#And it sounds like he's starting to do that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tojisteddy · 2 days ago

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Tears Dry on Their Own

or: Simon Riley picks you up after a break up and decides he’ll keep you.

cw: 5.6k words (jeez), mdni 18+, plot with smut, postbreakup!reader, avoidant!reader, harddom!simon/meanie!simon, possessive!simon, dub con, no use of y/n, situationship, p in v, creampie, cowgirl, spanking, dumbification, daddy kink, manhandling, age gap (mid 20s reader, early-mid 30s Simon), reader aesthetic.

a/n: obvious influenced by Amy Winehouse’s song, did a drabble about it but expanded it further. love u, bye.

One thing you knew for certain is that no one stays forever. No one does. Be it friends, co workers, family, relationships— everyone leaves. Whether from death knocking or not.

So why did you have to wait idly by for anyone when you could go off yourself? Spectate the grounds when you were ready and the smoke cleared?

And that’s how you lived. Coming and going, disappearing from the face of the earth and then reappearing like nothing happened. Like some stray. Was is good habit? Of course not. But you’d been tired of disappointment.

Tonight was no different from any other though— that ugly, disgusting, irritable feeling of heartbreak. Disappointment pimp slapping you once again.

Was it even a breakup if it didn’t even start? It was stupid for you to be hung up on a married man. Every single thing about it was stupid but it’s not like you knew he was married. You’d only known for three hours. Mark was his name and he was— he was kind— atleast to you that is. Sometimes.

Okay, out of 100 he was kind 76% of the time. But he bought you clothes, shoes, jewelry, paid for trips, he’d pay your rent— you were a kept woman. Nothing wrong with that.

He’d call? You’d come. Somewhere in the middle, you’d thought Mark would fall in love with you though. That you weren’t just a pretty face, or a good fuck— you could do the emotional, the romance of it all. Not run. All Mark did he’d laugh at you.

“You’re not being reasonable, baby,” he chuckled snidely as he went around the large hotel room, picking up the littered clothing he’d left on the floor.

Reasonable? What was reasonable? Asking for a relationship was unreasonable? That doesn’t even sound right. Your face scrunches up.

Mark feigns a pout, cupping your face after adjusting his tie, “Don’t give me that face baby. You’re too pretty for it.”

“Then I’m just nothing to you Mark?” Your voice didn’t even sound like your own, tight and sharp. But it felt so much smaller.

He scuffs then sighs, gently kissing your lips, “You know you’re not nothing to me baby. You’re- you’re pretty, sweetheart. So gorgeous. You’ve— helped me… so much doll. Been so good to me this entire time. Don’t ruin this for me, please?”

Ah.

Don’t ruin it [+].

Just keep smiling, keep looking pretty, keep wearing that pretty dress and that pretty necklace he got you. Laugh at his jokes, get your own rocks off. But the thought of it just being a pretty and sitting object kept festering in the back of your mind. You wanted more, more, more. You deserved more. You should be able to ask for the whole damned world if you wanted to and receive it on a silver platter with the finest wine and a vanilla ice cream drizzled with chocolate with the cherry on fucking top.

You wouldn’t get that from Mark— you hit a dead end.

It was when you went to go get your friend a gift, you’d entered the revolving door mindlessly, then you heard the family crowd in on the other side. Two kids giggling, a pretty blonde wife smiling and then, fresh and neatly styled brunette hair, hazel brown eyes, dressy attire and a grey trench coat— Mark. The same loving smile he gave you on his face as he planted a kiss at her temple.

He didn’t even notice you.

Your feet stumbled, entering the building, dizzy. Heart trailing out of you and along with the bastard and his fucking generic tv looking family. You followed, back through the revolving door to try to get a glimpse of him.

One more time, one more fucking time— a bad habit. A bad decision. You’d let the man walk away with whatever you gave him today.

It was your fault for letting it get this far to begin with, getting so attached to such a guy who gave you almost everything you’d wanted. Everything but love.

You let out a ragged breath, your lip trembling as you stare at his back. Him trailing away on such joyace footing right along with the setting sun along with his family. Taking the day with him. While you’re stuck to face the music.

Be a big girl, [+]. You’re a big girl. That’s what you’ve always been.

You turn on your heels, no gift in hand, in the opposite direction. The dark blue overtaking the sky, click, click, click of your heels hitting the pavement with every step. Vision getting blurry the further you walk. You don’t even know where you’re going, just letting the tears fall, the pit in your stomach turn into a labyrinth. You could handle it. Just a big, silly, knee scraping fuck up.

Shit, you needed a drink.

It started with a one night stand, doesn’t it always? He’d been away for so long, too long, and just needed to get his mind back into civilization. No other way to do than to get his dick a little wet? And you were available. He’d seen you once before, on some social media. Your posts would attract anyone who saw them. An alluring little thing in that grimy filter, so pretty, had all your curls tossed to one side, smiling with your pretty brown eyes, lifting your shirt just a bit so you could see the black thong you were wearing— a little teaser.

It was an absolute miracle he found you sitting across him in that empty bar, you lifted your head from the counter, long lashes clumped together, mascara slightly smugged, adding to temptation. Ghost bet you’d look even prettier crying on his dick and not over whatever had you in tears that was so minuscule :(.

You were in a tight, cropped, long sleeve turtle neck, dark low rise jeans that oh-so-perfectly hugged your curves and a 90s layered haircut that went down your back. You pulled out your compact mirror, the tears dried up by themselves, you lightly patted your face with fingers. Your eyes wandered around you, then finally to Ghost. You studied him in curiosity, eyes flicking from his brown eyes to his skull faced balaclava. What the fuck was he wearing? You looked around the empty bar only to gain a smirk from him that was unbeknownst to you. He beckoned you over with two fingers.

You were admittedly a little tipsy, talking to someone, even to a masked muscular man would be better than mumbling into the bar tender who very visibly didn’t want to be working their shift. So you dragged yourself over. Ghost watched your hips swish with every motion, even with a couple shots in you, and your eyes a glossy, you were walking as if you hadn’t been through the ringer. Poised.

Ghost listened to your dumb sob story like the many women your age. Some guy fucking you over, but you liked him still. Wanted to be with him and for him to choose you. But he wasn’t going to choose you. Same script different character. Ghost would be kind to you though, at least for the moment—

“Should I help ease your mind then?” His voice raucous, almost obnoxiously deep, sent your brain swooning.

You wave him off, sniffling, “I don’t think I’ll forget this one. I think it was more of a wake up call.”

“Didn’t say I could make your forget,” and his hand reaches yours, pulling you just enough so you’re facing him but still sat in the bar stool. He rubbed your hand gently, “Asked you should I help ease your mind.”

Your heart goes haywire, you lick your lips, eyes flicking from his all black attire to his brown eyes that swam in your own.

“Trynna kill me?”

“Don’t think murderers admit that to their victims, do they?”

The ends of your lips curved up, giggling smacking your forehead and leaning on the bar, insanely gorgeous, “right of course.”

He got you there.

You looked between the brute and the rest of the dingy bar, lights flickering above you— you’d play your hand with the devil tonight.

“Then please do.”

Was it strange for you to follow a man with a mask out of a bar and to his place? Of course. Not an ounce of urgency or concern, he teased you about it with his thick fingers were two knuckles deep inside you as soon as he got you in his house about a 30 minute drive from the bar. “Brainless little thing aren’t ya?”

He tsked, his fingers curling, grazing your g-spot and getting a yelp from you. “Thinkin with your cunt, we’ll have to fix tha’.”

It was when he felt you drenching around his aching red tip with precum, Simon almost lost his mind. Maybe you were the one trying to kill him. Had to get more in you. Arched your back further, slowly stretching your sloppy cunt inch by fucking inch.

“Oh- oh my go- Ghost!” your breath hitched, toes curling, you lift your head just enough to look back at him with those big doe eyes, Christ, you were going to kill him. “Y-you said just the tip.”

He’s just barely acknowledging you, too consumed (literally) by how tight you were choking him length, he grunted, “Heh, Not when she’s begging for me to be inside ‘er. You crazy? Fuckin greedy little cunny you’ve got, as if the tip would be enough.”

And you were whining so beautifully as you clenched around him, clinging at the sheets because the bastard was so thick, so biiiig (just like you moaned), and he pulled you right back down on his length because you could take it. Had to.

He couldn’t even fit all of him inside you.

That’s when he knew he had to keep you on a leash. Not a tight one, loose enough to let you wander, let you think you could continue on like you’ve always been. Hopping around from man to man, unknowingly letting yourself be some bitch. No, no, no that wouldn’t fucking work, not anymore. Not for Ghost. Perfect kitty, soon enough he’d tighten it, just when the time was right, enough that he wouldn’t loose track of you, keep you in check.

Make you his.

You’d assumed Ghost was in the bathroom when you scrambled out his bed and out of his house. The man was a monster, in the best way imaginable, but one night is one night. You’d keep your end of the deal. A taxi was on the way because he truly did live in the middle of no where, no uber or lyft— it was £70 taxi well spent.

“You’re gone?” Ghost asks, wiping his hands with the towel that was in his back pocket. You didn’t know what time it was but the man already had a little smudge on his and face, unshaven stubble, sweat already bleeding through his shirt— he looked too handsome to be true. You’d already felt butterflies fluttering around in your stomach.

“Uh- yeah. I- ehem- it’s been fun.” You nod, curtly.

He hummed, “Sure.”

There’s an awkward silence only filled with the rock music coming from inside the garage. You check your phone, 10:45 am, new message; taxi service: I’ve arrived.

You look up from your phone but there’s absolutely no taxi.

Ghost sees the look of confusion on your face, he’s already moving to one of the cars parked in front of the garage, “Does it look like that taxis coming out here? We’re in the middle of the woods.”

“Oh…” you scatch the back of your neck, and sigh, “well I’ll just walk to meet him then.”

Ghost looked at you, raising an eyebrow, a silly little thing, “So you can miss the taxi and be stranded there for the next forty minutes? Don’t be dumb, baby. Just get in the car!” He barks out his orders, getting in his black truck and slamming it shut.

It’s a simple three minutes, down the long path of his drive way, through the paved brush in the woods to his mailbox. Exactly where the yellow taxi cab sat parked. The truck stilled, Ghost unmoving while you gathered your purse, double checking to make sure everything was there. Your glance at him once more, scars crawling up his neck to the mask, blonde hair, pretty long lashes, brown eyes—

Ghosts voice filled the silent car, just as you opened the passenger door. “You come back when you want.”

It was a simple sentence. A direction.

He was taunting you, had to be. You’d thought about his words for the entire car ride back to your flat. Then day or so, and if you didn’t get a sign from god, you’d move on with your life as if that never happened.

But while rummaging through your purse, on the inside pocket while looking for your wallet, there was a crumbled up piece of paper. Ghosts address and number on the back.

You found yourself back there a week later, after contemplating up and down the small walls of your apartment. you drove yourself this time, cursing to yourself that this was stupid and he wouldn’t want to see you again. But you knocked anyway…

Silence.

You knocked again, rocking on your heels and taking a step back to take a look at the fairly large house. Probably a five or six bedroom, it was old, but fixed up properly. A garage connecting to it, two different trucks outside of it.

Simon opened the door, shirtless, stomach with a little pudge over his untoned abs, tattoos on full display and biceps flexing— he should’ve been on the cover of Mens Health Magazine. A damn model. The blonde nodded towards something in the front garden.

“The keys under the flowerpot over there.”

Without another word, he stepped to the side, letting you into the house. A German shepherd came walking down the hall, immediately coming to sniff you out like you were a bad guy. You immediately went to pet him, your hands finding his collar, a bin shaped tag in the middle of his neck that read, ‘Slugger.’

“I’ve got some things to take care of. You do what you want.”

And with that, Ghost was down the hall. Leaving you in the foyer with his dog. And you’re in disbelief because wasn’t this supposed to be— well— a hookup? A quick, ‘hey, I’m signaling you to bone me.’ You grumble, “that ass,” slipping off your shoes and stepping further into the house.

“As if I’d sit around ‘nd wait, ‘m not some pet.”

Let’s not calling waiting then, you wasted time. Ghost's house was a shell of what once was. The leather couch’s and the tv were new. The end tables, coffee table and mirror that hung on the walls were testaments of time though. Old antiques that had to be from the 70s or 60s, a record player placed in the hallway towards the kitchen, still used, rock records spanning the last five decades sat in crates on the floor. Under the tv was a plethora of movies, vhs to dvd, old classics to new action movies.

There were no pictures though. No photo albums to show that a family once lived here in this old house, none on the walls either. Just old paintings of sceneries, a few wilting plants in the corners of the room. But you could tell, the old bannister that led upstairs, the way the house just barely creaked with you and Slugger’s movements, the pencil marks of growing heights on the wall. A family was here once, but it was long gone.

Being here was like intaking the last lifeless breaths of something, utterly still- stuck.

The couch sunk once you plopped down on it. You sighed, Slugger happily panting with his tongue out at you. Graciously waiting for head pats. You chuckled giving him a little ruffle at his cheeks, “Guess we’re both waitin for the same thing, huh?”

“Still busy?” Your voice was naturally sultry, alluring, popping your head into the room where you heard the keyboard being tapped. This room, Ghosts office, completely different from what surrounded it. New, fresh, sleek, renovated.

Ghost hadn’t intended to be stuck at his desk for the last hour, paper work irritated the blonde to no end. He’d rather hand it off to Price. But you’d shown up on your own accord. Didn’t fight when he told you he had something to do, sceptical but still wanting to see whatever he had out for you— patient, just like he wanted. Good kitty.

“No,” a little white lie, he patted his leg, “come on.”

You shift on your feet, footsteps on the smooth hardwood gliding you behind his desk and onto his leg. “I didn’t take you for a business man Ghost.”

“A nickname like mine and you thought business?” His eyebrow raises, amused.

“Related to it! It’s related, no?”

“The military. Lieutenant.” You giggle, shoving his shoulder, “Then I was half right! Not bad, if I do say so myself.” You go on talking, treading lightly on the tightrope, your heart rate picking up while his thumb brushing over your plump lips, lost at the sight of you, gorgeous.

You chuckle, eyes finding his, “You’re not even listenin to a word—“

“—You talk too much.” He murmurs, planting his lips on his. It’s quick. Too quick for your own liking, your grip his hair and put his lips back on yours. They part just enough for his tongue to slip through. It’s wet, it’s sloppy, it’s desperate. Ghost throws your shirt and bra on the cluttered desk, skirt hiked up above your hips, underwear hanging off your foot. It’s already feeling humid, his large hands groping the two large globes of your ass, gripping harshly as you slid his large pink tip between your folds.

“ ‘S not gonna fit-“ you babble, moaning at the simple feel of his dick on you. One of his hands move up your back, “It’ll fit, just like it did last time, don’t think about it so much.”

“B-but-“ Ghosts hand reaches the back of your neck, gripping, “-[+], I’m not askin you. I’m telling you. Put. It. In.” You snuck down on his cock, painfully slow. Eyes squeezing shut with a shaky breath as you tried to take Simon. You remembered the limit, dreamt about it in your sleep and woke up with soiled panties. But you wanted to try fitting more, more—

“Oi, don’t get fuckin greedy. You know what to take,” Simon grunted, giving your clit a nice flick.

“ mMmm’ I’m sorry, sorry.” You mewled. You felt your brain was already shot, eyes turning into your skull as you bounced up and down. Ghosts head coming down perfect to bite and suck on your hardened nipples. You were hiccuping and crying, feeling that vein while his dick scraped your soaking walls.

You hadn’t even realized how dumb you looked, head resting on his shoulder, your arms hooked up under his while Simon took hold of your hips, guiding you up and down, back and forth, on his cock, drool continuously forming that you had to suck back up and slurring out daddy, daddy, daddy.

There’s a snap in your face, a deep chuckle you feel that comes from the bottom of his stomach, “God, is that brain even on? Too fucked out to hear me?”

You keen, “feels- ooough! Feelsh so g-good daddy.”

“I knooow. Poor baby,” Simon fake coos, pulling you away so he could really get a look at that adorably stupid look on your face. Simon couldn’t wait to see more of it. “Can’t even think properly, huh? Don’t worry, Daddy’ll do the thinking for now on. You’d like that, hm? Need someone to guide your little head.”

You moan and bite your lip, looking at him with those pretty brown eyes while rutting your hips so desperately— “Need you, need you so- hicc— soooo-“ Your own gasp cuts you off, eyes widening and shutting and you fell into the crash of a orgasm.

So sweet, so good, a orgasm that got you so high, it would land you right back down into Ghost's arms.

The relationship was— well the situationship— it wasn’t a bad arrangement.

You found stability within Ghost. Shocker? To you, yes.

There were no set rules to him, you could come and go as you pleased— the key under the green flowerpot in the front yard were yours— and if Ghost was there, he’d fuck you just as you needed. Rough and deep, pulling at the blonde strands of his hair whilst he ate your swollen pussy after wearing you thin, crying and thrashing. And when you woke up Ghost was either gone, in the living room watching some 80s flick rerun or in the garage.

“Leaving?”

“Yeah, see you later.”

“Mm.”

He didn’t press, he didn’t pull. He was constant. Ghosts house become your little safe haven. Anytime you felt like running off, being alone yet not alone, you were back there, blast music whenever you wanted, dance around without your neighbors banging on the wall and you’d have a cute little dog to pet everytime you gad the chance, Even when he’d gone on a mission, he’d leave you a note, ‘replace what you eat’ or ‘take care of the house’ because he’d known you’d be there. That was the very least you could do, right?

Take Slugger on a walk or two, fill the fridge before ransacking it, leave a couple clothes in the bedroom because you always forgot something at your place. Buy the fashion magazines you’d been dying to read and set them right under the stack Ghost had left there.

It felt so nice to be in Ghosts big arms, you didn’t have to have that hard shell you worked so hard to create, let his calloused hands explore you. Gently from your stomach to your chin, caressing ever so softly, you couldn’t help but lean into it. Lashes fluttering, sitting idly in one of his shirts that went mid thigh or maybe in the little black and blue tank top and underwear set he bought you.The one with lace at the hem that showed off your plump ass and hard nipples— you waited patiently for whenever he came home. Be it 7 pm or 1 am.

Let him ruffle your hair before you could swat him away, let him get a long and good look at you after his long day. Bring your ankle to his lips on the other end of the couch you two were both slouched on, movie playing in the background, before playfully biting.

Simon would ask, “What’d you do all day, hm?”

“Work, bullshit, more work.” You’d scuff, playing your nails but you weren’t focused on them. Not at all, more focused on Ghosts reaction, none of course, “let’s hear the bullshit then.”

You couldn’t help but want to be there. Because Simon wanted to hear you, his sweet girl, go on and on till you got tired, all curled up in his lap. Dozed off and nuzzling into the man’s every touch. Simon adored that about you.

You hadn’t even realized how kept you were until he handed that card, telling you, “you should get your own dresser instead of hogging mine. And get Slugger that collar you wanted for him.” As if you’d forgotten.

Did you run because you could see a storm brewing a mile away? Felt yourself reverting to the girl you once were with Mark. Being left to your own devices then meant to be the stress reliever. Kept. That’s what Ghost had to see you as right? Nothing more than pretty object. Right?

No, this was your greed festering again. Something you should’ve shoved downs flight of stairs just when you got that little nibble of proper attention you wanted. Ever wanting, ever needing— More, more, more. Fuck the world, you wanted the galaxy— the universe. You’d dreamed of it one night, living peacefully in this house, warmth filling it, laid out in his truck, watching the stars pressed into the blondes side. But Ghost couldn’t give you the universe. You were stupidly sure of that— convinced every molecule to refute the idea of it. No man could. You’d accepted that.

You’d rather be alone than to be let down.

And maybe it’s on Simon for not tightening the leash when he had the chance. He shouldn’t have let you perch in his lap and rub into him without telling you that there was no backing out of— well— this. Another problem. He should’ve told you that you’d be his, no more of the back and forth. Settle you properly. You hadn't even known you’d slithered around a snake tamers neck.

You were so blatantly ignoring him. Ignoring his calls, his texts. And it’s not like he was harassing you, he’d call or text once a week. See if you’d bite, but he’d get nothing. But you were still going place to place (he had your location on), showing off all sexy and high tailed with your friends. Eating, clubbing, working, showing your pretty face to the camera. Like nothing out of the ordinary was going on.

It irritated Simon. To the point, the men working under him were even more terrified and exhausted of him after training. Soap had to remind him to ease up on them, “They’re wee babies aren’t they?”

No, they were annoying little brats, who should understand without being told. Just like you.

Simon realized his fault. He just needed to train you right. Strays are all the same. You could keep them around for so long, let them bite and scratch even as you pet them, they leave, maybe get roughed up a bit then— they’d be right back when they needed or wanted. Looking for comfort, to find out if anything had changed— safety. You’d known where you were supposed to be eventually.

He heard the front door open, gently shutting it closed and the zipper of your boots coming off.

“Where’ve you been?” Simon thundered. He was sat on the couches closer to the window, man spreading, brown eyes piercing you.

You glance off, voice just above a whisper, “Around.”

Around? Right. Just paying the person you gave your attention to, no mind. Not an answer that would fly, not in Simons book.

“I just came to get a jacket.”

But you don’t move, the tension is too thick. Almost suffocating. You didn’t know why you were back honestly. You wanted to see him, just for a bit. Even if it was to grab one of his old shirts. Say hi to Slugger. The jacket was an excuse.

“What’d’you want [+]?”

What do you want? You blinked. Once. Twice. To go home. A new thought because you so badly wanted to be here no matter what you did, your mind would trail back to being here, face pressed in Simons thigh, almost purring the way he rubbed the back of your nape, Slugger on his doggy bed sleeping, Simon telling you to hush because you were talking over the horror movie you were scared of— that’s what you wanted.

But is that what you deserved? Is that what Simon wanted? Simon was looking right through you, eyes deep and searching for any waver yet understanding. Oh, it wasn’t just a simple question. It was, ‘What do you want so I can make you stay?’ Fickle were the worries that crossed your mind to Simon. He saw the way you kept shifting foot to foot, eyes in a panic, playing with your nails and the rings on your finger—you were scared. He was driving you into a corner on purpose.

Run. Just like you always do. It’s better this way.

“I-I want my jacket.” You stammered out, swallowing the spit in your mouth, “I need to get it, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

Your reply was like a rejection, a smack in empty forrest. You move finally, up the stairs, and you hear it. It’s like a rare bell that chimes when you finally come to a realization— Simons chuckle. It’s short but deep, drenched in sarcasm.

Faster.

Ghost was on you before you could get down the hallway, throwing you over his shoulder— tightening.

It was wrangling a feral cat. This entire beginning to now, letting you come and go when you wanted, feeding you, cuddling you, gifting you— it was house training a stray. And now that you’d bit his hand, and I mean really bit it, he’d force you into a house cat—

Help your stupid little brain remember where you belonged.

Right up under Simons large build, your hands pinned together at your stomach in one of his hands, shoving your face down into the mattress of his bed with the other, dropping every fucking inch of his girth into your tight pussy. Squirming too much, mewling, “ ‘s too much- agh- daddy too much!”

And there’s a large hand that comes down on your ass, fixing your lower back to arch so you weren’t in fetal position, “Shut up ‘nd take it, take it, fucking take it.”

You’d never in your life felt so full, so stretched, so out of your mind. Your lucky Simon was giving you the opportunity to take those shaky breaths, try to get used to the size, but it didn’t make a difference. Your snug cunt was gripping him like a vice, he wanted to memorize every single bit of it.

He breaths through his nose, shuddering before snapping his hips into yours, “Fuckin hell, baby, all this f’me. Always been for me.” His thrusts are slow and mean, dragging himself out so his tip is right at the entrance of your hole then plowing back into you.

“Fuuuu- so full- so much,” you gasp, tears forming in your eyes.

“Holdin out on me, mmph- you were holdin out on me alllll this time. Like I wouldn’t- fuck- be able to fit in your pretty pussy ‘nd then leavin me high and dry,” he grunts, delirious on your gummy walls, thrusts becoming more rapid, his heavy balls hitting your clit with every movement, He snickers, “You lost your brain princess, this is where you should be. Turnin that dumb little brain off and takin my cock.”

Simon presses your hands down on your stomach, exactly here his dick was pressing your cervix, you flinch, sobbing out his name as you cream all over his dick. “Therrrre she goes, gorgeous fuckin slut you are. You've been aching for it haven't you?”

The blonde flips you onto your back, sliding back into your sensitive heat without a second thought. You claw at Ghosts back, eyes rolling into your head like a flimsy doll. Cockdrunk baby, he jaw clenches, that quick wave of jealousy washing over him, but he lets it out out in the way he fucks you. Getting three of his fat fingers and rubbing loud and sopping mess you’ve left around your clit. Getting you through three orgasms just by playing with that bundle of nerves.

He nibbled everywhere, sure to leave hickies around your neck and chest, then bites. literally. “To think, you’d go off without a word to me, like you don’t care. Who told you to run off like that? Huh? Daddy didn’t, did I?” The blonde presses all your weight down on you, swiveling his hips.

“N-no” you hiccup, his hand goes to your throat, giving it a nice squeeze, “No what? Don’t you have any manners doll?”

“No sir,” you yelp, that strawberry pink cockhead hitting your g-spot. The plap, plap, plap, of Ghost bottoming at your then giving your g-spot a knuckle sandwich with his dick.

“Told you, you over think too fuckin much,” Ghosts voice strangled, “Get out of your head, enough of the running.”

“I don’t,” you shake your head but Simon squeezes your cheeks together, throwing your legs over his shoulders, “don’t fuckin lie, [+], don’t feed me bullshit.”

And you feel smaller than you ever had, whimpering, the most vulnerable you've ever been, forcing everything out and handing over the key to Pandora’s box- “You- you can’t let go, okay? You have to- hicc- you have to be with me!”

As if you had to ask.

He just needed to hear it from your plump lips, even if it took you being overstimulated, tears on his shoulder and your mixed cum spilling out of your swollen pussy. He’d tame you over and over and over, just for you to stay with him. Keep you close.

“Open,” Ghosts mezmorized, your mouth falls open and a wad of his spit falls in. He closes your mouth with his thumb, “Swallow” and you did, throat bobbing in his hands. He pressed your forehead together, molding your lips, biting your lips so much you can feel the blood.

You're purring, eyes glazed over and slurring, “Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Daddy?”

“Princess,” he leers but you moan louder at that, arms wrapping around his tattooed broad shoulders.

Call and fucking response, the ends of Ghosts lips curve up. Such a sweetheart, checking to see if he was there, and he would always be right there.

“Sweet baby, learning to be greedy?” He hummed and you’re slowly nodding that clueless little head of yours, your walls clenching a few times, “-hmph want you, want it.”

“Gooood girl, my good girl. Gonna fill your little cunt, yeah? Just how you want, just how you need, right Kitty? Gonna take all of it?”

It doesn’t take much for you to fall off the edge of Simons words, back arching off the bed and Simons holding you tight, still slamming into you while leaving a tender kiss to your forehead. Till you feel those big fat globs of milky cum hitting your cervix.

Simon looks at the state of you, glowing, breathtaking even in your exhausted state, he could’ve moaned at the sight of you, pushing your curls out of your face and licking up the tears that once fell.

Gorgeous kitty, Simon would take care of you now.

a/n: this took forever. I love blackcat!reader the most. Lmk what you think pls

most recent masterlist more meanie!simon

𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱<3: @bruisedfig @tessakate @sevikasblackgf @mocha-the-muse

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anantaru · 12 hours ago

Text

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ hot things he does — love and deepspace

synopsis. hot things he does while doing it

including. zayne, xavier, rafayel, sylus, caleb

warnings. fem! reader, oral (fem! receiving), fingering, cockwarming, dry humping, dirty talk, tit play, brat taming, petnames used: sweetheart, baby

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ zayne + holding your body like he owns it

from what you've gathered, zayne always starts obsessing over your mouth while being in you first— his thumb carefully resting on your lip, tilting your face up like he's examining something delicate, quite precious, his darling, his life.

naturally, your cheeks rise in temperature beneath his grip, your skin dewy with sweat and pheromones and the way he looks at you was just so steady it made your belly twist tight. yet zayne doesn't need to say a lot, in fact, he doesn't have to, he just keeps his eyes locked on yours forevermore, watching every flicker of your lashes, every shiver that rolls down your spine as his cock pushes in with slow, thick and dragging thrusts, making you feel the strong tremors in your thighs.

"you feel that, you feel me?" he asks huskily, but not gentle, you notice there was something seething beneath it, something tight, like it took him insane effort not to filthily fuck into you, "that shake in your legs, fuck, you can take it all like that for me? thats not fair, is it?" as you shake your head frantically at him, skin flustered when he smirks at you.

"that's your body giving in, you know?" and then he starts, thrusts after thrusts, hard and deep all the way in, hips sharp and pelvis grinding against your overstimulated clit with every goddamn drag— and in this situation, all you could really do was sob and twitch as zayne catches your noises with his palm on your mouth, still holding your face, making you look at him.

the way he fills you to the brim was nerve racking, the way every inch of his pulses like he's aching to come, but won't, not until you do as his thumb finds your clit and rubs fast circles through the protective skin of it, too intense yet you needed more when he just moaned out your name, loving your frame jerking under him, all from overstimulation and burning want.

"that's what i want baby," zayne grunts, voice fraying around the edges, "that exact sound, that exact fucking look," as a deep groan claws out of him when you tighten around his length, his hips snapping forward when you do it again.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ xavier + becomes controlling over your pleasure

xavier doesn't touch you the way normal men touch, you see, there's no rush to his movements— no hunger on the surface as his breath remained even and his hands steady, his voice staying clinical as he sits at the foot of the bed, one hand pressed flat to your trembling inner thigh while the other disappears between your legs, fingers curling in filling strokes.

he watches the way your stomach flinches, the ripple of your thighs when he presses just a little deeper and the way your hips buck, chasing friction like instinct, and then jolt back in shame when you realize how carefully he's observing your entire frame.

"don't look away, you hear me," xavier's voice spills out like cold metal dragged across skin, remaining glacial at its core, "i want you to see what i see, how you fall apart for me, how you spasm every time i do this—" as he crooks his fingers again, making you choke on your breath as your toes curl, your cunt clamping down around him with a squelch so obscene it makes your whole body jerk upwards.

"you're soaked baby, fuck, have been for minutes, i've barely done anything," xavier's gaze alone pins you down, fierce and unblinking as his jaw ticks once— like he's bracing himself for the ruin he's about to make of you, "—and yet, you're trembling like i've fucked you raw."

well, okay, lets be honest here— you are trembling, in fact, your thighs just won't stop twitching even if you focus on them very hard.

the heat was just too much— sickly sweet and humiliating, a swelling ache that lived in your belly and climbed higher every time he curled his fingers up and rubs, fuck, you're soaking the sheets, desperately so, your slick dripping down his wrist and touching him up— quite hilarious, wasn't it? if you consider that xavier still hasn't even taken his shirt off yet.

you try to reach down and press his hand deeper into your cunt to find any friction on your clit, to relieve this maddening, building pressure that's leaving your vision white at the edges, yet his other hand shoots out— clamping around your wrist with enough strength to make you wince.

"don't," he says softly, but the warning inside was unmistakable, "don't, you're not allowed to interfere,"

you sob out his name in high tunes as your stomach tightens when he adds another finger, thighs shaking violently, you want, no, need, to have him closer, perhaps even have his tongue stroke through your hole to chase that spark building behind your ribs, but he won't let you.

"it's more interesting when you're desperate," xavier admits bluntly, withdrawing his fingers for a second— watching the way your cunt clenches around nothing, trying to hold onto digits, fluttering from the emptiness.

after waiting for a little, he slips them back in slowly, dragging them along your soaked walls, watching you flinch and twitch and cry out for him— and that's what ultimately made it worse, because xavier knows, he knows exactly how your body worked, exactly what it needed to cum, and he's purposely giving you just less than enough.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ rafayel + needs to cookwarm you

understandably, rafayel was panting even before he pushed himself into you, yet when he finally did— it's slow, thick, shivering with restriction which didn't last, "oh fuck," his adams apple bobs as he chokes on his spit, his head dropping against your shoulder with his voice hoarse of disbelief, "you're so tight, baby, so warm, you feel—" the man cannot even finish, truly, he can't.

his breath hitches instead, hips jerking deeper as rafayel curses again and again, low and against your neck, like each inch of you that swallowed him was tearing the sanity from his bones. he bottoms out once, twice, fucking into you faster to switch and choose between the perfect rhythm as he finally settles his entire shaft inside you, his body shuddering like he's about to cum then and there.

because the moment he fit his entire length in you, you clench around him furiously— tight and fluttering, pulsing with that needy ache as his mouth drops open with a broken gasp, "don't do that," he begs, barely above a whisper, "don't fucking squeeze like that— I'll fucking lose it," as he leans over you, forearms bracketing your head and forehead pressed to yours, hips twitching in shallow motions because even the smallest shift made you both cry out into each others lips.

"can i stay like this, baby?" he kisses along your jaw, "see how good we fit, how full you are, you're holding onto me like you never want me to leave," and then he thrusts up, fathomless and without restriction before dragging himself out just enough to feel the strong stretch of you, then sliding right back to the hilt— where he then stays, twitching inside with a sound closer to a sob than a moan.

you were so full at this point— achingly so, you could feel every vein of him, every curl and turn, the way his cock throbbed inside you like it's your own heartbeat as your legs shake around his waist from how heavy it made you feel, how close it made you too, fuck, how tight it got when your body flinched from the overwhelming pulses of him inside.

your stomach knots as your breath stutters, drinking in his moans again— helplessly kissing him as he completely took over your body, "can't even think about pulling out—" his hips move again, this time faster, barely pulling himself back, the drag of his cock so intense your back instantly arched from it, sparks flashing behind your eyes.

his hips slam deep, once, twice— and he's gone, voice catching as he releases with brutal force, cock pulsing as he comes inside you, deep, hot, thick, all of it, yeah? so much it spills back out with the next thrust— and still, he doesn't stop.

"again," he pants, "i'm not done, i'm not done, need you to keep me inside, don't let me go, don't let me fucking go—" rafayel kisses you, like he's trying to fuse into you, believing that if he can keep your cunt around his dripping dick long enough, he'll never have to leave.

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ sylus + obsessed with your tits

as one might expect, sylus doesn't even get your clothes off properly nor doesn't care if they tear, he's practically panting as he pulls your top down, lips already brushing hot over your chest before he even gets a full look, "fuck, fuck, you're so—" his breath hits your doused skin, his eyes wild and pupils blown, voice slurred like he's drunk on the barest sight of you, "you don't know what you do to me, you don't know how long i've thought about this."

then his mouth hits your tits and it's instantly wet, it's hot, all of it, it's filthy too, the way he latches onto your nipple with a groan so guttural it shakes through your ribs. his tongue rolls along your tits in slow circles as his teeth scrape, and when you arched into his body, twitching from how sensitive you were, he grins, "yeah, like that, that's what i wanna see," as he palms your tits with both hands and squeezes, pushing them together so he can bury his face between them and moan, like he's drowning in them, like he wants to live there forever.

your entire frame was on fire, thighs slick with your arousal, hips grinding into air— because he hasn't even touched you there yet, sylus couldn't find time, not properly, just the drag of his thigh between yours was enough he believed, or just the occasional graze of knuckles when he shifts to kiss the other nipple.

he wants it that way as he glances down once and groans— loudly like it's hurting him to wait, "you're messing up my pants," he smirks, rutting against your leg, leaking against your skin, "just from me sucking your tits like this? look at what a mess you are baby," sylus shoves his hand between your legs, fuck, finally, right? rubbing through your soaked pussy, smearing your slick up to your clit and back down, lazy and greedy all at once, "you want more? you wanna cum just from this?"

but do not mistake him because his mouth stays at your chest the whole time, he's addicted, mouthing one nipple while his fingers sink inside, scissoring your tight hole.

your back arches instantly and you're soaked, even more now and fuck, you're overstimulated from every side, your clit aching from how close you were yet he doesn't stop sucking on your sensitive nipples, doesn't stop grinding against your thigh like a man gone mad.

"you're perfect," he gasps, "you're perfect, let me have you like this, let me watch you come with my mouth on your tits— let me feel you fucking pulse around my fingers while i suck your tits, baby," as he grunts into your skin, "i'll ruin you like this, i'll make it so every time you touch yourself, you'll think about my mouth here— my tongue, my teeth, how fucking hard i came grinding against you."

⋆. 𐙚 ̊ caleb + cannot stop praising you

"you're so good," caleb whispers to you as if he's confessing something protected, his touch weighted with awe, a worship that trembles through his fingers, slithering up your thighs, then moving over to your waist, ultimately cupping your face, "so good, baby, I can't, i can't even—"

the sentence dies on his tongue because, well, he's too busy looking, you know? at you, in fact, at where he's inside you, at the way your lips part and your body arches up every time he shoves his cock inside you greedily.

and you feel everything, caleb made sure of that— the stretch, the slip, the depth, fuck, he's thick, hot, and so careful at first— so slow it's almost cruel, each inch dragging against your walls until your hands hold onto him for dear life, chasing more, chasing him.

caleb says your name through passion— like the pleasure was too good, too deep, so insane it might break him.

he's repeatedly brushing his lips over your cheek as he thrusts just a little harder, a little further so he could stroke over your sweet spot, taking your frame through new spots of awareness, "taking me so well, you're perfect, just perfect," as his voice cracks when you clench down, "you're so fucking good, too good— i'm not strong enough for you, sweetheart, not when you feel like this."

don't be afraid because, well, caleb will stop fucking you so slow and sensually at some point, even your boyfriend had limits and couldn't push back on his pleasure for eternity.

you whimper when he begins to slide against your sweet spot again, this time faster and caleb snaps, a groan ripping out of him, needy and raw as he's suddenly fucking you like he's starved for it— like you're the only thing in the world that made sense to him, his cock hitting so impactful your ability to breathe evenly was questioned, your back remained curved, your thighs shaking with every thick drag.

"you're so warm, so tight around me— fuck, i feel you everywhere," his hands grip your waist harder, pulling you against his pelvis as he thrusts, making it purposefully more extensive, messier too so you'll make those wet, nasty sounds for him, "you're squeezing me, baby, you don't even know what you do to me—"

your skin prickles from how much he worships you whenever you were intimate with each other, how he sounds ruined with gratitude, ruined with your cunt constricting around him ever so tightly, milking him, how he looked down and watches your bodies join like it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen— your arousal and his cum spreading over your thighs, his cock glistening with every pullout as his breath stutters when he sees it, "you're making such a mess— i love it, i love you like this—"

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #lads smut #love and deep space x reader #love and deep space smut #rafayel x reader #rafayel smut #sylus x reader #sylus smut #caleb x reader #caleb smut #zayne x reader #zayne smut #xavier x reader #xavier smut #lads x you #love and deepspace x you

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seungcheorry · 3 days ago

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types of kissers on svt.

seungcheol: tongue kisser

this dude is slipping his tongue into your mouth the moment he has the chance. don't get me wrong, if he can't kiss you properly he will set for pecks, even just soft kisses using those plump lips - but if we're talking actually kissing, then he wants to taste you and have you sighing. one hand on your hips, the other one on the back of your head.

jeonghan: smooth kisser

jeonghan is sooo smooth when it comes to kissing. you might not even notice him sliding his tongue into your mouth - either because he's also caressing your arm or sliding his hands to your waist -, but once you do and you sigh, jeonghan makes sure to smile against your lips as he leads the kiss in his own way (because you better believe he's doing this his way).

joshua: the smiler

he's happy to be there, kissing you. he's happy to be able to feel you on his lips, taste lingering on it for hours afterwards, hands moving all around your body. he's so happy that, when he's out of breath, joshua takes his time to smile on your lips, to show you how his serotonin levels are way up now (even though sometimes his eyes are saying "i'm gonna ruin you").

junhui: free kisser

his kisses are always gentle, as if he's waiting for you to show him how you want it. will gladly move his lips, put some tongue into you and even some teeth, but you gotta start it. he just loves kissing so much, it doesn't really matter how it goes to him so you have a free card to ask for whatever you want.

soonyoung: nasty kisser

let me get this straight: the nastier, sloppier and wetter, the better. soonyoung likes to hear you kissing him, the sounds your lips make, the sound his tongue caressing yours make. he isn't scared to get saliva all over his chin, so don't even bother stopping him - he's only stopping when neither you or him can breath.

wonwoo: slow kisser

it's not even planned, it's just default by now - he somehow always grab your face with both his hands, holding you in place as his lips open yours to welcome his shy tongue. it's slow most of the times, it's a bit clumsy - when he doesn't take his glasses off -, but it's so full of love. most likely to whisper a 'come here' before kissing you.

jihoon: the intense kisser

this motherfucker treats every kiss as if you're about to disappear. a hand on your face, the other one roaming your body, as he expects you to do the same. grabs your hair and pulls your closer, let's you take control over the kiss and how much movement you want, but keeping you close it's his job. groans and moans against your mouth, especially if you use your tongue on him.

dokyeom: the toucher

can't kiss without touching you. "oh, but it's just a peck on the lips-" yeah, and he's gonna grab you by the neck while you do it. romantic, slow kiss in the middle of his kitchen? his arms are circling your body. make out session on your couch? his hands are grabbing your thighs and/or hips. a shy kiss in the middle of the street? his hands are holding yours. for real, there's no kissing without touching with dk, ever.

mingyu: the teaser (who likes being teased)

mingyu loves to tease in anyway he can, especially if he's trying to build up something more. expect his hand around your neck, his teeth softly biting and pulling your lips, long and happy sighs against your mouth, his tongue sliding on your own - there's many, many tricks he likes to use it. please, match his freak and he will melt in your hands too (pull his hair!!).

minghao: romantic kisser

minghao believes there's only so many things that can be as romantic as kissing, so he likes to put emotion into it. there is less tongue and more lips, he stops in the middle of it to look at you and brush your hair, peck your lips and your chin. he takes his time, it's really sweet - but it can also turn you both on.

seungkwan: shy kisser

he likes kissing, don't get me wrong - but full kisses, with tongue, sounds, hair grabbing and stuff are only reserved for the bedroom. outside of it, seungkwan's kisses are shy, there's always a faint tone of red adorning his cheeks as he pecks your lips for a few seconds. might even whine if he tries to pull away but you grab his neck and make him stay there. it's cute.

vernon: soft kisser

he's slow and gentle. vernon always starts with his hand on your face, cupping your cheek as he savory the kiss. it's his way to convey all his love for you on it. might rest his hands on your hips if he's feeling like letting you control the kiss or sliding them from your face to your neck if he feels like controlling.

chan: the smirker

this motherfucker knows what he's doing when he holds your face, pulling you towards him and giving you a peck before actually kissing you, his lips controlling yours and stopping to smirk against your mouth when you try to pull him closer. he's a menace AND a good kisser, i'm sorry.

have you considered tipping me? | ko-fi 🍒

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parkers-gal · 3 days ago

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make-believe girlfriend J.B.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader, a smidge of grumpy x sunshine

wc: 3.1k

warnings: use of nickname 'peaches.' long distance relationship

summary: after a three month long mission, bucky returns and he has a girlfriend. the team doesn't believe she exists

a/n: i loooooveeee this i hope u do too ! <3

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

it was supposed to be a simple mission followed by a month long sabbatical. three months steve told bucky in between sets in the training room. two months to finish the mission, one month to just… explore. you need to get out, discover, to just- i don’t know… do something else besides be a soldier.

bucky had laughed at first. “coming from you? the world’s best soldier? that’s rich.”

“i know i’m not one to talk. but i care about you, buck. wakanda was good for you, i just want you to be at peace again.”

bucky hummed. “i’ll think about it.”

steve nodded, then after a beat, added “if not for you, do it for me.”

that was two weeks ago. now, bucky can’t even believe he’s packing his bags and loading onto the quinjet. alone. for the first time in almost 70 years, he’s afraid of something. of what, he doesn’t know. that’s what’s so nerve wracking about the entire ordeal – with hydra, he’d always known who to fear, who to submit to. when he was fighting on the field, there was always a bad guy, an alien, a man with a scepter. but this was out of his experience.

footsteps sound behind him. dropping his duffel bag by his backpack, bucky turns around calmly, trying to read steve’s face.

“you can call every once in awhile… if you want to. or just- you know. don’t forget your check ins.”

bucky nods. “it’s just a couple months, steve. i’ll be fine.”

he laughs a little. “i know. i don’t want you to think i’m pushing you to get out.”

“i know you’re not.” a hesitant smile spreads on his face. steve can see right through it, but he doesn’t comment, merely offering a hug. he pats bucky on the back as they always do, and once again, bucky is alone on the quinjet.

it was scary at first. chicago is so different from his little corner in brooklyn, safe in a bubble of familiarity. his apartment came pre-furnished, and felt more home-like than his bare apartment in new york. it was easy to play along, to act like he was playing a part on a mission.

but then he met you.

the walls of his facade started to crumble, and he found himself seeping into the soft sheets of his bed instead of a thin blanket on the hardwood floor. it became harder and harder for him to convince himself that he was faking the enjoyment of this trip.

you worked at the cafe nearby his apartment. his neighbor came home one day as bucky was leaving, and the smell of her coffee coupled with the croissant in her other hand was enough encouragement he needed to try out the restaurant.

the bell at the front alerted you of a new customer. you smiled while frothing some milk for an order, “i’ll be right with you!” you chirped sweetly.

the way you moved behind the counter had bucky in a trance the first time he laid eyes on you. the atmosphere around you was bubbling; it was as if bucky had walked right into a room of sunshine, and you were the star, beautiful and gentle and sweet. he wanted more.

dusting your hands on your apron, you stepped towards the register. “what can i get for you?”

a pause. worry was etched on bucky’s face.

“have you been here before?”

he shook his head. “i don’t know what to get, i’m sorry.”

you smiled again, soft and reassuring. it melted his insides. “that’s okay. would you like any suggestions?”

he finally grew the courage to look at your eyes. his mouth went a little dry, lips parted in shock. you were just so beautiful. he couldn’t describe it. “yeah.”

another comforting smile spread across your face and it soothed him immediately.

“i think our latte macchiato is one our yummiest drinks. i usually get the peach cobbler croissant. it’s amazing when it’s warm and gooey.”

“peach cobbler croissant?”

you nodded, “house original. don’t knock it ‘till you try it,” another smile.

this time, he smiled back. “okay, i’ll have those, then.”

“great!” you finished registering his order before moving back towards the various coffee machines, lightly singing along to the music playing. a few more people trickle in and out, and bucky takes his time admiring the quaint cafe.

“hey,” you lightly call. “i never got a name for that order.” you hold a cup of coffee in one hand, a sharpie in the other.

bucky steps closer to the counter, a sudden surge of confidence rippling through him like it used to back in the 30s. “can i give you a number for it too?”

your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. with a shy nod, you place his cup on the counter and take out a notepad from your apron. he recites his phone number and, with a grateful smile, leaves the shop. his legs almost give out as soon as he steps outside. he’s never been so nervous around a girl before.

he finished his mission two weeks earlier than planned. that gave him a month and a half to do whatever he wanted in the city. what he really wanted was you. every morning, he’d try a new drink and whatever breakfast special you had that day. and every day, at the end of your shift, bucky would walk you home. or sometimes, you’d walk to the park and sit on the bench and just talk.

by the second week of this, bucky asked you out on that bench.

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

stepping into bucky’s apartment, you place your keys in the bowl by the front door, and drop your apron next to your shoes. bucky lounges on the couch, a book in his lap and the tv on low.

“peaches?” he closes his book. “why didn’t you call me? i would’ve come to get you.”

you hum, sliding onto the couch beside him. “didn’t wanna bother you.”

he tsks at you before kissing your forehead, pulling you into his side. “how was work?”

you shrug. “i saw the cutest dog. i gave her some whipped cream and it was so cute.”

he smiles, squeezing you close. “wanna watch tv and order in?”

you nod, shuffling to grab the remote and putting your feet in his lap. “wanna watch gilmore girls?”

he massages your sock-clad feet and hums in approval at your question.

it’s odd how quickly he let go of his life at home. something about you made him want to be everything he thought he could be before the war, before hydra, before everything. he does miss home – new york city, the avengers compound, his clanky washing machine, steve and yes, even sam. but the longer he spends here, the more his home starts to feel like you.

“i think i love you.” the words slip out before he can register them, and his hands freeze in the middle of massaging you. you turn your head slowly, eyes softening upon hearing his words. “i’m sorry, it’s way too soon to say that i don’t even know why i-”

“i love you too.” you cut in. “i think i’m falling in love with you, bucky barnes.”

his eyes well up and he tugs you closer. “really?”

you nod, a grin breaking out on your face. “really.”

seeing your smile makes him start to smile too. “i’m falling in love with you, too.”

when he kisses you, it’s tender and caring, and his hand cups your face gently. he tastes faintly of apricot jam, and you sigh into the kiss, tugging him closer. “i don’t want you to go.”

he rests his forehead against yours, frowning. “aww, peaches.” bucky places a feather-light kiss to your cheek. “i’ll miss you so much.”

you nod in acknowledgement. “don’t know what i’m gonna do without you here.”

“i’ll visit as much as i can, honey.”

you huff, sniffing just below his jaw, inhaling his scent. “i know,” you pout. “but i really love being around you.”

bucky can’t help his smile from forming. you’re just so cute, missing him already when he hasn’t even left yet.

“good thing i have two weeks left to spend as much time with my girl as possible.”

his fingers slip down to your waist, pressing into your sides. laughter bubbles from your throat as you try to pry him off you. bucky chuckles at you, the adorable giggles spewing from your mouth are enough to make him kiss you again.

“you’re so pretty, peaches.”

you huff, out of breath from the tickling. “yeah?” it’s your turn. “you think so?”

“what are you doing…”

“…nothing…”

“peach- hey!”

you attack his freakishly hard abdomen, squeezing the muscles with all your might until bucky pulls you up and plops you into his lap, laying back on the couch. satisfied, you rest your hands against his chest.

“i wonder what stevie’ll think of you.”

your brow quirks. “you mean… captain america?”

bucky laughs, “that’s not his real name.”

you slap his chest lightly. “i know that, silly.”

“don’t know how i got so lucky.” his eyes twinkle at you.

lacing your fingers with his, you give his hand a squeeze. “me too.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky skillfully lands the quinjet on the helicopter pad at the compound. after showing you all the cool gadgets on the plane, bucky was reluctant to leave your side, but you kissed him and promised to facetime as soon as he was settled in, and bucky couldn’t say no to that, so he kissed you goodbye and waved as he took off, never having been so sad to return to his home in new york.

strolling into the compound, his backpack dangles from his right shoulder as he holds his duffel bag in his metal hand. he makes his way to his room, passing wanda and vision in the kitchen who say ‘hello’ while making some sokovian dish.

while he unpacks, steve knocks on his door despite bucky leaving it open.

“hey, buck. how was it?”

closing his dresser drawer, bucky shifts towards steve who steps into the room.

“it was good. i think… you were right. i really needed that.”

“that’s awesome, man. i’m really happy for you. maybe we can talk about it tonight, have some beers and just catch up?”

bucky nods, already grinning to himself when he thinks about telling steve about you.

he showers, facetimes you for a good hour, before friday alerts him that dinner is ready. he finishes his call with you and heads towards the kitchen, finding sam and steve spread on a table with food. natasha and wanda have taken their plates to the tv, opting to watch a new episode of some show. peter and tony are too caught up in some math problem to leave the couch.

“what’s up, terminator?”

squinting at him, bucky grabs a beer and pops it open with his metal arm, taking a seat beside steve at the round table. “so,” steve talks in between mouthfuls of food. “tell us about the trip.”

taking a gulp of beer, bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “i… met a girl.”

silence overtakes the three of them.

“what?”

“really?”

bucky nods, a blush already heating up his face.

“so… are you dating?” steve put his fork down to really look at bucky, still shocked at the sudden news. his friend nods in response.

“wow.” sam leans back in his chair. “i don’t believe it.”

“what?” it’s bucky’s turn to be shocked, eyebrows furrowing at sam’s confession. “what do you mean you don’t believe it?”

“you go on a three month long trip and suddenly you have a girlfriend for the first time in 70 years? no way.”

“sam, be nice.”

“i am being nice.” he loads up his fork for another bite. “i’m just saying i’ll believe it when i meet her.”

“well, she lives in chicago, bird-brain.”

“who lives in chicago?” natasha suddenly appears in front of them, an empty glass in her hand, presumably here to refill it.

“bucky’s girlfriend.”

“sam!” steve slaps his shoulder

natasha’s mouth drops open. “you got a girlfriend?!”

bucky’s mouth forms into a disapproving line. “yeah, and sam doesn’t believe she exists.”

she laughs at this, beckoning over wanda and tony.

bucky wants to hide in his room at the sudden amount of people staring at him.

“i’m with sam on this one.”

“really tony?” steve’s tone is teasing but he can’t help but feel bad for bucky. “you too?”

“i’ll believe it when i see it.”

“whatever.” bucky mumbles, his plate empty and beer gone. “you guys don’t have to believe me.”

“okay, buddy.” sam laughs. “good luck keeping up the act.”

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

it’s been five months since bucky was first in chicago, and the team is nowhere near closer to believing in his relationship with you. they’ve walked in on him on the phone, smiling down at his text messages, him on call with you, even him calling a local flower shop in chicago to send you flowers. still, only steve believes you exist, but even he is starting to grow wary. somehow, bucky hasn’t shown any photographs of you, no letters, not even a video call to prove your existence.

“i don’t know what else to do, peaches.” bucky pouts into the phone. on the other end, you laugh softly.

“they still don’t believe you?”

“sam thought i was texting myself today. myself! i told him i don’t even know how to do that! when i tried to show him photo of you, he said it doesn’t count unless i’m in the photo with you. then he said something about shop photo.”

“... do you mean photoshop?”

“yes! that!”

you giggle at him again.

“this isn’t funny, peaches.”

“sounds awfully funny to me.” you can’t help but tease him. “why can’t you just put them on the phone?”

“they think i’m just gonna hire someone to pretend to be my girlfriend.”

you don’t respond for a second, merely humming. “i’m sure we’ll think of something.”

the conversation changes and after a few minutes, clint comes by to get bucky for training.

“hey, you’re late for training. steve is already downstairs waiting.”

“oh crap,” he pulls his phone closer to his ear. “i’m sorry, peaches. i gotta go. i love you.”

he hangs up after a moment and then moves to grab his gym bag.

“that your pretend girlfriend?” clint points to the phone.

bucky rolls his eyes. “not you, too.”

he raises his arms in defense. “sam has a good point.”

the two of them walk down the hall. “i don’t think he makes a good point.” he grumbles. clint laughs at him, entering the gym where nat and steve are sparring.

“he’s here.” sam calls out, alerting steve. “what were you doing? calling your fake girlfriend?”

“she’s not fake.”

“your make-believe girlfriend.”

“alright, sam,” steve interjects. “let’s just get started.”

by the time training ends, bucky just wants to cuddle on the couch with you and fall asleep. but you’re not here, and you haven’t texted him back since your phone call earlier. so, he’s stuck lounging on the couch, freshly showered, watching movies with the rest of the team for some “bonding” that steve insisted on.

“why wouldn’t they just exchange numbers if they clearly like each other?”

“because,” wanda turns to bruce. “she wants fate to bring them together.”

“fate is not a five dollar bill. fate already brought them together! they’re just denying it.”

before anyone else responds, friday alerts them of someone’s arrival.

“friday, who is it?” tony calls out.

“she is not in the stark catalog or the shield workforce database, sir.” she responds.

“how did she get in here, then?”

“miss potts approved of her.”

they all exchange glances until the elevator doors slide open and in it, you with your overnight bag.

stepping towards the group, you shyly call out. “bucky?”

he whips his head around, standing immediately. “peaches?”

a smile blooms across your face, dropping your bags to engulf him in a hug. he’s never hugged anyone so hard.

“what are you doing here?” he kisses the top of your head.

“i wanted to surprise you.” you speak quietly so only he can hear. “and i wanted to prove my existence” you giggle.

“who the fuck is that?”

“language.”

sam looks annoyingly at steve before focusing back on you two.

“sam…” natasha looks disappointed for him. “i think that’s bucky’s girlfriend.”

his jaw drops. “no way.” he scoffs. “no way she actually exists.”

“yeah, what?” tony looks around in shock. “and she just waltzes in here??”

you chuckle at the group of supers. “i thought you said they were smart.”

bucky laughs at your comment. “sometimes they are.”

“so you’re actually his girlfriend?” wanda studies you. “how did you meet?”

“bucky came to the cafe i work at.” you smile fondly at the memory. “we make the best peach cobbler croissants. i brought the recipe for you all to try.”

a few ears perk up at this.

“what’s bucky’s middle name?” sam quizzes. “if you’re really his girlfriend.”

bucky wants to slap his forehead.

“uhm… pretty sure bucky is his middle name.” you laugh out.

“oh.”

“that was a stupid question, sam.”

“i forgot!” he waves his hands around to dismiss what just happened. “what’s my middle name??”

“aren’t you supposed to be quizzing her about bucky?”

“not the point, peter.”

“you shouldn’t even be quizzing her.” bucky wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. “everyone, this is y/n. my girlfriend. my real girlfriend.”

the sight of affection from bucky causes a silence to settle over the group, as if that was the definitive determining factor in this whole ordeal.

“y/n, this is the team.”

you smile, waving at them.

“that’s steve.”

bucky points him out and steve immediately stands up, offering a hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

you smile in response, the same soft one that had bucky falling for you in the first place.

“he’s the only one who actually believes you exist.” bucky whispers lowly into your ear, and the feel of his facial hair tickles you. “maybe we can all hang out later.” bucky announces, pulling you along towards the hallway to his room.

he shuts the door behind you, pulling you into his arms. “i can’t believe you’re here.”

you tug at his henley, dog tags clinking as you pull him closer, wanting to kiss him after being void of it for so long. “kiss me already, barnes.”

and kiss you, he does.

⋆˚✶˚‧⋆｡˚

bucky masterlist

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tzifron · 3 days ago

Text

"During the writing process, he was in his living room excitedly explaining the T-1000 to his friend and collaborator Stan Winston when Winston raised a concern. "I don't know who the bad guy is," Winston said. "I need a specific character, a specific image." To Winston, what Cameron was describing sounded like a blob of goo, not an iconic evildoer. "From a story standpoint, I thought it was a problem," Winston later recalled in an interview for the picture-book history of his story, "The Winston Effect." Cameron respected Winston's instincts for creating memorable characters, and he started reconsidering how he would shape this one. Later that same night, the effects artist got a phone call from his friend. "I've got it!" Cameron said. "He's a cop!" The form the T-1000 would take for most of the movie was a Los Angeles police officer. This solved the storytelling dilemma Winston had raised and also gave Cameron an opportunity to underline a central theme in both of the Terminator movies - how people, especially those in violent jobs, like soldiers and cops, can become barbarized. "The Terminator films are not really about the human race getting killed of by future machines. They're about us losing touch with our own humanity and becoming machines, which allows us to kill and brutalize each other," he says. "Cops think all non-cops as less than they are, stupid, weak, and evil. They dehumanize the people they are sworn to protect and desensitize themselves in order to do that job.""

Source: https://www.amazon.com/Futurist-Life-Films-James-Cameron-ebook/dp/B0034184U0

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hanniebaeee · 2 days ago

Text

Call It What You Want

Hyunjin x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI

Genre: friends with benefits to lovers, smut, fluff

Summary: You and Hyunjin have been doing this 'friends with benefits' thing for a while now. But let's be real. You love him. And when he starts showing similar feelings, you're terrified. And it leads to a whole lot of Hyunjin-style drama.

“Fuck, princess,” Hyunjin groaned, voice wrecked, “you’re so tight.”

He had you pinned to the bed, as he fucked you like the world’s about to end. His hips snapped against yours, each thrust hitting so deep you’re seeing stars. Galaxies even. His lips were on your neck, sucking bruises - which would have your art class whispering for weeks.

You pressed your eyes shut, losing yourself in him completely. The way he moved in and out of you. The soft wet sounds that filled the room. And him whispering the filthiest things in your ear.

You were barely coherent, nails digging into his back, pulling him closer. Hyunjin had this glint in his eye, as he shifted slightly, hitting that spot, and you choked out a moan, tugging at his short dark strands.

His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers circling your clit, and your orgasm hit you so hard, and you whimpered his name, clenching around him so tight, making him curse.

His thrusts turned sloppy as he whispered, “Fuck, that’s it,”

He came just as hard, burying himself deep inside you, and you were both panting, sweaty messes when he finally collapsed beside you. Pulling you close, he kissing your temple, and you let yourself enjoy it, just for a second.

It started about an year ago at a frat party you were dragged to by your friend, Jennie. You’d been sulking in a corner, nursing a warm beer, when Hyunjin, already tipsy, waltzed over, and declared you “the hottest grump he’d ever seen.” You’d scoffed at him, but in less than ten minutes, you had somehow ended up making out in his room upstairs.

One thing led to another, and now you were in this absurd, hilarious mess called, friends with benefits.

---

Hyunjin: You left your glasses on my nightstand. I can bring it over

You: Bring it to class tomorrow

Hyunjin: I’m keeping them hostage.

You: Hyunjin 🙄

Hyunjin: Sleepover tomorrow? I’ll make pancakes.

You: Maybe. But only for the pancakes.

Hyunjin: Liar. You want my pancakes and you know what.

Hyunjin: Night, Nerd Queen 😘

You: Night, Hwang.

---

You smiled at your phone, heart doing that stupid flip again. You knew you shouldn't be feeling like this. You two were friends with benefits. Fuck buddies. But every time you were with him, you fell for his stupid smile and his childish self way harder than you liked to admit.

It was a Friday night, and you were curled up in your dorm, binge-watching a new series, when your phone started buzzing.

Hyunjin's frat was organizing a party, and he was probably charming the socks off everyone with his stupidly perfect face. You were trying to stay strong - no running to him tonight - because if you kept giving in to his every whim, he would surely figure out that you were completely, pathetically in love with his dramatic ass.

And that was a secret you kept locked in a vault.

But Hyunjin? He wasn't making it easy. Your phone lit up again, and you caved, glancing at the screen.

---

Hyunjin: Babbyyyyyy where are you 😭 This party sucks without you!

Hyunjin: Seriously, come over. I miss your face.

You: You’re drunk, aren’t you? I’m staying in. Go flirt with your bros.

Hyunjin: Drunk? Me? Pshh. Ok maybe a lil. But I only wanna flirt with youuuu.

Hyunjin: Come over, I’m lonely.

You: Lonely? Go cuddle Felix.

Hyunjin: Felix doesn’t moan like u do.

You: Nope. I’m in my PJs, and I'm comfy. You’re on your own tonight.

Hyunjin: I'm coming to you then. Can't escape me.

You: Hyunjin, no. Stay at your party. You’re too drunk to walk across campus.

Hyunjin: Too late. I'm on my way. Gonna cuddle you so hard you forget ur own name. 😤

You: Oh my god.

Hyunjin: I'm gonna climb into your bed and never leave.

You: I’m locking my door.

Hyunjin: You won't. You love me too much. 😘 Be there in 10. Wear that sweater I like.

---

You groaned, tossing your phone onto your bed. You should lock your door, but you don’t. Instead, you fix your hair, pull on that oversized sweater (the one he liked, because apparently you’re weak). Your heart did that stupid fluttery thing again, and you hated it. You were supposed to be the cool, studious introvert. But here you were.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock on your door. You opened it, and there he was, looking like a dishevelled Greek god. His short hair and forehead glistening with sweat, his cheeks flushed, and his leather jacket slipping off one shoulder.

He gave you a sunny smile, his eyes lighting up when he saw you.

“My girl!” he slurred, stumbling forward and wrapping you in a sloppy hug. He smelled like beer and his cologne, and it was so unfairly intoxicating. “Told ya I’d come. Missed you so much.”

“You’re so drunk, Jinnie,” you said, but you were smiling as you guided him inside, shutting the door. “How did you even make it across campus without falling into a bush?”

“Love,” he declared dramatically, flopping onto your bed. “Love gave me wings.”

He patted the bed, saying “C’mere, nerd. I need cuddles.”

Then he decided that he couldn't wait, and grabbed your wrist, tugging you down next to him. You landed with a squeak, and he immediately buried his face in your neck, nuzzling like a needy puppy.

“Fuck, you smell so good. Like… home and sexy books.”

“Sexy books?” You laughed, pushing at his chest, but he’s clinging to you like a koala. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he mumbled. “God, I love you.”

He's drunk, you remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it. But your poor heart wished that he did. Meanwhile, his hands slid under your sweater, and you yelped as his cold fingers grazed you stomach to move up and cup your breasts.

“Hyunjin! Your hands are freezing!”

“Then warm me up,” he whined, and before you could stop him, he was crawling under your sweater, tugging it up and burrowing into it. “Lemme in, it’s cozy in there.”

“Oh my god, you won't fit under my sweater!” you laughed.

He was wiggling, his head and shoulders all the way under the fabric.

“You’re gonna rip it!” you squealed, but he just hummed, pressing his face into the space between your breasts.

“Worth it,” he mumbled, voice muffled. “Wanna live here forever. You’re so soft. And warm.”

You were dying, torn between shoving him off and melting at how stupidly cute he was. He was still trying to fit into your sweater, but finally gave up with a huff and whine and said, “Fine.”

And then settled for wrapping his entire body around you instead. He threw a leg over yours, arms squeezing you tight, face buried in your chest (half submerged in your sweater).

“This’ll do. For now.” he said, and you hummed, stroking his back.

“You’re such a baby,” you said, and you both remained silent as his breathing slowed and you thought he was falling asleep. But then he murmured, “Love you…so fucking much. You’re my everything.”

Your heart stopped. You froze, hand still on his back, waiting for him to laugh it off or say something dumb. But he just snuggled closer, sighing like he was finally at peace. You swallowed hard, emotions bubbling up.

You loved him too. His childish giggles, his unhinged texts - but saying it felt too big, too scary. So you just hold him, letting the moment linger.

“Sleep, you idiot,” you whispered, kissing the top of his head (poking out through the neckline of your sweater). He hummed, already half-gone, and soon he was snoring softly, clinging to you like you’re his lifeline.

---

Hubby: Morning, wifey 😘 You're so cute when you sleep. Didn't wanna wanna wake you up. Let's go get some breakfast?

You: WIFEY? You changed your contact name to HUBBY? Hyunjin, I’m going to murder you.

Hubby: Murder your husband? Harsh, babe.

You: You’re not my husband. You’re a silly boy who needs to stop stealing my phone.

Hubby: I don’t have to steal anything. You're mine. Your phone’s mine. Deal with it, nerd.

You: You're delusional.

Hubby: Call it what you want

Hubby: Now come gimme a kiss, I’m dying😩

---

You rolled your eyes, yet you were grinning like an idiot before kicking your feet and squealing into your pillow.

---

Later that day, you were in the library, trying to study, but Hyunjin had other plans.

---

Hubby: Wifey, I’m lonely 😢 Lets study together.

You: Stop calling me that. And I’m not falling for your tricks. I’m studying.

Hubby: Tricks? Don't be so mean my love

You: I’m muting you.

Hubby: You can’t mute your soulmate. Be real fir once, you can't resist me.

You: You're so full of yourself.

Hubby: Come over and you'll be full of me too 😉

You: Omg HYUNJIN.

Hubby: Lmao you're so easy to rile up. Ok, I’ll be good. Love u, wifey.

---

You bit your lip, trying not to smile. He was so stupidly endearing, and you hated how much you loved it. You were about to reply when a shadow fell over your table. You looked up, and there stood Hyunjin, holding a coffee and grinning.

“Surprise, wifey!” he said, loud enough for it to echo through the library. He slid into the seat across from you, completely ignoring everyone’s glares. “Coffee for my love.”

“You’re not my husband,” you hissed, but you took the coffee. “And how are you even here? Don’t you have class?”

“Nope,” he said, leaning forward, chin in his hands. “Had to see you. I knew you'd be wearing those glasses and looking so cute…makes me wanna bend you over this table.”

Your jaw dropped, and you kicked him under the table. “Hyunjin! We’re in a library!”

He laughed, unbothered, and grabbed your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Can’t help it.”

You snatched your hand back, face burning.

“You’re insane. Go away before I get kicked out.”

“Nope,” he said again, scooting closer until his knee brushed yours. “I’m staying. Gotta protect my wife from nerdy predators.”

He winked, and you were so torn, because you wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe this was real. But this whole thing started off on sex. And you were worried that he'd get bored and he'd get over you.

You tried to focus on your notes, but Hyunjin was making it absolutely impossible - humming softly, doodling “Mr. & Mrs. Hwang” in your notebook. You give him a glare and yanked your book away, ruining the cute doodle he was working on.

He gave you a pouty look, and you narrowed your eyes at him. The usual Hyunjin would whine or tackle you into a hug. But he did none of that. Instead he stood up, putting your pen down as he held your gaze, and then just walked away.

You watched him disappear, and for the first time ever, you were terrified.

It has been three days since the library incident, and you’re losing your mind. No “wifey,” no texts about bending you over a library table.

Nothing. Just… silence. The worst part? You missed it. You missed his childish whining, his needy cuddles, his sweet face. You tried to play it cool, but by day four, you were a mess.

You had just finished class and were walking towards the campus cafe, when you spotted him. Hyunjin. Reading. You did a double take, nearly spilling your drink. Since when did Hwang Hyunjin, read a book that thick? He was sitting under a tree, leaning against the trunk, looking so soft in his hoodie and glasses (glasses?!). Your heart squeezed, but you were also annoyed.

You marched over, plopping down next to him. He glanced up, one eyebrow raised, and went back to his book. No grin, no nothing. Just a cool, “Hey.”

“Hey?” you repeated, incredulous. “That’s it? Why are you ignoring me?”

He closed his book, looking at you with a neutral expression that was so unlike him it was creepy.

“I’m not ignoring you. I’m just… reading.”

“Reading?” You narrowed your eyes. “You haven’t spoken to me in days. What’s your deal?”

He shrugged, and said, “Figured you were sick of my ‘needy bullshit.’ You kept telling me to stop, so I stopped.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. He was being… serious?

“I didn’t mean stop everything. You’re acting like we’re strangers.” you snapped.

“I’m giving you space,” he said, his voice is tight. “You said I was too much. So, here’s not-too-much Hyunjin. Happy?”

Happy? You were miserable. But he was staring at you, all sulky and gorgeous, and you realized that he was on strike. No kisses, no touching, no sex. He was punishing you for resisting, and oh, it was working.

“You’re pouting,” you said, poking his cheek.

He swatted your hand away, but there was a flicker of his usual playfulness.

“Am not,” he muttered, turning back to his book. “Go study or whatever. I’m fine.”

You stared, heart twisting. He was hurt, and you did this. You pushed him away, and now he has dialled it back to zero. But you weren't letting him win this. You needed your Hyunjin back, drama and all.

You couldn't take another day of this cold-shoulder nonsense. You mustered the courage for what you were about to do, and walked to the frat house. Ignoring the party raging downstairs, you headed straight for Hyunjin’s room. You didn't knock - you just barged in, and there he was, at his desk, sketching. He was in a loose tank top, hair messy, pencil moving with that focused intensity that made him look so unfairly hot. He glanced up, startled, then leaned back, crossing his arms.

“Ever heard of knocking?” he asked, but there was a spark in his eyes, like he'd been waiting for you.

“Nope,” you said, shutting the door. “We need to talk.”

He raised an eyebrow, playing it cool, but that pout’s still there, lingering. “Talk then. I’m listening.”

You took a deep breath, heart pounding. You’ve been resisting him for months, pretending you were not in love with him. But you were done fighting. You reached into your pocket and pull out the ring pop you had bought on a whim at the campus store - a cheap plastic band with a strawberry-flavored candy “diamond.” It was ridiculous, but you were desperate.

“Hyunjin,” you said, stepping closer. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you away. I was scared. Because I have wanted more for a while now. I don't want to be someone you sleep with. I wanna be more. I miss you. I miss being your wifey. I miss you so damn much.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything, so you kept going, holding up the candy ring.

“You wanna be my husband? Fine. Here’s your ring. Marry me, you idiot.”

For a second, he just stared, and you felt like you'd broken him. Then his face blooms - eyes sparkling, cheeks flushing, grin so wide it could overshadow the sun. He looked so happy, so Hyunjin, it was like the room got brighter.

“Wifey,” he breathed, voice shaking. “You’re proposing? With a candy ring? Fuck, that’s so cute. I think I'm gonna cry.”

“Please don’t cry,” you said, but you’re grinning too, heart racing. “Just say yes so I can stop feeling like an idiot.”

“Yes yes yes,” he said, jumping up and grabbing your face, kissing you so hard you stumbled back. His lips were soft and desperate, and you kissed him back, hands tangling in his hair, and it was like the world snapped back into place. He was yours, drama and all, and you were his.

The kiss deepened, all tongue and heat, and you were both gasping, pulling at each other like you’ve been starved. He lifted you onto his desk, knocking over his pencils and sketchbooks, and you laughed against his mouth.

“Careful, Hubby,” you teased, and he groaned, kissing you harder.

“Say it again,” he murmured, hands sliding under your shirt, warm and needy. “Please.”

“Hubby,” you whispered and he practically whimpered, pressing himself closer, lips trailing down your neck. You made out for what felt like hours, all sloppy kisses and wandering hands, until your lips were swollen and your hearts pounding.

Finally, you pulled back, both of you panting. He had the candy ring on his finger, and he looked so genuinely happy and excited.

“I love you so much,” he said, holding up his hand to admire the ring. “Strawberry’s my favorite.”

“You’re such a dork,” you mumbled, but you were beaming, because he’s your dork. “I love you, Jinnie.”

---

Hubby: My heart’s gonna explode.

You: You survived the strike, you’ll live.

Hubby: Never. You looked so hot with that ring, though. Oh fuck, I'm hard again.

You: HYUNJIN. Behave for five seconds.

Hubby: Can’t. I’m married to the hottest nerd ever. I’m gonna kiss you forever.

You: I love you baby

Hubby: Fuck, I love you. My wifey. My nerdy goddess. I’m never shutting up again, you know that, right?

You: Good. I missed your dramatic ass.

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Tags: @moonchild9350 @velvetmoonlght @hwangjoanna @pixie-felix @sailor--sun @chancloud8 @captainchrisstan @hansmic @emilyywhyy @inlovewithstraykids @my-neurodivergent-world @nightmarenyxx @channie4lifeee143127 @lezleeferguson-120 @silly250 @pansexual-and-eating-pancakes

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x you #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz smut #stray kids smut

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slutforformulaone · 3 days ago

Note

Hi! How are you? Can i request a tiktok trend to f1 grid were the girl says that another men paid for her gas? Thank you

F1 GRID || when another man pays for your gas!

MAX VERSTAPPEN – possessive, low and serious he walks out of the shop with two bottles of water and a bag of snacks. he nods at the car like “you good?” you lean against the door and say it casually. “yeah, some guy paid for my gas.” he slows down immediately. “what guy?” “just some guy. he was cute, actually. said it was on him.” max stops moving. stands there staring at you like he’s trying to work out if this is a joke. you hold his gaze. “is he still here?” you shrug. “i think he left?” he clenches his jaw a little and nods once, sharply. walks over to the pump, like he’s checking if the guy’s still around. you call out, “max, it’s fine. it was just a guy.” he doesn’t answer. tosses the snacks in the car, gets in without saying much. quiet for a minute before he mutters, “you don’t need anyone else paying for you.” then adds, “especially not some guy who thinks he can impress you at a petrol station.”

OSCAR PIASTRI – jealous but trying to act like he’s not he comes back holding a blue gatorade and a bag of sour patch kids. “all sorted?” you nod. “yeah. some guy paid for it. really attractive guy, actually.” he stops halfway into the driver’s seat. “what?” you look at him. “he said i shouldn’t have to pay for gas. said it was on him.” he’s frozen for a second, lips parted like he wants to say something but doesn’t want to sound annoyed. “right.” he gets into the car, starts it, and hands you the gatorade. he’s quiet. you glance over. “are you okay?” he nods, but he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. finally he says, “i mean… who does that? just pays for someone’s petrol like that?” you smile. “you jealous?” he scoffs gently. “no. i just think it’s weird. and he probably wanted something. people don’t just do that.” he doesn’t bring it up again, but he holds your hand a little tighter than usual the whole drive.

CHARLES LECLERC – visibly annoyed, soft type of angry he’s walking back with a coffee and a red bull, sunglasses pushed up in his hair. you say it as he gets to the car. “some guy paid for my gas while you were in there.” he blinks. “he what?” “yeah. he said i looked too pretty to be filling it up myself.” charles frowns. the soft kind of frown, where it’s more confusion than anger — but his tone shifts. “and you let him?” “i mean… he already paid.” he’s quiet for a second. then, “you didn’t think maybe to say no?” you tilt your head. “it felt rude.” he breathes out, clearly irritated but trying to stay calm. “next time, you wait for me. i don’t like that.” he doesn’t raise his voice, but there’s tension in his jaw. “you are mine, amour. no one else gets to take care of you like that.”

ARTHUR LECLERC – already knows the trend, gets defensive anyway he comes out holding pringles and an iced tea, squinting against the sun. you grin. “some guy paid for my gas while you were gone.” he pauses mid-step. “are you serious?” you nod. “he said it’s not every day you see a girl like me at a gas station.” arthur just blinks. “non… i’ve seen this video. you’re doing the thing.” “what thing?” “your stupid tiktok. the prank.” you keep a straight face. “no, this was real.” his expression drops. “wait… actually?” you nod again, biting your lip. he stares toward the shop, scanning the people still inside. “was he tall?” “kind of. really fit, too.” he scoffs. “this is so dumb. i should’ve stayed in the car.” he shoves the pringles into your lap. “i’ll be watching you next time. no more solo missions at the pump.”

GEORGE RUSSELL – gets protective but stays polite (sort of) he returns with a bottle of water and a protein bar. walks up with that proud little strut. “all filled up?” you nod. “yeah. some guy paid for it.” his brows pull together. “sorry?” “he said he’d take care of it. tall, looked like a model. super kind.” george’s mouth tightens. “where is he now?” you shrug. “probably left.” he turns around, scans the forecourt like a man on a mission. you call after him, “george—” he looks at you over his shoulder. “don’t worry, darling. i just want to say thank you to him.” but you can hear the sarcasm in his voice. when he gets back in the car, he buckles in and says calmly, “just so you know, no one needs to be doing that for you. i’m here for a reason, yeah?” he’s completely polite about it — but he doesn’t smile again for the next ten minutes.

LANDO NORRIS – angry but confused about it he walks back from the shop with one of those tiny juice boxes and a packet of crisps. you smile sweetly. “i didn’t need to pay for gas. some guy did it for me.” he stops. “huh?” “he said i shouldn’t have to pay. said he wanted to do something nice for a pretty girl.” lando looks at the pump. then at you. then at the pump again. “what do you mean he paid?” “like… went in and paid. it’s done.” he lets out a sharp breath and starts scanning the area. “who the hell just does that?” he mutters under his breath and opens the door a bit too hard. “you should’ve told him to mind his own business.” you blink. “it was nice though?” he glares out the window. “no. it’s weird. i don’t like it.” he doesn’t talk for a while. and then finally, very quietly: “he better not have flirted with you.”

OLLIE BEARMAN – goes into full search mode he’s got a chocolate bar and a red bull. bouncing back to the car like he’s got all the energy in the world. “some guy paid for the gas,” you say. he freezes. “what?” “he just walked over and said he’d take care of it. really attractive guy, too.” ollie turns around immediately. “where is he?” you laugh under your breath. “he left.” he’s already halfway back to the shop, looking around, checking the cars. “ollie! he’s gone.” he turns back with a look of pure disbelief. “what the hell? who does that?” when he finally sits back down, he’s fidgety. leans over and kisses your cheek. “you didn’t give him your number, right?” you snort. “no.” he nods slowly. “good. ‘cause i was ready to have words.” he’s dead serious.

CARLOS SAINZ – protective, goes quiet but tense he walks out with a smoothie and a sandwich, chill as ever until you drop it on him. “i didn’t have to pay for the gas,” you say, leaning against the car. “a guy came over and paid for me.” he slows his walk, brows knitting. “what guy?” you shrug. “some guy. looked like a model. said i shouldn’t have to pay.” carlos stops in front of you, staring. “you didn’t say no?” “he was already tapping his card. what was i supposed to do?” he doesn’t respond. just quietly opens the door, puts the smoothie in the cupholder, gets in. you follow, and he starts the engine without looking at you. you glance over. “are you mad?” he keeps his eyes on the road. “i’m not mad.” a beat. “but next time, wait for me. i don’t like you out there by yourself, especially if guys like that think they can just… walk up to you.” his grip on the wheel’s tighter than usual. and when you get to the next stop, he insists on doing everything for you.

ALEX ALBON – jealous and passive-aggressive but playful with it he comes back with a bottle of fanta and a kinder bueno, grinning. “i didn’t pay,” you say, playing it off. “some guy did. said i was too cute to be out here alone.” alex stops dead in his tracks. “sorry… someone paid for your gas?” you nod, smiling. he blinks. “did he want your number too? or just your hand in marriage?” you laugh, but say nothing. he sits down in the car, shuts the door and just sits there for a second, staring ahead. “you know, i get out of the car for two minutes and suddenly there’s a whole queue of men fighting for you at the petrol station.” you bite back a smile. “he wasn’t fighting.” alex shoots you a look. “yet.” he shakes his head and mumbles, “i’m getting you a sticker. ‘taken. don’t even try.’” but he doesn’t drop it for a while — keeps bringing it up in stupid ways. “you want me to fill up again or should i call your secret admirer?”

LOGAN SARGEANT – confused, insecure, gets really quiet he walks over with a monster and a bag of cheetos. “i didn’t pay for gas,” you say casually. “some guy offered. said i looked pretty.” logan pauses. “huh?” “yeah. he just walked up and said he’d take care of it.” he’s clearly trying to process that, eyes flicking toward the pumps. “what… why would someone do that?” you shrug. “he just did.” logan gets into the car slowly, like he’s in his own head now. he doesn’t say much for a few minutes. just stares out the window. then, so quietly it almost surprises you, “do guys really just… say stuff like that to you?” you glance at him. “what do you mean?” “i mean, i wouldn’t blame them. but… like. was he your age?” you press your lips together. “he was fit, yeah.” logan just nods, chewing on the edge of his nail. you poke him. “you okay?” he finally looks at you and smiles weakly. “yeah. just didn’t know i needed to bring a baseball bat with me when we stop for gas.”

DANIEL RICCIARDO – tries to joke but he’s fuming underneath he walks back with snacks like he’s hosting a party — arms full, big grin. “you won’t believe it,” you say. “some hot guy paid for my gas while you were gone.” daniel’s still smiling. “oh wow. was it his idea or did you drop your number first?” you raise a brow. “he came up to me. said it was on him.” he laughs. but it’s that weird laugh where you know he’s not actually laughing. “you know what? good for him. love that for him. hope he enjoys spending my fuel money.” you blink. “he didn’t know you existed.” “yeah, well, now i know he exists. where is he? i’ll buy him a drink. maybe a knuckle sandwich too.” you try not to laugh. he shakes his head, muttering, “this is what i get for being five minutes late with a packet of doritos.” he makes it a bit over-the-top funny, but later, when he’s driving, he asks: “would you have let him do more than that? like… if i hadn’t come back?” and you can feel he’s being serious now.

LEWIS HAMILTON – quietly scary, doesn’t like being disrespected he walks over with a smoothie and a protein bar. calm as always. you look up. “some guy paid for my gas. really attractive guy, actually.” he stops. “what?” “he said he wanted to. thought i shouldn’t have to worry about it.” lewis’s face doesn’t change. but his eyes do. he steps around to your side. “you let him?” “he already did it. he was nice.” lewis stands still for a second, silent. then: “was he still here?” you nod toward the car park. “maybe. i think he left.” lewis doesn’t say anything. just gently puts the smoothie down, scans the area slowly. you call after him, “lewis, it’s fine.” he glances back. “no, it’s not.” his voice is quiet. calm. but sharp. “i don’t like strangers thinking they can treat you like that. like you’re theirs to impress.” he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t snap — but there’s that cold edge to him now. he doesn’t even want to get in the car right away. just walks a few steps and breathes. “next time,” he says eventually, “you wait for me. alright?” and it’s not a request.

speaking of requests, thank you so much for this – i had so much fun writing it! ^^

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gojosconsort · 2 days ago

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hii i love ur work can you please write smth about mean!satoru fucking his virgin gf?

𓂃୨ৎ mdni. virginity loss, degradation, manhandling, spanking, tears, fingering, overstimulation, aftercare

you’re curled on the couch, drowning in satoru’s oversized hoodie, legs tucked under you, heart skittering with nerves. you’ve been waiting all night, stomach twisting since he texted this morning—tonight’s the night, baby. be ready. every sound’s had you jumping, expecting him, and now you’re half-dozing, anxiety and anticipation tangling in your chest. the door clicks open, and he’s there, footsteps deliberate, looming over you, blue eyes sharp and gleaming.

“sleeping without me?” he teases, voice low, a smirk tugging at his lips as he crouches down, brushing a strand of hair from your flushed face. you open your mouth to stammer something about waiting, how you’ve been a nervous wreck, but he’s already pulling you up, hands firm on your wrists, tugging you toward the bedroom with a purpose that makes your pulse race. “no more waiting,” he says, glancing back, his grin all teeth. “we said tonight, and you’re mine.”

you stumble after him, heart thudding, expecting soft kisses, maybe a slow buildup like in your daydreams. but satoru doesn’t do slow—not now. he pushes you onto the bed, silk sheets cool against your skin as the hoodie rides up, baring your thighs. “s-satoru, hold on—” you start, but he’s on you, pinning your wrists above your head with one hand, his grip tight, unyielding.

“hold on?” he leans close ‘til his breath grazes your ear. “you’ve been driving me crazy for months, baby, looking all sweet and untouchable. time’s up.” his words sting, but there’s heat in them, a hunger that makes your core clench, your panties already damp. he notices, eyes flicking down, and his smirk widens. “knew you’d want this,” he murmurs, free hand slipping under the hoodie, finding you soaked through the thin fabric.

you gasp as his fingers press against you, circling slow, teasing, not enough to satisfy. “please,” you whimper, hips bucking, and he chuckles, pulling back to strip off his shirt, jeans dropping to reveal his cock—hard, thick, daunting. your eyes widen, doubt creeping in, but he’s already spreading your thighs, slapping the inside of one lightly, the sting sparking heat through you. “don’t tense up now,” he says, voice sharp but threaded with want. “you’re taking me tonight.”

he doesn’t ease you into it—two fingers plunge deep, stretching you, curling fast, and you cry out, the burn blending into pleasure too quick to process. “so tight,” he groans, eyes half-lidded, clearly savoring it, his fingers pumping harder, thumb grazing your clit. “fuck, i’ve been dreaming about this.” you’re trembling, overwhelmed, but he doesn’t stop, working you ‘til you’re dripping, body pliant under him.

“satoru,” you plead, voice shaking, and he leans down, kissing you hard, all teeth and tongue, swallowing your sounds. “no more teasing,” he mutters against your lips, pulling his fingers out, slick and glistening. he lines himself up, the head of his cock nudging your entrance, and you tense, nervous. “relax,” he orders, mean edge softening just a fraction as he strokes your thigh. “you’re gonna love it.”

he thrusts in one fluid motion, deep, filling you completely, and you scream, the stretch searing but tipping into something wild, something good. satoru groans, low and guttural, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to mark. “fuck,” he breathes, pausing just to feel you, his voice cracking with how good it is. “so perfect—shit, you’re squeezing me so tight.” he’s losing it, eyes locked on where you’re joined, clearly drunk on finally being inside you, his control fraying with every twitch of your walls around him.

he doesn’t wait—pulls out and slams back in, setting a ruthless pace, each thrust rocking you up the bed. “thought you could keep me waiting forever?” he taunts, yanking your hips higher, one hand fisting your hair to pull your head back. “you’re mine now.” it’s mean, possessive, but you’re moaning, thighs trembling, pleasure spiking higher than the pain. he spanks you once, sharp, grinning when you jolt and whimper, clearly enjoying how you respond.

“too much,” you sob, tears streaming, but it’s not—you’re close, body clenching, chasing it. satoru sees it, leans down, kissing a tear away, his thrusts never slowing. “you can take it,” he murmurs, softer now, but still commanding. “fuck, you feel so good.” he’s enthralled, groaning with every thrust, loving the heat, the tightness, the way you break under him. you come hard, shaking, crying, and he follows, spilling deep with a ragged moan, savoring every pulse.

he collapses beside you, pulling you close, gentle now. “you okay, baby?” he whispers, wiping your tears, kissing your sweaty forehead. he checks you over, rubbing your wrists, cleaning you up with a warm cloth, voice soft as he murmurs praises. “you did so well,” he says, wrapping you in his arms, stroking your hair ‘til you relax. “i’ve got you, always.”

#—amy writes : satoru gojo ★#cw virginity loss #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk smut #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #jujustu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #divider by cafekitsune

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naughtyjjk · 2 days ago

Text

jjk men during a sex ban

characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji | fem reader warnings: 18+, smut, grinding, dry humping, teasing, so so much teasing

GOJO...

he tries to act like it doesn't bother him at first but after only a few days he starts to break down

he gets soo whiny about it and begs you to lift the ban, saying he'll be good from now on, he'll do anything you want in return

when that doesn't work, he tries to find loopholes around it, which includes getting as close to having sex as possible

he grinds against you, touching your body all over like he's been deprived—which he has. fuck, it's not fair, and he's so hard already

he carries you to the bed and pins your arms down. you struggle against him but it's a losing fight

he's the strongest, after all, and right now, he's the horniest too

he spreads your legs and rests his cock on your pussy, already so wet with precum

he's so, so fucking hard. you can feel it; he makes sure that you can feel it. and then... you moan when he starts throbbing, sliding his cock up and down, brushing past your clit over and over

the whole time he's begging you, saying that he doesn't deserve to be teased like this, that he deserves to fuck you, to bury himself in your warm, wet pussy

god, he wants it so fucking bad. his cock aches and he's so hard that it's painful

"let me... let me fuck you," he groans, rutting his hips wildly like he can't control himself anymore. "please, i need—need your pussy."

"s-satoru," you say, "no, you're on a ban for a reason. i'm—ah—trying to teach you a lesson."

he makes a desperate, choked sound. "i've learned my lesson, i promise, please, please, i wanna come so bad."

you look at him, and kiss him, and it's cruel, you know it is. you tell him, "i'll consider it. if you continue to be good for me."

GETO...

he accepts the ban too easily, and that should've been your first sign that he's up to something

because if he can't do anything about his arousal, then you bet that he's going to make it your problem too

he pulls you onto his lap, purposely positioning you so that you can feel his boner under you, right against your pussy

"suguru... you're so hard," you say, circling your hips a little just to feel that delicious bulge pressing into you

"am i?" his voice is low and seductive, right by your ear and it makes you shudder. "gonna help me with that, angel?"

his hand travels down your stomach, slipping under your pants, until he's rubbing at your pussy over your panties

it makes you gasp, because both his hand and his cock are assaulting you at the same time

"n-no," you whine, squirming in his lap. fuck, you can feel his erection so clearly. "this is—ah—supposed to be your punishment..."

suguru hums as he runs his fingers over your clit. "forgive me? please?" he murmurs, licking at your ear, knowing all your weaknesses. "i'll make it up to you. i can make you feel so good."

he's so fucking sexy, and a new wave of arousal hits you right in the gut. your pussy throbs with desire, wanting to feel more of him, wanting to be filled by his thick cock

you can feel your resolve crumbling as you spread your legs wider for him. "just... just the tip, okay?"

smirking, suguru is already moving to unzip his pants. "of course, baby. just the tip. nothing more."

NANAMI...

it gets to him over time and the longer the ban goes on, the more frustrated and pent up he gets

the signs are subtle because he's good at staying composed, his self-control is better than most, but he's still a man in the end. a man with urges

you're not exactly making it easy, either. you constantly find excuses to be close to him, making your touches linger and planting dirty thoughts in his head

but still, he's putting up with it far too well, and it's annoying. you want to see him flustered and horny and all hot and bothered for once

walking into into nanami's office, you invite yourself onto his lap, straddling him, and you unbutton your shirt to reveal your cleavage

nanami's eyes flicker down before he can stop himself, before he looks back up at you and clears his throat. "what do you think you're doing?"

"nothing," you say innocently. you trace your finger down the front of his chest and you smirk when you hear his breath hitching. "i just miss my boyfriend."

"yes, well," he swallows, "i'm trying to work—a-ah—"

you flick at his nipples over his dress shirt and his sentence cuts off into a moan, the hottest sound you've ever heard

between his legs, you can also feel him getting harder, and you grind against him a few times until his erection is a noticeable tent in his pants

he lets out a low groan and reaches out to touch your breasts, but you don't let him him, grabbing his arm and leaning away. then, you get off his lap and smile sweetly at him. "you seem busy. i'll let you get back to work now."

you leave just like that and nanami is left in a daze, aroused with his cock hard in his pants. he takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. you are so going to get it once this sex ban is over

TOJI...

he tries to get you to give in by flaunting his body any chance he gets

because he knows that he looks good, that you're attracted to his physique, so he's going to use every advantage he has

he wears those tight compression shirts that show off his muscles or just walks around completely shirtless, especially after a shower when there's still water dripping down his body

and when he gets boners, he doesn't bother hiding then at all, instead flaunting it like he wants you to see it

"look what you do to me," he says, wrapping his arms around you, hugging you from behind. it doesn't go unnoticed that his cock presses into your ass. "c'mon, i need you."

other times, you try not to look, but it's too tempting. you're definitely drinking in the sight of his sexy body, his abs, his strong arms, the large, tempting bulge between his legs

he's changed his workout routine too—at least, he claims they're workouts, though they're suspiciously sexual in nature

like when he kneels on the bed and holds a pillow between his legs and rocks his hips back and forth, cock bobbing in the air

they're pelvic thrusts, he says. and you know he's making shit up but the way he's rolling his hips is so hot that you can't look away

"wanna help me?" he asks, shameless. "you could lie down under me and watch my form. make sure i'm doing everything right."

he doesn't let you say no, pushing you down on the bed and trapping you with his body

it starts with him hovering over you, cock thrusting into the air, but soon, he moves lower and lower... until he's grinding on your pussy

his eyes are dark and full of lust and he's panting when he says, "hope you're reading for a long night. this is only the first set."

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p1astr81 · 2 days ago

Note

hii could you do Oscar × Reader size kink fic? Random hookup or enemies to lovers or anything really! thanxx

smut!! You’re responsible for the content you consume!! size kink, praise kink, pain kink, begging, no mention of protection (wrap ur willy’s), this is just… the filthiest thing I’ve ever written.

Oscar needed to get his head straight and he couldn’t do that when he was frustrated.

Sexually frustrated, that is.

Which is how he found himself at a club at the beginning of the night. He expected to go home with a random girl. He definitely didn’t expect his on-track rival to be the one under him to end the night.

He made you cum on his fingers first in preparation for the real thing. He wasn’t a monster.

You reached for the waistband of his pants, impatient and incoherently begging for him to fuck you.

“What happened to those glares you love to give me?” He teased, fiddling with the button of his pants.

Like it was a cue, you glared at him. “Fuck you, Piastri.” You bit, but you couldn’t held the was your hips bucked against his hand when his fingers ghosted your clit.

Oscar smirked, uncharacteristically smug. “You know, I’ve heard you say that quite a bit. Guess you’re finally getting what you want.” He continued to tease, loving how it riled you up.

His pants dropped to the floor along with his boxers, earning a soft gasp from you. “Jesus fucking Christ.” You breathed, eyes on his dick. Thick, but also longer than any you’d ever seen. “That’s not gonna fit.” You laughed, breathless and nervous.

And it was then that he truly realized the size difference. You were shorter than him, by a noticeable amount. He towered over you when you stood next to each other. Heat flowed to his dick at the thought.

“You flatter me.”

“I’m serious.”

He crawled up the bed to meet you face to face. “I’ll go slow.” He promised, planting a kiss to your forehead—far too domestic for two people who claimed to hate each other.

You nodded, closing your eyes. You felt his tip nudge against your clit and you let out a small whimper.

“You ready, baby?” The pet name wasn’t intentional—just a slip of the tongue—but neither of you dwelled on it, too drunk on the promise of a good fuck.

You nodded. Not enough for him. “With your words.” He said, soft but authoritative.

“Yes! Stop fucking teasing, Piastri!” You mewled, bucking your hips.

He chuckled, a low, gruff sound that was too appeasing to your ears for your liking.

Oscar eased in slowly, inch by inch, letting you adjust to the size of him. “There ya go. I knew you could do it.” He praised once he was fully seated inside of you, teeth grazing your ear. He felt you squeeze around him at the praise. Duly noted. “Whenever you’re ready.” He advised.

Your breathing had already picked up, quick breaths as the pain of him turned into pleasure. Nails found his broad shoulders, just ghosting over the skin. “Okay, okay. I’m good.” You nodded, eyes still closed.

He started his thrusts at a slow pace, still unsure how ready you were. Especially when your head was already thrown back and your jaw hanging open with shallow moans already escaping. Your nails finally dug in, earning a sharp inhale. But it didn’t pain Oscar, actually, it felt too good. “Fuck me properly.” You told him.

“You gonna ask nicely?”

Any idea of continuing with the banter ended when he slowed his thrusts almost to a stop. You whined. “Please! Please just fuck me!”

He grinned, picking up the pace of his thrusts, his hips near slamming into yours. Obscene repeats of ah! ah! ah! echoed around the walls, tangling with low groans from Oscar when he felt your nails dig lines down his back, and the wet squelching and slapping. It was straight from a porno.

Oscar looked down, trying to catch a glimpse of where your bodies meet. Big fucking mistake.

“Oh, fuck.” He groaned, seeing his dick poke through your lower stomach with every thrust. The sight was too much, getting him too close too quick.

“Look at you, look at how well you take me.” He groaned, directing your eyes to witness what he was. “So fuckin’ perfect for me.”

The sight and his words drew a high pitched moan out of you, your stomach tightening. “I can feel you’re getting close, squeezing me.” He groaned, throwing his head back. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

Another high pitched moan rang off the walls. “Oscar! Please! ‘M gonna cum!” Your nails dug in father. He was sure you drew blood, but he didn’t care. It felt too good.

“Go on, I’ve got you.”

That’s all you needed to let go, gushing your release all over his cock. You squeezed him tight. It’s all he needed to cum with you, moaning your name, telling you how pretty you look all fucked out.

After he cleaned you up, he came to lay beside you. You were only half awake by then.

“No wonder you’ve never gotten disqualified for being underweight.” You mumble, instinctively cuddling into him.

He let you, wrapping his arms around you, laughing at your joke. “I don’t think we can say we hate each other after that.”

“Hm. Maybe you can’t, but I can.”

He smiled. “Fine. But only if we can do this again.”

You looked up at him, lazy smile and eyes only half open. “That good, huh?”

“Best I’ve ever had.” He shrugged. “Even if you did make me bleed.”

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

Oscar carefully pulled away from you, turning his back to you. You gasped. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You reached out, pads of your fingers brushing over the wounds—no longer bleeding.

He shrugged, lying back down, tangling with you once more. “It’s okay.” He hesitated. “It felt kind of good.” He admitted.

You chuckled, resting your head over his beating heart. “Guess I’ll remember that for the next time.” You grinned.

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whor3ing · 2 days ago

Text

𝑴𝒊𝒄'𝒅 𝑼𝒑 𝒐𝒏 𝑳𝒊𝒗𝒆 | 𝑴.𝑺

― 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃

▶︎ ၊၊||၊ Gluttony , $uicideboy$

rapper!matt x f!reader

WARNINGS : smut, exhibitionism, hold the moan, playing with you while he's on a live, fingering, secretive, dirty talk, orgasm, public

word count : 1kish

― The studio’s quiet, dim but warm, thick with the low hum of equipment and the not-so-innocent rustle of movement just out of frame.

The only real light comes from Matt’s phone, the screen glowing pale and blue where it rests on the desk—casting a soft gleam on the curve of his bare chest, catching the shine of his silver chain every time he shifts beneath you.

He’s sunk low in the chair, hoodie shoved down around his elbows, arms sprawled lazy and open, legs wide. He looks like he owns the room—owns you—and in this moment?

He absolutely does.

Because you?

You’re straddling him, back pressed to his chest, legs spread over his, sitting real fuckin’ pretty for the camera.

To anyone watching the livestream, it looks casual. Relaxed. Just Matt kicking back in the studio, your silhouette in his lap, helping him read the chat while he answers questions and jokes with fans.

What they don’t see is his hand up your skirt—fingers rubbing slow circles against the soaked crotch of your panties, teasing the puffy lips of your pussy like it’s nothing.

His other arm’s locked around your waist, keeping you still, keeping you close. The phone is steady in his hand, comments flashing like wildfire across the screen, but your eyes aren’t on them. Can’t be—not when his touch is dragging slick through your folds, slow and deliberate, not even inside yet and still driving you insane.

“She’s just helpin’ out tonight,” he says to the camera, voice smooth and lazy, lips twitching in that smug little grin he wears so well. “Got my girl here readin’ the chat while I work.”

You swallow hard, trying to sit still. Trying to look normal while your pussy’s dripping into your panties, clenching around nothing, aching for him to finally push in.

He knows it. Knows exactly what he’s doing.

You feel the smirk in the way he moves—fingers sliding along your soaked slit, barely brushing your clit, then dipping back down to gather more of your mess. You’re so wet it’s embarrassing, your panties damp enough to stick to your cunt, fabric stretched thin between your folds like it’s trying to hold back something wild.

“Relax,” he murmurs in your ear, voice low and warm. “You’re doin’ so good, baby. Just sit still. Let me feel this sweet little pussy.”

His fingers slip under the lace at last—finally—and it’s filthy. You gasp, barely catching it behind your teeth as he parts your swollen folds, dragging his fingertips through the soaked heat of your pussy like he’s sampling dessert.

“Fuck,” he mutters, low and reverent, pressing the pad of his thumb against your slippery clit. “Pussy’s drippin’, baby. I haven’t even fucked you yet and she’s already makin’ a mess.”

Your hips twitch. You can’t help it. And this time? He doesn’t stop you.

His fingers push in—one first, slow and teasing—just enough to stretch you, make you gasp. Your pussy clenches around him instantly, puffy and soaked and too fuckin’ desperate to pretend anymore.

The mic picks up the wet sound of it—quiet, subtle—but if someone’s listening close, they’ll hear everything.

Matt’s other hand tightens around your waist as he pumps that finger in and out, slow but firm, dragging slick out of you with every curl.

“Be good,” he says, voice sharp and low. “Start grindin’ on me and I swear I’ll forget we’ve got an audience.”

Your breath stutters. The chat keeps flying. You know someone’s asked something—you’re supposed to be reading it—but you’re trembling, already on edge.

Matt nudges your chin forward with his shoulder, lips brushing your temple. “Read the next one, baby,” he murmurs. “Let ‘em hear how sweet you sound with my fingers buried in this puffy little cunt.”

Then he slips in a second finger—stretching you open, filling you more—and your body jerks. You try to catch yourself on the desk, one hand flying out, the other pressed tight over your mouth to muffle the sound.

“‘Who’s your biggest inspiration?’” you choke out, voice wrecked, barely coherent.

Matt chuckles darkly, eyes on your face in the glass.

“Right now?” he says. “This messy fuckin’ pussy. She’s got me feelin’ real inspired.”

His thumb circles your clit again, tighter now, rougher. Your hands grip the desk like a lifeline, body shaking as he starts to fuck you harder—fingers working in and out of your drenched, puffy cunt like he’s trying to leave you ruined.

The wet noise of it is filthy, your slick coating his knuckles, dripping down his wrist, your panties shoved to the side and clinging to your thigh like they’ve given up trying to contain you.

“Shit,” Matt mutters, voice still sweet for the mic. “You hear that, chat? Must be some kinda feedback or somethin’. Loud as fuck.”

Then, lower—just for you:

“Nah, baby. That’s you. That’s this tight little pussy talkin’.”

You’re right there—so close—body tensed and trembling, pussy fluttering around his fingers as he keeps you pressed down, held still, thumb locked on your clit like a fucking weapon.

“You come now, and I swear I’ll bend you over this desk,” he growls, voice like gravel. “Mic on. Camera rollin’. Let ‘em all hear how nasty this pussy sounds when I really fuck it.”

Your whole body shakes. You’re blinking back tears, trying not to come, trying to be good.

“Say it,” he growls. “Say it to the chat. Let ‘em hear how bad this pussy needs to come.”

“W–wanna come,” you whisper, barely holding it together. “Please, Matt—my pussy’s so wet—need it—need to come—”

“That’s it,” he breathes. “Fuckin’ beg for it.”

“Please,” you cry, voice high and broken. “Pussy’s so soaked, Matt, it’s dripping, fuck—I need it—need to come on your fingers, please—”

He groans behind you, teeth grazing your neck as his fingers slam into you faster, deeper, his thumb grinding cruelly against your swollen clit.

“Come for me,” he snarls. “Come on my fuckin’ fingers. Let this sweet little pussy show off how messy she gets for me.”

And you do.

You break like a wave, silent but wrecked, body shaking as you gush around his fingers, slick pouring out of you in hot, wet spurts. You press your hand hard over your mouth but the mic catches everything—the tremble in your breath, the obscene noise of your pussy creaming all over his hand, the low, satisfied growl Matt lets out as he feels you come apart in his lap.

“Goddamn,” he murmurs. “You fuckin’ soaked me.”

He slides his fingers out slow, sticky strings of slick still connecting you, then lifts them to his mouth and licks them clean right in the camera’s glow, tongue dragging between his fingers like he’s savoring every drop.

“Told you,” he says, with a grin.

“Already got a sample recorded.”

The chat?

Still flying.

None the wiser.

Or maybe just listening a whole lot closer now.

FREAK LIKE MEEEE??? god rapper!matt is so fucking fun to write for lmk if anyone has any requests for him i will drop everything & do them bcs damn

gif by - @vxnitra !!

𖧧 𝑪𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒆 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

🖇 - @chriss-slutt @55sturn @chrysiie @il0vey0um0st @trustinsturniolos @v4lsturn @shitttttypoet @mattsplaything @emely9274 @pip4444chris @whore4mattsturniolo @sweetshuga @courta13 @divinesturn @aaliyahsturniolo @chris-hallelujah @mi-co-uk @ivysturnss @sweetpeabreezyree @christophersgf @bluestriips @angelic-sturniolos111 @shadowthesim237 @moond0llie @eeyoresturnz @ellssturn @fratbrochrisgf @teddystvrns @pvssychicken @ribbonlovergirl @chrisspussygang @vanteguccir @tits4matt @bambisturns @luvs4matt @delilahsturniolo <3

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

Note

CORAL SEA EVENT SPOILERS!!!

WHAT DO WE THINK OF MAMA LEECH (Georgina leech is her name!)

ANOTHER MILF FOR THE COLLECTION??? Twst never misses with its hot 👏 mom 👏 representation 👏

aslbhdbvawyafpdbia I've already seen people joking about how her name's actually Gorgina because of her gorgeous looks or zooming into her hands to check if she wears a ring (she doesn't, despite being taken).

Georgina seems to be older than some of the other moms we've seen so far?? Just judging by the creases in the corners of her eyes. I like that we get to see graceful aging and mature older ladies like Mrs. Leech 💞 Like with previous parents, Georgina also seems to have very similar animations as her child(ren). She has her hand out like Floyd, as well as a sharp smile and a hand-over-heart pose like Jade. Georgina also appears to be pretty involved in her sons' lives; she knows Floyd's nicknames for everyone and picked outfits for them based on those names (including Yuu, who wears pink because they "really do remind [her] of a shrimp").

She's honestly every bit as elegant as I pictured her to be, and maybe even more. THE IDEAL LADY. I looove how she wears those strings of pearls, how her mermaid style suit-dress creates the illusion of a moray eel's tail and long sinewy body, and how her hair and the wide brim of her hat give her a mysterious look. It really doesn't help the Leech mob family allegations BUT THAT'S OKAY, SHE'S COOL AND THAT'S REALLY ALL THAT MATTERS HERE.

Also I love that Grim’s new event look fucking matches with the murder mob mom 😭

I haven't had the chance to play the event yet (I'm still grinding mats so I can read the first part of the story all at once), but!! From what I've heard, Georgina is polite yet playful?? It sounds like Jade takes after her a lot; they speak very similarly (except that Georgina uses feminine pronouns).

asdkjgavrvauroavva THE FACT THAT AZUL DOESN'T WANT TO SEE LEECH MOTHER BECAUSE SHE CONSTANTLY DOTES ON HIM AND OFFERS HIM SNACKS... (She also has strange reactions??? Like sometimes she’ll just stare at Azul without saying anything and other times she’ll start laughing after asking a strange question) 🤡 And she speaks with Mrs. Ashengrotto and has tea with Granny Ashengrotto???? OKAY, TWEELS. I'm supposed to believe you'd leave Azul as soon as he stops being interesting... even though your MAMA knows a ton about him + his relatives and treats him like a family friend... I'M CALLING BS

HHNGNGNNNNNHGHGHGHHHHHH I need to grind faster, I WANNA MEET HER AND READ THE EVENT STORY SO BAD.

#disney twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #jp spoilers #eternity float spoilers #georgina leech #notes from the writing raven #question #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #Tweels #Octavinelle #Yuu #Azul Ashengrotto #Grim #Giorgina Leech

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monstersflashlight · 3 days ago

Text

Anniversary special: Double knot

A/N: It all started with a minotaur a whole year ago and I’m still SO SHOCKED how much my life changed thanks to y’all. I would never be thankful enough, truly. I thought what I should post today, and well, minotaur sounds like the correct choice, but let’s… spice it up. *wink*

Minotaur x fem!reader || double knot, knotting, oral sex, size kink, breeding, (light) degradation, (light) dirty talk, praise kink, cum-inflation (kinda)

You’ve been dating your minotaur boyfriend for a long while. And he’s been playing hard to get for equal amount of time. You wanted to get on your knees and blow him right after the first date, but he had been very adamant about it. So you waited, and waited, and jerked off until your fingers were wrinkly and your pussy was clenching over a minotaur dildo you found online.

The same minotaur dildo he found in your bathroom the day you invited him for dinner. Truth be told, you didn’t leave it there on purpose, but it gets you what you really wanted: some real minotaur dick.

You can see the exact moment he realizes what it’s in the bathroom, because he walks right out with it on his hand, staring at you and gaping like a fish. You try not to laugh, you really try to, but the amusement at his shocked face is a lot stronger than your embarrassment.

“What is this?” He asks in a choked breath.

“A dildo,” you mutter holding back your need to laugh out loud.

“A minotaur dildo,” he clarifies for both of you, staring intently at you. You nod slowly, biting your lip to stop the smile threatening to appear. “Why do you have a minotaur dildo?” He looks confused between the dildo and you, and you can’t hold back any longer.

You let out the biggest laugh, bending down to hold your stomach as you laugh and laugh. At some point he huffs and you look down to see him staring at the toy with a smirk.

“You know I’m bigger than this, right?” He asks as you try to catch your breath.

Your brain short-circuits. There’s no way he’s telling the truth, the dildo is huge already. “What?” It’s your turn to be confused.

“Want me to prove it?” He says with a smirk that looks nothing like the sweet minotaur you’ve been dating all these months.

You nod, unable to form words and he approaches you very slowly. You’ve been waiting for this moment so long you don’t know how to react. You have enough time to process his movement before he’s throwing you over his shoulder and walking to your room as you giggle.

“Naked. Now.” His words are almost slurred and your brain is spinning as you do as you are told.

You get naked in a rush, your body thrumming with anticipation and pent up sexual frustration of all the times you wanted to fuck him and he pulled away. Your brain is almost rushing through the steps to avoid him changing his mind. You want to ride that minotaur cock ASAP.

He’s no better, ripping his clothes off as he stares at every inch of revealed naked skin in front of him until you feel a bit self-conscious. But then he pulls down his pants and you have a lot more to worry than your body. You stare down at his crotch as your eyes almost pop out of their sockets.

“What… What is that?” You are trying really hard not to cringe at your own words, but he’s not only huge but he has two… He has two… Fuck.

“I- It’s… My species…” His breathing is getting labored, his whole body tense as he tries (and fails) to not look at your naked breasts. “My specie has two knots,” he says in a rush, his breathing erratic as he holds his dick in front of him, his hand looking almost tiny in comparison to his monster dick.

You smile up at him, his nervousness calming you a bit. He looks almost cute right there, embarrassed in front of you. “Breathe. It’s okay. I… I can try.” You aren’t sure that’s going to fit inside of you, even less if it’s supposed to get bigger, but god goddess if you don’t want to try. Your pussy is dripping wet and you are definitely going to give him your best.

He moans as if the mere idea of you taking him is driving him insane. “Gods, your mouth. Get on the bed, I… I need to pleasure you before we try nothing.”

You lay down on your back, and he crawls over you. He claims your mouth first, making out like needy creatures as he grinds his huge cock onto your stomach. He whines against your lips and you let out a responding moan. His mouth travels south, sucking a hickey on your neck and kissing a trail down the valley of your boobs. He licks your belly button, making you giggle as you pull at his hair softly. He grins up at you and keeps traveling down.

You can see his hands trembling as he touches your leg, softly caressing them as he lowers himself between your legs. He looks up at you expectantly, and it only takes a nod before his mouth is on your clit. His tongue is a lot bigger than humans, and the texture of it is sending all kinds of sensations down your spine.

You arch your back and he slips his hands under your ass, pulling you up until he’s holding your pussy against his face and you are arching your back impossibly. You moan as he starts eating you out like a professional, the noises he’s making letting you know he’s enjoying this as much as you are.

You grab onto his horns as he devours you like a starving man. The scream that breaks out of you is ragged, and he opens his eyes enough to stare at you as you fall apart and he slips two huge fingers inside your still clenching heat.

His big fingers feel rough against your soft insides. You groan when he pinches a bit too harshly on your clit, a bit too forceful. You know he did it on purpose, he was always gentle, but it feels like you unlocked a new side of him. A feral side of him that couldn’t get enough of you… And good goddess if you aren’t feeling as feral for him.

So you do what you can: you whimper.

He chuckles at your pathetic whine, a spark of cruelness shining through as he opens his mouth to whisper against your ear: “Don’t act shy now, darling. I can feel you squeezing my fingers like a vice. You like this.” He punctuates his words pushing his fingers deep inside, curling them just enough to rub his knuckles against your G-spot. You don’t know where this dirty talked minotaur came from, but you want MORE.

You moan his name, and that’s your undoing.

He fucks his fingers in and out of you in a frenzy, stretching them, adding more, until you’re falling apart messily. He doesn’t let you catch a breath, he doesn’t play games like that. One second his fingers are stretching you, and the next his dick is buried deep inside of you as you scream to the heavens in another soul-ripping orgasm.

He keeps going. Too fast, too harsh, not letting you adapt to his size, to the pleasure. He’s in for one thing and one thing only: filling you deeply.

His dick’s so deep and so hard that you can feel every ridge, every vein. It’s like he’s trying to make your pussy remember him when he leaves, like he’s imprinting himself so deep inside of you, you would only come again if he’s the one fucking you. It feels like the most amazing torture.

You stop being his girlfriend and become his fuck-toy. Just a fleshlight for his minotaur dick to empty in. He grabs your hips, bouncing you on his cock with abandon as he moans and grunts over you, the noises he’s making only driving you higher in your pleasure.

“Are you gonna cum again like a good little whore? Like a good girl for me?” You whine, his words making your eyes roll back into your head as he pounds into your pussy. He’s so big you can feel him in the back of your throat.

The combination of his shaft inside you, his filthy words and his fingers playing with your clit makes your climax hit you like a tide wave, gasping for air as you shake around his dick. But that doesn’t stop him, you’re his to play and his to fuck. You can barely count the orgasms anymore.

“Take my knot, darling. Be a good little whore and take all of me,” he says with a grunt, pushing so deep inside it almost hurts, but sends you spiraling into unstoppable pleasure aftershocks.

The first knot pops into you as you squeeze it with all your strength. You feel so tight around him it’s driving you insane. He doesn’t move, just grinds his hips against your stretched pussy and plays with your little pearl until your eyes are teary from the pleasure.

“Can you take the second one?” He asks between his teeth. His jaw is so tight you can see the muscle tightening as he tries to be as still as possible as you moan a half-assed response.

Your voice is raw and fucked out when you let out a soft: “Please.”

He roars as you feel the second one expanding inside of you, right at the opening of your cervix, sending all kinds of confusing pleasure signals into your brain. You don’t know if it’s pleasure or pain, you don’t know if you want more or less. It’s overwhelming in the best way possible. And it only gets better (or worse) when you feel the come inside of you. He comes and comes and comes...

Your vision goes black, and you go limp as he pumps you full of cum. You look down in time to see the bulge on your lower abdomen. His big body was pressing you down as you tried to remain conscious as waves of indescribable pleasure rocked your body until you were nothing but an exposed nerve of desire and orgasms… his perfect fuck-toy.

“That’s it. Good girl. You’re doing so good. Can you come again?” His knots inside of you feel too much, too big, too stretched… But the way his fingers are still playing with your oversensitive clit is sending you over the edge. Your pleasure feels raw, a sweet torture as you scream voicelessly, not a single sound coming out of you. “One more, little whore. Give me one more, darling.”

His soft tone calling you a whore and then darling, and the next shoot of his come inside of you precipitate you over the edge. Your orgasm ripping out of you and leaving you boneless under his too big form. He ruts his hips against you, sending wave after wave of aftershocks to your every cell, making you black out for a second.

He’s breathing hard over you, his hair obscuring his eyes as he kisses your forehead. “I knew you’d be the one,” he whispers with a smile.

A/N: Thank you again for a year of monsterfuckery and happiness I didn’t even know I deserved. <3

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neptunsx · 2 days ago

Text

PERMANENT | P.SH

⤷ genre: angst, nsfw.

⤷ synopsis: sunghoon as your toxic boxer ex who got your name tattooed.

You hadn’t meant to see him again.

You were scrolling absently through channels, not really watching anything. The day had been long, your body heavy with the kind of tired that no amount of caffeine could touch. You just wanted background noise. Something to drown out your thoughts.

You paused on a channel where the crowd was going wild—flashing signs, girls lifting their tops in a frenzy of excitement.

With a sigh and a roll of your eyes, you turned your attention back to admiring your freshly done nails.

Then…his name echoed through the chaos and hit you hard, like a punch to the chest.

“Park Sunghoon steps back into the ring tonight—”

You froze.

You didn’t breathe.

The screen shifted to show him entering the ring — black gloves, cold eyes, hair pushed back the way it always was before a match. He looked sharper. Stronger. But it was him.

Sunghoon.

Your ex.

You didn’t even realize you were leaning forward until your elbow knocked the remote off the couch.

He looked exactly the same. Like no time had passed. Like he hadn’t wrecked you eight months ago with nothing more than distance and silence.

Your throat tightened.

You hadn’t seen him since the night he left — or rather, the night you did. The night you packed a bag after another argument that started small and turned brutal. That was your pattern: quiet resentment, building pressure, then a blowout that left both of you staring at each other like strangers.

It wasn’t always like that.

There was a time when he made you feel untouchable. When his voice in the early morning, raspy and low, was your favorite sound. When his hands were always on your waist, grounding you, and his mouth only ever knew how to say stay.

But the higher his career climbed, the more he looked down on you.

He stopped talking. You started overthinking. He buried himself in training—and in other women when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

He made you feel needy for asking to be seen, dramatic for needing his time. He mocked your softness, called your emotions a distraction.

The compliments turned to criticism. The late-night phone calls became silent treatments.

The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced by cold calculation—like you were just another task he didn’t have time for.

And still, you stayed… until it hurt more to hold on than to let go.

You told yourself you moved on.

But there you were, heart racing, watching the man who used to sleep next to you throw punches with the same precision he used to kiss you with. Calculated. Controlled. Cold.

The match ended fast. It always did. A blur of footwork, one perfectly placed hit — and Sunghoon stood in the center of the ring, victorious, breathing heavy under the arena lights.

He pulled off his gloves. The camera followed the movement.

And that’s when you saw it.

A tattoo, dark and fresh, inked into the side of his ribs.

Your name.

You blinked. Your lips parted.

No. No, that couldn’t—

You leaned closer.

Your full name. In his handwriting. Just under the curve of his left ribs, near where you used to rest your head at night.

You felt like the floor shifted underneath you.

When did he do that? Why would he do that?

You hadn’t spoken in months. Not even a text. He didn’t show up when you moved out. Didn’t fight for you. Didn’t ask you to stay.

And yet there you were. Permanently etched into his skin.

Your stomach turned with confusion, heat, and something dangerously close to longing.

Midnight came and went. You paced. You sat in silence. Trying to process what the fuck you just saw.

Your fingers hovered over his name in your phone. You told yourself not to do it, told yourself you didn’t need to know.

But you called anyway.

He answered after two rings. Like he always used to.

“…Hello?”

The sound of his voice pulled something tight in your chest.

“Hi…” you said, voice barely above a whisper.

A pause. Then: “Y/N?”

You ignored the way your name sounded coming from him. Focused on the tremble in his voice instead.

“Can you come over?”

He was quiet for a beat.

“Are you okay?”

“I just… I need to talk.”

Another pause. Then: “Yeah. I’ll come.”

He showed up in a black hoodie and oversized jeans. His sleeves were pushed up, revealing his bruised knuckles.

When he showed up at the door, it was like everything stopped for a second. Your chest tightened, a familiar ache creeping in.

He leaned casually against the frame, his fingers flicking the keys to his expensive car, the sound of metal against metal almost too loud in the quiet of the night. The faint scent of cigarettes wrapped around him — a bitter contrast to his polished athlete image.

As he looked at you, the weight of everything unspoken between you hung thick in the air.

You moved aside, allowing him to enter your house.

He stepped inside like he still knew the way. Like nothing had changed.

But everything had.

You sat on the edge of your couch, arms crossed over your chest. Trying to seem calm. Like you hadn’t been rehearsing this moment in your head all night.

He stood a few feet away, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to get closer.

“You said you wanted to talk.” he said quietly.

You nodded. “I did.”

A heavy beat passed.

“So?” he asked, shifting his weight. “Talk.”

You swallowed.

“I saw the fight.”

His jaw tensed. “Okay.”

“And I saw the tattoo.”

His expression cracked. Just slightly. But it was there — the flicker of surprise. The way his shoulders tensed, like he’d been caught in something.

“So…” you said, voice sharper now, “when were you planning to tell me you got my name inked into your ribs like I’m some kind of ghost you can't shake?”

He hesitated.

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Seriously?” you scoffed. “So what, I was supposed to just never find out? You really thought you could keep this from me? You thought I wouldn’t find out that you permanently branded yourself with my name, like some fucking trophy?”

His eyes flickered for a second, but he quickly masked it with a smirk. “I didn’t do it for you.” he said coolly, spinning the car keys around his finger. “I did it because I couldn’t pretend anymore. I’m not here to explain myself to you.”

“Pretend what?” you snapped back, stepping forward, heart pounding in your chest. “What were you pretending? That you were over me? Because you weren’t, and you knew it. You just didn’t want to admit it.”

He gave a low laugh, but it wasn’t a real laugh—it was condescending. “You still think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

He took a step closer, his arrogance flooding the room. “No. I didn’t pretend to be over you. I just let you go because you couldn’t handle it. I wasn’t about to sit here begging you to stay, like some weak, desperate idiot.”

You shook your head, your pulse rising. “And now you think you can fix it by putting my name on your fucking skin? As if that somehow makes up for the years you spent shutting me out? You didn’t fight for me, Sunghoon. You never did.”

He shrugged, unfazed by your words. “You weren’t worth fighting for. I don’t need to prove anything to you, and I don’t need your forgiveness. I did what I had to do to keep moving. You’re just... a reminder.”

“Is that it?” you spat. “I’m just a reminder? You’re so full of yourself, you think this tattoo is some kind of redemption. You don’t get to claim me like this.”

His expression darkened, but only slightly. “You never understand, do you? I didn’t do this because I missed you. I did it because it’s the only thing that won’t leave. Everything else does. You did. So I kept pushing, kept fighting, kept pretending I didn’t care. But every goddamn time I stepped into that ring, I felt your presence, like a shadow I couldn’t outrun. You never left my head, no matter how hard I tried.”

“You think this tattoo means something?” you said, the bitterness thick in your voice. “You think that after everything you did, a tattoo will fix it? You never tried to make things right, Sunghoon. You just let me walk away. And now you’re expecting me to think this is some grand gesture?”

He stepped even closer, voice dropping lower. “It’s not about you thinking anything. It’s about me reminding you of who I am, who I was to you. You think you can walk away, pretend I don’t still haunt you, but I’m still here, aren’t I? And you’re still pissed, still holding on.”

You froze, a shiver running down your spine. “You’re so arrogant.” you said, the words barely escaping through your clenched teeth. “You don’t even realize that it’s not about you anymore. It’s about me and how you destroyed us. You shut me out over and over again. You didn’t give a single damn.”

“You think I didn’t know that?” He was inches from you now, his eyes burning, but there was something almost... possessive in them. “I didn’t need to call you. I didn’t need to chase you. You think I didn’t know how much I hurt you? I knew. But I was never going to chase you down, begging for forgiveness. That’s not how this works.”

“You’ve always been so damn prideful.” you seethed, voice trembling with anger. “You think you can just leave me with nothing and then show up with this thing on your skin like it makes everything okay?”

“I never said it made everything okay.” He looked at you, his gaze flicking to the tattoo briefly before locking back on your eyes. “But it’s real. That’s more than you’ll ever understand. You were always so temporary to me, and I wanted something that wouldn’t leave. You won’t leave me, not like this. No matter how much you think you hate me, no matter how many times you tell yourself you’ve moved on—you're still here.”

You shook your head, feeling something twist in your chest. “I’m still here because you never let me leave completely. You always found a way to pull me back in, and now it’s too late. I’m done. I’m done trying to fix something you never wanted to fix.”

He smirked, a faint edge of satisfaction curling his lips. “You think I didn’t know you’d say that? You think I didn’t know you were still in love with me? It’s the same shit, every time. You want to hate me. You want to make me the villain. But you still can’t walk away. You’ll never walk away.”

You looked at him — really looked at him. The tired eyes. The bruises. The tattoo. He was still him. Still sharp edges and cold fire. But now there was something soft underneath.

And you were still you.

Still in love with a boy who didn’t know how to ask you to stay until it was too late.

“I shouldn’t let you back in.” you said.

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.”

Silence. Long. Heavy.

You hated him.

You hated the way he stood there like he hadn’t torn you apart. The way his jaw clenched when you spoke, like you were the one being unfair. The way he smelled like cigarette smoke and expensive cologne and memories you still hadn’t managed to drown.

You hated the way your body still ached for him, even now.

“You think I can’t forget you?” you whispered, stepping back, needing space, needing air. “You’re wrong. I do it every damn day.”

But you didn’t sound convincing. Not even to yourself.

His eyes flicked down to your mouth. “Then why are you shaking?”

You froze. Your breath caught. And in a flash, like muscle memory, he was already in front of you again, backing you against the wall like gravity was pulling him there.

“You hate me,” he murmured, voice low, “but you let me in.”

“You’re still a fucking narcissist.” you hissed, but your hands had already found his chest, trying to push him away.

“And you’re still lying to yourself.” he shot back, just before his mouth crashed into yours.

It wasn’t sweet. It was angry. Raw. A clash of teeth and breath and months of words you never said. His hands were on your waist like they used to be—possessive, rough, like he was trying to memorize you all over again.

You knew you shouldn’t.

But God, he felt like fire after a lifetime of cold.

He pulled back for a second, forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathless.

“This doesn’t fix anything.” you whispered.

“I know.” he said, brushing his lips against yours again, softer this time. “But I need you. Just for tonight.”

You knew it was a terrible idea. Knew that the next morning, none of this would be simple. But when he looked at you like that — like you were the only thing that ever quieted the chaos inside him — logic didn’t stand a chance.

Your fingers gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him back in before you could talk yourself out of it. His mouth crashed into yours, hungry and unrelenting. He kissed like he fought. With intensity, control, like he needed to win. And maybe you did too, in your own way.

His hands were on your body, sliding beneath your shirt, calloused palms dragging across your skin like he was rediscovering a language he hadn’t spoken in months. You gasped into his mouth when his thumbs brushed under your ribs, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core.

“Still so fucking soft.” he muttered against your neck, his breath hot. “You think I ever forgot this?”

You didn’t answer — couldn’t. Your back hit the wall again and your arms wrapped around his neck instinctively. His mouth moved down your throat, teeth grazing just enough to make your skin erupt in goosebumps.

You tugged his shirt over his head, eyes tracing the familiar scars, the bruises from his latest fight, the ink over his ribs — your name etched in bold, defiant permanence.

“You’re fucking crazy.” you whispered, dragging your nails down his chest.

“Only for you.” he said, eyes dark as he pulled your sweatpants down.

He worked you out of your clothes like it was muscle memory — like he’d imagined it a hundred times since you left.

His mouth moved to your tits, grabbing them firmly and marking them as his.

You gripped his hair, gasping his name, and he looked up at you, lips already flushed, voice gravelly,

“Say it again.”

“Sunghoon...” you moan again, softly.

He groaned like it hurt. Like it healed.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the couch.

He finished undressing himself and pumped his dick a few times while maintaining eye contact with you.

When he finally pushed into you, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was desperation wrapped in need — teeth on your collarbone, fingers digging into your thighs, curses muttered into your skin. He was everywhere. He was too much. He was exactly what you needed.

He was ramming into you like crazy, like he was starved. You clawed at his back, legs locked around him, moving in sync like your bodies never forgot.

“God, you still feel like mine.” he growled into your ear, hips thrusting harder, more erratic now. “Tell me I didn’t lose you.”

You bit his bicep, half a sob, half a moan. “You never really had me.”

But even as you said it, your nails raked down his spine and your body arched into his like gravity couldn’t bear to keep you apart.

“Are you sure about that?” he said, looking at you with dark, needy eyes.

His hand crawled up, finding your neck and giving it a strong squeeze, holding you in place.

Your vision blurred as pleasure crashed over you in waves — overwhelming, all-consuming. Your back arched off the couch, breath hitching, unable to ground yourself in anything but the way he moved, the way he owned every inch of you. He slapped your cheek and grabbed your jaw, making you look up at him.

“You fucking slut,” he groaned, “missed my dick that bad?” he mocked, making you whimper and feel vulnerable under him.

“Fuck you.” you spat.

He chuckled, low and dangerous, like he loved when you talked back.

Before you could blink, he flipped you effortlessly, pressing your chest to the couch cushions, dragging your hips up with rough hands. You gasped, caught off guard, dizzy from the shift, but burning with need.

“You always needed it like this.” he muttered behind you, voice like gravel, hands gripping your hips with a possessive hold that left fingerprints in his wake. “Hard. Messy. Mine.”

And then he was moving again — deeper, rougher, pulling sounds from you that didn’t even sound like your own. You buried your face in the pillow, but he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back just enough to hear your pretty noises, “Don’t hide from me now."

“F-Fuck.” you gasped, your voice breaking as your hand shot back, trying to slow him down.

But he didn’t stop.

He gripped your wrist mid-air, pinned it to the small of your back, and kept going — relentless, feverish, like he was trying to burn his name into your skin.

He’d never been like this before. Not this rough. Not this desperate.

Not this possessed.

Every thrust sent a shockwave through you, your cries lost in the heat between you, in the way your name kept falling from his lips like a prayer turned curse.

Your thighs trembled.

Your breath hitched.

And then you shattered. Back arching, vision blinding white, everything in you unraveling all at once. You cried out his name, broken and breathless, feeling yourself fall apart around him.

That was all it took.

With a guttural groan, he slammed into you one last time, burying himself deep as he spilled inside you, head thrown back, fingers digging into your hips like he was anchoring himself to the moment — to you. Like he needed this more than air.

You were still catching your breath, your body buzzing with the aftershocks, when it hit you.

Your eyes flew open.

“Wait—” you gasped, twisting to look at him. “Did you just—? You didn’t pull out.”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.

“Yeah.” he said, calm. Too calm. “I did it on purpose.”

You stared at him, stunned. “Are you insane?”

His hand slid down your spine possessively, slow and deliberate. “No.” he murmured. “Just done pretending.”

Your chest tightened, fury and disbelief tangling with something that felt a lot like fear.

“You can’t just—” you started.

“I already did.” he interrupted. His voice was low, dark, final. “That wasn’t just sex. That was me putting you back where you belong. You’re mine again — deal with it.”

Your mouth opened, then closed.

You should’ve pushed him off. Should’ve screamed, left, anything.

But instead, you laid there, his breath still warm on your skin, trying to decide if the rapid beat of your heart was from panic… or the fact that a part of you liked being wanted this much.

Even if it was twisted.

Even if it was wrong.

#enhypen #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen smut #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen x female reader #enhypen x y/n #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #enhypen angst #sunghoon angst

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y3sterdaysproblem · 2 days ago

Note

how does toxicfwb chris put toxicfwb reader in her place (i need to be put down right now)

cw: established safeword, slapping, choking, face fucking, spanking, fuuuucking

“get the fuck away from me,” you grumble, shoving chris away from you aggressively from where you stood, head peering around your tv in your bedroom as you tried to figure out why the fuck it wasn’t working properly.

“i’m trying to fucking help you,” chris snaps, tone irritated, which in turn makes you more irritated as well. “well you mouth breathing down my neck isn’t fucking helping me, it’s just pissing me off,” you spit back at him, turning to glare at him.

“okay,” he laughs bitterly, nodding his head. “so you’re just in the mood to be a bitch right now, then?” your heart rate picks up at his comment and you have to squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to not feel like you were going to explode. “christopher,” you start slowly, peeling your eyes open to look at him again, gaze landing on his sudden cringe from you using his full name. “back up and leave me alone before i smack the fuck out of you.”

his eyes widen, but not in a way that shows fear, more of an amused expression taking over his features. he’d love to see you pull some shit like that. “you need to calm down,” he warns and this sets you off, sending you charging towards him with a hand wound up behind you and ready to strike him wherever you could reach.

as your hand flies down, he reaches up to grab your wrist and it all happens so quickly, the way he spins you around and pins your arm behind your back, walking you a few steps until your chest was pressed against the wall, his body flush against yours. “drop the attitude,” he demands, his voice sending tingles down your spine.

“i don’t have an attitude!” you argue, squirming in his grasp. it’s no use, his fingers are digging into your skin roughly and his body has you pinned, there’s no way you’re getting away from him. “just because you’re pissing me off and i don’t want to be around you doesn’t mean i have an attitude.”

“sounds like an attitude to me,” chris retorts, tightening his grip on you, making you whine. “you don’t get to be a little baby just because you’re mad.” he’s right and you know he is, but you’d never admit that, plus he was pissing you off just by being so close. you were fully confident you could fix the issue yourself.

“i’m not being a fucking baby, chris, let go of me!” you wiggle even harder, knowing his grip on you was going to leave bruises. you could feel the interaction slipping into something filthier, his chest pressed against your back making your mind fuzzy, jaw dropping open as his free hand that wasn’t holding your wrist in place slid to rest on your waist exposed by the crop top you wore.

“say you’re sorry,” chris mumbles into your ear, lips close to your skin, his smirk prominent in his voice. “i’m not sorry, i didn’t do anything,” you say in a huffy tone.

“say you’re fucking sorry,” he demands again, more aggressive this time as his hand slips into the front of the waistband of your sweatpants. you gasp at the feeling of his fingers dancing over the fabric of your panties, not having been touched by him today despite already being together for a few hours. you were beyond needy for him but you didn’t want him to know now that you were trying to be tough. “‘m not sorry,” you mutter, cheek pressed against the cold wall, eyes looking everywhere but back at him.

the hand wrapped around your wrist finally lets go, but only long enough for him to slide it up and to the front of your throat, long fingers wrapping around until he could squeeze, drawing a strained gasp from your mouth. “say it again. tell me you’re not sorry,” he rasps into your ear, lips barely brushing against your skin.

you shift on your feet, a soft whimper leaving your lips, already overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. “i didn’t do anything wrong,” you choke out, standing firm in your defense.

chris’s hand slips further into your pants, his middle fingers pressing against your clit on top of your panties, making you weak in the knees as you finally felt some sort of stimulation. “fuck, please,” you groan out, eyes fluttering shut and hips twitching against his hand.

“please, what?” he mocks, pulling your head off the wall and towards him, forcing an arch in your back. “touch me,” you respond desperately. “please touch me, i need it.”

chris laughs, actually laughs at you as he presses firmer through the fabric. “say you’re sorry and i’ll touch you,” he bargains.

you whine, wiggling more in his grip to try and escape, causing chris to snap, no longer being patient with you. he backs away, keeping his hand firm on your throat as he pulls you with him, manhandling you until you were on your knees on the floor at the end of your bed, staring up at him with wide eyes. “if you’re not going to apologize then you don’t get to speak until you do,” he tells you, leaving no room for argument as he shoves his pants and briefs down in one movement, hard cock swinging out.

you gasp at the sight and he uses this perfect opportunity to shove his length past your lips, letting out a low groan at the wet feeling of your mouth wrapped around him. “there we go, that’s it,” he mumbles, placing both of his hands on either side of your head to keep you in place as he rocks his hips forward, giving you no time to adjust. “finally fucking quiet.”

your hands come up to rest on his thighs for support, tears already starting to fill your eyes as he rams his cock down your throat, using you for his own pleasure. “look so pretty crying with my dick in your throat, don’t you?” chris teases as he stares down at you with that cocky smirk, loving the way you already looked wreck from the way he rocked his hips into you.

your saliva started to thicken as you gagged around him, sputtering out around his length and dripping down your chin as you kept your eyes on his face the best you could, nails digging into his skin harshly.

“you sorry yet?” chris asks, slowing down and letting his cock fall from your lips, laughing at the way you gasped for air when your mouth was empty. you didn’t answer, only coughed a few times as you tried to catch your breath, earning you a small but still slightly shocking slap to your cheek, followed by chris gripping your hair and tilting your head back. “i said are you sorry yet?”

you whimper quietly from the pain, but keep your eyes locked on his. “i didn’t do anything wrong,” you choke out, tears sliding down your red cheeks.

chris grumbles at your answer, using his grip on your hair to pull you up to your feet and turn you around, bending you over the mattress before sliding your sweats and underwear down, hands gripping at your now exposed ass cheeks roughly. “last chance,” he warns, voice serious.

you turn to look back at him, seeing him already staring at you expectantly. truthfully, making him mad already made you horny enough, but you loved pushing his buttons more than you’d ever care to tell him, so you wanted to see how far he’d take it and how much you could handle.

“i told you i’m not fucking sorry,” you say in the brattiest tone you can muster up and you can actually see the way chris’s eyes darken at your words. he just purses his lips and nods, letting out a small, “okay,” before drawing his hand up and striking down roughly, his handprint immediately blooming on your plush skin.

you jump forward, whimpering loudly at the contact, thinking maybe you’d have a second to recover before he lands another blow on the opposite cheek, ripping a small squeal from your lips. “ouch!” you yell at him, trying to squirm away, but he’s got you right where he wants you and there’s no escaping without giving him what he wants.

“chris, that fucking hurts,” you whine as he smacks your ass again, your cheek buried into your comforter. he hears your words, but it’s what he sees that encourages him to keep going.

your pussy is glistening, soaked folds on display from the way you were bent over in front of him, your body clearly enjoying everything he was putting you through. it took everything in him to not give in and slide into you and fuck you brainless.

“hurt enough to say you’re sorry?” he asks, pausing for a moment to lean over your body, expectantly waiting for your answer.

you crane your neck to meet his eyes, your own still glossy with tears as you shake your head slightly. “n-no,” you mumble, whimpering when he stands back up straight, bracing for impact.

this goes on until you’re full on crying against the sheets, hands gripping onto the blankets for some sort of brace as he spanked you over and over, your skin red and puffy from his hands.

“okay!” you finally cry out, stopping him in his tracks as he winds up to smack you once more, drawing his attention up to your face. “yes, baby?” he croons, leaning over you once more to press his lips against your shoulder. “gonna tell me you’re sorry now?”

you nod frantically, sniffling pathetically. “yes, i-i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to give you attitude or be mean, was just frustrated. please, please, touch me, fuck me, anything, i need it.” you beg, unable to focus on anything except the way your skin stung.

“you’re not just apologizing to get what you want, right?” chris asks in a fake sweet voice, his hands trailing over your hips gently, a stark contrast from the last few minutes of torture.

you shake your head quickly, pushing yourself up on one arm to look at him. “swear,” you tell him. “‘m so sorry.”

he smirks and pushes himself back up until he’s standing behind you again, angling his cock at your entrance. “wasn’t so hard, was it?” he says in a snotty voice before pushing inside and bottoming out in one go, ripping a loud, satisfied moan from your lips.

#⤷ toxic!fwb!chris x toxic!fwb!reader ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖#⤷ toxic!fwb!chris ⊹ ࣪ ˖#⤷ toxic!fwb!reader! ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆#ave’s library 𓈒ㅤׂ 𝜗𝜚 #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo x you #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic

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