#And I know. It all looks a little crooked

[ceilidho]

Buttermilk

It doesn't take long to settle into the rhythm of your new summer job. Or: the babysitter x single dad au

Part 1 | masterlist

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“I’m not looking for a babysitter that can only come by every now and then,” he says sternly and pauses for emphasis, brows furrowing to convey the seriousness of the situation. “I’ve got a busy schedule and his mom isn’t in the picture. I need a real commitment.”

You sit across from him wringing your hands under the kitchen table, wondering again what it is you’re doing here. Babysitting has never been your schtick; you’re somewhere in between too old to do it as a casual gig for extra cash and too young and inexperienced to be considered for a full-time position. 

Yet, it seems like that’s what he’s looking for, based on the information he’s told you and your general impression from having been in his house for less than twenty minutes. The house is a mess—toys strewn across the baby’s bedroom and the living room, dishes crusted with day old food sitting in the sink, the bookshelf in his study covered in a fine layer of dust that tells you that this man spends so little time in his own house that it’s become something of a requiem to single fatherhood. 

“So, a nanny?” you ask.

He hems and haws over that for a bit. “Bit too fancy for my tastes, but that’s more like it. It won’t just be watching the baby—I need someone who can help out around the house as well. ‘Used to run a tight ship before him, but cleaning’s not been my highest priority these days. Sure you’ve picked up on that.” He says the last part wryly, lips curling up into a crooked grin under his mustache. 

“Well…” You trail off while glancing at the mess in the living room out of the corner of your eye, toys and blocks scattered over the playmat. Your own smile is sheepish. 

“I work odd hours, so I’ll be gone a lot; you’ll probably have a few late nights here, but I pay well. Think that’s something you can handle?”

A polite refusal sits on the tip of your tongue until you swallow it back, suddenly conscious again of the dwindling funds in your bank account. It’s not that you don’t think you could handle the job. You’ve babysat before (only preteens, you correct yourself internally, but surely there are some transferable skills there). And, eclipsing all of your arguments in favour of walking out the door right now, is the very salient and pressing need for an actual income. 

“You’re military, you said?” you croak out instead.

He nods, hums. “Bit of a glorified desk job these days. They don’t put the old timers out in the field. Still, keeps me busy.”

You frown at that. “You’re not that old.”

That gets him to cock an eyebrow. “Love, I’m over twice your age, easy. I’m plenty old for a first time father on top of that; should’ve already been an old hand at this, but I’ve been married to the job for too long.”

You don’t ask if the baby was an accident or how it came to be that he chose to raise the baby on his own rather than try to work something out with the mother or give him up altogether. It seems uncouth. Rude. It’s none of your business and, more to the point, hardly relevant to the job. It’s just your own insatiable need to pry and know every little detail raising its head to sniff the air. 

“Well, I think—” You chew on your words and then backtrack. “—I can handle the job. I live nearby, so I can be here whenever you need me. If you need references, I can—”

“No need,” he cuts you off, waving a hand in front of him. “I’m a good judge of character. If you wanna help put the baby to bed, we can talk salary and I’ll go over my schedule this week with you.”

The chair scrapes against the tile floor when he stands up, pushing it out from under him. Standing, he towers over you, a big, fit man despite his protests to the contrary. Hardly out of his prime. You’d put him at forty-five at the latest, and still a work horse of a man at that; broad like a draft horse, like he flips tires and runs marathons for fun. When you push out your chair and stand as well, you’re still forced to look up at him. 

“Sure can, Mister…—?” You realize with a slight start that you only remember his first name, though it hardly feels appropriate to call him by that given the fact that he’s about to become your boss. Already is your boss. 

“Price. But John works just fine,” he corrects, his smile warm, almost paternalistic. 

You ignore the flash of heat up your spine and the way your belly constricts when he reaches across the table to shake your hand. His big, calloused palm dwarfs yours, fingers easily overlapping. You might as well be shaking a mitt. 

“Well, thanks for the job, John,” you say with a smile of your own, ignoring the way yours strains at the end, anxiety already gnawing a hole through the lining of your stomach that your stomach acid will now most certainly leak through. “I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, sweetheart.”

His words seem like a bellwether for something that you can’t yet articulate or even anticipate. Regardless, they make you swallow reflexively when you start salivating out of nowhere. You should probably quit on the spot actually, just out of principle alone, but again you remember the gut-churning sensation of checking your bank balance in the middle of the grocery store the other day before putting half of the contents of your cart back onto the shelf beside you. 

You follow him into the playroom instead, where a fuzzy headed infant gasps up at his daddy, blinking big lovestruck eyes up at him. Your own heart feels like a melted caramel in your chest when John picks his son up, eyes crinkling with affection. The baby is so tiny in his arms.

Any thought of being a good person evaporates from your mind. As if you ever had a chance. 

You don’t know how he found you. Through a friend of a friend of a friend’s dad’s coworker, maybe. Word of mouth. Watercooler conversation and a heaping cup of gossip.

“Did you hear the Captain’s looking for a babysitter?”

“For what? To bang?”

“No, dipshit. He knocked some broad up and she left him with the baby.”

“No kidding. The Captain?”

“Didn’t I just fuckin’ say that?”

“Price, you mean? Captain Price?”

“Are you fuckin’ deaf? Yeah—Price.”

“Christ. Godspeed to him. A baby. Goddamn.”

“Give it a rest, it happens all the time. That’s why you always wrap it up. Anyway, you know of anyone that’d be up for it?”

And then somehow, your name gets mentioned. Much to your relief. Job opportunities don’t knock on your door all that often, and when John finally gets around to telling you your hourly rate, you almost burst into hysterical giggles in front of him. It’s more than you expected. More than you deserve, if you’re being honest. You’re retroactively grateful that he didn’t ask you to name your rate because you wouldn’t have dared propose something anywhere close to what he offers.

It’s a straightforward gig. John doesn’t work the typical nine-to-five, so you show up at the times he made you write down on that first day in his living room after your interview and you leave whenever he comes home. The first week is fairly true to the schedule he laid out for you. He’s only late by around half an hour one evening, but that was another condition that he made you well aware of prior to giving you the job. 

You know better than to put up a fuss. You’re already learning on the job as it is; with your anxiety at a ten at all times, you appreciate the extra half hour to keep googling baby-specific information. What to do during tummy time. The benefits of baby massage. How to change a diaper. You’re learning all sorts of things these days.

To your credit, he could’ve done worse. The day after John hires you, you sign up for an intensive babysitting course over the weekend and read the online manual front to back. Your CPR certificate is still valid, but you book a refresher course as well just to be on the safe side. It’s a bit unbearable to watch the funds drain out of your account before you’ve even had a chance to earn your first paycheck, but it’s worth it for the burgeoning confidence that you bring on your first day.

Babies are fun to be around, you realize, much to your own delight. Babysitting—or rather, nannying, but John still introduces you to the neighbours as his babysitter, plus nannying requires a host of additional accreditations that you simply just do not have—might not have been a job that you ever expected yourself to like, but you find yourself kind of morose at the end of each day when you have to say goodbye to baby, and even going so far as to turn in early when you get home so you’ll be ready bright and early the next morning.

Babies also smell better than anything you’ve ever smelt in your life. You could huff the top of this little guy’s head morning, noon, and night. Milky and clean; it barely takes a few days to become addicted to the smell of his little head. When he’s cradled in your arms, you can’t help but press your nose to the top of his head and take a deep inhale, eyes fluttering shut. It’s some good shit. 

You keep a journal filled with notes to relay to John when he comes home at the end of the night and keep your phone close to you during babytime to film any important moments that John might’ve otherwise missed. 

“He started babbling today,” you tell John the second he walks through the door, the video already pulled up on your phone. You haven’t felt this excited in ages. “Look.” 

He’s still in his fatigues and everything, but he humours you and takes the baby when you pass him over, cooing and tickling his belly until the baby squeals and babbles again for him. 

“See?” you gush, mooning over him. You don’t have the presence of mind to be self-conscious in the moment. 

“Yeah,” John remarks, lifting his son up to blow a raspberry into his belly and grinning at his ensuing peals of laughter. “Ain’t that something.”

If the smile in his voice has anything to do with you, you don’t pick up on it.

On top of everything, John turns out to be a really good boss. Despite his gruff, intimidating exterior, he’s remarkably kind and patient with you. He doesn’t nag you for missing a spot when cleaning the bathroom. He doesn’t scold you the day your car breaks down and you’re forced to take the nearest bus to his place, tacking on an extra twenty minutes to your commute, even though that means that he’s invariably late for work. When you accidentally use scouring powder on the inside of his Le Creuset Dutch oven and scratch off the enamel, he gently talks you out of a sobbing fit, seemingly unbothered by the state of his scratched up crockery.

He shrugs when you bring it up. “It’s got a lifetime warranty anyway. I’ll bring it into the shop over the weekend. No use getting upset about it.”

Unflappable. That’s the word for it. It’s like as long as he’s able to come home to the baby and you in one piece, nothing else matters, and that sense of calm permeates the whole house; for the first time in a long time, you don’t feel like you have to walk on eggshells around someone. 

Your only qualm—and it’s hardly even a qualm, to be honest, more of just an observation—is that John is more of a physical person than you are. 

When he wants to move you, he does—two big hands clamped around your waist and only a fraction of his strength to move you away from the stove so he can take over cooking while you check on the baby, your mouth hanging open, aghast. Fuming at his nerve. The gall of him to manhandle you. 

You don’t hold it against him though. You haven’t spent much time around groups of men, but you’ve seen military movies before and it seems like the status quo for men to grab and push each other around. If anything, he’s gentle with you. 

It’s just that—and again, John’s the first adult man you’ve spent any one-on-one time with, what with it just being the two of you and the baby in his house, so your frame of reference is microscopic—you’re not completely sure whether it’s appropriate for your boss to be so touchy. 

You don���t mean to insinuate that he’s being inappropriate. It’s just that—and again you have to catch yourself before you go making assertions about people because John is honestly such a nice man and he’s done nothing but treat you fairly and made you feel safe and welcome, but…—sometimes he insists on you staying over for dinner after he comes home from work and doesn’t take no for an answer.

You’re never in any rush to leave. There’s not exactly anything waiting for you in your dingy little apartment. So when he asks you to stay, you have no good reason to refuse. It’s nice to get a free meal as well. With the way John gives you unfettered access to the fridge and pantry, you hardly need to buy groceries at all these days. You feel a little guilty about that, but you know what it’s like to go hungry.

Maybe that’s why you stay for supper the first time he asks a couple weeks into you working for him. You’re subconsciously mortified that you’ll eat his food when he’s not gone but not when he offers it to you.

At least dinner feels like something you’ve been given rather than just taking, taking, taking. 

Not to mention you’ve developed something of a rapport. There’s always something to talk about with John: the baby, his work, a show you watched on TV after putting the baby down for a nap, the new big Tesco four blocks from your place, his late teens before joining the military (“back when you weren’t even a thought in your mum’s head,” he jokes, cutting into his steak and something in your brain pops and fritzes out like the static between radio stations). 

The first few suppers are sporadic and never long enough to make you feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome. In all honesty, they’re the few bright spots in an otherwise dull life. Outside of your job and the infrequent dinners, you’re estranged from your family and you’ve only got a few close friends in town that you see maybe once or twice a month. Nothing to write home about. Some Friday nights, the yoga studio near your flat has a five pound community class that you pop in for, but those are infrequent too. 

Then there’s the odd night where he shoos you into the living room to put on a movie while he cleans up after dinner. You stare absentmindedly at his forearms when he rolls up his sleeves and then jump when you find him staring at you expectantly over his shoulder.

“Go put something on,” John tells you, a warning look in his eye. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Sorry,” you whisper before slipping off into the living room.

You can’t relax on the couch while you wait. You flinch when he finally joins you, sitting down on the other side of the couch suddenly. You hadn’t even heard him coming; he’s light on his feet for such a big man. 

The buddy cop comedy you picked barely distracts you from the fact that your boss is sitting on the other side of the couch. You spend the whole two hour run time so nervous that you’re afraid you’ll buzz right out of your skin. 

For absolutely no reason, of course, because all John does is make light conversation with you throughout the movie. Conversation that you respond to in curt, choked whispers. When he walks you to the door after the movie, all you can focus on is how utterly embarrassed you are for being so weird.

Your dreams that night come frantic and heady. Humid under the blanket. The phantom feeling of a body heavier than yours weighing down one side of the couch and you sliding towards it gradually, unable to even cling onto the arm of the couch to keep from falling into his lap. 

Then hands on your belly, cupping and holding. Thick fingers with hairy knuckles. A warm, tobacco smell wafting under your nose, sweet like tonka bean and smoke. Nothing you can do to keep them from travelling down your stomach and thighs and spreading your legs wide, big hands curving around your inner thighs until—

You wake up panting, fingers pressed against your clit in your sleep. It takes nothing to bring yourself over the edge, dark blue eyes swimming on the precipice of your conscious mind. 

“Sleep well?” John asks you the next morning when you show up on his doorstep, handing you the baby before you’ve even said so much as a word. You hold the baby to your chest like a makeshift shield. Anything to put some distance between you and the man who has now taken to starring in your dreams. 

“Not bad,” you squeak. 

You flinch when he guides you in with a hand on your back and shuts the door behind you. Your cunt pulses when his fingers press firm against the small of your back, hand bigger than you remembered from your dream.

As if you were ever going to end up anywhere but here.

[aurorawritestoescape]

THE FUNERAL

Joel Miller x f!reader || 600 words

Summary: Joel fucks you at a funeral.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, spanking (1), hair pulling(1), rough sex, unprotected piv, creampie, degradation but it’s sweet, mention of death, infidelity, dark undertones. Reader has hair, wears a dress.

A/n: I just saw these two pics on Pinterest side by side and my brain birthed this. not beta-ed, barely edited. Hope you’ll like it<3 dividers by @saradika-graphics

MASTERLIST

You drag Joel to the bedroom by his big hand and as soon as the door closes behind you two, you kiss him with passion and hunger, that you haven’t known until meeting him.

“Take me, Joel.”

“Now?”

“Yes. All those fake tears and awkward condolences make me wanna scream. I‘d rather scream because of you.”

You’re heaving, suffocating with lust that is rippling through your body in waves.

Joel’s crooked smile tells you that he’s in and soon your cheek is pressed to the bed and his clothed hard-on is rubbing against your ass.

“You look so hot in black.”

His compliment makes you smile but the next moment a whimper crawls up your throat when his warm hands slowly glide up the back of your naked thighs, lifting the hem of your dress and exposing you. Joel growls when he sees that you’ve been naked and dripping under your mourning dress. The clang of his belt and the clothes rustling send shivers down your spine and then you moan with anticipation as his hot cock heavily lands on your ass cheek.

“Fuck me hard. Let me feel what I’ve done. Punish me.”

Joel chuckles but the sound lacks cheer. Bitterness coats his words.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, baby—“

He almost chokes when his tip pushes between your wet folds.

“— only waited for your rich old husband to die.”

“Meanwhile fucking you,” you add with a smirk and then gasp as his fat head catches on your soft hole and he slowly starts pushing it in.

“Damn, you’re soaked.”

“Been thinking about this all day. Couldn’t wait for you to ruin me.”

Instead of a reply Joel slaps your ass cheek and you jerk at the hard stroke.

“Such a slut. Horny for your lover at your husband’s funeral.”

You moan loudly, not caring who could hear you, when his thick member is spreading your walls so nicely, and you tremble at the delicious stretch.

“Say it again,” you whine.

You hear a smirk in his voice when Joel repeats,

“Your husband’s funeral.”

The sound you emit almost makes him spill inside you— it’s full of ecstasy and joy.

“Bad girl.”

He bottoms out and you clench the sheets, before he drags his cock out almost to the tip. You squeeze around his bulbous head, pussy greedy and desperate.

“Yes—yes—yes,” you chant as he starts fucking into your cunt with energetic thrusts, sending you higher to your peak.

Suddenly Joel grabs a handful of your hair and pulls you up against his chest. You don’t feel pain, just lust and pleasure are licking at your body, as his hips are hitting your ass, sending his cock deeper into your core.

His hot breath tickles your ear when he gruffs through the sound of skin slapping against skin,

“I’ll keep punishing you like this forever, baby. You’ll be my little cock sleeve. My personal slut with a dirty secret. We’re connected forever now.”

“Forever,” you breathe out and turn your head to latch onto his mouth.

The kiss feels almost violent, all teeth and groans, and you break it abruptly to search for his blown eyes.

“Promise you’ll protect me. Promise no one will know what we’ve done.”

Joel presses his sweaty forehead to yours and slows down his thrusts to whisper,

”I promise.”

With his arms holding you tightly, his stiffness languidly massaging your soft spot, you come on his thick cock and your pulsating cunt makes him squirt his creamy load against your walls. It’s hard to breathe in his steel embrace while he’s filling you full, but tears of happiness are flowing down your face because finally, finally, you are free.

Thank you for reading! Leave a comment and reblog if you enjoyed the story<3

MASTERLIST

Tag list:@milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @joelmillerisapunk @pascaltesfaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40

[barcaatthemoon]

your best girl || alexia putellas x reader ||

You comfort Alexia when she returns after the Olympics.

18+

Everybody had a job. You had nearly forgotten that with the craziness of the Olympics. Alexia worked hard to be the best captain for her country that she could. There was only so much that her on-pitch presence could do. Their issue was at the coach's level, and the team suffered because of that. Alexia had only come back to you a couple days early after being knocked away from the medals, and that was where your job started.

It was always difficult gauging the amount of space to give Alexia. You understood how devastating a blow it was, having lost the chance for a medal at your first Olympics. Back then, you had wished that someone would have helped you pick up the pieces of yourself, but instead, you tried to brave it all on your own. Alexia wasn't like you, and that was where you apprehension about talking to her came in.

The thought of smothering Alexia and pushing her away haunted you constantly. You needed to do something to show her that you were there for her that wasn't over the top of dramatic. And so, you dropped as many little hints that you were just waiting for her to come to you. You thought for a moment that you'd end up driving yourself mad waiting for Alexia, but the silence and tension in the apartment only lasted for a few days at most.

"What is all of this?" Alexia asked as she stood behind your desk chair. You tried to turn, but Alexia was holding you forward. You could feel her lean down a bit, reading over your analysis of the games for work. "You've been busy."

"Never too busy for you though," you told her. Alexia dropped her hands from your chair, finally allowing for you to turn and face her. "I'm glad to see you up and around a bit."

"The bed felt a little cold, and I know that it's not really a big thing, but I was hoping that you had some time to join me," Alexia said. You nodded, quickly saving the small additions you had made to your analysis paper before shutting your computer down and following Alexia into the bedroom.

It looked like she had been cleaning a bit before she came to get you. The nest of blankets that Alexia had created to curl up and wallow in was now dismantled. She had tidied up her laundry from the floor and made the bed, which you knew were big steps. Aside from that, you didn't let the candles on the bedside table or the songs from your R&B sex playlist playing.

"How exactly am I helping you warm up the bed?" you asked teasingly. Alexia played it innocent as she sat back on the bed. She patted the spot next to you, and you all but rushed over to join her. Sex hadn't been on the table for you mentally when Alexia got home, but you were a bit relieved to not be waiting weeks like the last big loss Alexia had faced.

You didn't understand how someone so amazing could get down on themselves so easily. Alexia was under immense pressure from fans, but it was nothing compared to what she put herself through. You felt guilty learning from those around Alexia that it only got worse when you came in the picture. In your eyes, you were washed up and spat out by the game, but Alexia held you in the regard that some had during your prime.

"I did have a couple of things in mind. I think that I need a little reminder of who I am." Alexia ducked her head down until her face was tucked into the crook of your neck. She was being shy, like she was ashamed of really asking for what you wanted. Still, you completely understood wht she needed. It wasn't exactly what had become your normal, but you were still definitely up to reminding Alexia that she didn't have to win everything in order for you to love and cherish her.

"I get that you need this for what happened in Paris, but forget about football and the Olympics completely. Right now it's just the two of us. I am just me, and you are just you." Alexia struggled to take your words to heart at first, but that was expected. You were used to this little speedbump, but it was the most important part of everything in your eyes. "You love me despite the fact that I haven't worn a jersey of my own in three years. I'll love you even if you never put another Spain or Barcelona jersey on again. I'll love you when the day comes that your body can't handle the game anymore, and I will take care of you when you inevitably push yourself too far again. Do you know why?"

"No," Alexia answered. You turned her face so that she was looking at you and you only.

"Because I did not fall in love with Alexia Putellas, the footballer. I fell in love with the woman who doesn't know how to tread lightly, so she wakes me up at odd hours every single time that she gets out of bed. I fell in love with the woman who goes out of her way to take care of her community and everybody that she cares about. I fell in love with the woman who runs into the arm of the couch every single morning because she's too busy watching me walking into the kitchen. I fell in love with you because of what I saw off of the pitch," you told her. Alexia was blushing deeply, unsure of what to do with praise in that sense.

"I just wanted to win and make you proud. You got this new job after working so hard these past couple of years to learn Spanish. You're doing so much, and what have I done to compare?" Alexia confessed. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Alexia was constantly doing things that often made you feel a bit inferior, so it blew your mind a little to hear that Alexia had been feeling this way too.

"Ale, you are the best soccer player in the world. I'm only here because I gave up and called it quits. You're doing amazing things all of the time. You're the best in the world, and let's face it, I wouldn't have gotten my foot in the door if I wasn't your girlfriend. I could have worked and worked and worked forever, but they wouldn't have cared." Alexia's face changed from its formerly soft expression to a hardened one. "I'm not here to argue about my achievements with you, I'm here to remind you that this one setback won't define your worth."

"Just you wait, they'll be referring to me as (Y/n) (Y/l/n)'s girlfriend. Hopefully one of the better ones," Alexia said. She sounded so confident and sure of herself that you had to believe her.

"You'll always be the best one. Hopefully you'll also be my last one," you told her. Alexia leaned in and kissed you, slowly pulling you on top of her. You let the kiss progress naturally, neither of you pushing things too far without the other pressing equally as much.

"Take this off," Alexia requested as she started tugging at the hem of your shirt. You sat back and started removing the pieces of your clothes that Alexia asked you to. In turn, she briefly moved you off of her lap to completely undress herself. The tension in the room thickened a bit as she laid down again, legs spread as you stood at the end of the bed.

"You look unreal," you muttered as you moved onto the bed. You didn't want to leave Alexia waiting. Alexia didn't want to wait either, guiding your head between her legs without any ounce of hesitation. You could see that Alexia was already wet. She wasn't soaked but still undeniably wet.

You didn't have a chance to tease Alexia. She guided your face to her cunt, movements on the cusp of being pushy. Alexia was almost always in control, and she doubled down whenever you were topping. She didn't want to wait around or be teased, Alexia wanted to cum. You still had your chance to revel in the taste of her, even if it wasn't in the same way that she got to with you.

It didn't come as a surprise to you to have Alexia grinding her hips to move against your tongue. She didn't seem to want your fingers at all, working herself up on just your mouth. You loved it, loved knowing that you could make Alexia feel so good with just a few simple movements. Topping Alexia gave you a rush that you'd be riding for the next couple of days, until Alexia felt up to the task of "putting you back in your place."

"I'm so fucking close. Don't stop, please don't stop," Alexia swore. She wasn't usually one for pleading, but you'd take it. Her hands were gripping your shoulders tightly, nails digging in as you savored every drop of her that you could. Alexia let you continue with the strokes of your tongue past her first orgasm, only pushing you away after the second. She rode one high into the next before her brain and body seemed to catch up to each other.

She was sensitive, and her legs jerked shut, nearly hitting you in the process. You didn't sit back and stare, instead going straight into the bathroom to get a warm washcloth. Alexia let you clean her up, not saying anything to you until after she had grabbed new clothes to wear for the night. You stripped the bed and put everything in the washer, slightly surprised to find Alexia waiting for you in the kitchen when you were done.

"I don't think I let you know how important you are to me. I don't know how badly I would have spiraled without you here," Alexia told you. You blushed as she wrapped her arms around your waist and held you from behind. "Tomorrow, I start training again. I've only got a few years until the next World Cup and Olympics."

"I mean, I guess," you sighed. Alexia pressed a kiss to your cheek before she grabbed a snack to take into the living room. You went decided to go to bed, already well aware that Alexia wouldn't get to bed for another hour or so at least. You set an alarm for 1, deciding that if she wasn't in bed by then, you were going out to the living room to collect her yourself.

[latin5mamii]

5:42 am

genre: JudeBellingham x you; cute and fluff

summary: After a whole night of no-sleep, you decide to help your boyfriend forget about his overthinking for once.

author's note: Cute and fluffy! Didn't want to make it too depressing so i added a bit of humor; i know this is work is unexpected but i'm getting a lot of inspiration rn!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

The world is still asleep when Jude wakes, moving with the careful precision of someone practiced in not disturbing the peace. His hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table, and he shifts cautiously to sit up on the edge of the bed.

The room is dark save for the faint blue light creeping through the curtains, a soft haze that makes everything feel slower, quieter.

He doesn’t hear you stir behind him.

The mattress dips slightly as you roll over, and he freezes. For a second, he thinks you’ll fall back asleep, but your voice—soft and warm like the blankets tangled around you—breaks the silence.

"You're already up"

It’s not a question, and there’s no frustration in your tone—just a quiet understanding. Before every match, he could never sleep. He’d toss and turn, get up for water, but he could never settle—especially now, with so much to think about.

Jude glances over his shoulder, a little sheepish as he meets your sleepy gaze.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs. His voice is a whisper, rough from the early hour.

“You didn’t.” You stretch slightly, the movement slow and lazy. “You never do.”

He smiles at that—small, almost imperceptible in the low light. You sit up halfway, leaning on your elbow as you watch him tug on a sweatshirt over his T-shirt.

“Don’t go just yet,” you say, voice still quiet but carrying a softness that stops him mid-motion. “Come back here for a minute; you have so much time left. ”

Jude doesn't hesitate even for a second as soon as he sees you—still cocooned in blankets, your hair messy and your eyes heavy-lidded but bright. It’s not a hard choice, not really.

He slips back into bed without a word, settling beside you. Your arm loops around his waist instinctively, and he leans into it, letting his head rest against yours.

The silence in the room is thick but comforting, punctuated only by the faint hum of the world outside—a car passing, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Jude’s breathing evens out as he melts into your embrace, the tension in his shoulders softening. You run your hand gently along his back, tracing patterns you don’t think about but that he seems to feel, leaning into each movement.

“You think too much,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but close enough that he hears it.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his arm drapes over you, pulling you closer. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel him exhale deeply, as if the weight of what you said has settled somewhere in his chest.

“I just want to get it right,” he murmurs, finally. The words are small but heavy, like they’ve been sitting on the tip of his tongue for days.

“You always do.”

The response is automatic, and you mean it—every syllable. You wish you could pull his thoughts away, fold it neatly into something manageable. But for now, all you can do is hold him.

Jude pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. The dim light softens his features—his dark eyes are wide, thoughtful, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something but decides against it.

“You okay?” you ask, brushing a hand through his hair, which is still slightly messy from sleep.

Jude lingers in the embrace a moment longer, his face tucked against the curve of your neck, the warmth of your skin drawing out a softness he didn’t realize he needed. But when he finally shifts, there’s something lighter in his expression. He nudges his nose against your cheek, playful, and murmurs,

“You’ve turned me into a morning person, you know.”

You laugh, low and easy, your fingers pausing in his hair to tap lightly against the side of his head. “I don’t think you get to claim that title until you actually enjoy mornings, Jude.”

He pulls back enough to look at you, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “What if I just enjoy mornings with you?”

“That’s sweet,” you tease, your smile brightening the dim room. “But you still groan every time the alarm goes off, so I’m not sure it counts.”

“Details.” He grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before sitting up. The bed shifts under his weight, and you watch as he stretches, the hem of his sweatshirt riding up slightly. The sight makes you laugh—something about the way his early-morning dishevelment feels so ordinary and yet so utterly him.

He glances over his shoulder at you, catching the amused tilt of your smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, though the laughter still dances in your voice. “You’re just...cute like this.”

His ears turn a little pink, and he rubs the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s make some coffee before you embarrass me even more.”

“Embarrass you? Never,” you shoot back, but you’re already sitting up, tossing the blankets aside. The cool air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly, reaching for the oversized sweater draped over the chair beside the bed. Jude is already standing, holding a hand out to help you up.

The two of you move quietly even though you're alone in the house, the soft shuffle of your steps the only sound. Jude goes straight to the counter, pulling out the coffee beans and the grinder.

“You want tea, right?” he asks over his shoulder, already reaching for the kettle.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning against the counter and watching him. He moves with a kind of easy precision, his focus shifting between the coffee and the kettle like it’s a little morning ritual he’s perfected. You can’t help but smile—it’s a far cry from the nerves that had him tossing and turning earlier.

“What’s funny now?” he asks, catching your expression as he sets the kettle to boil.

“Just you,” you say, your voice light. “All serious about coffee like it’s a science.”

“It is a science,” he replies, mock-indignant. “And you’re lucky I’m good at it, or you’d be stuck drinking whatever shit they call coffee down the street.”

“Oh yeah?” you shoot back, barely suppressing a laugh. “Says the guy who puts honey in his coffee.

Jude shakes his head, chuckling as he stirs the honey into his mug. “Is it that bad?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrug, fighting back a grin. “I mean, I wouldn’t say bad. Just...no okay it's actually bad.”

Jude groans dramatically, hand over his heart as if your words wounded him. “Wow. First thing in the morning, and you’re already coming for me.”

After a moment, you set your mug down and glance at him. “What do you want for breakfast? Or are we just surviving on caffeine today?”

Jude’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile. “Surviving on caffeine sounds very me,” he admits. Then, after a beat, he straightens and adds, “But pancakes sound better.”

“Pancakes?” you say, arching a brow. “Aren't you the man who claims he doesn’t need breakfast?”

“I’m evolving,” he says, feigning a look of mock importance. “Also, I think we have chocolate chips in the pantry.”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Chocolate chip pancakes at dawn? I really am impressed.”

He nudges your side playfully, grinning. “Come on, let’s do it. We’ll make them quick. I’ll even let you flip them.”

“Generous of you,” you tease, already moving toward the pantry.

The only sounds are the soft clatter of bowls and utensils as the two of you work together, gathering ingredients and mixing the batter. Jude insists he’s got the perfect pancake recipe memorized, but you end up adding a little extra milk to the bowl when he’s not looking, just to mess with him.

“What did you just do?” he asks, squinting at you suspiciously as you stir.

“Nothing,” you say innocently, biting back a grin. “Just making sure it’s not too thick.”

He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t argue, instead grabbing a ladle and heating the pan. “Alright, let’s see how this goes.”

The first pancake comes out a little lopsided, and you burst into laughter as Jude flips it onto a plate with exaggerated precision.

“Hey,” he says, pointing the spatula at you, “it’s not about how it looks—it’s about how it tastes.”

“Sure, Chef Jude,” you reply, still laughing as you lean against the counter, watching him pour the next one.

The second pancake is better—golden brown and perfectly round—and by the time the stack is finished, the kitchen smells like warm batter and melted chocolate. Jude sets the plate on the table with a triumphant flourish, and you grab two forks, sliding into a chair beside him.

Jude nudges your foot under the table, catching your eye as he chews his first bite.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, grinning.

You smile back, warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the pancakes. “Not bad at all.”

You pause eating and carefully set the little fork down on your plate. Looking at him, you offer a gentle smile, hoping to ease the weight of the long night.

“You’re going to do great today. I just know it.”

He slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing your nose and then your cheek. After a moment, his hand settles softly on yours.

"I hope your predictions are right, then"

[arpicityandneed]

Just a kiss

18+. established relationship. f!reader. dirty talk. implied creampie. steve's sister reader.

~

"Bucky, you can't be in here." You hissed as your brother's best friend snuck into your room while your brother slept next door.

"Like I'm passing up a chance to get my hands on you when you're this close." Your boyfriend scoffed, his wicked blue eyes meeting yours heatedly as he reached for you.

"But, Bucky..." You were weak against him, the warmth of his hard body as he held you close.

"Just a kiss baby, I promise." He murmured earnestly looking so innocent you almost believed him. But then he's pressing his erection into your tummy, leaning down close to lick up your neck as he groans, "Just gonna kiss my tip to your cervix, kay?"

"Bucky-" Except instead of protesting you were moaning his name, spreading your thighs so he could pull your panties to the side.

It was easy work to ease two of his thick fingers into you. You'd already been up all night thinking about him, trying and failing to make youself feel as good as he does.

His full pink lips tugged into knowing wolfish smirk, and you whined in embarrassment. "Been playing with your needy little pussy without me doll?"

"I, I missed you," you moaned as he curled his fingers inside you, thumbing your clit in perfect sync.

"Poor baby." He added a third finger and released a shuddering breath as he rested his forehead against yours. "I missed you too."

When he withdrew your fingers you whimpered at the loss- face flaming when he licked his fingers clean before freeing his cock from his boxers and lining himself up. In one smooth thrust he was inside you, filling you up so perfectly you had to slap your hand over your mouth to stop the filthy sound that tried to escape.

"Fuck me," the hushed words went straight to your pussy. "Look at that sweetheart. That's what a nice, wet, kiss looks like." With every word he thrusted up a little bit inside you.

"B-Bucky, please..." you were long past the point in your relationship where you felt shame in begging for him. He loved it and dragged it out of you in the end anyway.

"Nuh uh, just a lil kiss. S'what I promised remember?" He smiled all crooked and charming, leaning in close to brush his lips against yours. "But I can cream you if you ask real nice."

[hanniebaeee]

The Honeymoon

Felix x fem!reader

Warnings: smutty smut MDNI

Genre: established relationship, arranged marriage, fluff, smut

Summary: You and Felix are on your honeymoon at a beautiful beach resort. And honeymooning with Felix is an experience altogether.

Part 1 - The Wedding

The beach resort is as breathtaking and picturesque as the website boasts. It is warm, and the salty ocean breeze and the sparkling turquoise waves completely stuns you into silence.

And your cabin is a masterpiece - glass walls overlooking the beach, draped with the softest curtains and a plush bed with a heart made of rose petals that makes you roll your eyes. Of course they did that - and your husband snickers seeing the look on your face.

As you wander outside, you spot an outdoor shower tucked into the garden, which opens up to a private beach. It’s romantic, intimate, and… it's exactly Felix’s kind of setup.

“Wow,” you breathe, taking in the view. “This is amazing.”

You feel his warmth behind you and he wraps his arms around your waist. Resting his chin on your shoulder, Felix says,“It's perfect, but I think it’s missing one thing.”

You turn your head slightly and ask, “What’s that?”

He leans in closer, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “You in that little sundress I saw you pack.”

Your cheeks go up in flames immediately and you hiss, “Felix!”

He grins and says, “What? We’re on our honeymoon! When are you planning to unpack all the fun stuff?”

You try not to smile when you feel his lips against your neck, and he's grinning too, pulling you back into his arms as you attempt an escape.

“Babe! Stop!” You whine half heartedly.

“Oh please, you love it,” he says, his grin turning softer. “Admit it.”

“I tolerate it,” you say, but your voice betrays you.

“Oh, really?” He asks, turning you around to face him, and kisses you, slow and deep. He hums softly into the kiss, his tongue caressing yours gently and you pull him closer. As close as you could.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning again, but the heat in his eyes makes your stomach flip.

“So,” he says, his voice dropping, “how about we start this honeymoon right?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you squeal as he scoops you up in his arms and carries you toward the bed. Your arms go around his neck, clinging to him tight as you scream, “Put me down, Lix!”

“Sorry, can't do that,” he says, and lays you gently on the bed. “This is my honeymoon, too, you know.”

You can't help but giggle as he nuzzles the crook of your neck teasingly, and places open mouthed kisses down your neck and collarbone.

The soft crash of the waves outside and the soft golden glow of the setting sun makes the moment even more beautiful. It’s so romantic, so….Felix, that you can’t help but melt into him.

The resort had a restaurant, so breathtakingly beautiful and peaceful, with dim lighting and a live band playing the softest tunes - it was perfect.

Felix holds your hand as you both walk in, and sit at a table all set for you already.

Felix eyes you shamelessly as you sit across from him. He approves of the pretty red dress that you're wearing, eyes lingering on your bare shoulders. His lips twitch into a smirk as he gazes at the faint pink and purple marks scattered across your neck and collarbone. And he looks particularly proud of his handiwork.

“You, uh… missed a spot, wifey.” he said cheekily.

Your face flames as you say, “Shut. Up.”

But Felix, being Felix, leans forward, chin resting in his hand as he watches you blush.

“I’m just saying, babe, you’re wearing it well.” He is so smugly, it's indecent.

You glare at him, picking up the menu and using it like a shield as a waiter approaches your table. “Oh my God.”

You try not to make eye contact with your insufferable husband or the waiter, as you give your order, and Felix has the audacity to wink at the poor man.

When the waiter leaves, you slap Felix’s arm and say, “Darling, you’re one more smug look away from sleeping on the floor tonight.”

Felix laughs, leaning closer as he says, “I think you’d miss me too much.”

“Try me,” you mutter, trying to cover your neck with your hair, and distract yourself so that it's not evident how much this man affects you.

“You’re so cute when you’re mad, you know that?” he purrs.

Your food arrives, halting your response for a minute.

“I’m not mad,” you huff just as the waiter leaves, stabbing your salad with enough force to make Felix snicker.

“Mhm…totally believable,” he teases, leaning back in his chair with that lazy, devastatingly handsome smile. “Only makes me wanna do more, you know…makes me want to-”

His voice dips so low and sultry, your fork freezes mid-air as your cheeks burn. He doesn't finish that sentence, but takes your hand in his across the table and lets his thumb brush against your knuckles. It's such a simple gesture, but your heart races.

At the end of the meal, you're looking through the dessert menu, asking him what he wants to try, and he offhandedly whispers something about what he’d rather be having for dessert, you literally freeze for a second.

Because all jokes apart, you're actually so nervous and terrified of going there with him. You're so hopelessly in love with Felix, you've always been, and you want it all to be perfect. And it scares you so much.

The morning sun is strong as you and Felix head out on your trek, the trail winding through lush greenery. You've had your eyes on those mountains the minute you set foot on the island, and Felix looked interested too, so here you are.

You’re dressed for the heat - shorts and a tank top - hair in a high ponytail. Your husband is also dressed similarly, his hair put up in an adorable bun. You've been trying to ignore the butterflies in your tummy every time you gazed at him. It's beyond you, how he manages to look so snack-like, by doing absolutely nothing at all.

You adjust your backpack as you walk ahead of him (hoping that he doesn't catch up with the thirsty looks you're throwing his way). But he's got that annoying grin on his face, and you can feel his eyes burning into your back.

“You know,” he starts, his eyes unapologetically glued to your legs as you climb over a rock. “You’ve outdone yourself with the outfit today, babe.”

You glance over your shoulder at him, eyebrows raised.

“It's literally the most basic trekking attire. Just saying.” you reply, but you're really pleased.

“Basic?” he smirks, catching up to walk alongside you, “if you wanted to kill me on this trek, you could’ve just pushed me off a cliff. But you had to hit where it hurts.”

You snort as you keep walking, ignoring his less than innocent commentary about your shorts or other things as best you can. But he keeps going on, just trailing after you like an excited puppy.

You come across a little pond, and decide to rest here. The pond, surprisingly, heart shaped, is so pretty that you both click lots of pictures around it - half of which can't be shown to the world, thanks to your companion.

He sits on a rock by the pond, and pulls you onto his lap. You feel his fingers slip under the hem of your tank top, grazing your skin so softly.

“We're in the middle of a forest.” You remind him. “Wait. Are there any wild animals here?”

Felix laughs, the sound echoing in the quiet forest.

“Maybe a deer or two.” he says, his lips pressing against your sweaty neck.

“Felix,” you warn, though the smirk tugging at your lips betrays you.

“They're fading!” he says, running his fingers over the purplish marks on your skin.

“I don't think so, they don't vanish in half a day.” You say, putting your arms around his neck.

“It's probably the sunlight.” he says, kissing them softly. “I don't mind giving you more though.”

“Aha, sure,” you say, kissing the tip of his nose.

He grins and leans in to kiss you.

“What are your thoughts on our first time being out in the open? In touch with nature and things.” Felix asks, his hands slipping further up your back, under your top.

“Lixie, your ideas are the worst. I'm not getting bitten by a snake because you're horny.” You say, getting off his lap.

“Come onnnn!!!” He wails. “Honestly, babe, this is unfair.”

“I’m ignoring you.” you sing, starting to walk away.

“You love me,” he teases, and your heart flutters at that.

You sigh dramatically and say, “Unfortunately, I do.”

Once you both get back to your cabin, and clean up, Felix wants to take a walk on the beach. He leads you away from your cabin, and the waters right at your doorstep.

You both walk hand in hand, barefoot, as the waves lapped at your feet. It is so calm and peaceful here, and Felix looks really happy, but also uncharacteristically silent.

“Is everything ok?” You ask.

“Of course, today was great, wasn't it?” he says, giving your hand a little squeeze.

“Lixie, what-”

“Shh, let's just enjoy the moment, ok?” Felix gives you an assuring smile and walks slowly.

Your anxiety is creeping in again, and you keep glancing at him, wondering what's going on with him. Then you see him nod at someone across the beach. Before you could question him, he leads you back to your cabin.

It's so beautifully isolated from the rest of the resort, with a pretty trail leading towards the little private space.

“So, uh…” You clear your throat, trying to ignore how tense you feel. “You do have something in your mind.”

Felix glances at you, his freckled face glowing.

“Maybe I do. Why? Are you worried?” he says, holding your hand tighter.

“Should I be?”

“Depends.”

You sigh, and continue to walk, but as the trail opens into to reveal your cabin, you're blown away by what awaits you.

The small area in front of your cabin is illuminated by fairy lights, and a little bonfire crackled gently nearby, the glow reflecting off the pristine waves lapping at the shore.

And the main attraction of the evening is the cute little picnic set up in the center - a picnic blanket spread with fluffy cushions, a low table set with dinner for two, with candles flickering in the soft breeze.

And if all this isn't enough, there by the bonfire stands the prettiest tent you've ever seen. Strung with more tiny lights and flowers - flaps held open with strings. You can't ignore the way your heart races as your eyes skim the cozy blankets and cushions waiting in the tent.

“Felix…” you breathe, eyes wide as you take it all in. “Oh my God.”

He chuckles, draping an arm casually over your shoulder.

“You like it, then?” he asks, and you want to say a hundred things, but you can only nod. He kisses your cheek and winks at you, before walking toward the resort employee, who stood respectfully to the side, waiting for Felix.

You can’t hear their conversation, but when he returns, he is smiling softly at you.

“All set,” he says, offering you his hand. “Shall we?”

You nod, following him, but looking back at the resort staff, who is nowhere in sight now.

“Relax, love,” he says, lacing his fingers with yours and guiding you to the picnic mat. “It’s just you and me tonight. Promise.”

You settle onto the mat, the warmth of the bonfire mingling with the cool breeze off the ocean. Felix pours two glasses of champagne, handing one to you with a little bow.

“To us,” he says, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. “And to your little dress I've been dying to see.”

Your laugh as you clink glasses.

“To us,” you echo, letting him serve you dinner (that looks way too beautiful to eat). Felix is a perfect gentleman all through it, until it's time for dessert. He pulls you to his side of the table, and right onto his lap, feeding you bites of the soft tender coconut pudding. He brushes off some invisible crumbs off your lips with his thumb, before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder.

“You good?” he asks, setting the spoon down to hold you with both his hands.

“More than good,” you reply, and Felix leans in, pecking your lips. The firelight dances across his face, highlighting the golden freckles scattered across his cheeks.

“You’re so beautiful, Lixie,” you say, your fingers brushing carefully over his freckles.

“You think so, wifey?” He asks, his smile so soft and genuine.

“Can you just kiss me already?”

He chuckles, and gives you what you want. The kiss is slow at first - tender and sweet, but it quickly deepens. Felix’s fingers thread through your hair, pulling you closer as his lips move against yours, leaving you breathless.

You can feel his hand move down to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him. You gasp as he bites down on your lower lip, and pulls you back into a searing kiss.

When you finally pull back, he smiles, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “if you keep kissing me like that, I might have to carry you into that tent.”

“What’s stopping you?” you ask, grinning back at him.

His eyes darken with a mix of amusement and something more, and before you know it, he’s scooping you up in his arms and carrying you toward the tent.

Inside, the fairy lights cast a warm glow over you both. Felix sets you down gently, his hands lingering at your waist as he leans in close.

“I love you, baby,” he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek.

“I love you too Lixie,” you whisper back, your voice trembling slightly as he kisses you again, and his lips slowly make their way down your neck.

It feels so good, and terrifying altogether. You grip his arms tightly, and he pulls back to look at you.

“We don't have to-”

“I want to.”

“Baby-”

“Felix, I'm sure. I don't know what I should do-”

He's kissing you again, harder, and it steals your breath away. His body is so firm and warm against yours, and his hand trembles as his fingers gently brush against the bare skin of your thigh.

He slowly slides his hand up, his touch sending shivers down your spine. Your breath quickens as his hand slips under the hem of your dress, and over your inner thigh, gently caressing the soft skin.

You gasp a little, and Felix stops quickly and asks, “Not ok?”

“No, no, please don't stop!” You say, breath heavy, giving him a wide eyed look.

“Ok,” He says, nodding and his hand moves higher, and he feels the heat radiating from you. He pauses, his breath hot against your neck, waiting for you to stop him if you wanted to.

But you just nod, and his fingers finally reach your wetness, softly touching you over your panties. He strokes you gently, his touch light and teasing. You let out the softest moan ever, your hands gripping him tighter.

He couldn't wait any longer and you shiver as his hand slips inside your panties. He explores your folds gently, his thumb finding your clit, and he begins to rub it in slow, circular motions, and you try your best not to be loud.

Felix, his mouth now close to yours, whispers, “You're so wet, baby,”

His words send a fresh wave of arousal through you, and he slowly inserts a finger inside you, and you can actually hear how wet you are. Your cheeks burn, as he continues to pleasure you, his touch becoming more insistent.

“Felix, I-” You don't know what to say or do, because your head is spinning from how good it feels.

Just as you start to feel that familiar knot build inside you, Felix stops. His eyes seek yours, as he sits up and asks a very simple question that makes you stare back at him open-mouthed.

“Can I… can I, um, taste you?”

“I'm sorry, what?” You ask, sitting up as well, your skin blazing hot.

“Baby, can I eat you out, please?” Felix is giving you that puppy eyed look, and you are completely blank. Especially so because you've never experienced it before. So you don't know what to expect.

“Um…”

“Please? Pleeeease!!!” Felix says shifting closer to you, his hand resting on your thigh. “I promise it'll feel great. We can stop if you don't like it…but I really really want to!”

You gaze at him, begging you to let him eat you out, and he's so adorable even when he's being so unreasonably hot. You find yourself nodding (at this point you'd nod to anything he wants).

He gives you such a happy grin before quickly pushing you back down and pulling your panties down your legs. He turns to pull at the strings holding the tent flaps open. They flutter close, and it's just you and him under the warm glow of the fairy lights.

He leaned forward, kissing down your chest, nuzzling your breasts and the hardened peaks of your nipples. His breath is so hot against your skin, you're writhing under him, and bites your nipple over your dress, making you whimper, your fingers gripping at his hair.

His hands cup your breasts and he squeezes them, before his hands move down, tracing the curve of your waist and hips, before pushing up your dress to expose you.

You tense instantly and close your legs, and he runs his hands up and down your thighs, saying, “Relax baby. I've got you, ok?”

You nod, taking in a shaky breath.

“I want to taste you, baby, to make you come on my tongue.”

Your eyes widen at his bold words, and you're so nervous, but he coaxes you to let him see you.

“Felix, wait-”

“It's just me. You trust me, right?”

“I do-”

“Good girl,” His voice is just a whisper, as he slowly leans in, and places a kiss on your inner thigh. And then another. And then another - this time, right on your clit. Your body jerks at the sudden contact. And Felix, losing all control of himself, runs his tongue from your slit to clit, tasting you for the first time.

Felix moans softly, the taste of you sending a surge of pleasure through him. You're a whimpering mess as he licks you again, his tongue delving deeper into your hole. You are so dizzy with pleasure, your hands tightening in his hair. He's messy as he latches onto your clit, sucking and teasing it with the tip of his tongue.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. And when you hit your high, your legs shake and you can't take it - you cry out softly, as Felix holds your hips firmly, his mouth never leaving you.

He stops, resting his head against your belly as you gasp at him to stop because it's too much. Your chest heaves and your body shimmers with a sheen of sweat. Felix smiles up at you, his eyes filled with adoration, and he just looks so happy, though you can see that he's painfully hard in his pants.

You reach out, and he crawls up to you, letting you wipe off the wetness from his chin and lips with your hand. He hugs you tight and says, “You're so sweet, baby,”

You smile, your heart overflowing with love for him.

“I want you to feel good too.” You say, trying to sit up, but he shakes his head, holding you down. “Lix, let me-”

“Let me fuck you then,” He says quickly and you fall silent at his choice of words.

“Ok,”

He grins as he pulls his shirt off his head, tossing it aside, but he wants you to keep your dress on because he's been fantasizing about it for way too long.

And when he finally pushes into you, he's completely gone. He's lost. He's in a trance. And it's borderline funny.

“What are you smiling for?” He asks, pounding into you, his eyes rolling to the back of head, because you're so tight, and you keep clenching around him. “Fuck baby, stop doing that-”

You can barely speak, but you keep your eyes open, just so you can remember this day forever. That look of bliss on his face. Like he's living a dream - which he is.

And when he finally cums (a hell lot), he is about to pull out, but you insist that he doesn't. And he's kind of worried, so you assure him that you are prepared for that, seconds before he spills inside you with a string of curses leaving his lips.

He collapses on top of you, trying to catch his breath. You're panting too (and desperately in need of a shower), when Felix lifts his head and teases you about being prepared for him. What he doesn't expect is an equally shameless response from you.

“What am I supposed to do, hubby dearest. I figured we'll be fucking like bunnies-”

“Where is my wife and what have you done to her?!” Felix asks, sitting up and staring at you open-mouthed.

“You've officially broken me, Lee Felix.”

@hyunjinxxs here you go 🤭

Dividers by @saradika

[starboye]

starring: matt sturniolo x male reader

request: matt sturniolo fucking reader in his (matt’s) room over his desk, covering him in hickeys and making reader moan about how matt owns him and reader belongs to him because matt got jealous of seeing another guy flirt with reader at a party they were just at. matt restrains reader in some way, reader calls matt “sir” and matt degrades reader by calling him a slut, dumb, etc.

warnings: smut, jealous!matt, ass slapping, dom and sub, cursing, creampie, unprotected sex, marking (aka hickeys)

you didn't even flirt with the guy, all you did was laugh at a couple of his jokes and maybe your hand accidentally caressed his but my god did that tick matt off, he was quick to take you away from the random guy and put you in the car, driving home with a stern grip on the steering wheel and a tense vibe.

making it home wasn't even the worst part, it was then that as soon as you stepped through the door he was stripping off your clothes and kissing you all over before making your way up to his room where he immediately takes off all your clothes but leaves his on since he's to mad to even think about himself.

bending you over his desk and slamming into you harshly, you feel every inch of him stretch you out, his hips snapping into your ass making you moan out like the slut "who was he huh" matt asks you, his hand coming to wrap around your throat to lift your head up.

"fuck... no one matt i was just talking to him" you try to explain by is cut off by his thrusts suddenly stopping and his mouth coming down next to your ear "now c'mon baby you and i both know he wanted to fuck you so badly with the way he was looking at you" he says, you feel his breath fan over you cheek sending shivers down your spine.

his thrust reappear again bringing you back to a moaning mess "i promise matt-" you try to apologize but are cut off by a harsh slap to your ass "for tonight you call me sir m'kay" matt sternly demands and you nod your head "now who do you belong to" he then asks leaning down to kiss your neck.

"you sir" you whimper feeling him nip and suck at your neck "again" he orders, still not looking up from the marks he's putting on your neck "im all yours sir" you said again, this time you could feel his cock twitch inside you, getting loser and closer to his climax "mhm that's right no other guy can make you feel how i feel right" he asks, his thrusts becoming more and more languid as he came closer and closer to cumming.

"mm mm only you can" you agree with him and soon you feel matts load spurt into you, his thick ropes of cum filling you up as he let out heavy breaths into the crook of your neck, still thrusting into your to ride out the little high he had left before slowly pulling out of you, your hole looking like a sloppy mess.

taglist: @mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[darlingdaisyfarm]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ riding Ford and getting multiple orgasms out of him 

author note: a little request from ao3 “Reader (by the request of Bill) riding Ford and getting multiple orgasms out of him, basically typical overstimulation stuff? :]” 

tags: nsfw, p in v, riding, overstimulation, praise and degrading, triangle!Bill, tendrils

It’s not just about the way he looks at you when you’re close, or how he touches you like he’s unsure if he deserves it. It’s the little things, those soft gasps he lets slip when you press your lips to his skin as you tease him, the way his hands tremble when you pull him closer, whispering praises in his ear. 

Tonight, though, you want more than just the sweetness. You want him broken, to see the desperation in his eyes, to hear him beg. You want to take your time, savour him, consume him whole. It’s not just about pleasure; it’s about watching Stanford fucking Pines fall apart, piece by piece, under your touch. 

He’s always been the reserved one, the serious one, always ready to protect you at all costs, the intellectual, the scientist who can’t seem to let go of his fears and doubts. But with you, Ford is different. He lets go of his mask, just a little, and it makes you want him even more. 

You start slow, leaning close, kissing his beautiful lips with a tenderness that quickly turns into something deeper as you climb into his lap. It takes Ford’s breath away, and you pull him closer, your hands caressing his chest, guiding him onto his back. 

“Relax,” you murmur, kissing the corner of his mouth, then trailing your lips along his jawline, the scratch of his stubble against your skin making you smile. His chest rises and falls sharply beneath your palms, and you can feel his heart racing, how it betrays his nerves.

“Darling. . .” dear god, his voice is already trembling, his nails digging into your skin just enough to show he’s trying to hold back. But you know it’s only a matter of time before he crumbles. Ford lets out a quiet sound as you kiss him again, this time deeper, your tongue coaxing his lips apart.

You move to his neck, lips pressing delicate kisses along the curve of his throat. He tilts his head back, letting you explore, giving you more space and skin to mark. “You’re so beautiful like this,” you whisper, dragging your tongue over the spot where his pulse thrums wildly captivating beneath his skin.

He shudders as you nip gently. “Darling, sweetheart. . .” Ford’s always-so-calm voice is now already broken with anticipation, and it makes you proud of yourself. “you’re. . . quite bold tonight, aren’t you?” he smiles awkwardly.

“Bold? Sweetheart’s not bold, IQ. She’s fucking feral. Look at her, climbing all over you like she’s about to eat you alive!” Bill’s voice cuts through Ford’s mind like a razor. 

Ford groans softly, tilting his head back, arching as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, flicking your tongue out to taste the sensitive skin there and lick the little bites you made. “Y-you don’t need to rush, love,” he stammers, though the way his cock throbs beneath you tells a different story. 

“Oh, Sixer, would you relax? You’ve got a total bombshell in your lap and you’re too busy being a nerd! Just sit back and let ’er take the reins, huh?”

You laugh softly, pressing your hips down just enough to make him gasp. “Rush? But I’ve been thinking about this all day.” 

“Christ, nerd, she’s fucking desperate! You’d better not disappoint her, though that’d be hilarious.”

Ford flinches, his hands tightening their hold on you, but you soothe him, threading your fingers into his graying hair. “Hey,” you say softly, calming him with a kiss to his temple. “It’s just us tonight, okay? Let me take care of you. I want to make you feel good.”

Ford knows you aren’t alone, but he nods, letting himself sink further into your warm touch. 

The kisses grow deeper, more demanding, your tongue sliding against his as you press your body closer, feeling him hard and throbbing beneath you, so needy already. You grind down against him, a slow roll of your hips that makes him gasp, his head tipping back into the pillows. 

“Darling,” he chokes out, “y-you don’t have to— ahh. . .”

“Shhh,” you soothe, your hands running down his chest, caressing his pretty scars gently, feeling the tension in his body. “let me love you, Ford.”

And with that, you kiss your way lower, down his collarbone, leaving marks as you go. Your fingers find his belt, and he stiffens beneath you.

“Don’t be nervous,” you giggle, kissing another scar on his chest as you slowly undo the buckle. “I’ll be gentle.” 

“That’s pathetic, Sixer. Don’t tell me you’ll cum before she even gets your pants off.” 

He can’t even speak, just nod and watch you with desperation written all over his face as you free his cock from the confines of his pants. Poor man squirms beneath you, all six fingers sliding over your body, unsure of what to do. But you feel like heaven and he could stay like this forever.

Ford’s cock springs free, and he exhales sharply at the sudden exposure. His painfully hot length makes contact with the cool air, and it’s all too much, too fast. He’s achingly hard, his shaft twitching against his stomach, already leaking from how worked up he is. The veins bulge slightly beneath his skin, a visual testament to his desperation. You bite your lip, unable to hide your smile as you run your thumb over the sensitive tip, spreading the bead of precum. His entire body jerks under your touch, hips bucking helplessly as a strangled cry escapes him. 

“Oh, come on, Stanford. You’re shaking already? She’s barely touched you!”

“Please, please don’t stop, I need more. . . ahh, ahnn. . .” Ford’s head falls back.

You give him what he wants. Ford's cock twitches helplessly in your grip as you wrap your fingers around his thickness, stroking him slowly from base to tip. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive, leaking tip again and you smirk. “You’re so hard,” you murmur, admiration lacing your voice as Ford’s moans fill the room. His hips buck upward, driven by desperate need.

“Oh, this is gonna be interesting. Place your bets, sweetheart! Two thrusts? One? How long before Sixer cums like the pathetic man he is?”

Ford whimpers, the sound breaking and soft, so damn apologetic. It only makes you want to ruin him more. And Ford wants it, he wants all of it, all of you.

He shudders, his hands gripping the sheets in a futile attempt to hold onto control. But it’s slipping away fast. “Darling, please, please—”you cut him off with a kiss, your lips crashing into his and swallowing his moans. Your hand continues stroking him, never relenting, only giving him more pleasure.

“God, Ford,” you whisper against his lips, pulling away just enough to watch his needy beautiful face. “You’re so big. . . I can’t wait to feel you inside me.”

Ford’s eyes flutter open, locking onto yours. God, he looks wrecked already, lips trembling, cheeks flushed, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Aw, look at you two lovebirds. Makes me sick. No, really, keep going, I’m enjoying the show.”

You smile, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. “Does that feel good?” you coo, your grip tightening around his aching cock.

“Y-yes,” he whines helplessly. “so good! oh goddd—” the proof of it lies in the way his whole body trembles, his thighs tense beneath you, and your hand slick with his leaking precum. He thrusts up into your grip and he’s losing it. 

But it’s not enough for you. You need more. Your free hand slides down to your own heat, tugging your panties aside. You spread yourself open for him, letting him see everything, how wet you are, how your pussy clenches on nothing, dripping and desperate. “Look at me, Ford. Look at what you do to me.” 

Ford’s eyes snap open at your words, and the sight nearly undoes him. His cock jerks in your hand, more precum spilling onto your fingers. “Honey, you’re s-so beautiful. I— I love you so much. . .” 

“Touch me,” you demand, though it comes out as a plea when you guide one of his six-fingered hands between your thighs. His fingers tremble as they slide against your wet folds. Another groan tears from his throat when he feels how soaked you are.

“Right here,” you beg, pressing his fingertips to your clit. A soft moan escapes you as he begins to circle it, biting his lip.

“At least pretend you know what you’re doing, Sixer. Fake it for her sake!”

Ford’s long fingers move tentatively at first, spreading your wetness. “You’re so wet,” he stutters in awe.

“For you, Ford, only for you,” you whisper, grinding against his hand. 

Ford’s touch grows bolder with every needy sound you make, his thumb finding just the right pressure on your puffy clit. Two fingers slide lower, teasing your dripping entrance. He swallows thickly, his gaze locked on yours as his long digits press into you. Ford curls his fingers inside, brushing that perfect spot that makes you cry out, your walls fluttering around him.

His cock throbs in your other hand, twitching, begging to feel your pussy around him. Pearls of cum drip down his length, making everything so deliciously messy. Your thumb rubs over the sensitive tip in rhythm with the way you ride his hand and it’s too much for him. 

“Darling, please. I— I need to be inside you. Pleasepleaseplease. . .”

You smile as another soft moan escapes your lips. Leaning down to kiss him again, swallowing his desperate mewls, you line his cock with your pussy. The thick, leaking tip presses against your dripping entrance, twitching there, so hot and ready to fill you.

“Do you want this?” you tease, letting the head of his cock slip just barely inside. 

“Ye-yes!” Ford gasps, his hips jerking upward. “Please, love! I’ll do anything. Just please—” 

You don’t make him wait any longer because yourself can’t too. Slowly, you lower yourself onto him, feeling the delicious stretch as you sink down, inch by inch. Your pussy takes him in, wetness welcoming him, the thickness of him stretching you in the most perfect way, leaving you breathless as you take all of him. Your walls flutter around his cock, gripping him tight and you both let out matching moans when he fills you completely.

Ford’s reaction is fucking beautiful. His hands fly to your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as his head falls back, a choked sob spilling from his lips. “Oh god! I can feel everything, fuck, love, you’re so tight, so warm. . .”

The moment you start to move, Ford’s entire body goes rigid, his breath breaking into soft, helpless gasps as he just lays there and lets you ride him. He tries to hold it together, but it’s useless. You’re too much, too perfect, too wet and tight for him, and he doesn’t even know what to do with himself anymore.

And then he’s coming. His hips buck uncontrollably, his cock throbbing as he spills inside you, a pathetic whine leaving his lips. 

You freeze, your eyes wide as you stare down at him, suddenly aware of his warm seed inside you. Ford. . . did he just. . .?

“Oh my fucking god, you actually came?! Holy shit, Sixer, I wasn’t serious about the two-thrust thing, but damn! You’re even more pathetic than I thought!” 

Ford’s face burns with shame as he buries it in his hands. “I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

“What’s wrong? Oh, nothing at all, Fordsy. Couldn’t even last five seconds, huh? That’s embarrassing.”

You can’t help but laugh, though it’s a soft, affectionate sound unlike Bill’s. “Ford,” you say gently, cupping his cute face and tilting it up to meet your gaze. “It’s okay. Really. It just means you felt really good, honey. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“Nah, you should be ashamed of yourself, IQ. But judging by that stupid look on your face, you’re too far gone to care.”

Oh, sweet heavens, he thinks, you’re too kind to him. Your hands slide up his chest, tangling in his hair as you kiss him again, your lips soft and loving, taking all his embarrassment away. His head is thrown back against the pillows, his eyes glassy, lips trembling like he’s trying to speak but can’t string a single coherent word together. 

“You feel— you feel, ahh. . . so fucking good, Ford,” you breathe as you bounce on him. Ford’s eyes roll back into his head, and he groans. You lean down, stroking his cheek with a tender hand, kissing him sweetly. “Shhh, you’re doing so good, baby,” you whisper, rolling your hips again, feeling his cock pulse as you grind down on him. 

“She’s fucking herself stupid on your cock, and you’re still useless. Can’t even thrust properly anymore, can you? Just lying there, letting her ride you like the limp little mess you are.”

Ford’s hands twitch at your waist like he wants to protest but can’t find the strength. “Pussy’s s-so good,” he mumbles, his words slurred as though he’s drunk. “so tight, so warm. . .”

“Jesus fucking Christ, listen to yourself,” Bill cackles. “You’re out here worshipping pussy like it’s the first time you’ve ever seen one. All that brainpower, and you’re fucking useless when there’s a pretty cunt on top of you!”

Ford only whimpers, his face burning from Bill’s cruel mocking, because himself knows its truth, his cock twitches inside you at the words. Despite the shame, he thrusts up helplessly, chasing more, trying to reach deeper, even though he’s so far gone. 

“Does it feel good, Ford?” you murmur, leaning down to kiss his nose.

“Yesyesyes! yes! so fucking good,” he gasps, bucking his hips whenever you pull yourself up. “I c-can’t, oh, love, I don’t think I can last—” 

“Look at you,” Bill sneers. “All it takes is a tight cunt and a few rolls of her hips. What happened to the big, smart scientist? Where’s Mr. Genius now, huh?”

“It’s okay, Ford. You don’t have to hold back.” 

He can’t stop the whining that spills from his lips, so damn loud, his head tipping back to expose his throat. You seize the opportunity, pressing your lips to his pulse, kissing and sucking until his gasps dissolve into desperate cries. His cock twitches violently inside you, and then his entire body shudders again when he cums inside you with a pleading moan. 

“Oh god,” he whimpers, the realisation hitting him hard. His hands tremble on your waist as he looks up at you, his vision blurry. “I-I’m sorry! I couldn’t—” 

You don’t bother with words. Instead, you kiss him deeply, your hips still moving. Ford lets out a sharp, choked sound as you continue to ride him, your pussy clenching greedily around his now oversensitive cock. 

“W-wait, I. . . oh, fuck, love, wait. . .” 

But you don’t stop. 

“That’s it, you can give me more, can’t you? I know you can, Ford. Please.” 

Ford cries out from the overstimulation, helpless and weak to the way how your pussy swallow all what he gives you. His hands fall uselessly to the bed as you take complete control, but his cock staying rock hard, buried deep inside you. Each slow roll of your hips makes his tip brush against your cervix, what also makes you moan loudly.

“Oh m-my god,” you grind harder, obsessed with how heavenly his cock fills you. “look at you, you’re such a mess. . .”

Ford can’t even respond. He’s too lost in the way your pretty pussy feels, pulling him deeper, clenching around him tight. His mouth hangs open, breathless, his trembling fingers dig into your hips, your ass, trying to pull you closer, but the effort is weak, desperate. 

“I. . . oh, I c-can’t,” he stutters your name. “I— I can’t hold on. . . please, please, I— I can’t, just. . .”

Bill chuckles. “My little slut is so goddamn desperate he can’t even form a fucking sentence.”

You smirk, pressing your body closer to Ford’s, grinding into him in time with his shallow thrusts. His cock twitches inside you again, his body practically begging for another release but he feels like nothing might come out.

“I love seeing you like this,” you purr. “all you can think about is cumming, isn’t it?” 

His eyes are glazed, he doesn’t try to answer, he just nods desperately, the sounds escaping his lips a garbled mess. 

“I. . . I need you, da-darling. Please, ahh, please! Don’t stop. God, don’t stop, please! Don’t stop. . . It feels so good, im so close!”

“Yes, let it all out, baby. Don’t hold back. You’re such a good boy for me, Ford.” 

“Yes, yes, please, too much!” his begging is broken, barely coherent, his words dissolving into needy little whimpers. “I need to. . . mhmm, need to cum inside you! nnghn, please, let me—” 

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? He’s so eager to fill you up, he doesn’t even care how pathetic he looks.”

“Yes,” you murmur, leaning down to capture Ford’s lips. “Please cum inside me, Ford, again. Please. . .”

And that’s how he comes again, so obedient. It slams into him like a tidal wave, his cock pulsing deep inside you, spilling into your womb again and again, filling you up, flooding your walls white. He’s not even sure if he has the strength left to moan, his throat is dry.

“Look at you. Shaking, crying, and cumming like it’s the only thing you know how to do. Now that’s the kind of Sixer I like.”

But you don’t stop. He can’t take much more, but you don’t give him a choice. You fuck him harder this time, harder than before, your body slapping against his with each thrust, the sounds of your bodies joining in perfect sync.

You feel his cum dripping out, pooling where your bodies are joined and it’s so dirty and messy there, but you keep moving, grinding against him, chasing your own release now, using Ford for your pleasure now. 

“Such a good boy,” you whisper, leaning down to kiss his temple. “You’re doing so well, Ford. I love you so much.” 

“Sweetheart,” Ford’s voice already hoarse. “I need you, I need you so bad, I— I can’t. . .”

Bill's triangular shape appears directly to Ford's left. “Told ya, two seconds and you’re already a fucking puddle. You’re sobbing and begging like a fucking whore. You like it, huh? You like being used like this?” 

Ford’s body is completely undone as he turns head to look at Cipher, his words barely intelligible. “Y-yes. . . yes. . . I’m a whore. . . love, please, I’m— I’m cumming again. . .”

Before he can finish, it hits him. His cock pulses inside you, spilling another load deep into your pussy. Ford cries out as you keep riding him, milking every last drop out of him. His hands weakly grip your hips, but his body is limp, overwhelmed by the force of his orgasm. 

You smile, feeling his warm liquid until it starts leaking out from how full you are. Leaning down, your lips brush his ear. “You like it, don’t you, Ford? Being so deep inside me, cumming inside me, filling me up. . . gosh, im so close too. . .”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Bill interrupts. “You two are useless. Let me show you how it’s done.”

Before either of you can react, his awfully slick, dark tendrils shoot out, snaking around your bodies. You gasp as one wraps around your thighs, while another slithers up to your clit, teasing the sensitive bundle with agonizing flicks. Another tendril brushes over your breasts, curling around them tightly before twisting and tugging at your nipples in agonising rhythm.

Ford isn’t spared, either. Tendrils wrap around his wrists roughly, pulling his arms above his head and pinning him to the bed, so he’s pretty useless beneath you as he’s forced to stay still, another tendril cups his balls, rolling and kneading them. Dark limb wraps around his torso, circling his nipples before pinching them sharply, then caressing. Ford lets out a broken cry, tears springing to his eyes from the overstimulation. 

“Look at you both,” Bill sneers and his voice is filled with nothing, but pure mockery. “a mewling little slut and a pathetic, whining mess of a man. Poor little humans can’t handle a bit of attention, huh? You’re both so fucking needy. You don’t even deserve this.”

You try to respond, try to form words, but all that escapes your lips is a whimper. The tendril on your clit vibrates suddenly, the slick, wet sound of your soaked pussy taking Ford in only fuels Bill’s mocking tone as he forces you to ride his six-fingered toy faster.

You can’t answer, you can’t think. All that matters is that pathetic whining mess called Ford beneath you, twitching and moaning, his body held immobile by Bill’s tendrils as you ride him, taking him deeper and deeper, feeling yourself close.

“Your cunt? Your cock? Your orgasms? Mine. Every last bit of you belongs to me.”

Your back arches, hands clawing at Ford’s chest to stabilise yourself, but it’s no use. The sensations are too much, your body too sensitive and overstimulated to fight back.

“Oh, please, it’s too much, B-Bill,” you manage to choke out, but even as you beg, your hips buck helplessly into the tendril, chasing the overwhelming pleasure despite the way your thighs shake. 

“Remember this moment, freaks, because you’ll never be able to fuck without thinking of me again.”

Ford isn’t faring any better, ruined by every flick of the tendrils on his nipples and the painful stimulation of his balls.

“B-Bill, my muse, please, stop, I can’t, I c-can’t take it,” he’s breathless, his voice breaks on every syllable. His words are desperate, but his body betrays him, his cock twitching as the tendrils toy with him. “I’ll. . .I’ll cum again, im gonna. . .”

“Oh, you’ll cum again, alright,” demon laughs. “And again. And again. Don’t think I’m letting either of you off easy.”

Bill shifts his attention to you, the tendrils around your clit and breasts tightening, pulling your nipples painfully before switching to gentle, torturous strokes. Your cries fill the room and Bill’s laughter only grows louder. 

“And you, beautiful,” his glowing yellow form leans closer to your face. “You’re no better. Moaning like a bitch in heat while I play with you. Can’t even decide if you want me to stop or go harder, huh? You’re just a messy little thing like him, aren’t you?”

You try to glare at him, but your head falls back with a loud moan as the vibrations on your sensitive clit intensify. The pleasure so sharp it borders on pain. “I’m gonna! oh fuck, I’m gonna cum! Bill, just let me cum!”

“Already, baby? Does it feel that good, having me play with your little clit while poor Sixer can barely keep up?” Cipher appears right in front of you way and his tendrils slow their movements just enough to pull you back from the edge, leaving you trembling and whining in frustration, the orgasm just out of reach when you was so ready for it.

Ford sobs as he feels your cunt grip on him. “B-Bill, please, please, oh god, it’s too much, I c-can’t hold on, please, let me cum, I need to— please! It-it hurts!”

“‘Need to’? Oh, how cute! You need to cum, Sixer? But you wanted to be a pathetic, trembling mess, no? Then I’ll make sure you fucking stay one.” Ford cant believe he’s being denied to orgasm now, when his balls are so tight he might explode. The tendrils on his nipples twist sharply.

You’re no better as your body helpless against these Bill’s disgusting things that tease and torment you mercilessly too. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, I need to cum, please, Bill, please!” you cry.

Bill leans back, materializing a glass of wine for himself, laughing loudly as he watches. “Listen to yourselves. Begging me like the pathetic little toys you are. God, you’re both so fucking easy to break, it’s even boring.” 

His glowing yellow form looms over you both when his voice lowers. 

“Don’t worry, freaks, I’m not stopping until I’ve ruined you completely.”

[rubiehart]

how are jj and bsf!reader doing after s4’s events…

♪ heavy - the marías ♪

the neurons in jj’s body are practically buzzing with how giddy he is, blonde mop flopping back against the head rest with every bump of the long country road. his lips are fixed in that signature cocky grin that made you fall head over heels for him all those years ago in the sand box days. “you kiddin’ me?” he laughs breathily, the north carolina air whizzing past the semi-crooked open windows. manually wound down ‘cause the twinkie’s an old girl to say the least.

the wind whips through his blonde tresses and he’s happily bobbing in his seat, hands readjusting on the wheel, one on the ten, other on the three, as he fixes his gaze on your form, looking like some kind of hyper-active puppy with you sprawled out in shotgun, back resting against the door as you grin fondly at his antics. he whistles, his adoration of you being completely obvious. “cause seein’ you in that ‘kini.. nearly sent me off my damn feet..”

the change in his approach is noticeable as you pull your head back in from the window to meet his eye, wind no longer roaring in your ears when you smirk almost challengingly, elbows leaned against the rim of the open window, tilting your head to the side questioningly, knowing he could never resist your teasing, you murmur a “yeah?” watching the way he fidgets in his seat as the van rumbles down the empty road.

he noticeably jerks in excitement as your slight show of submission, warm, ring adorned hand moving to rest against your bare thigh, kneading the flesh fondly, eyes never leaving yours as he silently pleads with you. “you’re not kiddin’ right, baby? ‘cuz that’d be real mean, i promise ya.” he speaks slow, in that southern drawl that always made you mentally fold for him, you shrug, faux carelessly as you bump over another pothole, tits jostling in your triangle bikini top.

you dismiss his admission with a soft shake of your head and a flick of his knuckle, cheeky smile on your face as he re-situates himself with two hands on the wheel, a little pissy about the loss of contact. “eyes on the road, jay.” you tease, ironically because you’re sitting horizontally in your seat, and neither of you are wearing seatbelts, he plays along though, tonguing at his bottom lip with a grin. “damn straight baby, gotta get the princess home in one piece, hm?”

the air is thick and heavy, almost swelteringly so outside of the car’s open windows. and if the north carolina sun is beating down fierce on the back of jj’s neck, he doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest as your eyes rake all over his form shamelessly, lazy smile on your face as you take in his angular nose and chiselled jaw, carefree smirk and shining eyes.

you reach for the stereo, turning up the volume as your head whips around, vision fixed on the passing private beach, littered with people and laughter. you pass over more bumps and pot holes, which only makes this more torturous on jj as the fat of your tit slowly reveals itself to him at every jostle of the vehicle.

his hands are white knuckled on the wheel, readjusting his grip, one of the twelve, one on the nine. and it’s not from speed. he’s gripping the wheel so hard that when the car jerks once, twice, three times, he’s squeezing his eyes shut momentarily by the end of it, forcing his mouth shut. the cause for the reaction is the sight he’s currently privy to in the corner of his peripheral view. his jaw is slightly agape, eyes wide and lovesick. “god. damn.” he whispers.

your head whips back in his direction, eyebrows furrowing in confusion before you realise what had elicited that reaction from him. you laugh softly, readjusting the thin fabric of your bikini top over your pert nipple, eyes finding his own wide ones. “eyes on the road, jay.” you reprimand once again, teasing evident in your tone.

he swallows, throat dry as the sahara as he attempts to play it off, drumming his fingers against the wheel, nodding along. “eyes on the road. eyes on the road, yeah, yeah, yeah - yeah.” he’s far from convincing as you snicker at him, watchinf the way his eyes are on the road for all of three seconds before they’re dipping back down again. he’s starting to sweat a little and it has nothing to do with the blazing heat outside.

jj’s lips tug into a smirk that’s all too cocky for his current situation as they speed past the marshlands. he won’t admit the heat that’s currently spreading through his body and quickly making its way south, tenting the front of his swim shorts noticeably. “shut up-“ he grumbles, running his hand through his slightly damp hair, gesturing towards you as he continues. “look at you.”

she just laughs, giving herself a dramatic look over in the windshield, pursing her lips and playing with her hair. “guess i am pretty cute, huh?” his hands adjust on the wheel, relaxing again is his seat as he looks you over with a fond smile, heart swelling for the girl of his dreams. it seemed something else was swelling too.

it’s almost like you can see the cogs turning in his head, sniffing in an attempt to seem casual as he speaks, canines glinting in the sun as he eyes you with hooded lids. “what d’ya think ‘bout pullin to the side of the road for a bit? just for a lil’ while.”

“that was weak.” you laugh, but your eyes tell a different story because he’s already flicking on the turn signal and slowing the van a little.

“so is that a yeah?” he says, the van coming to a stop on the side of the road near a clump of bushes, no passing cars, and he’s desperate to be on you.

“as long as you’re gonna be pullin’ somethin’ else to the side.” you snort, nodding with a raised eyebrow, and he’s already scrambling for the door handle with a triumphant ‘woop’. you follow in suit, pulling open the backseat sliding door of the twinkie.

he gets the door open, stumbling out of the driver’s seat and practically tripping onto the backseats. he lands on his butt with a huff. “that was a weak ass line-“ jj can barely get his words out before he’s got a lapful of his girl and soft, eager lips on his own. he kisses you back with equal, if not more, fervour.

she pulls back, a weak string of saliva connecting their kiss swollen lips as she grins, “you love it.” the heat between her legs being sensed by jj as he grabs her hips, grinding her clothed cunt against his bare thigh.

“damn right, i do baby.” he grins, immediately latching his lips onto the skin of her collarbone, sucking fondly, the smell of her filling all his senses as his ringed fingers dig into the flesh of her hips lovingly.

her head lols back, breathy little whimpers leaving her lips as he marks her, fingernails digging into his broad shoulders as she speaks, voice all soft and needy. “roadside quicky, what’dya think?”

he pulls away softly, hands sliding up her stomach and eventually resting on her tits as his eyes find her own glazed over ones. he lets out a low, shaky exhale against the skin, making goosebumps rise along her arms, a hint of a smirk on his kiss swollen lips. “i think you’re a little eager, baby.” he teases, warm hands sliding under the thin material of your bikini top to palm your tits.

“can you blame me?” she says, in attempt to sound teasing but she just sounds utterly desperate as her shameless eyes roam all over his form, that look in her eye he knew all too well as you grind against his harness softly, eyes locked on his.

“no ma’am.” jj grins, giving your hips another encouraging little squeeze as they move in slow, tantalising circles over his lap. “god, no.” he practically growls, head falling back against the leather seat, adams apple bobbing as he swallows.

the feeling your giving him is something he’d kill to keep forever, and the feeling is easily reciprocated by you. and like every other time you’re with jj, the same question is spinning around your mind: why did you hold back from heaven for so long?

no pressure tags: @daintcas @echobx @forstarkey @heybank @inez-winchester-cameron @iheartjjmaybnk @jjsgirly @kraekat29 @livbedum @lustnluv @maybankslover @maybankswhore @maiiuelle @nemesyaaa @nightsteps @outermaybanks @obaex @obxologies @oceandriveab @princessmaybank @poguediaries @redhead1180 @sleepyjuice @stxrslut @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @jjsbaby

[marsdql]

ℋ𝓎𝒰𝓃𝑔 ℒ𝒾𝒩ℯ — 𝒶𝒻𝓉ℯ𝓇𝒸𝒶𝓇ℯ

𖥔 ݁ ˖*:･ How enha hyung line react to you being sore, a lot of fluff | wc: 1.3k —

Lee Heeseung

The morning sunlight filters through the curtains as Heeseung walks into the bedroom with a mug in hand. He pauses at the door, smirking as he spots you sprawled out on the bed, groaning softly.

“Look at my poor baby,” he murmurs, setting his coffee down on the nightstand. “What happened to you?”

You roll onto your side, pouting up at him. “I’m sore. Like, really sore. My legs don’t work anymore.”

He laughs softly, slipping under the covers and pulling you onto his lap effortlessly. “I didn’t know I was that much of a menace,” he teases, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“You are,” you mumble, burying your face in his chest. “This is all your fault.”

Heeseung tilts your chin up, his dark eyes softening as he studies you. “You’re so dramatic,” he whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Just relax.”

His hands move slowly, massaging gentle circles into your lower back and thighs, his warmth easing the tension in your body. “You’re not doing anything today,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re staying right here with me. I’m not letting you move an inch.” Rest of the members below cut !

Park Jongseong

Jay cradles you in his arms, your head tucked against his chest as he brushes lazy circles over your shoulder. You shift slightly, letting out a quiet whine, and he glances down at you.

“Something wrong, baby?” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing.

You pout up at him. “I’m sore everywhere. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

He hums softly, pressing a kiss to your temple before shifting to sit up. “Stay right here,” he says, slipping out of bed and disappearing into the hallway.

When he comes back, he scoops you into his arms without a word, ignoring your confused protests. “Jay,” you mumble, “what are you doing?”

He tilts his head down, brushing his lips over your forehead. “Just trust me, princess.”

The warm scent of lavender and steam greets you as he carries you into the bathroom. He sets you down gently, his hands lingering on your waist as he brushes your hair back. “I’ll stay here with you,” he murmurs, his fingers trailing lightly down your arm. “You just relax for me, okay?”

His quiet attention lulls you into comfort, and when he notices the tension leaving your body, he smiles faintly. “That’s my good girl,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.

Sim Jaeyun

Jake is sound asleep, his face buried in the crook of your neck, when your soft whimpers stir him. He groans lightly, his arms tightening around you as he nuzzles closer.

“Why’re you making noise, baby?” he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep.

You pout, shifting slightly. “I’m sore. My legs hurt so bad,” you whisper.

His eyes flutter open, and he lets out a sleepy sigh, pulling back to look at you. “Yeah?” he mutters, his hands already sliding down to your thighs. “Let me see.”

Without another word, he moves to sit up, his hands finding the tense muscles as he begins to knead them gently. His touch is warm and deliberate, his thumbs pressing into just the right spots.

“Better?” he asks after a moment, his voice quiet and affectionate.

You hum softly, your pout softening. "A little." Jake leans down, brushing his lips over your knee with a faint grin. "Good," he whispers.

"Now let me finish fixing you so we can go back to sleep."

Once he's satisfied, he pulls you back into his arms, tucking you against his chest. "If it still hurts in the morning, just wake me up again," he murmurs, his voice fading as sleep takes over.

Park Sunghoon

Sunghoon's eyes follow your every movement as you shift under the covers, your quiet groans catching his attention.

Without saying anything, he moves closer, his hand slipping under the blanket to rest on your thigh.

"Stop moving," he whispers, his voice low and steady as his fingers brush lightly over your skin.

You pout up at him, your voice soft and frustrated. "Hoonie.. it hurts." His lips curve into a faint smirk as he leans down, brushing his mouth against your forehead. "Shh," he murmurs. "I'll take care of it."

His lips trail down your body, his touch deliberate and unhurried. When he reaches your thighs, he presses a soft kiss to the tender muscles, his hands massaging slow circles into your skin. "You're so perfect," he murmurs against your leg, his voice low and reverent.

You shiver slightly, a quiet sigh escaping as his warmth lulls you into relaxation. "You're too much," you mumble, though the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

Sunghoon glances up at you, his sharp features soft in the dim light. "And you love it," he replies simply, his lips brushing over your knee.

[ marsdql ]

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Shen Yuan should be surprisingly good at makeup. Like, we all know that Shen Jiu could draw eyeliner sharper than Cheng Luan, but Shen Yuan had a meimei.

Imagine she has a school dance or something, and maybe a mean girl at school said something that made Shen-mei decide she was going to wear makeup for the school dance.

Now, of course, Shen Yuan and his geges make sure to tell her that the girl was just mean, and she's beautiful when she's comfortable and happy, not because of makeup etc etc it's all very good intentioned.

Even so, she says, she still wants to wear makeup.

So she buys some, and starts practicing. She's ... Not the best. Shen Yuan finds her crying in the bathroom with crooked eyeliner, mascara transfer marks on her cheeks, foundation and concealer in the wrong shade, contour that looks like a 5'o'clock shadow, overfilled brows, blush that won't blend...

He helps her take off the cakey makeup and bundles her into the living room, comforting warm drinks in hand. They spend the night watching makeup tutorials.

Step-by-step Shen Yuan learns along with his meimei how to do a full face of makeup.

The school dance goes perfectly, Shen-mei was the most beautiful resplendent girl in the school and had a wonderful time with her friends.

Shen Yuan and Shen-mei don't stop watching makeup videos and doing makeup on each other though, it becomes a shared hobby. Every few weeks, even into adulthood, they'd meet up, turn on some makeup influencer and take out their makeup brushes.

It was their special thing, something that just the two of them shared.

Cut to post-transmigration, during a visit for planning the 'garden', Shang Qinghua idly asks Cucumber-bro how he manages to draw the huadian perfectly every single time.

(I don't know the correct term, I tried looking for the proper terminology because what I believe Shen Qingqiu wears is some sort of scholar's mark? But I couldn't find anything. Please let me know if anyone knows the correct term!)

Shen Yuan shrugs and goes 'not like it's hard, you probably just suck.'

This leads to an argument wherein Shen Yuan decides to demonstrate his superiority.

They did forget that there was a Peak Lords meeting, and so Shen Qingqiu strolls in with flawless eyeliner, lips, huadian, the whole combo, and Shang Qinghua walks in with a red face and smudged eyeliner (it does look good though, fits his messy vibes).

Liu Qingge feels a little faint when he watches Shen Qingqiu absentmindedly press his fan to his lips, leaving lipstick marks on the fan. (SY wonders why at that moment, the System lets him know that his fan has leveled up.)

Luo Binghe is trying to figure out a way to get Shizun to teach him to do makeup... The thought of Shizun taking the brush to his lips, concentration furrowing his brows, letting Luo Binghe admire his face even more unabashedly then usual ...

Qi Qingqi changes her tune faster because she has to know how Shen Qingqiu got his eyelashes so perfect.

[l-starsz]

‘billie can you please call me’

i messaged her as quickly as possible. i was in tears thinking about the stuff that was hurting me. i needed to hear her voice to calm me down and make everything better. i just needed her.

almost immediately after i sent the message, i heard my phone ringing and answered to hear her caring voice.

“hey angel, what’s going on? everything okay?”

all she heard through the phone were my sniffles as i tried to calm down enough to answer her.

“oh baby are you crying?” her voice softened even more.

“bil.” i whined, practically crying out for her.

“tell me what’s wrong. why are you crying?”

i just groaned in response, unable to actually tell her what was bothering me. well i could tell her but i struggled talking about why i was upset sometimes, and i had no clue why because i wanted to tell her. i wanted to communicate. it was just so difficult.

“talk to me baby. are you ready to tell me what’s up?”

“mhm.” i sniffled, thinking i could do it.

“use your words for me.” she was being so patient with me.

i once again groaned, not being able to find the right words without thinking it sounded stupid.

“do you need me to come over?”

“yes please.” i whispered before i heard her get up and get some shoes and a jacket on, leaving the house straight away.

she stayed on call while she was in the car, she stayed on call all the way until she’d knocked on my door and i’d opened it. i jumped into her arms and hid my face in her neck. i calmed down a bit from her presence whilst she carried me to my bed again.

i whined when she put me down but then noticed her sliding her shoes and jacket off so that she could climb into bed next to me and pull me into her arms. i was still crying as she held me close against her.

“you gonna tell me what’s wrong now sweet girl?”

“i- well-“ i sighed, not knowing how to say it.

“baby i’m trying to help, i can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, or if you don’t tell me whether or not you’re ready to talk.”

“i know and i wanna tell you, it’s just.. it sounds stupid when i say it out loud. it’s a stupid reason to be upset.” i sniffled.

“i promise you it’s not gonna sound stupid. it obviously isn’t stupid if you’re this upset about it. i’m not gonna judge you, i care about if you’re okay or not. i wanna help.” she whispered in response, kissing my head and running her hands up and down my back.

“thank you billie.” i whispered back, before telling her, “it’s just that.. my friends have been asking to go out with me, and obviously i’m saying yes. but then they keep cancelling on me and saying they don’t have the time but they have time for their other friends. i just feel like they’re sick of me and i feel so alone. you’re all i have left. they barely speak to me anymore.” i cried harder as i told her, holding onto her tight as if she’d suddenly leave too after hearing my confession.

“oh angel.. they don’t deserve you. i’m so happy when i’m with you and if they don’t appreciate you the way you should be appreciated, i’m more than happy to be with you whenever you want to do something. we can go anywhere you want and do whatever because you know what? you make me the happiest. i know it hurts, but if they’re not being good friends then that’s their problem not yours, because they’re losing you.”

i hid my face in the crook of her neck while she spoke and ended up crying even more as i took in her words. and everything she said just proved how much she truly cares about me. after a little while, she sat us both up and brought her thumbs up to my cheeks, gently wiping my tears away and kissing me a few times, which brought a smile to my face almost immediately.

“thank you for everything bil.” i whispered before kissing her again.

“you don’t need to thank me angel. now i think someone’s looking a little tired hm? let’s go to bed okay? i think all that crying has tired you out.”

i just nodded before i felt her kiss me once again. she then laid us both down and held me close to her as we both fell asleep. she was all i needed. my best friend and girlfriend in one person. i’d rather be with her over anyone else.

a/n: half of this is a true story from last night so yeah that’s fun😶

[rafelandia]

In the Middle of the Night (Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: smut, little bit of cum play, unprotected sex

Summary: Rafe can't sleep. Luckily, the antidote to his ailment is laying in bed right next to him.

Author's Note: I can't stop thinking about Rafe waking Y/N up in the middle of the night for sex. I am addicted to the trope of Rafe being an asshole to everyone except his girl, but this is more of a soft!Rafe moment than anything. If you enjoy, please give a like or reblog. And any requests for blurbs/one shots/etc. are always welcome in my inbox!

Before Y/N came along, there were many ways in which Rafe would conquer the restlessness that crept up on him in the middle of the night. He would go for a run on the beach with nothing but the moonlight to guide him, hunker down in his home office and crunch numbers, read a few chapters in his current favorite non-fiction. There were dozens of outlets Rafe had conditioned himself to do when he just couldn’t fall asleep despite knowing that he should. He was older now and staying up all night like he would as a teenager just wasn’t good for him in any capacity anymore.

All of these outlets, but they suddenly went out of the window when he met Y/N. She was unlike any other woman he had ever been with or even met before, but he supposed that’s how it always was when you were in love with someone. He swore he could stare at her features for forever, that she was more intoxicating than any substance or drink. But looking at her in the glimmering moonlight that shone through the cracked shades was not what put him to bed whenever that frustrating feeling of not being able to close his eyes came insidiously creeping into his head.

There was something about the way her hair was mussed about her head like a halo around her pillow, or maybe it was the way that she was sleeping on her stomach so that the swell of her breast peaked through the comforter. Either way, Rafe couldn’t help but feel his boxers growing tighter the longer he traced his eyes over the shape of her sleeping body next to his.

He slid his body over towards her, turning her and wrapping his arms around her body so that his front was flush with her backside. Warmth radiated from her sleeping form and his hands found their way to her breasts. Rafe began gently kneading them in aim to draw her from her slumber, but the most he got out of her was a shift in her bum on the mattress. A low rumble escaped from his chest at the way she unknowingly ground herself against his cock.

His next attempt was to go for her neck. Rafe always teased her for being so sensitive there but at the same time, there was nothing more that he loved than feeling her turn to putty in his hands when his lips roamed about the column of her throat. He started nipping at her skin with his plush, pink lips, just barely meeting his skin with hers. Goosebumps raised in response to his touch as his kisses grew sloppier. It was when he’d hit her sweet spot with his tongue that he heard the sound he’d been searching for. Rafe swears he’s never heard anything more heavenly in his entire life, that soft, half-moan half-groan that fell from her parted lips. It brought his neediness to the forefront.

“Baby,” Rafe grumbled against the crook of her neck, tickling her with his outgrown stubble.

Amidst her hazy state she was able to hum back at him, though it sounded once more like a broken moan.

“Need you to wake up,” he hoarsely whispered as he began working himself against her backside, slowly but surely rutting his hips into the skin of her bum to ease some of the tension that had built up in his cock.

He couldn’t see the way the corners of her lips turned up knowingly. She was no stranger to this Rafe, the Rafe that woke her in the middle of the night with an itch that he just couldn’t seem to scratch. It was almost comical to her, the way that he’d do just about everything in the book besides coming right out and telling her that he was in the mood. Sometimes, she’d tease him and pretend to be asleep longer than she actually was before turning over and giving him what he wanted, but not tonight. Unbeknownst to Rafe, he had stirred her from quite the dream, so there was no need to dance around the ledge this time.

With a sigh, she resituated herself in the bed, turning in Rafe's arms so that their faces sat mere inches from each other.

“Hi,” she sang through her sleep-ridden voice.

“Hi,” Rafe repeated back to her in the same groggy tone. "Can't sleep?" she asked, a tinge of playfulness in her voice.

He gave no response - just a lazy smirk in return. Even in the darkness, Y/N noticed a flush rising up his neck and cheeks. He'd been caught.

“Need some help?” she quirked her brow and gestured downwards to the tent in his boxers.

“Maybe,” he answered with a sleepy chuckle.

She knocked him on his back so that she was straddling his waist and sitting on his now painfully hard cock; the feathered duvet now pooled at their knees. Rafe hissed at the commotion, but the feeling soon turned to bliss when her hands snuck into the waistband of his boxers and she took his length in her fingers. It felt heavy in her grip as she smeared the silky beads of precum along his tip, coating him in preparation to make home within her tight, warm walls.

“I was dreamin’ about you,” she spoke lowly as she gently twisted her wrist around his cock, reveling in the way Rafe's brows were furrowing together in response to her touch.

“Yeah?” he jested.

“Mhmm,” she hummed, “We were kinda like how we are now. But this is much better,” she finished with a tantilizing pump of her hand.

Rafe's hips jutted into her fist, wanting more than just her teasing touches. It almost made her laugh aloud, how needy he could be in the middle of the night like this. She wanted him just as much, only due to her still-drowsy state, she was able to control it.

She leaned down and laid her body flush with Rafe's as she kissed him for the first time since he’d woke her. They tasted of the remnants of their minty toothpaste and mostly of morning breath, but that was the furthest thing from their minds. Rafe held her close to him as his tongue slipped between her lips, aching to get her going as quickly as he could. His arms slid under the ratty Kildare High School t-shirt of his that she slept in so he could lift it off of her frame, breaking the kiss for only a fraction of a second before they were intertwined again.

Once her chest was free of clothing, Rafe ran his hands along the sides of her breasts and spine, chilling her skin with his cold hands. He ducked his head down to kiss the center of her chest and then outwards to her wrap his plump lips around her erect nipples. Those velvety, smooth sighs of hers turned into the moans that Rafe adored oh-so dearly. Y/N began to feel the wetness from her core pool at the front of her panties. One of her hands cradled his neck, snugly but not tightly as she kissed him, but she was able to move the other down to grip his cock in her digits once more.

“Y/N," Rafe pleaded, his hazy, hungry eyes peering up at her. He needed her to do something, anything before he lost his whits.

She locked eyes with Rafe as she sank down slowly, splitting herself on top of him. Rafe always swore that the way the wrinkle between her brows reared itself and her lips parted just slightly when she first felt his cock first enter her was by far his favorite face of hers. Well, his second favorite, apart from the face she made when she came, he supposed. He gripped onto her hips tightly as she lowered herself fully onto him, exhaling a sigh of relief when she made it all of the way down to the base of his cock.

They soon found their rhythm, Y/n bouncing and rolling her hips against his while they chased their highs. Her early morning sensitivity caused her to melt in Rafe's arms with the way his tip was able to brush against all of the sweetest spots that made her eyes roll back into her head and a shiver run down her spine.

All that was heard in the otherwise silent room were sounds of wet skin meeting harshly each time she pushed herself back onto Rafe. Their lips chased each other in between thrusts, eager to be as close to each other as they possibly could. Sweat pooled in the dip of her back and in the grooves of Rafe's toned stomach, the two of them yearning to reach their ends.

Y/n's bouncing soon turned to lazy, barely motivated rocking as she found herself almost physically unable to continue. The tendons in her thighs were screaming for relief and the heat that surrounded her made her feel like she was trapped in a sauna. She could feel herself right there, right on the brink of getting to where she needed to be, but she was growing frustrated that she wouldn't be able to get them both there on her own.

“Rafe,” Y/N whined as she gripped both of Rafe's shoulders tightly, knuckles growing white from the hold she had on them.

He sensed her weariness, but he was waiting to see how long it would take her to beg for him to take control of the two of them.

She raised her eyes from being buried in Rafe's neck to look at him.

“Please,” she moaned.

“I've got you, baby,” he huffed, barely able to spit the words out between each manual breath.

With one fluid motion, he had her flipped over onto her back and plunged back into her soaking cunt once more. Y/N cried out at the new angle of Rafe on top of her, watching his dainty, silver chain dangle inches away from her face.

“Gonna make me cum if you keep looking at me like that," Rafe muttered into her ear as he mouthed against her neck, “You gonna cum for me first though. Right angel?”

He continued to drill his cock into her heat, each time brushing against the spongey part of her walls that made her thighs shake and reflexively want to close. Rafe caught wind of her trembling and forced her legs open with one of his strong, veiny hands, pressing it even deeper into her chest with his other arm pressed deep into the mattress to balance his body on top of hers. Their stomachs brushed against each other with every thrust, only adding to the overwhelming sensations that they were both feeling.

“Your pussy's so perfect. Like it was made for me," Rafe moaned. "Gonna fuck you like this every night for the rest of my life."

His words of encouragement took her right back to where she was before, right at the brink of breaking. Her moans went up an octave and Rafe could tell by the way she had started to clench around him that she wasn’t going to last much longer. He knew for certain that with the way that her cunt was so expertly gripping his cock that he wasn’t that far behind her.

"Need you to cum, baby. Need to feel it," Rafe was nearing his breaking point, but knew he couldn't be satisfied without feeling her clench around him first.

Unable to speak due to the way he was pounding into her, Y/N gripped Rafe's shoulders even harder than he was fucking her in response. This made Rafe cockily smile and only pushed him to fuck her more fervently and deeper. His hips would certainly leave light purple bruises on hers come morning.

Her release sprung on her quickly, her walls spasming around Rafe's thick, pulsing cock. Y/N let out a sound akin to a high-pitched whine blended perfectly with a scream - it was so beautiful to him. Her orgasm came so suddenly that it caught Rafe off guard as well; he had but mere moments before he found himself filling her up with his warm, milky seed. It was so sudden and intense that it seeped out from around his cock and onto the plush, silky sheets.

They rode it out together, Rafe pumping into her slower and sloppier than just minutes before. Y/N was becoming overwhelmed with the sensation and he was quick to pick up on it. Rafe pulled out slowly, watching Y/N wince as her now-swollen heat contracted around nothing but emptiness. He ran his fingers along her pussy, collecting her wetness and his cum on his digits before gently pressing the mixture back into her core. She hissed at the feeling of him inside of her again and it made Rafe's dick twitch. He could easily go again, but he knew that she couldn't. It was intoxicating to watch her squirm. Next time he thought to himself. He loved to drive her crazy.

They both laid there, Rafe resting his full weight on top of her while they listened to the sound of each other’s heartbeats return back to their resting rate. She twiddled with the clasp of Rafe's chain while he pecked soft kisses on her sweat-slick breast with his lips.

"I love you," Y/N sighed, her eyes beginning to close as she teetered the line of consciousness.

"I love you, too," Rafe was just as exhausted as she was. Finally.

When they regained their bearings, Rafe reached across the bed for the shirt he’d pulled off of her body. With caring hands, he cleaned the two of them, tossing the soiled garment somewhere off into the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Thank you,” Rafe mumbled into her skin as he crawled back into the covers with her and pulled her into his arms once more.

“Anytime,” she laughed, still somewhat out of breath.

“But will you please go to sleep now? You have a presentation in the morning and you only wake me up to fuck when you can’t sleep so I’m assuming you’ve been awake this whole time,” she sounded like a parent talking to Rafe, which while he would never admit, he adored.

She felt Rafe's laugh reverberate off her chest and shake her body, to which he then promised her he’d be good and go to bed.

Rafe could go on midnight runs and read as much as he could, but nothing could put him to sleep as easily as this.

[daryltwdixon]

hello dear!! i dont know if your are still taking requests or not, but if do you i would really love to see you write something fluff with a drunk daryl and reader, where he totally forgot that they are dating and just start acting shy and awkward around her, i know its cliche but i really love how you write daryl and think it would be so cute to see something like that written by you😭, but i totally understand if you are busy, i hope you are having a great day!🥰

A drunk Daryl grows uncharacteristically shy around you, forgetting for a moment that you're together.

author notes: I just want to say its not v common for people who are drinking to forget who their s/o's are, but anything for you lolol, enjoy!!! x

thank you for the love!!!

The Alexandria dinner party is louder than usual, laughter spilling out into the quiet night. Someone had insisted on opening the last few bottles of wine, and you watch with amusement as Daryl, leaning against the far wall, swirls the red liquid in his glass like it’s some kind of trap.

“Never took you for a wine guy,” you tease, stepping closer. His eyes dart to yours, and the flush on his face deepens. You figure the alcohol’s working its magic, though Daryl had always been shy about these kinds of things—especially in a crowd.

“Don’t even taste right,” he mutters, setting the glass on a nearby table like it might bite him.

You grin. “Then why drink it?”

He shrugs, glancing at you sideways. The usual ease between you feels a little... off. His gaze flicks to your face, then away again, like he’s avoiding something. You tilt your head, trying to figure out what’s wrong, when his voice breaks the quiet.

“You look real nice tonight.”

The words come out low and shy, almost like he hadn’t meant to say them. You blink, surprised, but before you can respond, he fumbles to add, “Not that ya don’t always, but... I mean, yeah.”

“Daryl,” you say, trying to catch his eye. He’s looking anywhere but at you now, cheeks burning. “Are you okay?”

“‘M fine,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. But the way he shifts on his feet, the nervous way he rubs the back of his neck—it’s not like him. You step closer, studying him, until something clicks.

“Oh my god.” You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles up. “You don’t remember, do you?”

His brows furrow, lips parting in confusion. “Remember what?”

You can’t believe it. “You’re acting like we just met or something.”

Daryl stares at you, his eyes swimming with haze, but he blinks hard, trying to piece it all together. His eyes widen slightly. “Wait... we’re—?”

“Yes, Daryl,” you say, trying to suppress another laugh. “We’re together, at least I thought so,”

The realization hits him like a brick wall. His mouth opens, then closes, and for a second he just stares at you, dumbfounded. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “I—uh... forgot.”

“Obviously,” you tease, stepping even closer until you’re standing right in front of him. “Should I be worried you’re forgetting about me already?”

“Nah,” he says quickly, his voice quiet but insistent. “Just... too much wine. ‘S all.”

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too wide at how bashful he looks. The Daryl you know is rarely this unguarded, and it’s endearing. But as you watch him glance down at you—his face still flushed and his nerves practically visible—you catch something softer in his expression. His hand drifts to the back of his neck again, but this time, a crooked grin follows.

“You’re... somethin’ else,” he murmurs under his breath, almost to himself. “Must be the luckiest som' bitch,”

The words catch you off guard, and warmth blooms in your chest. “Damn right you are,” you say softly, but there’s no teasing in your tone anymore.

His lips twitch, and he finally dares to meet your gaze. “Guess I don’t mind that.”

You smirk, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The move makes him freeze for half a second before his face turns a deeper shade of red, but his hand brushes yours in a subtle, almost instinctive gesture. Even drunk, even shy, Daryl Dixon couldn’t hide how much he cared.

“C’mon,” you say, tugging lightly at his hand. “Let’s get you some water before you forget anything else."

[nowimjustastranger]

Okay I've been a little obsessed with your AU Somebody to Call My Own and I need to ask something

In your AU SCMO!Ford have seen any Stanley with polydacty instead of Stanford?

But despite that, Stanley maintains his personality, with the change that he suffers a little more bullying than Ford because of his condition.

I can imagine Stanford defending him, but knowing Stanley I doubt he'll tell his brother when some students get out of line with him and he decides to confront him on his own so as not to disturb his Stanford

I guess SCMO!Ford had to step in at some point if the bullying became too much for Stanley or a group of students wanted to get out of line with him

I actually love this.

But yeah, there are definitely Stans out there that have polydactyl instead of Ford, and even some dimensions where both boys have six fingers.

But, in this case, I can imagine that Stan wouldn't change much at all. He'd have the same mindset that he had when Ford was the one with six fingers, just without the insecurity about them. The extra finger on each of his hands functions like all the rest, it's not hindering him or stopping him from doing anything he wants to do, and that's all he really cares about.

Now, in terms of Ford defending him, Ford would probably do it less and less as they grew up and grew apart. It would get to the point where Ford would have no idea how bad the bullying had gotten when they hit highschool because Stan wouldn't tell him. Plus, Stan has that mindset where he can handle it himself, not wanting to burden his brother. What was Ford supposed to do about it anyway? He can't throw a punch, he'd just get beaten up right alongside Stan.

It would escalate when Crampelter and his friends found Stan on the beach alone, working on the Stan o' War that Ford no longer had interest in. And he's not crying over being brushed off for the hundredth time, he's not, he just got some salt in his eyes.

Stan would put up a hell of a fight, but they get him pinned on the ground and Crampelter would grab Stan's pinky (which isn't even the extra finger). Crampelter would bend it too far the wrong way, not letting up in time to keep from dislocating it. There would be a pause as the three boys watched Stan violently twitch with a bitten-off curse.

And Crampelter, high on adrenaline and wanting payback for all the black eyes and bloody noses he'd gotten from Stan, would grab the next finger and wrench that out of place too. Stan would buck and cuss but the panic and pain would make him sloppy, which is why it would be a relief when Crampelter was tackled off of him and had a weird triangle gun shoved in his face by a dude in a sleek black and red helmet.

Crampelter's friends would bolt, leaving the bully pleading for his life at the end of the barrel. The stranger would be vibrating with rage, the gun perfectly steady. Stan would pick himself up with a hiss, the pained sound drawing the stranger's attention to Stan and his crooked fingers. The stranger would knock Crampelter out with the butt of his gun before swiftly standing, Stan trying to play the whole thing off as he thanked the stranger for helping him out.

The stranger would briskly walk him home, Stan blankly staring as he silently let himself be guided to his house, hand clutched to his chest. He wouldn't even notice that the stranger had picked up a thick but short stick during the walk, hurling it at a familiar window. Ford would hesitantly poke his head out through the curtain, eyes widening when he saw his brother with a strange man that looked like bad news. Ford would scramble to the front door, wrenching it open and grabbing Stan to drag him away from the stranger.

Stan would yelp in pain and Ford instantly let go, focus redirecting to Stan and the hand he had pressed against his chest. The moment Ford got a look at the very clearly dislocated fingers, he'd know that someone did that to his brother. They were dislocated in different directions, one sideways and the other straight backward. Ford would stare until the stranger moved, Ford instinctively blocking his path, but Stan would nudge Ford aside while muttering that the stranger helped him.

Ford would reluctantly let the stranger take Stan's hand, Ford blinking dumbly when he counted six fingers on the man's hand, which would carefully pop both fingers back into place for Stan. The the man would give Stan a small tin of what looked like ointment, instructing him (in an extremely altered voice) to massage the fingers with it once a day for two days and it would be like it never happened. Stan would mutely nod and head inside, lingering in the entryway to wait for Ford, who stared down the stranger.

"Who hurt him?"

"Crampelter and two of his friends."

[astrowarr]

“We should get out of here,” Grian whispers, but he is unmoving as his gaze stays pinned to Scar. Something about Scar’s eyes, so impossibly green, keeps him rooted in the crannies of the cobbled concrete under his feet. The glow of the street light over their heads paints a sharp, clear image of Scar and the toothy grin he flashes. The bustle of the city center ever permeates the air; a loud, boisterous laugh here, an angry, affronted shout there. 

But when Scar smiles at him like that, the noise cottons into nothing but a dull thrum in the back of his skull. Scar is smiling. Despite the fact that every bone in Grian’s body should be screaming in alarm, they do not. Instead, they pulse with something warm, something content. Grian is surrounded by enemies the way he always is, but Scar is four art-adorned walls and a worn shingled roof to match. Nothing can reach Grian here, in the safety of Scar's gaze.

There's little to no space between them, and Grian does nothing to change that. Out of the corner of his eye, he tracks the gentle, methodical movement of Scar's curled hand, so slow as he reaches up. The backs of those crooked fingers brush against his face, so light Grian nearly loses it to the night's warmth.

And then, like a moonflower, his hand unfurls; he doesn't quite cradle Grian's face in it, wracked with some sudden hesitance. Scar's palm stays just a hair's breadth away: the ghost of a touch. It drives Grian crazy, how the two of them keep pushing and pulling at all the wrong moments. 

Still, Scar doesn't stop looking at him, drinking in the sight of him like he's some sort of mirage. Like the night will sweep him away if Scar dares to even blink. Grian doesn't complain— thinks, actually, that maybe the comparison is more apt than he wants it to be. Instead, he loses himself in the miles of blue skies and flower beds that explode to color in the home of their prolonged eye contact. Truthfully, he's scared to look away too.

This is it, Grian knows as his heart roars in his chest. This is it.

“Say what you mean,” Scar breathes. 

They stand in the middle of the busiest section of the city but Scar's smile is private. It is Grian's, and Grian's alone. Say what he means? What is there to say? It’s written in the brief, rare silence of Grian’s mind; the swath of stars swirling overhead, infinite in their post apocalyptic glow; the solar-powered streetlight casting its fiery light over Scar, morphing him into something divine and untouchable. There is no word in his lexicon that truly encapsulates the feeling pressing against his ribs now. It isn't safety, or contentment, or peace. It isn't even love. 

He's sick of words. They don't mean anything. They aren't enough. He locks eyes with Scar and leans in, because if Scar isn't going to touch him, he'll just have to take matters into his own hands. Grian buries his fingers in Scar's button up shirt and shuffles him backward, until his back collides with the solid metal of the lamppost. If it hurts, Scar doesn't notice; he's looking at Grian with wide eyes, dumbstruck, lips parted in wonder and maybe something else. He's never been very good at taking what he dishes.

“What I mean is,” Grian murmurs against the buzz of the streetlight as his gaze flicks down to Scar's lips. His wings shift against his will, tucking around Scar, sheltering them from prying eyes. It’s only him and Scar. “You're an idiot if you don't kiss me in the next three seconds.”

For once, Scar’s tongue of gold is heavy and unmoving; he has no quick-witted words to throw in Grian's face. All he has is awe, and some self-imposed duty that has him deferring to Grian without question; he abandons his hesitance in the shadows of this too-public street. Finally, his clammy palm cradles Grian’s cheek, tattered and pitted like the worn leather of Grian's favorite jacket. 

The kiss, though, is soft and a little uncertain, at least until Grian yanks hard at the collar of Scar's shirt. When their noses clash under the urgent force of it, Scar chokes out a shocked laugh before he's responding in kind. And Grian thinks to himself that this is the first time the two of them have ever truly eclipsed, have ever found themselves in the lines of the same page, and he thinks he wants to live here. Forever, maybe, or for as long as the universe allows.