to safeword me while I'm telling you off, you absolute terror."

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Phew

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