in which *ೃ༄ ian tries to make up for his past mistakes and prove he’s worth another chance.
warnings ⊹₊⟡⋆ smut! oral (f receiving). unprotected p in v. fingering. pet names (baby&ma) english not my first language.
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you check the time on your phone again, trying not to let the disappointment sink in too deep. it’s been over two hours since ian said he’d pick you up, and the excitement you felt earlier is long gone.
you’d spent the whole afternoon getting ready because he swore tonight would be different. no missed calls, no last-minute bailouts. just him and you, finally.
when there’s a knock at the door, you don’t rush to answer it. you’re not expecting anyone anymore. but when you pull it open, there he is—ian, standing with a bouquet of flowers in one hand, his other already reaching for you. his face is soft, expression guilty, and he’s mumbling before you can even get a word out.
“baby, i’m sorry,” he says, stepping closer. “i know i messed up, but just hear me out.”
you just stare at him, not moving, not giving him anything. “you promised me,” you say,“you said last time was the last time.”
he hesitates, the flowers trembling just a little in his grip. “i know,” he starts, but you cut him off.
“you always know,” you snap. “you always say that, but nothing changes. i’m tired of giving you chances just to end up like this.”
he hesitates, his jaw clenching like he’s trying to find the right words. “i know, i know. things just came up—”
“again,” you cut him off. “it always just comes up. every single time.”
“you know it’s not on purpose. shit just gets crazy, baby and i’m trying to balance it all. you gotta know i don’t mean to hurt you like this.”
you try to hold on to your anger, to stay firm. it pisses you off even more how good he looks. he’s wearing a fitted black tee that hugs his chest and arms just right, and his jeans hang low on his hips. you can’t help but feel heat build up between your legs despite angry you are.
he takes another step closer, his voice low, almost pleading again. “please, ma… let me make it up to you.”
you hesitate, the urge to stay mad battling with the pull of desire that’s already creeping in.
youre still upset , but something about the way he’s looking at you makes it hard to hold your ground. you stare at him for a beat, watching the way his chest rises and falls, the tension in his shoulders.
finally, with a sigh, you step to the side, letting him in. there’s a part of you that knows you shouldn’t, but that part gets quieter with each passing second.
⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆
you’re barely through the bedroom door before he’s got you pinned against it, his hands sliding down your sides like he’s trying to memorize every curve. his lips trail down your neck, slow and deliberate, and he’s mumbling against your skin.
“gonna make it up to you, ma,” he murmurs, voice low and rough. “make you feel so good. promise.”
he kisses down to your collarbone, teeth grazing just enough to make you shiver, and his hands are already tugging your dress up, palms warm on your thighs. he pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes dark and half-lidded, and his mouth curves a slight smirk.
“you deserve better than all that, baby,” he whispers, brushing his lips against yours, barely touching. “i know i fucked up, but let me make it right. lemme take care of you.”
he sinks to his knees without breaking eye contact, hands gliding down your thighs as he hooks one over his shoulder. his breath is hot against your skin, and he presses a soft kiss above your knee, looking up at you like he’s starving.
“you gonna let me make it up to you, huh?” he mumbles, kissing his way up your thigh, slow and teasing. “wanna hear how good i make you feel.”
his hands grip your hips, keeping you steady against the wall as his mouth finally meets your center, and the first stroke of his tongue is so slow it’s almost torturous. you can’t help but gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair as he groans against you, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine.
“taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters, his lips dragging over your skin between licks. “been too damn long, baby. missed this.”
he sucks your clit into his mouth, and your knees almost give out, but his grip just tightens, holding you up as his tongue moves like he knows exactly how to break you apart. his eyes flick up, and he smirks against you, like he’s proud of how wrecked you already look.
“that’s it,” he breathes out, voice low and rough. “take it, baby. lemme hear those pretty sounds. gotta know i’m makin’ you feel good.”
he keeps working you over with his mouth, like he’s got all the time in the world, switching between sucking and licking with just the right pressure. your hands are tangled in his hair, pulling a little harder every time his tongue flicks just right, and he groans against you like he loves it.
“fuck, baby,” he mumbles, pulling back just enough to kiss your thigh before diving back in, tongue sliding through your folds like he’s savoring every second. “i’ll never get tired of this.”
your breath stutters, hips bucking against his mouth, and he just holds you tighter. you’re so close you can barely stand it, thighs trembling around his shoulders, and he just keeps going, humming against your clit like he’s got something to prove.
when you finally come, he doesn’t let up—keeps licking you through it, coaxing every last wave out of you, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your hips like he’s grounding you. by the time you catch your breath, your legs feel like jelly, and he’s still kissing along your thighs, licking his lips clean.
before you can even process it, he’s standing up, hands sliding under your thighs as he lifts you effortlessly, carrying you over to the bed. he lays you down gently, pressing soft kisses to your neck, your collarbone, whispering against your skin.
“gonna make you feel even better, ma,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. “gotta make sure you know how sorry i am.”
he settles between your legs again, his hands pushing your thighs apart as he leans down to kiss your stomach, his mouth trailing lower. when his tongue flicks over your clit again, you gasp, sensitive and aching, but he just hums like he’s addicted to it.
“can’t get enough of you,” he mutters, kissing your inner thigh before his mouth is back on you, slower this time—more deliberate. he takes his time, like he’s mapping you out all over again, and you can’t help but arch into it, your fingers gripping the sheets.
“ian,” you whimper, and he just chuckles against you, the vibration making you shiver.
“that’s right, baby. say my name,” he coaxes, kissing up your body again, lips brushing over your jaw as his hand replaces his mouth, rubbing slow circles over your clit.
he keeps his mouth on you, dragging his tongue in slow, teasing circles, and just when you think you can’t take any more, his fingers slide between your folds, one slipping inside you with that perfect, deliberate pressure. your back arches off the bed, and he groans against your clit, loving how tight you feel around just one finger.
“fuck, you’re so wet,” he mumbles, slipping in a second finger, curling them just right while his mouth stays latched onto you. he’s building you up again, dragging his fingers out slow just to push them back in deeper, his tongue flicking over your clit in time with every thrust.
you’re shaking already, thighs clamping around his head, but he doesn’t care—just grips your hip harder to keep you spread open for him.
“c’mon, baby,” he murmurs against you, voice low and rough. “give me one more. i know you can.”
“fuck, ian,” you gasp, thighs trembling around his shoulders.
he doesn’t rush—keeps that slow, steady rhythm, his fingers fucking into you deep while his tongue flicks soft and lazy. it’s overwhelming, the way he knows exactly how to drive you crazy without even trying. your hands find his hair again, tugging desperately, and he just hums like he’s proud of how wrecked you are.
you can feel that second orgasm building, your whole body tightening up. he’s sucking and licking just right. the pressure finally snaps, and you come hard, moaning his name so loud you swear the whole building can hear.
he doesn’t stop until you’re squirming, too sensitive to take it, and only then does he ease off, kissing his way up your body, leaving soft marks on your hips and stomach.
“so fuckin’ pretty when you come for me,” he breathes against your neck, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. his lips meet yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue.
his hands are quick to undo his jeans, shoving them down just enough to free his dick, hard and leaking, and you can’t help but reach out, but he catches your wrist, pressing it back into the mattress.
“nah, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “you’ve done enough. lemme take care of you.”
he guides your legs around his waist, lining himself up, and just as he pushes in, he lets out a deep, shuddering breath, his head tipping back like he’s losing himself in how good you feel.
“fuck,” he groans, voice low and rough. “so tight for me… always take me so good.”
he stays still for a second, letting you adjust, his hand lacing with yours, squeezing like he’s holding on for dear life. when he finally starts to move, it’s slow—deep, deliberate strokes that have you gasping his name.
he presses his forehead to yours, his free hand sliding down to where your bodies meet, thumb rubbing soft, slow circles.
the way he’s filling you up, his hips rolling slow but deep, has you seeing stars. he keeps kissing you, sloppy and desperate, like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste. every thrust gets a little rougher, his control slipping the more you clench around him.
“fuck,” he pants, squeezing your hand tighter. “you feel too good.”
you’re close again, that familiar pressure building low in your belly, and he knows it—he can feel it in the way your thighs tremble around him, your breath hitching with every thrust.
“gonna come for me again?” he murmurs, lips brushing your jaw. “gonna let me feel you squeeze me, huh? you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you do.”
you’re too far gone to respond, just gasping his name as your body tenses up, and that’s all it takes—he speeds up just enough, his thumb pressing harder, and you come undone around him, crying out as your walls clamp down.
he groans, burying his face in your neck, trying to hold out a little longer, but you can feel him losing it.
“fuck, where you want me, baby?” he breathes out, voice rough and strained. “tell me.”
“in me,” you whisper through shaky breaths, nails digging and scratching his back.
his hips stutter, and he curses under his breath as he slams in deep, spilling inside you with a low, throaty groan. he stays there, buried to the hilt, his lips brushing your neck as he mumbles.
he doesn’t pull out right away—just stays pressed close, letting his breathing slow as he kisses your jaw, your cheeks, anywhere he can reach.
“hate myself for making you think i don’t care about us.. swear i’ll do better, baby… promise…”
inspired by justin bieber’s song “flatline”
masterlist
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princesa ⋆˙⟡♡ / i don’t see enough ian fics had to write my own… this was longer than i thought.
