#Fuel Lid

[dmitriyuriev]

*Implied noncon, small Miquella. Link leads to full image.

Miquella's charm compels love, not controls actions, so what were to happen if the one charmed has a twisted view of love? Only Mohg acts that possessive, so no, he did not beat the allegations, and I for one, am happy about that.

[simonz-angel]

simon who leaves his sweet best friend for the military…

his eyes wander over the small portrait, the one with your pretty face taken upon it. he remembers when you’d handed it to him before he left, a soft, sad smile gracing your face when you’d whispered, “promise you won’t forget about me, simon?”

it was silly of you to ever think your grace of a presence would leave his mind. it was quite the opposite, every day in training he’d run off you like fuel, praying upon the very day he’d get to have your softness in his arms once again.

as for now, he’s alone, cold… desperate.

his head reels back, lips splitting till blood pools in the cracked skin, mouth dropped open as he chokes on his heavy gasps. you were his best friend from back home, the pretty girl next door, yet even in the hell he faced, you still had him wrapped round your finger.

he had locked himself away in an old storage closet, trying his best to keep from waking his fellow sergeants yet as his fingers squeezed and slid their way up his cock, he was finding it increasingly difficult.

you were stuck in his mind, the plush pillows of your cherry tanged lips, your fluttering eyes, the bounce of your full breasts… gah simon could go on n on, and it all somehow had his cock dripping.

he sucked his lip between the pearls of his teeth, chest contracting into tense angry muscles before loosening in heavy breaths. he could barely keep himself up, even with the wall he had heaved himself against, knees weakening by the second, the stroke.

“f-fuck, fuck,” he breathed low, words coated in a sugary sweet whimper, and your face flashed bright behind his lids. pupils soaking in the messy thoughts, all that presented you in nothing but impure.

he was hooked, deeply infatuated with your presence yet forever scared to mention it, knowing you were only, only friends. this is how it had to be forever, home or not, you were only a dream, a whisper of what he so desperately needed.

[beanlot]

ellie, who uses a vibrator on you for the first time, and just can’t get e-fucking-nough.

wc: 2.2k (smut + light fluff)

─── ⊱ ─── ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ ─── ⊰ ───

“the fuck is that?” you hum from the crook of her neck after having examined the small toy, and it rests in her palm, her voice a little shaky from nerves. “okay.. so.. uh.. this little guy, helps stimulate certain areas..”

“this little guy?” you repeat her words with a playful smirk, pupils dilated with adoration when you look at her, resplendent enough that she can see her flustered expression reflecting back at her when she maintained that eye contact.

“yeah, this little guy..” she has a teasing smile to her, which only amplifies the pooling anticipation in your stomach.

“turn it on. turn it on.” you eagerly whisper against her neck, your lips still numb from your previous make-out, tingling from her savoured taste. after a few seconds of tampering with the remote, you hear a silent whirring. “alright.. says here that this is the lightest level. ‘n then..” she mumbles, and the whirring intensifies into a jarring buzz.

“i see..” you mumble as you watch the toy convulsing in her palm, and you touch it, your fingertips shivering intensely upon the metallic. “damn.”

but whilst your eyes are inspecting it, her eyes are plastered onto you, eyes brimming with desire. lust. hunger. you don’t notice it, you just feel her seductive breath on your cheek; her inviting whisper following shortly after.

“let me.. please?”

you slowly turn your head to look at her, noting her low lids and desperately parted lips that beg for your acceptance. you don’t answer, admiring her features as it fuels the fluttering in your chest and the cudgelling of your heartbeat against your ribs.

you want it. you want her so bad.

“it’ll feel good, baby.. i’ll try..” her whisper is a plead, delicate kisses peppering your jawline so seductively as she guides the device to your chest. your breath is unregulated, shaky with her intuitive touches.

you sigh, when she grazes it over your clothed nipple, the vibration a pleasure on your breast. “it tickles.” you breathily laugh, your stomach shuddering along with the device.

“tickles?” she laughs against your lips, smooching at the corner of them amorously. her elbow propping herself up, and you watch as she grazes it repeatedly over your nipple; watching as the fabric starts raising slightly when it hardens.

the vibrations start teasingly streamlining down to your underwear, wetness so evident when your clothed slit engulfs the metal.

“gonna put it on your clit, my love..” she whispers, as if she’s asking for your permission, your guidance.

her breath ghosts your cheek as her gaze focuses on your thighs - the heaven between them. the way your dripping cunt swallows it, blissful sensations on your swollen and clothed clit when she applies pressure.

“oh..” you whisper shakily, your hips instinctively and subtly rutting into it. because you want more.

“oh?” she repeats, eyebrows arching momentarily. she experiments, fingertips guiding the device - circling, tapping and grazing your clit.

it’s when she pulls the dampened fabric to the side, holding the vibrator down onto your hood that you seem rather eager. “wait. keep it-keep it there.” you sigh, thighs twitching. you feel your core tightening, clit pulsing with it's own lustrous heartbeat, and your hips subconsciously rolling into it. “keep it-there..”

“feels good, baby?” her lips subtly turn upwards into something you could only describe as a snarky smirk, tongue resting between her teeth.

you’re focused, ankles quivering and your abdomen tensing repeatedly from the ecstasy. you hear her mumble again through the concentration, her irises narrowed at your body’s reaction. “shaking so much, holy shit.”

your breathing is a little jagged, and you’re clutching at her wrist, making sure she doesn’t move or mettle up that teasing courage of hers to deny you what you so desperately want need. “just don’t move it..” you gasp, your back arching into the vibrations.

you scan her features through the haze; pretty verdant eyes tainted with desire, the fruitful shape of her lips, and that fucking scar slicing her eyebrow. she's wearing that stupid black shirt you like so much, and has that stupid hairstyle you love. “you’re so hot..” you whisper faintly, impulse that reflects your innate need to finish spilling out. “i’m gonna-fuck. i’m gonna ride your fucking face after this..”

“yeah?” she arches her eyebrows, voice a pitch higher, as if she’s challenging you. mocking you, even.

“uh huh.. gonna-i’m gonna-“ you try to think of what to say, but nothing other than your whimpering blither seeping from your helpless lips. and so she interrupts you,

“gonna what, baby?” she whispers, and you know for sure now - she's definitely mocking you. you look down to her hand between your thighs; watching the tendons that manifest her slender wrist start to twitch, those admirable veins framing her knuckles.

your impending orgasm is obvious by how tremulous your body reacts, her fingers amping up the vibrations as she presses it deeper onto your clitoral hood.

"oh, that's it. just let go, feel it.." she whispers, her free hand slithering down to your tremoring hip, measuring up the clenching and troubled muscles within them. her mouth is watering, she doesn't realise it until she swallows back her saliva.

she wants nothing more than to suck at your clit, coat you with her, slurp up your taste so disgustingly that you wouldn't be able to look at her the same tomorrow.

her free hand glides towards your slit, your thick juices coating her slim fingers so seductively. you hear her hum, a low and guttural moan, as you feel one of them slew inside your hole. it contracts so welcomingly around her finger, and it's so easy for her to slide another in.

"m sorry, baby.. i should've asked.." she whispers when she hears your troubled whine, but its not troubled in the sense you don't want it, it's troubled in the sense that you've never understood how fucking good it feels to be stuffed with her fingers.

so you shake your head with difficulty, trying to notion to her that it's fine, she can do as she pleases.

so she teasingly twines them upwards, feeling the harsh vibrations of the toy on your clit internally against your walls. "you feel that?" she asks softly, her voice silk.

"more.. just-just a little more.." you exhale unstably, so desperate to feel her against your most sensitive nerves, so guiding and patient with her. she takes your words, absorbs them with gratitude.

"more, my love.. i got you.." she's also unsteady with her breath, and just like your desperation, she's desperate to impress.

you feel her curl further against your spongy and quivering walls, eyes rolling back as she gradually fucks you with her fingers. "like that, pretty girl?"

"uh huh.. uh-like that.. like-oh fuck, ellie, baby-"

she can tell you're gonna come by how choked up your breaths are, and how rigid your body feels under her hands. "nice and easy, nice and easy.." she whispers, and you suddenly feel her wet tongue on your stomach, streamlining up to your abdomen and leaving a trail.

you can hear your own thighs walloping against her hand, your cunt squelching with every appreciative pump of her fingers. and ellie does what ellie does best, she talks you through it.

"thas' it, feel what i'm doing to you. just relax.."

"you whining for me?”

and it's suddenly too much, your eyes rolling back and head digging further into the fleecy pillow. "please please please please-" you're begging, pleading like a whore for it. you feel her tongue lick selfishly at your sternum, your shirt riding up and the air whipping against your piping hot skin.

when you look down to watch her tongue start relentlessly flicking at your nipple, her eyes dreamily shut, the sneezelike sensation in your core possesses everything in your body.

you're coming so aggressively, back arching into her as she keeps the vibrator on your messy folds - only this time, grazing it directly over your overstimulated clit, her fingers still urging you to your overbrimming limit.

you're whining like a mess, how she likes it.

she’s trying to hold you down, or at least stabilise you when you come, her fingers seeping out of your cunt and clutching at your shaking hips.

"i know it feels good, i know.." she murmurs against your skin, goosebumps littering your chest and arms. her fingers are glossed with your cum, thumb tracing patterns into your waist.

you’re trembling so much that she keeps losing grip.

she decreases the vibrations drastically to aid your oversensitivity, but keeps the device buried against your clit; your underwear slowly going back over your drenched slit as she lets go.

you’re confused at first, shuffling around uncomfortably when you feel your underwear soak up your cum, your clit still getting ambushed from the low vibrations.

but she’s not one to disappoint, stripping off her sweatpants and her bare thighs smoothing against yours as she situates her bare and drooling cunt against you.

your thigh is hoisted against her clothed abdomen, and you can feel the dips of her lanky muscle contract slightly. she’s worked herself up.

“ride my face in a minute, baby— i just.. i need this..” she sighs urgently, feeling the wetness of your underwear; she’s thirsty for it, dehydrated for it.

her clit is purple and erect, subtly grinding against your underwear, the vibrations humming through the fabric and stimulating her so divinely. the tone in her arms and the impulsive rolling of her hips, her stomach rubbing against your bare and piping hot thigh.

fuck, you like her using you like this. so selfish, self-serving.

you’re starting to uncontrollably tremor again, her movements forcing the vibrator against your overwhelmed clit. “i’ll be quick, pretty—i’ll be quick-“ she gasps, delectable lips parted.

her rutting hips are becoming sloppier, the bed frame starting to rock against the wall and creak.

“ellie—ellie, please- please hurry, it’s too much..” you whine, because the overstimulation is too shattering for you to orgasm again. but you’re trying to cherish the high of watching her face scrunch from abundant pleasure and yearning, the prize of hearing her guttural whimpers.

and it’s all so worth it, the torture of sensory overload, when her thighs start quivering against yours. her fingers clenching your thigh so frantically, her frenzied state erupting as she orgasms.

“mmph-holy shit-‘mm baby—“ she gasps, lips parted erotically against your knee, the adrenaline forcing her fingers to twitch around your thighs.

she’s still rutting against you, bathing through the last remaining ripples of her orgasm, before she takes note of your raw state. her fingers are delicate, sliding your swamped underwear down your legs and turning the vibrator off. it’s submerged in your cum, sweat and enjoyment.

“are you okay? was that too much?” she asks softly, hands gently squeezing your kneecaps in reassurance. she’s not sure why, but now that her impulsive drive to finish on your vibrating pussy is satisfied and fulfilled, she has some worried aftertaste on her tongue.

worried that she pushed your boundaries, or didn’t consider your feelings.

“no, you idiot. that was-“ you sigh, covering your dazed eyes with your arm. “that was so fucking hot.”

you hear her relieved laugh, and it’s silent for a few seconds. nothing but the sound of the light drizzles of rain outside, the balance of your relaxed and seduced breaths.

“still wanna ride my face, ma’am?” you hear her ask, not ignoring the tinge of hope in her tone. and so you laugh, looking up at her. she has a hue of mauve under her eyes, bags bags that demonstrate her careless sleep schedule.

but she’s stunning. and she makes those eyebags annoyingly sexy.

“i always wanna ride your face..” you mumble, unable to resist the spirited smile that tugs your lips upwards when you see the rosiness in her face bloom. she’s excited, she’s a loser for it.

“but.. maybe.. in the shower.. i’m like—“ you mumble, sluggishly sitting up, discomfort when you look down and see thick strings of your arousal between your thighs. “i’m hot, and sweaty, and gross.”

you look at her, and you’re strangely flustered by how she maintains eye contact. it’s out of character, even for ellie, but she’s jumped through the hurdles of being awkward with you.

all of the timidity and shyness has been bleached; she looks at you with such intimate love. “okay.. fine by me, ma’am..” she nods, lazily blinking through her infatuation.

and for the first time, it’s you that can’t uphold the eye contact. your eyes darting anywhere but hers - her collarbone, freckled cheeks fanned by her lashes, those admirable hands that are still resting on your knees.

they trace tender and doting patterns into your shins, nails that tickle and gently scratch your skin.

and when you look back up, she’s still gazing, nailing that romantic and worshipping gaze straight through you.

fuck, stop looking at me like that, williams.

“i love you..” you whisper, hands resting on her shoulders, before gliding up to cup her cheeks. her skin is also piping hot. “you’re so good to me.”

she looks calm on the outside, but on the inside, it’s absolute fucking havoc. her heartbeat hammering against her chest, eyes softening, and her hands reluctantly hovering above yours.

her palms rest on your wrists, and she slowly tilts her head to kiss your fingers, unblinking eyes that are still staring at you. her whisper is faint, anticipatory, and vanilla.

“i love you more, pretty..”

[lilaccmilk]

so....hi and I love your work, amazing btw

so i had this idea yesterday and well what about like a lioness! hybrid reader and a hare! hybrid bf, like I remember reading somewhere that lionesses try to mate with a male around 100 times a day and i was like shocked, but them i remember that hares basically the same so....

kinda matching energy hahaha

but yeah, everything else is up to you

thank you

“I am just a dumb bunny, but we are good at multiplying.”

content warning: hare! male hybrid x lioness!fem reader, mentions of heat/rut and mating season, uhh that’s it i think?

giggling at this ask as we’re speaking.

Alright so, the hare always thought that he would never find someone who matches has libido. I mean, sure he had other females of his kind, but they weren’t the same. That was until he met you— the most sweetest person despite being a predator. You were so kind and so pretty and your skin felt so soft. The hare couldn’t help but find you in his darkest desires. He didn’t really think you’d be able to match his libido, primarily because of the fact that he knew nothing about lioness hybrids.

The start of your relationship was cute and slow. But when the mating season hit— and god it was like a switch had been flipped in you. The hare had been keeping distance from you because he thought he’d tire you out in his own rut. But staying away from your boyfriend became too much, so here you were standing in front of his apartment door, soaked from head to toe because of the rain, 11 in the night.

He quickly got concerned, leading you into his apartment, he went to get you some towels but when he came back— he was hit with the scent of your arousal, and your eyes, god your eyes got so predatory.

You stared at him like he was prey— and he was. You went to him almost ripping his clothes off, not that he minded. Your touch felt like fire on his skin, blazing the flames of his own rut. Without wasting time, you pushed him onto the couch and asked him to take off your clothes. And he obeyed, the sweet scent of his submission hitting your nose.

You had always called him ‘bunny’ to playfully tease him, but now as you growled out “fuck bunny, so pretty f’me yeah?” the nickname would never be the same.

You slowly sank down his length, he was so huge and just filling you up in all the right places. He let out a little whimper as you clenched around him. “Should’ve- hah- should’ve done this sooner.” he mumbles out already pussy drunk. You hadn’t even started and he was already looking like he was fucked dumb. You start moving your hips in a frantic rhythm because you couldn’t think about anything but him. Your mate, your bunny.

The soft plap! plap! plap! fueling your heat on and on. You both reached your climax soon him filling you up full. But no, not enough for you, not enough for you both. You felt your boyfriend flipping you both over, his body moving on pure instinct. You were under him, pinned down.

He started drilling his cock into your pussy. Pace relentless. He wanted to mate you, mark you, breed you. All you could do was let out soft moans and whimpers. His cock was hitting that spot inside of you brutally again and again. Your back arched into him, your pussy clenching deliciously around him, you came with a shudder, and he filled you up again.

You both fell into each other’s embrace, eyes half lidded. He continued kissing your neck, scenting you, his cock still inside you. “5 minutes break?” he asked and you couldn’t help but laugh, “Needy, aren’t we?” but you couldn’t be the one to talk.

[konigsblog]

older-boyfriend simon riley and his dumb little girlfriend.

tw/cw; age difference/gap, dumbification, mentions of alcohol consumption. MDNI 18+

older-boyfriend simon finds joy in making you feel and look stupid. perhaps it stems from his desire to have complete authority—probably fueled by his position as a lieutenant—or maybe he just enjoys making you look stupid, to mock your tears and whines during sex. can you really blame him? it's an addictive sight.

“that’s my dumb girl, so whiney and noisy, yeah? can’t keep that dirty mouth shut for more than a second?”

he taunts you, rubbing his creamy and sensitive tip back and forth against your sensitive nub. you rub your thighs together at the stimulation against your little clit, breathing in the smell of alcohol from his muscular and broad body. he pries your soft, supple thighs open and slaps your cheek lightly, hushing your whimpers as he begins to push the tip of his hard, stiff cock deep inside your walls.

“there we go, darlin’— so precious and compliant, you’ll listen, won’t‘cha? or can you not follow basic and simple orders like a good girl? speak up, beautiful.”

he smirks playfully at the effect he has on you. you're a total idiot around him, not a thought behind your half-lidded and delirious eyes as he begins thrusting into your gummy walls. his broad hips meet your tight rear, silencing your cries and moans with the pleasure between your thighs leaving you aroused. simon will ask you easy questions, only to mock you for babbling something incoherent out at him, such a little dumbass.

“what’s wrong, lovie? can’t speak properly?”

you shake your head slowly and lazily, giggling at the drooling mess left between your soaked, slick thighs. you gasp and shake, back arched perfectly allowing simon to fuck you with ease and hit places he's never hit before. your moans are endless, leaving his boner aching inside his dumb girl's cunt.

[muntitled]

𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

Aegon Targaryen x Fem!reader

Summary: You were the only one who truly saw the tortured king. Not his mother, not his brother, and certainly not his wife.

Warning: Language, Infidelity, Humiliation, Toxicity, King Complex, Slight Angst, Smut (+18) Minors DNI, Canon typical Incest, Grinding, Forced orgasm, King Kink?, Dom/Sub Themes, Controlled Orgasm, Ownership Kink, Dub/Con, Groping, Humping, Pussy rubbing, Exhibition Kink

This isn't very good, I admit. I just needed to get it out of my head.

Despite your eye following the pathway of High Valyrian ink splashed on the weathered pages of your book, your brain takes forever to process the words.. It is a story you had enjoyed since the days of your wetnurse but now you are focused on the utter injustices occurring by the dinner table before you. You always found your nose nestled in a book throughout dinner, all save for this one.

The Queen mother is bent over her plate, forgetting her table manners in the vehemence of her passions, while Aemond assumes a hostile glare from his perch at the head of the table. Aegon sits slumped in between you and Helena, with his half lidded eyes so painfully tedious as he prods at his food, while these fake gods scold him from above.

"And to make matters impossibly worse, you failed to display even a shred of sympathy towards his condition-" Despite the nature of his mother's tone, it does not stop Aegon from rebutting where necessary, with a quick, sharpness on his tongue.

"This 'condition' you speak of, being the imprisonment of a wealthy merchant's stupid son." Aegon releases a short, winded chuckle, one that you share behind the concealment of your book. "Perhaps he shouldn't have gotten himself captured."

"He is apart of your battalion, Aegon- fighting your war-"

"I am not at war. As I sit here, I am not harbouring any ill feelings towards any party-"

Aemond interrupts, "All you think about is fucking and drinking-"

"Precisely brother!" Aegon proceeds to turn to his mother, with his hands splayed outwards he reiterates, "All I think about is fucking and drinking,"

A loud, unladylike snort escapes the confines of your throat which you attempt to sheath with a cough as you study the words in your book. Aemond rolls his eyes while Aegon throws a blatant smirk beside you- "See Mother! Now our dear cousin has fallen ill as a result of the animosity stirred by your incessant scolding!” Aegon’s voice is doused in sarcasm as he rubs his hand into your shoulder, “All because of your nagging, mother," Alicent’s eyes darken as her voice descends into caution "Aegon. Tomorrow you are to formally apologise to that Knight. He is a seasoned member of your Kingsguard-" The politics was becoming far too much on him. His grip has yet to leave your shoulder.

"Why the complete and utter fuck should I be pandering to my subjects?"

Aemond is the first to inject "Have you not a shred of Diplomacy, you fucking imbecile?" You eye Aemond from above your book, and you cannot begin to imagine the younger brother would ever inject himself into Aegon's business, no reason except perhaps, jealousy?

Aegon promptly ignores Aegon, and, with his eyes on Alicent, he leans over the table and whispers:

"If Rhaenyra wishes to have the crown, she may gladly take it-"

"AEGON!" The queen's thunderous voice settles over the table like a tempest, injecting all those present with a sharp, instinctive flinch, all except Aegon, who remains lax and unaffected by her outburst, only fueling the Queen's anger to first born tenfold.

"I cannot rely on you for anything, Aegon, NOTHING! For a mother to be so utterly embarrassed by her son- her eldest son," there is venom in her incredulity, one that has your brows curving as you send a sympathetic gaze at the Usurper. You lower your novel and lean slightly closer to the battlefield that has befallen the dinner table. Aegon’s hand drops from your shoulder, landing in your lap. You clasp his trembling hand in both of yours.

How a simple visit to see your cousins in King's Landing had turned into a public execution of Aegon's dignity, is utterly beyond you. You decide that you simply will not allow it, you cannot allow it, and solidarity is all you hope Aegon feels radiating from your clasped hands under the table.. You look up at him, thinking you might look up to find anguish in Aegon's eyes, but all you find there is a sly, almost secretive smirk dancing along his visage.

"You govern this country like a child-" Aemond begins but you're quick to snip back,

"Perhaps we should be mindful, cousin of the fact that Aegon still is a child. He is but 20 years in age!" You exclaim, with your own incredulity coating your laughter, "Aegon's destiny was pre-written when you were barely able to wipe your own shit, Cousin." Aegon fails to conceal his crass bought of laughter.

"I've no time for this," Alicent says, pushing herself out of her chair before rising in silent anger, "Helena, come," she commands before leading a slightly aloof Helena out the dining hall without another word. Helena mumbles something about broken unions in iron castings before disappearing.

The silence is deafening as Aemond's one eye studies the two of you - he is not able to see your hand underneath the table, you don’t think…

"Before you think about fucking our cousin, at least think about fucking your wife." Aemond announces, to an amused Aegon who keeps his amused gaze lowered to the table. It is then that Aegon squeezes your hand, still seated on your lap. His fingers encircle yours in what you initially deduce is acknowledgement of your solidarity, but what you quickly realise is something much more sinister.

"I cannot say I will heed your counsel, brother," It is then that Aegon grabs ahold of your hand, guiding you until your palm is cupping his hardened cock. "But you can trust that your council is solemnly heard."

Aemond watches you from above the rim of his chalice as he empties the final traces of his wine before placing his chalice back on the table. His exit is a slow one, one that has your anticipation expanding and Aegon's patience waning. In all honesty, hearing your valiant defence to preserve his dignity raised an intense feeling of desire in Aegon. Even though Aegon's only feeling ever, always seemed to be desire.

"Come here," He says once Aemond footsteps have echoed away, "I need your mouth," Despite his command, Aegon is already leaning in with his hand cupping the back of your skull. Soon, all you can smell is him. All you can feel is him. All you can taste is the drunken and sunken taste of him.

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, ripping a fresh groan from inside you as he twirls you into his lap. He has you arrested on him, his front to your back, with your arse pressed on his crotch. His hand on your face cranes your neck backwards and forces his mouth on yours, promising that even if you wanted to free yourself, you may never be able to.

"I love how you see me," He whispers, never breaking away too far, in fear of you disappearing, "How utterly pleased I am with the version of myself I see living in your eyes," His words spill out of him and slip inside your mouth bridged by your shared saliva.

"He is not useless. He is not pitiful," Aegon breaks away from the kiss, to lay a palm on your cheek.

As one hand lovingly strokes the side of your face, Aegon’s other hand is ravenous, as it palms your sensitive breasts through the bodice of your dress.

"Thank you for not judging me," He all but whimpers as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He breathes you in until his hips attempt to grind into you like a touch starved adolescent boy, while he ventures under your soft skirts.

"You don't have to thank me, Aegon." Your hands reach backwards to cradle his head into the crook of neck just as Aegon's fingers reach around to hook into the seat of your underwear. You aren't nearly as aroused as him, but somehow that fact has Aegon spiralling even further into arousal. His eyes are squeezed shut as he leans into you, smelling you, while his fingers drift over your pussy, searching desperately for a reaction.

"It is very rare that I find myself wanting to give any woman pleasure," Aegon's admits, with a low, dense drawl. His actions steal the breath from your very lungs as you feel the first sign of wetness begin to coat your underwear. He is in utter awe when he feels it. Quickly descending into a level of pleasure that he was not even sure existed, "I fucking love your cunt," He murmurs in his desperate drunken haze, "I wish to play with it and taste it and fuck it until you’re barely able to speak-"

"God's, Aegon!" Your voice is hoarse and your cries reach the highest rafter of the dining hall. Despite your degenerate wails, Aegon does little to stop them, in fact he encourages them, as his fingers push your underwear aside.

"When did you get so fucking wet?" The warmth of his breath fans against your cheeks, as he presses his front against your behind, "Did I get you this wet?" He asks, before getting the strongest surge of arousal as he whispers, "Did your King get you this wet?"

All you are able to accomplish is a nod as your mind explodes with vibrant visions of your near release. Soon, you're moving your hips in tandem with Aegon's fingers squeezing sloppily at your clit before rubbing with vicious surety.

"Please-"

"Call me by my title," He whispers, completely stripped from his sensibilities. "Tell your King to make you come," Aegon's brain is filled with what he suspects is determination. He is determined to see the most lecherous parts of you crack, and have it done by his design. He rubs your cunt with furious passion while he pushes up from underneath you, utterly destroyed by the idea of having a monopolised control over the workings of your body.

"Fuck- please my King!" The ache between your legs is as warm and erratic as Aegon's hands. "Please let me cum-"

"Tis only I, who can get My Lady this wet and needy," He murmurs, quite literally to himself, as he pushes his hips against your arse.

"Only you, My King." You decide to humour him, seeking the quickest way to your release, "Only you can make me cum," Throughout his tirade, Aegon's other, unoccupied hand has reached around and clasped itself against your throat. He is violent in his actions, squeezing deliriously until your throat is vacuumed of all its air. It's an utterly depraved situation you have both found yourselves in.

Anyone could decide to walk in at any moment and Aegon affirms as much. "You're such a pretty little whore, making a mess on my fingers like this. Fuck, The servants could decide to walk through at any moment," His grip on your throat relaxes, allowing you gasp hungrily for air while the first spots of your organs threaten to surge through you.

"P-Please, My King-"

"What would they think if they find you humping my hand like such a needy, little whore?" He is rubbing rough circles against your cunt until finally, you're unable to resist teetering on the edge much longer. As your orgasm washes over you, and your body shudders above him, Aegon's own orgasm is triggered as he forces your hips further onto the seat of his pants.

"My Lord," your voice is shallow but a restless tremor settles on your limbs, "Have you no shame," you're partially jesting, as you try to come back from your previous delirium.

"I've already been branded a devil," He says, "There is no Grace left to fall from."

<3

© to @mphountitled on tumblr; do not repost

[cumironi]

CAN'T YOU HANDLE IT, BABY?

satoru gojo, suguru geto. . . you are sitting there in the living room, drowning under the tongue-tied make-out sessions before your other boyfriends walk in, happily watching the two of you while touching himself.

beware : masturbating! satoru, hand-job! suguru, unprotected sex!, thigh-humping, light blowjob, doggy style, dirty talk, praise, name-calling.

w/c : 6.3k

[☆] MASTERLIST

as you find yourself nestled on the couch, you feel the warmth of suguru's lap beneath you. the soft murmur of the television creates a gentle ambiance in the room. Your hands delicately coil around suguru's neck, forming a tender connection. with a smile gracing your face, you lean in closer to the dark-haired man, closing the distance until your lips meet in a gentle, almost imperceptible touch.

you feel suguru's warm breath on your skin as you deepen the kiss, your bodies pressed close together. with suguru, the connection intensifies as you feel his warm breath caressing your skin, sending a shiver down your spine. the kiss deepens, igniting a passionate flame between you.

your bodies meld together, pressed tightly against one another as if wanting to merge into a single entity. the world around you fades away, leaving only the electrifying sensation of each other's presence. time seems to stand still as you savor this intimate moment, lost in the intoxicating embrace of your desires.

“mmmh...” he hummed as you leaned closer to him, pulling you closer to his chest. he loved it when you leaned against him— when you pressed against him... when you were close like this. one of his hands moved from your waist to your thigh, his fingers tracing over your legs with light and teasing touches. “you're enjoying yourself, aren't you?” he said in a smug tone, his hand trailing further up. he pulls away slightly to give you a beautiful smile, still face not too out of reach.

you find yourself growing flustered as his hand moves further up your thigh, his touch sending tingles through your body. his smug tone only adds to the heat spreading across your face, but at the same time, it fuels a hunger within you. you respond with a coy smile, your voice barely above a whisper, “enjoying myself? i can hardly focus on anything else when you're touching me like this.”

you bite your lip, trying to stifle a moan that threatens to escape. his hands on your bare leg are sending you over the edge, and heat pools in your lower region. you look down at him, your gaze half-lidded and sultry. suguru's smirk widens as he notices your growing blush and the way you bite your lip to hold back a moan. the sight of you looking down at him with a sultry gaze only encourages him to move his hand even further up your thigh, his touch gentle yet possessive.

“is that so?” he murmurs, his voice dripping with a seductive mix of amusement and desire. “then maybe i should keep touching you like this, just to make sure you really can't focus on anything else but me, no?” a soft, breathy chuckle leaves from his mouth, eye your lips for a second along with brushing the tip of his nose with yours.

“please. . . don't stop,” your hands ran through the long of his raven lock, soft and comforting. suguru's words send a wave of anticipation through you as he teases and tantalizes, his touch growing more deliberate as he continues to explore your body. “i love seeing you like this,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “so responsive to my touch. It makes me want to see just how far i can push you... how much more i can make you lose yourself in the moment.”

suguru notices your flustered expression and smirks at the effect he’s having on you. the sight of you becoming more and more unraveled under his touch only adds fuel to the fire within him. his hand glides further up your leg, his fingers tracing patterns just above your inner thigh. he leans in closer, his hot breath against your ear as he whispers, “don’t hold back, i want to hear every single sound you make.”

your breath hitches as you feel his fingers tracing patterns on your inner thigh, his hot breath against your ear sending shivers down your spine. “mmh. . . s-suguru...” you moan faintly, your voice catching in your throat. his words have you on edge, your body aching for more of his touch. you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, silently begging for more. “please...” you whisper, your voice quivering with need. “don't make me wait—touch me... i want you to touch me more.”

suguru's gaze locks with yours, his eyes darkened with desire. the heat between you is palpable, and it's clear that both of you are growing increasingly desperate for each other. his hand continues to wander, tracing gentle circles on your skin, never wandering close enough to where you truly want his touch. he leans in, his voice low and filled with a hint of playfulness, “are you getting impatient, sweetheart?”

you whine softly in response, your eyes pleading with him. the way he teases you, touching you everywhere but where you desperately crave his touch, is driving you crazy. “y-yes...” you admit, your voice is trembling. “i am getting impatient. i can't take much more of this teasing. i want- no, need you to touch me, suguru. please . .” begging, word by word hurriedly left your mouth the moment you mumbled on suguru's lips. your body is taut with tension, your fingers gripping the fabric of the couch as you try to keep yourself still. the anticipation is killing you.

as Suguru chuckles softly, his heart quickens with anticipation as he witnesses your undeniable longing for him and his touch. your eyes, filled with a cloud of lust and desire, are hooded, intensifying the allure between you. a warm breath escapes your lips, gently brushing against his face, further fueling the fire within.

suguru's hands embark on a map of your body, moving from your thigh to grasp a handful of your soft rear, exerting gentle pressure. your breath catches in your throat as you feel his hand grasping— touch firm yet controlled. with a tilt of his head, he leans in and playfully nibbles on your lower lip, igniting a surge of pleasure and sending a ripple of pleasure through you.

meanwhile, your free hand roams across his well-defined stomach, his abs, tracing the contours of his chiseled muscles beneath the velvety skin— feeling the warmth and firmness of his muscles beneath your touch. the tactile sensation leaves you captivated by his sculpted physique, further deepening the desire that courses through your veins.

you press yourself closer to him, your bodies now tightly pressed against one another. the desire coursing through your veins is almost overwhelming, leaving you craving more of his touch. “suguru...” you whisper, your voice laced with need. “please. . . keep- keep touching me like that.” a low, rumbling chuckle escapes suguru's lips, the sound sending a fresh surge of heat through your body. “you're so impatient, my sweet.”

as suguru's hands glide across your body, they venture towards your back, gently urging the fabric of your shirt to shift upwards without removing it completely, showing your bare back. with tantalizing anticipation, he reveals the beauty of your chest, his eyes feasting upon the sight. meanwhile, his lips embark on a sensual expedition, tracing a path along your neck, bestowing upon you a delicate symphony of the hot path of butterfly kisses and teasing nibbles. aach touch, light as a feather, ignites a spark of desire, leaving you yearning for more of his intoxicating presence.

“but you know i can't resist you when you ask me so nicely,” he murmurs, his voice gruff. “how could i deny you anything when you ask me so sweetly?” he mumbled against your burning skin. you shiver as suguru's hands slide along your back, shifting the fabric of your shirt and revealing your chest to him. the feel of his lips on your neck, leaving a trail of hot, teasing kisses and gentle nibbles, has your body arching into his touch, desperate for more.

your breath hitches as he murmurs in his low, rough voice, his words sending a wave of desire through you. “i just . . .“ you manage to gasp, your voice trembling, “i just want...more. i need- i need to feel you. everywhere.” suguru's lips move under until he meets with the soft flesh of your breasts. his lips each by each, sloppy and sensational intertwined with your hardened and sensitive bud, taking it openly by his mouth and meeting the warmth of his tongue.

you immediately throw your head backward out of reflex, a soft moan escaping from your pretty lips— bite them to hold back any other lewd sounds as pleasure washes over you in waves, hands gripping the head of the couch to ground yourself. hour eyes close at feeling the pleasure of his tongue, and you bite down on your bottom lip. a sigh softly escapes your lips as you feel his tongue begin to tease you. “suguru..” you softly whisper.

his tongue lightly begins circling you in a slow, teasing manner. he can feel and hear your soft and sweet sighs, it’s all music to his ears. he feels your fingers run through his hair slightly pulling on it, this only encourages him to continue. his hands grasp lightly at your thighs. his nose rubs up against you as he teases every inch of you, his hands still holding you in place. “mm-mmh . .” You feel the vibration of his hum as he does so.

your free hand moves slowly from his body, leaving a trail of electricity jolt until your palm lands on his bulge, throbbing and hardened under the black tight boxer. suguru's breath hitches as you fondle his growing erection through the fabric of his boxers. his hips jerk forward slightly, seeking more contact and pressure. je gazes at you with wide, desperate eyes, his own hands trembling as they hover near your breasts, aching to touch. “please...”

a loud moan escapes suguru's lips as he suckles on your nipple, his hands reaching up to squeeze and play with your other breast. his body trembles with need as your hand touches the bulge, making his hips thrust forward instinctively. “fuck...” your warm hand maps his erection purposely, painfully slowly, touching every vein with the end of your finger as suguru throws his head back to the couch, giving the length a light squeeze before trailing down to his balls, heavy, twitching under your touch.

suguru's breathing becomes heavier as you move down his body, his hands clenching and unclenching with anticipation. when you reach his balls, he lets out a low groan, his legs spreading wider apart to give you better access. “yess . . . just like that...” feeling your warm breath against his sensitive skin sends a shiver through suguru's body, causing him to arch off the couch slightly. “ahh, fuck...” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of your fingers teasingly circling his throbbing member.

with every passing moment, his excitement grows, his heart pounding wildly within his chest. “darling,” his voice breaks into a needy whimper, “i want more . . .” Inching closer towards you, he reaches out, tracing the outline of your jawline with his fingertips. “you're driving me crazy here...”

once his dick is free from the suffocating of his tight boxer— hard and shudders as a pre cum comes out from the tip, down to his length. you sit on one of his tight as your lips continue kissing his neck, giving him a hickey and bruised. your finger wrapped around his base, moving slowly up and down.

suguru gasps sharply when your mouth latches onto his neck, the slight sting of pain only heightens his arousal. “darling. . .” he breathes out, tilting his head to grant you easier access to mark his skin with your passionate kisses. as your fingers begin stroking along the length of his rigid cock, suguru's hips buck involuntarily, seeking more of that delicious friction. “ahh—yes... just like that,” he pants, his hands coming to rest on your waist, fingers digging gently into your flesh.

lost in the haze of pleasure, suguru's usually stoic demeanor melts away, replaced by a raw, desperate desire for you. “more, please... i need to feel you,” he begs softly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intense, pleading gaze. you sniggle on his jaw, giving the skin a few pecks before saying, “be patient, my love, let me touch you first.” a slight biting of his adam's apple brings out a low groan from suguru.

“patience is not my strong suit right now,” suguru admits huskily, feeling a flush spread across his cheeks at your words. despite his impatience though, he complies with your request, allowing himself to be thoroughly explored and pleasured by your talented hands. the feeling of your teeth grazing against his sensitive skin sends another jolt of pleasure coursing through him. “mmm... don't stop,” he urges between ragged breaths, feeling increasingly vulnerable yet incredibly turned on beneath your ministrations.

you hear the sound of the front door opening and closing, signaling satoru's return from work. your attention is immediately diverted and you turn your head to catch a glimpse of him as he enters the living room. as he steps into view, satoru's eyes fall upon the sight of suguru with you on his lap, your shirt slightly askew, exposing your chest to him. satoru's expression is a mix of surprise and intrigue.

“well, well, what have we here?” satoru teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

he takes off his blindfold and the first thing his cerulean blue eyes caught was the sight of suguru geto, head throwing back to the head of the couch as a moan and groan left his glossy lips with you kissing his neck, hands going up and down on his dick. satoru takes in the sight before him, noticing the pleasure and ecstasy etched on suguru's face as you shower his neck with kisses and caresses. his expression is one of interest, mixed with a hint of playfulness.

he saunters closer to the couch, his strides slow and deliberate, his eyes flickering between the two of you. satoru leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. “hey, don't mind me,” he grins, “just enjoying the show.” you smile sweetly and greet him with love to your other boyfriends before licking down to suguru's neck while your hands move faster on his throbbing dick.

watching satoru enter the room doesn't seem to faze suguru much. instead, it appears to fuel his arousal further. his back arches even more off the couch, pressing deeper into your warm body as he gazes up at the ceiling with lust-filled eyes. “ahh, fuck...” he whimpers softly when your tongue darts out once again to trace over his sensitive skin, leaving behind a trail of wetness that contrasts starkly with the heat radiating from his body.

as satoru makes himself comfortable nearby, watching you both, suguru can't help but let loose another soft moan— this time directed more at satoru than yourself— drawing your mutual lover’s attention even more firmly onto him.

“feel good, baby? can you handle it?” you whisper in his ear. “do you love it when satoru watches you getting fuck by my hands, hm?” your honey voice usually sounds calm and happy now dripping with sensuality, filthy, suguru thinks even.

a slight squeeze from your warm grip sent suguru almost into a coma, drowning in the sea of pleasure. Your hips slowly move on his bare thigh, “can you feel me, honey?” you kiss his jaw, still smiling as your eyes never leave satoru's blue irises, “can you feel my wet pussy?” your hips move, purposely smearing your wetness all over his thigh.

suguru shudders violently under the onslaught of sensations bombarding him— the expert touch of your skilled hands working his sensitive length, the searing heat of your breath against his skin, and those tantalizing words whispered into his ear. and then there’s satoru’s presence nearby, watching them with evident fascination.

“g-god,” he groans loudly, throwing his head back further as you tighten your grip on his cock. each pulse and throb of pleasure makes him squirm delightfully on your lap. “i-i can feel everything,” he confesses hoarsely, looking towards Satoru over your shoulder.

a wide grin spreads across suguru's flushed features at the thought of what they might be doing behind closed doors— a fantasy that sends another wave of arousal surging through him. “yes... oh god, yes,” suguru's hips jerk reflexively as he feels the cool air hit his slickened thigh where your wet folds had been rubbing against him mere moments ago. . . the visual of his arousal smeared against satoru's pale skin and the knowing glint in the older man's eye is enough to push suguru closer to the edge.

“ah! yes, darling... more!” suguru demands desperation lacing his voice as he writhes beneath your touch. His hands grasp at your thighs, trying to pull you impossibly closer to his straining erection. “please— shit! i'm so close already...” suguru's eyelids flutter shut as he focuses all his attention on the building pressure inside him, each stroke of your fingers coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap.

you moan as you keep on humping suguru's thigh. satoru's long limb brings him over to behind the couch as he gets undressed, piece by piece— from his jacket uniform to his similar boxer like suguru's while a smirk is still visible on his lips as he looks down at you. your smile, your sweet, sweet smile greet him warmly as you look up.

“s-satoru . .” you moan his name.

“so pretty,” he mumbles as he kisses your lips.

“keep moaning my name baby, keep, keep moving,” he mumbles on your lips. his slightly cold finger pinches your chin. the sudden interruption of satoru's soft lips crashing against your own is like a match to dry tinder, sending suguru hurtling towards the climax with lightning speed. a choked cry rips itself from his throat, muscles tensing and releasing in rhythmic waves as you milk him dry.

“fuck, mmm. . .” his body trembles uncontrollably beneath your touches as orgasm overtakes every inch of his being— leaving him panting heavily and utterly spent underneath you on the couch. but even amidst the aftermath, suguru can't help but crane his neck upwards to steal surreptitious glimpses at their shared lover who'd just interrupted this intimate moment between them; fascination shimmering brightly within those hazel orbs despite how sated he appears now.

while your lips are deep between satoru's cold one, your hand moves faster. knowingly the twitching of suguru's dick around your palm and the shaking of his thigh under you. he is close to the edge.

suguru's entire world narrows down to the sensation of your deft fingers pumping his oversensitive shaft and the warmth of satoru's lips pressed insistently against yours. it's too much, too intense, and yet he craves more. with a sharp gasp, suguru's vision blurs at the edges as the telltale tingles begin racing up his spine once again. he tries to stave off the impending release, desperate to prolong this exquisite torment, but it's no use. his climax barrels towards him like a freight train, unstoppable and merciless.

“s-satoru, darling, ahh!” suguru cries out, arching his back sharply as the dam finally bursts inside him. his cock pulses erratically in your grip, spurting hot ropes of seed all over your hand and possibly even the couch cushions below. . . you retreat from the kiss to gaze at your other boyfriends. his chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath

collecting all the cum left with your two fingers, your other free pulling satoru by his neck. as if he understands what you were going to do, satoru stuck his tongue a little for you to gladly feed him with suguru cum before back to intertwine with his lips, his tongue pressing yours and giving you the sweet taste of suguru cum as a reward.

the sight of you feeding satoru straight from the source would've been hotter if suguru hadn't just come like a geyser all over your damn couch cushion— the sight enough to send suguru spiraling into an aftershock, his body convulsing weakly beneath you. but even though he's a quivering mess beneath you, he can't tear his gaze away from the spectacle, from the intimate display unfolding right before his eyes.

sweat trickles down suguru's forehead, trailing lines through the dusting of fluff scattered across his hairline— remnants of the previous night's sexcapades between him and satoru. yet amidst the chaos of sticky flesh and lustful.

his heart throbs painfully within his chest as a surge of love swells up inside him— an emotion so strong and consuming it threatens to choke him right then and there. he watches entranced as Satoru eagerly laps up every last drop you offer him— a silent affirmation of their shared desire for one another that leaves suguru feeling strangely fulfilled and complete.

“mmm... so good,” he murmurs dreamily, letting himself sink deeper into the plush cushions of the couch while he continues to watch the lovers exchange heated kisses filled with unspoken promises. even though suguru was thoroughly depleted after his powerful orgasm, a fresh wave of desire washed over him at the sight of his lovers indulging in such a lewd display. to see you feeding satoru straight from your palm like some kind of perverse appetizer . . . only served to fan the embers of longing flickering deep within him.

the image etched into his mind would likely haunt him later when things calmed down, but right now...right here, it just felt right. and suguru couldn't deny that he loved being part of this messed-up, passionate triangle. he wanted to continue exploring every corner it offered.

as the sensual dance of tongues slows and you pull away, the afterglow of intense satisfaction still shines bright in suguru's hazel eyes. however, his chest heaves slightly more rapidly than usual as he takes in a lungful of air. feeling satoru near you again makes him stir slightly, rolling his torso toward where satoru stands comfortably behind the couch.

“you sure know how to share our love,” he teases softly, reaching out tentatively with a shaky hand to trace idle patterns over your thigh closest to him on the couch. “why don't we move to our bedroom?” suguru suggest.

“no, let's just stay here,” you mumble.

suguru kisses your shoulder as he moves behind you and takes off your shirt to leave you with nothing underneath. you can feel his still-hard dick press against your ass. suguru nuzzles into the crook of your neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of your skin mixed with the musk of their combined arousal lingering in the air. his lips trail up your jawline, leaving a warm path of desire etched into your flesh. as he pulls back, suguru gazes deeply into your eyes, his expression open and loving.

“my sweetheart, are you certain you wouldn't prefer the comfort of our bed?” he asks tenderly, though the hardness of his still-erect cock grinding slowly against your buttocks belies his true intentions. suguru knows all too well how you enjoy playing rough and dirty when caught up in the throes of passion— and right now, his desires are burning brighter than ever.

“positive,” you answer.

suguru pushes your back until both of your palms rest against the headboard, eye-to-eye with satoru's dick as you look up at him while the white-haired man is already looking down at you, eyes glassing with hunger, eyeing you like nothing but prey for his to savor. suguru push your hip upward, flashing him with your wet pussy. “beautiful,” he smiles, lightly spank your ass. “arch your back for me, baby?” he asks before pushing his dick into your dripping wall.

at suguru's command, you obediently arch your back, presenting yourself fully to him. your heart pounds wildly in your chest as anticipation courses through your veins, making every nerve ending tingle with excitement. feeling the head of his hard length tease against your entrance sends a shudder rippling across your form. then, with a low groan of pleasure, suguru thrusts forward, burying himself deep inside you.

the sensation is indescribable— the heat, the pressure, the sheer fullness that has you gasping aloud. yet despite the intensity of it all, there's something comforting about having both men surrounding you— supporting and loving you unconditionally . . .

your hips buck involuntarily against him as he begins to set a slow rhythm— each thrust pushing him further into your slick depths while also rubbing delicious friction against sensitive spots hidden within your core. suguru's eyelids flutter shut as he loses himself in the velvety embrace of your clenching walls. every subtle undulation of your inner muscles feels like a personal caress, urging him to lose control and fuck you with wild abandon.

“gorgeous,” he whispers hoarsely, punctuating his words with a particularly deep, forceful plunge. “love watching my dick disappear into your tight cunt,” gis hands come to rest on your waist, gripping possessively as he increases the pace of his thrusts. the room fills with the symphony of slapping skin and ragged breaths, an erotic soundtrack to the lewd act playing out before satoru's hungry gaze.

suguru leans down, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss as he continues to rut into you with primal desperation, his tongue mimicking the brutal motion of his hips. watching you being taken from behind, satoru’s dick pulses painfully with need. he reaches down, stroking himself faster as he lets out soft moans of approval. seeing suguru buried balls-deep inside your wet warmth is enough to make even this normally reserved man succumb to base instincts.

a bead of precum forms at the tip of his dick, sliding down its length in thick rivulets. with each pump of his hand, more clear fluid oozes forth— coating his fingers and soaking into the fabric covering his lap. but it isn’t just the visual stimulation that has him panting like a horny teenager; it’s also knowing that suguru gets to see exactly how much he loves watching them together.

“god... i could watch you get fucked like this all day,” satoru groans out between heavy pants, trailing kisses down your spine while his fist moves frantically. suguru’s voice grows more husky with each word as he praises your beauty and flexibility, his cock twitching inside you in response. he relishes the way your pert rear bounces with every powerful thrust, your soft cheeks rippling enticingly as he fucks you senseless.

“fucking hell, you're taking me so well,” he grunts, sweat beading on his brow from exertion. “love seeing my fat cock stretch you wide open, sweetheart.” withdrawing almost completely, suguru slams his dick back in, the force of his renewed assault making you cry out in ecstasy. “oh . . my. god,” you cried, back arches sharply, pressing your lips against satoru's straining erection once more. this time, as suguru starts pounding into you at a frenzied pace, you can taste the salty tang of satoru's precum mingling with your own essence on your tongue.

suguru grunts in appreciation as he feels your slick walls clench around him, milking his shaft with each powerful thrust. his own movements become more erratic, driven by the intoxicating sight of you taking him so willingly, your face flushed with pleasure and your eyes glazed over in bliss. “oh, fuck yes... look at you, so perfect for us,” he growls, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his rhythm. “taking my cock like a good little slut, aren't you?”

“y-yes, please.”

as if to emphasize his point, suguru reaches around to rub your clit in time with his strokes, sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your trembling form. the added stimulation proves to be the final straw, and you can feel your climax building at breakneck speed.

“come on, baby, show me those tits!” satoru whining. encouraged by satoru's eager plea, you throw your head back and let out a loud moan, giving in to the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. your breasts jut out proudly, nipples hardened into peaks begging for attention.

“that's it... show off for us,” suguru commands, smacking one plump mound before leaning down to capture a nipple between his teeth. a sharp intake of breath escapes him as he suckles on the sensitive bud vigorously, drawing it deeper into his mouth while continuing to pound relentlessly into your dripping slit below.

your orgasm hits like a freight train, causing your entire frame to convulse violently as waves upon waves of pleasure crash over you. suguru rides out your climax alongside you, his own release imminent as he finally gives in to the overwhelming urge to fill you up.

“you're going to cum for us, aren't ya?”

���p-please, i wanna cum,” you begged.

“you're such a good girl. . .” suguru murmurs appreciatively, leaning down to capture one of your nipples between his teeth. a sharp tug sends sparks shooting straight to your core, amplifying the growing coil of tension there. his fingers work tirelessly on your clit, rubbing circles over the sensitive bud while driving you closer and closer toward obliviation. each stroke draws another moan from deep within your throat— loud enough for both men to hear clearly.

as suguru's relentless pounding drives you closer and closer to the edge, you can barely think straight. all rational thought leaves your mind as waves of pleasure ripple through your body. and then, without warning, everything snaps into focus.

“suguru... i'm—” you whimper, unable to finish your sentence. your body trembles under their combined weight, each thrust driving deeper than the last until it feels like you're being split apart from within. suddenly, without warning, your climax crashes over you like a tidal wave. your pussy clenches tightly around suguru's throbbing member as pleasure explodes throughout your entire being, rendering you momentarily speechless.

“s-shit!” you cry out loudly, throwing your head back and letting loose a series of high-pitched screams that echo throughout the room. as your pussy spasms wildly around his thrusting cock, suguru's climax crests, triggering a torrent of hot semen to flood your insides. “there . . . my, good baby,” he groans deeply, the sound muffled against your breast as he buries his face in your cleavage, his hips stuttering erratically as he empties himself into you.

through it all, satoru watches intently, his dick throbbing with need as he frantically jerks himself off, coating his fist in copious amounts of precum. the sight of suguru losing control and filling you up is too much for him to bear, and with a strangled cry, he finally allows himself to cum, painting his stomach with thick ropes of jizz as he rides out his intense orgasm.

suguru's grip tightens on your hip as he rides out his orgasm, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up with his warm seed. each spurt sends another wave of pleasure coursing through his body, causing him to shudder uncontrollably. his breathing comes in ragged gasps as he slowly regains control over his senses, doesn't get a chance to pull his dick out before your pussy clenches around and slightly leans down towards satoru, taking his dick into your mouth as you clean his cum.

satoru's eyes widen in surprise as he feels your mouth envelop his still-hardening cock, but he doesn't protest. instead, a low moan escapes his throat as he leans back against the pillows, enjoying the sensation of your warm, wet tongue lapping up the remnants of his release. satoru looks on, a mix of awe and desire etched on his features as he watches you service his boyfriend so eagerly. his own spent cock twitches in response, already beginning to stir anew at the erotic display unfolding before him.

satoru lets out a low moan as he feels your lips enveloping his still-hard length, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your back. “that's right, take care of me,” he whispers huskily, his voice laced with satisfaction and arousal. he watches with half-lidded eyes as you bob your head up and down along his shaft, cleaning away every trace of his cum. the sensation of having you suckle on him after such an intense session sends another surge of desire coursing through him.

“mmm, just like that, baby,” suguru encourages, gently guiding your head as you bob up and down along his length. “show satoru what a good little cocksucker you are.” satoru lets out a low moan as he feels your lips enveloping his still-hard length, his fingers tracing lazy patterns across your back.

feeling your lips envelop his still-hard length ups and downs, satoru lets out a low moan of satisfaction. je leans back against the back of the couch, his fingers gently combing through your hair as you take care of cleaning him up. “god, that feels incredible,” he murmurs appreciatively, his other hand lightly stroking your cheek. “you really know how to take care of a man, don't you?” his glossy lips flashing you a lazy smile.

suguru fell on the couch beside you, watching you going up and down toward satoru with your knees buried in the soft material. the sight of you kneeling between them, taking care of both their needs simultaneously is enough to make suguru's heart swell with pride and affection. he reaches out a hand, brushing it gently over your backside as he watches you work diligently on satoru's cock.

“just look at you,“ he purrs approvingly, his gaze locked onto the erotic scene unfolding before him. “so beautiful and devoted.” his thumb brushes teasingly over the sensitive skin just above where datoru enters your mouth, adding another layer of sensation to an already overwhelming experience. despite being thoroughly spent, there's no denying that seeing you like this has reignited something deep within him.

you pull satoru's dick out of your lip with a ’bop', cleaning all of his cum from his dick. a satisfied hum vibrates out of satoru's lips. his thumb gently caresses your lower lips before licking the remaining cum, smiling as you flop beside suguru with satoru following along beside you. your eyes are closed as you try to catch your breath. with a contented sigh, satoru leans back against the couch, his chest heaving slightly as he catches his breath. his eyes remain fixed on you, a warm, appreciative smile playing on his lips.

“thank you, baby,” he says softly, reaching out to gently stroke your cheek once more. “you always know just what to do to make me feel so good.” suguru moves to sit up properly, his gaze never leaving yours. there's a spark of desire in his eyes, a promise of more to come.

“so, what do you say we order some pizza and watch a movie together? we can cuddle up on the couch and just relax for a bit,” he suggests, his voice low and inviting. “unless you have something else in mind, of course...” satoru kisses your shoulder “let her rest first baby, she is doing a great job today,” suguru chirped, sweeping away the sweat on your forehead. he leans down to give the white-haired man a wholehearted peck.

satoru nods in agreement, leaning over to press a gentle kiss on suguru's lips. “you're right, let's give her a break for now,” he agrees, his voice soft and soothing. “we can always have another round later if she's up for it.” he turns his attention back to you, offering you a warm, comforting smile. “why don't you go take a nice long bath and relax for a while? we'll bring you some food and snacks, and then we can curl up together on the couch for a movie marathon.”

you were panting softly, your vision still a little hazy from the intense pleasure. your body felt both tired and relaxed. you took his suggestion gladly, knowing you needed to take it slow. “that sounds lovely,” you responded, sitting up, still feeling a bit lightheaded. “can you help me get up?” satoru smiles softly, immediately moving to your side to help you up, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist to support you.

suguru helps satoru assist you up from the floor, supporting you gently as you wobble on shaky legs. “there's my good girl,” suguru coos, guiding you toward the bathroom. “go take care of yourself, we've got everything under control here.”

“look at you, always so sensitive even when we are gentle with you,” he teases, giving your shoulder a light kiss. you let out a soft huff as you roll your eyes, but secretly enjoy the teasing. “and you two are always so demanding,” you respond with a hint of sass, trying to maintain your usual banter. satoru chuckles, his shoulders shaking slightly as a laugh. “hey, can you blame us? you always look and sound too damn good when we touch you,” he responds, giving your waist a small squeeze.

your blush deepens at his words, a mixture of embarrassment and flattery. you try to brush it off, replying with a slightly sarcastic tone. “oh, shut up and get me to the bathroom already.” suguru is walking behind both of you, shaking his head fondly. they both knew just how to push your buttons in the best ways possible.

[satowooo]

YOU GET ME SO HIGH

Ah, did Satoru hear you right when you called him daddy?

warnings. 18+, nsfw, smut, breeding kink, pet names, daddy kink, pussy slapping, oral (f! receiving), swearing, dirty, talks, unprotected sex (p in v), not proofread.

The first time Satoru heard you call him “daddy” was when you were talking about him with your little son, and he didn't expect for his dick to throb so hard against his pants when he hears those words escape your pretty lips.

It turned him on, and God, he can't believe he just discovered a new kink of his just by hearing you utter a single harmless word in front of your child.

“Come on, sweetheart, Daddy will take you to grandmas, okay?” You tell your little kid, kissing him on the cheek before you wave your goodbye. Satoru's eyes sparked with lust, and he swears he almost feels his mouth watering with need, if not because of you suddenly handing him your son and his little backpack.

He coughed, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Daddy will be back,” he whispers to your ear teasingly, nibbling lightly on your earlobe. “See you later, love.”

Satoru, on his part, just couldn't help his growing erection every time it happened, so he made sure that you'll be saying that endearment everytime you two are in bed. And what's the perfect timing for it to happen than now?

“What's that again, love?” His voice was muffled against your core, lapping at your folds like a madman. He kept your legs spread open wide apart as his tongue licks a long stripe of your hole, making you squirm in his grasp.

“Toru-”

“Ah, ah, not that, baby.” He smiled, pulling his tongue away so he could look up at you from where he was positioned right between your thighs.

You closed your eyes tightly, a small whine escaping your lips at the loss of his touch. You don't even know how you ended up here, sprawled out on your bed, right after Satoru just got home from taking your son to his grandparents. It happened so fast that your mind was too cloudy to even process it, now that Satoru had you right under his grasp, urging you to call him with this new nickname he had grown to like.

“P-please, stop teasing,” you couldn't help but groan, your fingers tugging on his hair to pull him closer. “I need to cum, Satoru…”

“Patience, my love.” He chuckled, rubbing circles on your clit to keep you sated. He admires the way your face flushed, mouth parted as you grind yourself on his fingers. The way you desperately look so fucked out of your mind with the way he was eating your pussy easily made his cock twitched inside his pants. “Come on, let me hear it.”

“Please, Toru…” You whimpered, eyes heavy-lidded as you looked at him. He had the widest grin on his face, shaking his head tauntingly at the name you called him. Your chest was heaving so heavily, hands gripping the sheets just to have something to keep yourself in control, even though you're already out of it, “Please… daddy, p-please…”

Gods above, your voice, your moan, your pleas, a siren song that he wishes he could just drown himself into. He can feel his arousal growing and growing each second, the way your words just fuels his desire to just bend your over your knees and fuck you senseless until you can't walk for a few weeks. Maybe he'll do that, yeah?

“Fuck,” he curses underneath his breath, plunging two fingers right at your hole. “Such a good girl for me, aren't you?” His eyes darkened, before he dived right in between your thighs to devour you once again.

His tongue licked on your folds, your wetness coating his lips and fingers, his drool dripping on the corner of his mouth at how messy he's gotten. So dirty, and so intoxicated. He drinks your every essence, sucking your clit like it was a drug he had become addicted to, and he won't stop until you're quivering against him, begging and writhing for more.

“Ohh! Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Your moans echo through the room, hips bucking at the intense sensation of his tongue lapping at your needy cunt. “D-daddy, more, more–”

Satoru hummed, smiling to himself as he hears your whiny voice. “You're asking for it, aren't you?” He kissed your cunt softly, lovingly, and so sloppily that it got you whimpering. “Who's making you feel this good, huh, baby? Who's making this cunt so wet and so needy for more?” Another thrust, another pump of his fingers. Another lick, and another suck of his tongue. It's too much. All too good.

You let out a gasp, your legs almost closing on his head, the way his words, so dirty and unforgivingly teasing with you, made you want to crumble instantly. “You, Satoru–”

“Who?”

You gasp harshly when his fingers smack against your cunt, back arching off the bed, the sting it brought to your system spreading like wildfire that ignited your lust even more. “Sato-” and another smack, your hips shaking of pain and pleasure, “fuck– d-daddy~ daddy makes me feel so g-good…”

“Gotta have to get used to that, baby,” leaning in, he starts to make out with your folds once again, “because I'm not stopping until all I hear is you screaming and begging for more of my touch,” he lets go of your cunt with a loud pop, licking your bud one more time before he sits up, grinning at you spread out before him. “More of my dick, more of my cum.”

He starts to unbuckle his belt, pulling his pants down until his cock angrily sprung free to sight, leaking with his pre-cum. He positioned himself right at your entrance, leaning down to nip at your neck, “Gonna make this pussy cum for her daddy.” Satoru grunts as he pushes inside you, inch by inch, your pussy slowly sucking him in. He let out a hiss as you clenched tightly around him, “fuck yeah, ya like that, don't you?”

“S-so good, feels so good, daddy…” His jaw clenched as he starts to ram his dick on your gummy walls, stretching you open with his size. You were already going crazy about his cock, your tight cunt already gripping on him like you don't want to let go. And he enjoys it so much, hearing your whiny voice, all just for him.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of this pussy,” he growled, lifting your leg up to his shoulders. His thrusts begin to increase its pace, making sure he hits your g-spot time and time again. He relished into your pleasure, his cock slamming right at you with great force that it had you seeing stars. No matter how many times he fucked you so hard, he never fails to give you the pleasure you need, never fails to hit your sweet spot, never fails to make you cum intensely.

And Satoru just loves it. He loves the way his little wife is taking his cock so well inside her sobbing pussy, maybe he'll even fuck another baby in there, he just really loves the way your pussy slushes and quelches everytime he's so deep inside of you, and here you are, whimpering and moaning and begging just the way he wants you. But most especially, he just loves the way you call out for him, whether by his name or that silly endearment that unexpectedly turned him on, he's just really that addicted to you that he can't find it in himself to stop, making sure that he had claimed you at all the right places, all the right holes, as he pleases.

“So perfect, so fucking perfect for her daddy.”

Oh, and did he mention that he just loves you so much?

•••

BONUS

“He's such a sweet boy,” Satoru’s mom entered the house, your son cradled in her arms, resting him on the couch.

“Of course, he takes that from me,” he smirked to himself, taking a seat next to his son, who quickly found his way to his lap. He immediately feels his heart melt as he guides his son properly, a hand on his back so he won't lose balance. “Did my boy miss me?” He muttered, poking his son's cheek that made the little baby giggle.

“I doubt that,” he hears his mother reply. She takes a look around the living room, nodding silently, “Where's Y/N? I want to see my daughter-in-law.”

Satoru bit back a smile threatening to spread on his lip. “She's sleeping. She had been really exhausted… with houseworks,” his eyes glinted when his son reached for his hand, playing with his slender fingers, "and taking care of this bad boy,” he added, poking his son's cheek again. Satoru carried his son by the armpit, raising him up in the air, before he leaned down to softly bite the child on the cheek with his lips, making his son laugh and squirm in delight.

“Are you not helping her, Satoru?” His mother eyed him disapprovingly, crossing her arms across her chest. “I see you're as useless as ever.”

“I am helping her, Mom!” Satoru raised one hand defensively, frowning at his mother. He gently placed his son off his lap and back to the couch, before he stood up and headed over to his mom. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, and forcibly took her to the door. “Now, now, mom, I'm afraid I must have my time with my son. You should go.” He said, pushing her out gently.

“Oh, you child!” His mother muttered against her breath, swatting his hand away from her shoulder. Satoru kissed her cheek, offering her a boyish smile that he knew would make his mother relent to him. She only frowned at his face. “Fine, I'll go. You should tell Y/N to let us have your son with us again, at least for a week.”

“Oh, certainly!” He lightened up suddenly, his tone excited and mind silently cheering, a little too excited that his mom gave him a look.

“I swear, you're not my son.”

Satoru just lets out a laugh as he waves her goodbye. His mind was already racing with thoughts of when he can have you alone again, for a week this time.

i was typing this furiously for over an hour

[playnextdoor]

I adore you puppy

summary: you and caitlyn try a collar and a leash

CW: swearing, drinking, slight intoxication, dom! caitlyn, the reader wears a collar and leash, the reader is referred to as "puppy" but its not petplay, slight slapping (i love it idc), Cait is a little mean (whats new), reader's chest is referred to as 'breasts', fingering (r! receiving), not really proofread despite it sitting in my drafts for the past week

The thought of introducing your kinks to Caitlyn crosses your mind one drunken night. Red wine makes you horny and tired, and you stretch out on the couch, trying to look seductive, but in reality, it looks like you’re struggling not to fall. Caitlyn, practically sober as she watches you, finds it endearing.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say, slurring slightly as you sit up and sip wine from your sleek glass. Caitlyn’s eyes follow how your tongue traces the rim of the glass, lingering on your lips. You’re oblivious to the effect you have on her. She wants to take you to bed, cradle your darling face, and perhaps tease you a little. But her respect for you keeps her patient, she’ll wait until you’re sober.

Caitlyn glances up from her book, the candlelight casting a warm glow over the left side of her face.

“What do ya think..” you hiccup, earning a soft laugh from her, “of me wearing a collar?”You finish the thought as you empty your glass.

Caitlyn blinks in surprise and then shakes her head, chuckling under her breath.

“I’m not opposed,” she says, her body leaning toward yours. Her movement invites a kiss, and you meet her halfway. She plants one kiss on the corner of your mouth, then presses her lips softly to yours, letting it linger. Before she can deepen it, you jab a finger into her chest.

“You didn’t answer my question,” you mumble, your half-lidded eyes locking with hers. Her calm and composed expression only fuels your anticipation. She smiles softly.

“Yes, I think you’d look adorable,” she replies, taking your hand gently from her chest. “But I think you’ll feel better in the morning if you drink some water and lie down.”

Rolling your eyes, you leave her and stumble toward the kitchen. As you giggle, you hear Caitlyn’s quick footsteps behind you. She’s close, ready to catch you if you trip down the long staircase.

Two nights later, you waited for her arrival, just as you did most nights. The moon illuminated her room, highlighting its true size and casting a soft glow over everything. Your eyes lingered on the intricate mosaic paintings adorning the tall ceilings. The sheets on her bed, smooth and luxurious, wrapped around you like a silky sateen ocean.

Her familiar footsteps echoed in the hallway, each heavy boot fall growing closer. She opened the door gently, unaware that you were already awake, and your body turned toward her. You watched her undress like a creep, not that she would mind. Loosening her dark blue, almost black hair from its ponytail, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. Facing away from you, she began to undress. You couldn’t help but muffle your giggles as you notice her struggle, nearly tripping over her feet while shedding the multiple layers of clothing.

“Cait,” you whispered harshly for the third time, startling her. She dropped her eyepatch, the final item she had been removing. Clutching her chest, she spun toward you, her expression shifting into a defeated smile.

“Sorry,” you murmured softly.

She shook her head, silently dismissing your apology, and approached you with something hidden behind her back.

“I have something for you,” she whispered, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. Despite her composed demeanor, she kept her voice low, as if the guards a few halls down might hear. “Take a look.”

You sat up in the tangle of sheets, and Caitlyn steadied herself by placing a knee on the bed.

She pulled out a small black box, just large enough to fit in her slim hand. As she opened it toward herself, she bit her lip.

“You’re gonna kill me,” she muttered.

When she finally turned the box toward you, your breath hitched. Inside lay a beautiful black leather collar, accented with a silver pendant. The shining cursive letters spelling Kirramman’s made your cheeks flush.

“Caitlyn! Have you lost your mind?” you half whispered exclaimed, playfully shoving her shoulder. Her eyes met yours, and her soft smile mirrored your embarrassment. Both of you blushed like awkward teenagers on a first date.

“I only asked one person to make it, and I promise they don’t know its intended use,” she replied, pulling the collar from its box. The protective cotton piece fell away, revealing a silver chain attached to the leather. She tested the leash, letting the metal clink softly as she ran her fingers over it.

“And what exactly is the intended purpose?” you asked, a devious smile creeping across your lips. You already knew the answer; you were the one who’d suggested it, duh.

Caitlyn shrugged, faking innocence. “To remind you of your place. You’ve had trouble listening lately,” she teased, her smug grin now firmly in place. Her gaze locked onto yours, silently seeking permission without pressuring you.

Her words sent heat coursing through you. Caitlyn’s authoritative tone, paired with the quiet, deliberate attention she always gave you, left you squeezing your thighs together.

“You need to tell me, my love,” she said, snapping you out of your thoughts. Her finger tilted your chin upward, forcing you to meet her eyes.

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you stammered, blinking up at her. Her tall figure seemed to grow even more imposing, towering over you as her voice wrapped around you like a command.

“No, no, no,” Caitlyn laughed, and you couldn’t tell if she found your reaction cute or pathetic—probably both. “It’s yes…?” she prompted, her tone expectant.

Her fingers trailed down from your chin to your neck, gripping it gently. The slight pressure made your breath hitch, and you barely suppressed a moan.

“Yes, miss,” you finally whispered.

"Oh, come on now, up," Caitlyn commands.

She sits gracefully, wearing nothing but lacy black panties and a loosely tied silky blue robe, her black eyepatch in place just as it was that morning. The way her legs cross so effortlessly has you shifting uncomfortably in your current position.

You're nearly nude, just your underwear and the collar you'd so desperately wanted to wear. Now, with Caitlyn checking on you every minute to make sure you're okay, the caress of her fingers over your cheek, the weight of it feels all too real.

You perch yourself on the sofa beside her, glancing up. She notices everything-the slight sheen in your eyes, the unsteady rise and fall of your chest, and the way the metal leash gleams as it dangles between you. Her hand remains steady on the handle, a subtle reminder of how she’s in control.

"You've been good, yeah?" she asks softly, her hand lifting to cup your cheek. You can’t help but lean into it. Her thumb brushes gently across your skin, leaving you warm and utterly undone beneath her touch.

You nod, but Caitlyn gives you a light slap across your cheek.

You nod, but Caitlyn lightly slaps your cheek.

“Speak,” she demands, her words sharp. You shrink under her gaze, feeling yourself grow small.

“Yes, miss,” you whisper hoarsely, your hands clasping together as they fidget, bracing for her next move.

“So, does that mean you deserve to be touched?” she presses, her hand gently soothing the heat rising on your cheek.

“Yes, miss,” you answer more firmly this time, earning a satisfied hum from Caitlyn. She pats her lap, her hand swiftly wrapping the metal chain around her wrist as you scramble to comply, nearly toppling over in your rush.

“Well, you have to tell me where you need me,” she teases, tugging the chain gently while you wiggle into place beside her. Her hand glides over your neck, collarbone, the curve of your chest, and down to your stomach.

“Do you want me inside yet?” she asks, her fingers trailing down your body, brushing over your clothed clit. The white, lacy-frilled panties she chose for you stand in sharp contrast to the black leather collar snug around your neck.

You nod eagerly, only to realize too late that you’ve made the same mistake again.

Pulling harsher this time, Caitlyn caused you to topple nearly over her. Her condescending tone makes you want to hide in a corner. “Really?” She asks with disappointment hints in her voice.

“I—” you stammer, scrambling back into position. The word sticks in your throat as the restraint tugs firmly against you. Her warm and intoxicating scent overwhelms your senses, leaving you helplessly melting into her presence. “I want you inside, miss. Please.”

She releases the leash and cups your face gently, guiding your gaze to hers. Her lips meet yours in a soft, healing kiss. As you kiss back timidly, she presses harder against your clit, making you hiss as the friction builds. You grind down instinctively, gasping when her teeth nip at your bottom lip.

“Take them off,” she commands, patting your cunt lightly to urge you. You slide off to the side, removing the damp underwear with shaky hands. Folding them neatly, you place them on the armrest before turning back to her, your eyes wide and glossy with anticipation.

She watches you with an almost possessive pride, savoring the sight of your desperation. Knowing she’s the only one who gets to see you like this—so raw, so eager—feeds her. It’s intoxicating. The two of you are unashamedly perverse, but Caitlyn always takes it further, and you love her for it.

“So noisy today, hmm?” Caitlyn teases, her fingers playing with your folds as your hips rock weakly to meet her touch. Your hands rise to your chest, fiddling with the collar around your neck. The sight sends Caitlyn reeling.

“Maybe I need to gag you, yeah?” she murmurs, her voice strained to match your breathless mewls. You nod eagerly, the movement growing frantic as she presses two fingers firmly against your swollen clit, grinding slowly and deliberately.

“Uh-uh, Cait—” you choke out, grabbing at the cold chain for comfort. The soft clicking of the metal and the mix of your moans fill the room. Forgotten, the leash handle dangles loosely from her hand as Caitlyn watches you lose yourself on her fingers. Leaning closer, she struggles to see clearly past her eyepatch, and you arch instinctively, putting on an even more shameless show for her.

Leaning back onto her hand, you take control, fucking yourself on her fingers. One arm clings to the headboard of the couch for support as you bounce and grind in a rhythmic frenzy. Caitlyn watches, captivated by the soft ‘o’ of your mouth, the slick, obscene strings of arousal dripping down her fingers, the way your free hand grips the leash tightly.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Caitlyn gasps, her voice heavy with desire. Her fingers move with your faltering rhythm, guiding you as exhaustion creeps in. She presses her palm harder against your clit, each contact pushing you closer. Caitlyn knows this move too well; she’s perfected it. Memories flood back of her chest pressed to your back, her fingers curving just right, leaving you trembling for hours afterward.

This time, you nod eagerly, her two fingers sliding deeper as your voice catches. The rough drag of her palm sends sparks shooting through you, pooling heat low in your stomach.

“Y’gonna come?” Caitlyn coos. You nod again, your wide eyes meeting hers, pleading. She visibly restrains herself from yanking your leash to deny you of your release. Sweat gleams on your chest as it rises and falls, your breaths uneven.

“Beg then,” she commands.

You whine first, and she tugs the leash sharply.

“C’mon, you can do it. What happened to my sweet puppy, hmm?” Her teasing strikes a nerve, the word puppy breaking you. Your body gushes in her hand, trembling.

“Please miss —Caitlyn, please need you.” You try speeding your hips up, but she's already steps ahead of you. Her fingers relentlessly speed up, and she can tell how much you like them when she slightly curves them. She watches as you plea and cry, head tilting back as she unashamedly watches the way your tits bounce with every thrust of her fingers.

“Please, miss—Caitlyn, please, need you,” you stammer, hips speeding up. But she’s already ahead of you, her fingers relentless, curving just enough to hit that spot you like. She watches intently as you plead and cry, your head tilting back, your breasts bouncing with each thrust.

“Cait— mm gonna,” you can barely get the words out as if this girl’s fingers can’t get any faster. The soft squelching of your arousal as her fingers splatter in little spurts over the sofa. You glance down and nearly come again at the sight of her fingers playing with your folds, your brain turning to mush. 

“Holy shit!” a high-pitched sound cried out as you came, falling onto the back of the sofa. Caitlyn nearly dives onto you, fingers slipping out as she rubs soothing circles on your swollen clit.  And all you can do is take it so far gone that you can't help but jerk every time Cait flicks your bud a certain way.

Your legs clamp together instinctively, trapping her wrist as you slump against the couch. Heart racing, you whimper softly as Caitlyn withdraws her hand, wiping her fingers before leaning in to kiss your cheek. Unhooking the leash from your collar, she steps away, grabbing her robe and the long-forgotten glass of water.

“So… puppy, hmm?” she teases, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You glare at her, cheeks flushing, which only makes her laugh.

“Enough,” you mumble, turning your face into the pillow to hide your embarrassment. Caitlyn trails her hand up your bare

back, her nails scratching lightly, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“It’s cute, no? I know you like it,” she says softly, her voice dripping with confidence as her fingers trace idle patterns across your skin.

You nod into the pillow, fidgeting, too embarrassed to face her. Caitlyn always teases you like this after your moments together, her confidence making it impossible to get back at her. But this time, she lets you be. Brushing back the hair covering your neck, she leans down to kiss the spot where the collar sat, trailing soft kisses down your back.

Her lips trail along your bare skin, soft and gentle, as she whispers, “You know, I love seeing you like this. All mine.”

Your face heats, but you can’t help the muttered response that escapes. “You’re insufferable.” The words are muffled into the pillow, your voice tinged with lingering embarrassment.

Caitlyn laughs softly, the sound low and warm in your ear. “Insufferable, huh?” she repeats, her hand wandering to lightly pinch your thigh, earning a startled squeak from you. “Pretty bold for someone who was just crying on my fingers.”

“You’re lucky I like you,” you mutter, rolling onto your side to glance at her, your lips curving into a small, tired smile.

“Oh, puppy,” she grins, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, “you’re lucky I fucking adore you.”

The words catch you off guard, leaving you warm and speechless. Caitlyn leans in, her lips brushing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss that sends a comforting warmth in your chest.

a/n: i apologize for this unintentional writing hiatus, life has been crazy. this was supposed to be longer but i got lazy and insecure lol, hope you enjoyed it anyway

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. trying to get your cold boyfriend to crack a smile !

tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, suggestive at the end. reader gets called ‘girl, doll (face)’

“you should smile some more,” you comment unexpectedly as the television runs in the background. toji raises an eyebrow, amused yet curious at the way you interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

your sluggish lover looks down at you as you sit up on his lap. his arms loosen up around your waist, though his manly hands don’t leave their favorite spot—your ass. toji gives it a squeeze, huffing at the way you’re blocking his sight with your head, “what ‘re ya on, girl?”

he figures it’s just you trying to strike up a silly little conversation again, for the sake of entertainment. he tilts his head to the side so he could continue watching the show playing on the big screen.

your hands come to cup his face. your palms are actively being prickled by his stubble, the man not having bothered to shave this morning. not that you’re complaining. you love it when toji leaves that stubble on his face. it gives him a more manly look.

“smileeeee,” you exclaim and use both your index fingers to turn the corners of his mouth upwards. his lips are morphed into an awkward, forced smile that makes you frown.

you secretly hoped that toji would go along with your request, but he doesn’t. that same expressionless face stares right back at you. his ‘smile’ instantly disappears the moment you drop your hands to your sides.

the black-haired man runs his fingers up your waist. and arms. he eventually pinches your cheeks for a second, properly positioning your body so he could watch the television in peace. toji places his chin on your shoulder, half lidded eyes lazily following the people on screen.

“i wanna see you smile again, c’mon,” you whine and try to push toji’s head back, but he stubbornly refuses. he easily overpowers you and pins your wrists down against your sides, nearly crushing you in a ‘hug’.

he takes a deep breath and sniffs your perfume. he places a quick kiss on your throat, thinking it’d pacify you for now.

“i would if y’ could make me laugh, doll,” toji answers in a gruff voice. he falls silent again as he’s too focused on the show playing.

you frown at his comment and can’t help but feel slightly offended. you roll your eyes and push back from toji’s tight embrace, if that’s what you can even call it. you pout and cross your arms over your chest. you stare at him, his green eyes glancing back at you for a second.

seeing you get all sulky because of what’s supposed to have been a lighthearted comment, is adorable. though toji doesn’t say that stuff out loud.

“you’re saying i’m not funny?” you ask. it’s more of a rhetorical question. your partner shrugs and yawns, one hand of his sneakily slipping under your shirt. his meaty fingers glide up to your bra, tracing the outline.

it’s another action of his in attempt to distract your mind from this entire conversation. however, it fails as you swat his hand away. toji clicks his tongue and gently swats you back— resulting into a mini fight between the two of you.

your slaps against his biceps may seem hard to you, but to the bulky man they’re child’s play. it feels like nothing, while you’re trying your best to stand up for yourself. toji’s revenge smacks are light taps against your bum and hands.

he’s clearly not putting in any effort unlike you.

“if that’s how you wanna take it, then yeah, y’ ain’t funny,” toji adds fuel to the fire, amused by how upset you’re getting. he doesn’t mean anything he’s saying; he’s simply interested in your adorable reactions. you look cute—thinking you’re doing something to him while you slap his bicep as response to his sneaky remarks.

you huff and roll your eyes. the little unserious tussle between toji and you continues. “bastard,” you answer and stick your tongue out to him. your lover lets out a puff of air through his nose at your weak attempt of insulting him.

he indulges you again.

“what’ddya say there?” toji questions in a low tone. he easily grips your wrists and flips you over until your back hits the soft sofa. your hands are gathered above your head and his face is close to yours.

that doesn’t stop you from being bratty, however, no matter how intimating toji tries to act. his black bangs brush against your forehead due to the proximity between you both.

“bastaaaaaard, you’re an asshole,” you shamelessly continue, your voice echoing in his ear. the black-haired man stares at you with a blank stare for a couple seconds, letting you blow off some steam.

you don’t know how cute you are right now to him. toji could just eat you up right then and there. having his girl try to act fierce around him is such an endearing sight.

without knowing it, toji’s scarred lips curl up, a faint smile appearing on his face. he doesn’t bother moving or setting your hands free.

“heh, right—i am, aye?” your lover nods and places a chaste kiss against your jawline, biting that same place not a second later. he lifts his head up and stares down at you with that same subtle smile.

you’re a bit shocked by the fact that he actually smiled. you love seeing toji show hints of happiness, which he rarely does. but when he smiles, you know it’s going to be a beautiful sight.

and it sure is now.

you’re too caught up staring at his handsome face to realise that that cherished smile has turned into a teasing grin. toji’s free hand slides up to grab your bottom lip, pulling back and letting go to watch it bounce back in place. his warm breath gently hits your cheek and you feel a shiver run down your spine;

“y’know if y’ want to, i can show ya how much of an asshole i really can be, doll face.”

[bueckets]

Going UP?

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Description: From missed alarms to broken elevators, your Tuesday couldn't get worse, well, until it gets better. When a late-running grad student's desperate dash to save her thesis turns into an unexpected elevator encounter with UConn basketball sensation Paige Bueckers, she learns that sometimes the best assists come from broken machinery.

Armed with nothing but coffee-fueled anxiety and an encyclopedic knowledge of basketball analytics, you find yourself trading quips with college basketball's golden girl in a stalled elevator. What starts as a disaster turns into something else entirely when basketball theory meets practice, terrible jokes meet dangerous grins, and hot chocolate meets, well, everywhere except the mug.

They say love is a game of chances. But when you're trapped between floors with a girl who can bend physics on the court and make your heart run suicides off it, maybe it's worth taking the shot. Sometimes cupid doesn't use arrows. Sometimes he just breaks the elevator.

Featuring: One (1) very broken elevator Several questionably colored cocktails A security guard who's seen it all Basketball plays drawn in spilled Shirley Temples Analytics-based flirting And a whipped cream fight that definitely isn't regulation play

Coming soon to wherever meet-cutes happen in college sports. (Rated R for excessive basketball puns and gay panic)

WC: 8.1k (roughly)

Genre/Notes: uh, i tried to be funny, floofy, rom-com-ish? (i tried), smut at the end, someone gets their kitty ATE, proof read like 50%

Your sneakers pound against the cracked, patchy sidewalk of North Campus, dodging the construction zone that's been "two weeks from completion" since freshman year. The November air bites at your cheeks, sharp as broken glass, and your laptop bag repeatedly slams into your hip with each stride, probably turning your thesis notes into digital confetti. A gust of wind lashes at you, tugging at your jacket, your hair, your sanity, and sending a rogue candy wrapper tumbling like a lonely tumbleweed across the quad like some 50’s Old West showdown. 

You'd woken up to three missed calls from your advisor and an email that made your soul leave your body.

Meeting moved to 9:15 AM. Please bring updated analytics models.

It's 9:12.

The universe is really testing you today. First, your roommate's cat knocked your phone off the nightstand, somehow managing to turn off all five of your alarms. Then, the dining hall’s card reader had the audacity to look at your student ID like it was written in crayon, leaving you to scavenge through your bag for exact change like a Victorian orphan. And now this.

You weave through the crowd of freshmen congregating outside the Student Union like they've never seen stairs before, your thermos of room-temperature coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lid. The wind whips a forgotten syllabus past your feet as you cut across the grass (sorry, campus maintenance), taking the "shortcut" that everyone pretends they don't use. You can practically hear the landscaping team groaning somewhere, shaking their heads at the worn-down dirt trail you and a thousand other students have carved into their perfect lawn.

Gampel Pavilion looms ahead, all glass and steel and architectural hubris. The morning sun hits it at an angle that makes it look like it's on fire, which feels appropriate given your current state of mild panic. You've spent so many hours in this building that the security guard, Mike, doesn't even look up from his crossword puzzle anymore when you scan your ID.

"Running late?" he calls out as you blast past his desk.

"What gave it away?" you shout back, already halfway to the elevators. Your sneakers squeak against the polished floors, leaving behind a faint trail of panic and shame— but most importantly, dirt. 

The ancient LED display above the elevator shows it's on the third floor. You slam the up button approximately forty-seven times, as if that's ever made an elevator move faster in the history of vertical transportation.

"Come on, come on," you mutter, shifting your weight between feet like you're doing some demented speed-skating warm-up. Your laptop bag keeps sliding off your shoulder, and you're pretty sure your hair looks like you styled it in a wind tunnel.  A strand falls into your eyes, and you blow it away with a frustrated huff. Everything about you screams disaster, and yet the elevator couldn’t care less.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open with all the urgency of a DMV employee on a Friday afternoon.

And there she is.

Paige Bueckers is leaning against the back wall of the elevator, one foot propped up behind her, looking like she just stepped out of a Nike ad. Her practice uniform is pristine, her blonde hair pulled back in a perfect ponytail that somehow hasn't gotten the memo about today's wind situation. She's got AirPods in, absently spinning a basketball between her hands like it's an extension of her body.

Your brain short-circuits. 

Time seems to slow down as you stand there, probably looking like a deer caught in very attractive headlights. The elevator dings again, threatening to close its doors on your moment of crisis.

Fuck it.

You lunge forward just as the doors start to close, practically diving into the elevator like you're trying to save a ball going out of bounds. Your coffee sloshes, your bag swings, and you nearly face-plant into the corner.

Paige pulls out one AirPod, her eyebrows raised so high they might achieve orbit. "Nice entrance."

You straighten up, trying to salvage whatever dignity might be hiding in the corners of this elevator. "Thanks, I've been practicing."

The elevator starts its ascent with a concerning rattle that definitely wasn't part of the original design. You adjust your bag for the hundredth time, very aware that you probably look like you just lost a fight with a leaf blower. Meanwhile, Paige keeps spinning that damn basketball, the soft thump-thump of it between her hands matching rhythm with your still-racing heart.

Nine floors to go. Eight if your advisor hasn't moved offices again after the Great Coffee Incident of last semester.

You can handle this. You're an adult. A slightly disheveled, possibly caffeine-deprived adult, but still. Just because you're sharing an elevator with the university's basketball goddess doesn't mean you need to—

The lights flicker once. Twice.

The elevator shudders like it's having an existential crisis.

Then everything stops.

The emergency lights kick in, bathing everything in a red glow that makes Paige look like she's starring in a very stylish apocalypse movie. The basketball stops spinning.

"Well," she says, tucking the ball under her arm and giving you a smile that definitely doesn't make your stomach flip. "Looks like the universe has other plans for us this morning."

You look at your phone: 9:14 AM.

Your advisor is going to kill you.

"Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," you mutter, jabbing at the emergency call button like it personally offended you. "This isn't happening. This can't be happening."

The little red light blinks back at you, mocking your entire existence, as if to say, yeah, good luck with that, idiot. You hit the button again, harder this time, because maybe the elevator just needs some aggressive encouragement.

"I don't think that's helping," Paige says, watching you with a mix of amusement and concern. She's still spinning that goddamn basketball, the rhythmic thump-thump now feeling less like a heartbeat and more like a countdown to your academic doom.

"Yeah? Well, neither are you," you snap, immediately regretting it. Great. Now you're trapped in an elevator AND you've just been rude to Paige fucking Bueckers. "Shit, sorry, I just—" You run both hands through your already catastrophic hair. "My advisor is going to crucify me. Like, actually crucify me. She's probably got a cross picked out and everything."

Paige catches the ball mid-spin. "Dr. Martinez?"

"How did you—"

"The only professor I know who actually might own a cross for student crucifixions." She tucks the ball under her arm. "She made one of our freshmen cry last week just by looking at her."

"That tracks." You slide down the wall opposite her, your legs finally giving up on the whole standing thing. "God, I can't believe this. I've got my entire thesis presentation on this laptop, three months of analytics data that I haven't backed up because I'm an idiot, and now I'm going to die in an elevator with—" You wave vaguely in her direction.

"With?" She raises an eyebrow, and you swear there's a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

"With UConn's basketball savior who's probably missing practice right now because the universe decided today was a great day for some cosmic practical joke." You let your head thunk back against the wall. "Coach Auriemma's probably already got a hit out on me."

Paige laughs, and the sound does something weird to your chest. "Nah, Coach is more of a 'make you run suicides until you puke' kind of guy. Much less paperwork than murder."

"Fantastic. So I'll die from academic execution AND athletic retribution. Perfect way to start a Tuesday."

"You always this dramatic before 9:30?" She's definitely smirking now.

"Only when I'm trapped in elevators with pretty girls who should be at practice."

The words are out before your brain can catch up with your mouth. Your eyes go wide, and you seriously consider trying to pry open the doors and jump down the shaft.

But Paige just grins, wide and dangerous. "Oh, so you think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're deflecting from the fact that we're stuck in a metal box that's older than both of us combined," you say, proud of how steady your voice comes out despite the internal screaming.

"And I think you're deflecting from the fact that you just called me pretty."

You pull out your phone again, desperate for a distraction. "No signal. Perfect. This is fine. Everything is fine."

"Could be worse," Paige says, stretching her legs out in front of her. Her feet almost reach where you're sitting, and you absolutely do not notice how long her legs are. "Could be stuck in here with Dr. Martinez."

That startles a laugh out of you. "Jesus, don't even joke about that. She'd probably make me defend my thesis right here."

"Yeah? What's it about?"

You look up from your phone to find her watching you with what appears to be genuine interest. "You really want to know?"

"Well," she gestures around the elevator, "it's not like I've got anywhere else to be."

You narrow your eyes. "If this is some kind of pity conversation—"

"It's not." She cuts you off, her voice surprisingly firm. "I'm actually curious. Plus, you look like you might spontaneously combust if you don't talk about something other than being stuck in here."

She's not wrong. Your leg has been bouncing non-stop since you sat down, and you're pretty sure you're about to wear a hole in your bottom lip from biting it.

"Fine," you say, setting your phone aside. "But remember, you asked for this. And if you fall asleep, I'm using that basketball as a pillow."

Paige's eyes light up with something that makes your stomach flip. "Deal."

"Okay, so you know how current basketball analytics are basically just glorified box scores?" You shift to face her properly, your earlier panic morphing into the kind of enthusiasm that usually makes people's eyes glaze over. "Like, sure, we can track points and assists and whatever, but that's just the obvious stuff."

"And there's more than the obvious stuff?" Paige asks, settling in like she's actually planning to follow your inevitably chaotic explanation.

"So much more." You pull your laptop out, balancing it on your crossed legs. "Like, imagine being able to track not just who made the shot, but all the little things that made that shot possible. The way players move without the ball, how defensive shifts create spaces that don't show up in any stat sheet.”

Your hands start moving as you talk, painting invisible patterns in the air. Paige has stopped spinning her basketball, her eyes following your gestures with an intensity that makes you warm all over.

"It's like..." You pause, trying to find the right words. "You know how in chess, sometimes the most important move isn't the one that takes the piece, but the three moves before that made it possible?"

She nods, leaning forward slightly. "Like a setup play."

"Exactly!" You're fully animated now, previous elevator crisis temporarily forgotten. "But current systems don't track that. They don't see how Player A moving left makes Player B's defender shift just enough that Player C can—"

The emergency speaker crackles to life, making you both jump.

"Hello? Anyone in there?" The voice sounds bored, like stuck elevators are just another Tuesday morning inconvenience.

Paige reaches over and hits the call button. "Yeah, we're here. Two people."

"Alright, we've got maintenance heading up. Should have you out in about fifteen minutes. Sit tight."

The speaker clicks off, leaving you both in that red-tinted silence again.

"Fifteen minutes," you groan, letting your head fall back against the wall. "Dr. Martinez is definitely going to have that cross ready."

"Hey," Paige says, and something in her voice makes you look at her. "Tell me more about your system. How do you track all those micro-movements?"

You blink at her. "You actually want to hear more?"

"Would I ask if I didn't?" She's got this soft half-smile that does dangerous things to your ability to think straight. "Plus, you get all..." she waves her hand vaguely, "sparkly when you talk about it."

"Sparkly?"

"Yeah, like you're lit up from the inside." She says it so casually, like she hasn't just made your heart do a full court press against your ribs.

You clear your throat, trying to remember how words work. "Right. Well, um, I've been working with the computer vision lab to develop these tracking algorithms..."

The next fifteen minutes dissolve into a blur of technical explanations and basketball theory. Paige asks surprisingly specific questions, and you try not to look too pleased every time she leans in closer to see something on your laptop screen.

When maintenance finally gets the elevator moving again, it feels too soon.

The doors open on the fourth floor – your floor – and you scramble to pack up your laptop, suddenly aware that you've spent the last twenty minutes word-vomiting about analytics to one of the best basketball players in the country.

"Thanks for, uh, keeping me from completely losing it," you say, standing awkwardly in the doorway. "And sorry about the whole..." you gesture vaguely at yourself, "chaos."

Paige stands too, and even in the normal lighting, she's unfairly pretty. "Chaos looks good on you."

Your brain short-circuits. "Can I get your number?"

The words tumble out before you can stop them, and you immediately want to crawl into the nearest trash can. But Paige just grins, that dangerous one that makes her look like she knows exactly what she's doing to you.

"Tell you what," she says, spinning the basketball on one finger because apparently she's physically incapable of not showing off. "Come to Friday's game. If you can spot one of those micro-interactions you were talking about..." She lets the ball roll down her arm and catches it smoothly. "Maybe you'll find out if I give my number to random girls I meet in elevators."

She backs into the elevator, maintaining eye contact until the doors close between you.

You stand there for a solid thirty seconds, staring at the brushed metal doors like they might reveal the secrets of the universe. Or at least explain how you went from having a mental breakdown about your advisor to what definitely felt like flirting with Paige Bueckers.

Your phone buzzes: another email from Dr. Martinez.

Meeting rescheduled to 2PM. Bring coffee. The good kind.

You look back at the elevator doors, then at your phone, then at the ceiling.

Looks like you're going to a basketball game on Friday.

The security guard at Gampel's student entrance looks at your ticket, then at you, then back at the ticket with the kind of suspicion usually reserved for people trying to use expired coupons at Target.

"This is— courtside," he says slowly, like maybe you don't understand what those words mean.

"Yeah, I, uh,” You shift your weight between feet, very aware of the growing line behind you. "I got it in an email?"

It comes out like a question because honestly, you're still not entirely sure this isn't some elaborate fever dream. The past three days have felt surreal, starting with Dr. Martinez actually smiling during your rescheduled meeting (turns out that fancy coffee shop downtown does make a difference) and ending with an email from pbueckers@uconn.edu that made you choke on your morning cereal.

The security guard squints at his scanner like it's personally offending him. "These are usually reserved for—"

"Is there a problem?" A familiar voice cuts through the growing awkwardness, and you turn to find Mike, your elevator-lobby guardian angel, approaching with his signature "I've seen too much student nonsense" expression.

"Got a courtside ticket here, but—"

"Oh, yeah," Mike says, shooting you a look that's somewhere between amused and knowing. "This one's good. Let 'em through."

You mouth a 'thank you' as you pass, and he just shakes his head, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like "kids these days" under his breath.

The student section is already packed, a sea of navy and white that ripples with pre-game energy. But your ticket directs you past all that, down, down, down the steps until you're so close to the court you can smell the fresh polish on the hardwood.

"This isn't happening," you mutter to yourself, dropping into your assigned seat—which is literally close enough to high-five players coming off the court. "This is fine. Everything is fine. You're just casually sitting courtside at a sold-out game because you got trapped in an elevator and word-vomited about basketball analytics for twenty minutes. Totally normal Friday night."

The woman next to you, wearing what looks like several hundred dollars worth of UConn gear, gives you a concerned side-eye.

"Sorry," you say, slinking lower in your seat. "I talk to myself when I'm having an existential crisis."

She just nods and shifts slightly away, which, fair.

The arena fills up quickly, the ambient noise growing from a buzz to a roar. You try to look casual, like you totally belong here and didn't spend forty-five minutes earlier having a breakdown about what to wear to a basketball game when you're sitting close enough to be on TV. (You'd finally settled on jeans and a UConn hoodie, figuring if you're going to have a gay panic on national television, you might as well be comfortable.)

The teams come out for warm-ups, and your heart definitely doesn't skip when you spot number 5 leading the layup line. Paige moves like she's got some sort of cheat code for gravity, each motion fluid and precise. She's got her game face on, all focused intensity and practiced routine, but then—

She catches your eye as she circles back to the line, and her serious expression cracks just enough to let through a hint of that dangerous grin from the elevator.

"Oh, I am so screwed," you breathe, and the woman next to you shifts another inch away.

The game itself is a blur of motion and noise. You try to focus on analyzing plays like you promised, looking for those micro-interactions you'd rambled about, but it's hard to think strategically when Paige keeps making passes that shouldn't be physically possible. Your laptop's probably having a stroke trying to track all these movements.

By halftime, UConn's up by twelve, and you've filled three pages of your Notes app with what started as technical observations but has devolved into increasingly incoherent capslock about various impressive plays. The latest note just says "HOW DID SHE EVEN SEE THAT CUTTING GUARD??? PHYSICS???? HELP????"

"Nice analysis."

You nearly drop your phone. Paige is right there, pretending to adjust her shoes by the bench but clearly smirking in your direction.

"I'm being professionally thorough," you whisper-hiss back, trying to ignore how your pulse is doing full-court sprints.

"Uh huh." She stands up, heading back to the huddle, but not before adding, "You look good in UConn blue, by the way."

You spend the entire third quarter trying to remember how to breathe normally.

The fourth quarter is when you see it—one of those perfect setup plays you'd theorized about. Paige moves left, drawing her defender, while simultaneously nodding almost imperceptibly to her teammate. The slight movement causes a chain reaction: the defense shifts, creating a gap that shouldn't exist, and suddenly there's a perfect passing lane that materializes out of seemingly nowhere. The ball flows through it like water finding the path of least resistance, resulting in an easy layup that looks simple but was actually three moves in the making.

You're on your feet before you realize it, pointing and probably looking deranged. "That! That's exactly what I was talking about! The head fake was the trigger but it wasn't even about the—" You cut yourself off, becoming aware that several people are staring at you, including the woman next to you who's now practically in the next seat over.

As the final buzzer sounds (UConn by 18), your phone buzzes with a new email.

From: pbueckers@uconn.edu

Subject: Nice catch

Body: 617-555-0147

PS - Your "professional analysis" face is reaaaaallly cute. Even from ten feet away.

You stare at your phone long enough that the arena starts to empty around you, afraid that if you look away the numbers might disappear like some basketball Cinderella story. The woman next to you finally gets up, edging past with the kind of caution usually reserved for wild animals.

"Sorry about all the,” you gesture vaguely at yourself.

She just pats your shoulder with grandmotherly sympathy. "Honey, I've been watching basketball for forty years, and I've never seen someone have a gay awakening quite that enthusiastically. Good luck with number five."

You're still sputtering when she disappears up the stairs, leaving you alone with a phone number and the distinct feeling that the universe is either laughing at you or playing matchmaker.

Possibly both.

Nah— Definitely both.

After what feels like an eternity of staring at your phone like it holds the secrets of the universe, your bladder kindly reminds you that you stress-drank an entire large iced coffee before the game. Fucking wonderful. You glance at the concourse—and immediately regret every life choice that led to this moment.

The bathroom line snakes around the corner like some kind of hydra-headed monster, full of people who clearly had the same brilliant beverage ideas you did. You briefly consider just holding it and dealing with the consequences later, but your body has other plans.

"This is karma," you mutter, taking your place at the end of the line. "This is definitely karma for all those times I made fun of people waiting in long bathroom lines."

The girl in front of you snorts. "If it helps, I'm pretty sure we're all suffering from the same coffee-based poor judgment."

Twenty minutes. Twenty. Entire. Minutes.

You've gone through every social media app twice, responded to three emails you've been avoiding, and played enough Candy Crush to rot your remaining brain cells by the time you finally emerge from the bathroom. The arena is practically empty now, just cleaning crew and a few lingering fans.

Your phone feels heavy in your pocket, that number burning a hole in your mind. You pull it out, staring at the digits like they might rearrange themselves into instructions on how to text your elevator-meet-cute crush without sounding like a complete disaster.

To: 617-555-0147

Hey, this is your favorite elevator analytics nerd. Great game tonight. That fourth-quarter setup play was chef's kiss

You hit send before you can overthink it, then immediately regret every word choice. Chef's kiss? Really? Maybe if you run fast enough, you can catch up to your dignity before it leaves the building entirely.

Your phone buzzes before you can fully commit to your shame spiral.

From: Paige 🏀

some of us are heading to murphy's for dirty shirleys if you want to continue your "professional analysis" in person? promise there won't be any elevators involved

You nearly trip over your own feet.

Will there be a formal presentation required? Should I prepare slides?

just your sparkling personality and maybe an explanation of how you knew that play was coming before I did 😉

Bold of you to assume I wasn't just gesturing wildly at a mosquito 

we both know you're too much of a basketball nerd for that. meet you there in 20?

You pause at the arena exit, looking down at your very casual, very not-prepared-to-go-out outfit. But then again, when has anything about this situation been normal? 

Your eyes shoot back to your phone and your frantic typing begins once again.

Only if you promise to explain how that behind-the-back pass in the third quarter didn't break several laws of physics

deal. and hey?

Yeah?

the hoodie really does look good on you

Your stomach shoots to your ass and you stand there grinning at your phone like an idiot until Mike, doing his final security rounds, walks by and shakes his head.

"Don't stay out too late, kid," he calls over his shoulder. "These love stories always get complicated when they start in elevators."

"That was literally ONE MOVIE," you shout after him, but he just waves without turning around.

You look down at your phone one more time, then up at the now-empty arena, and can't help but laugh. Somehow, a broken elevator, an understanding security guard, and a basketball player with a dangerous grin have turned your disaster of a week into whatever this is.

Time to find out if Dirty Shirleys taste better when you're sharing them with a girl who can bend physics on a basketball court.

Murphy's is exactly what would happen if a sports bar had a baby with a college town dive and raised it on a strict diet of neon signs and questionable decor choices. The walls are plastered with enough UConn memorabilia to fill a museum, if museums were into collecting signed napkins and mysteriously stained jerseys.

Your stomach is doing Olympic-level gymnastics as you push open the door, immediately hit by the smell of mozzarella sticks and what you really hope is just decades of spilled beer. The place is packed with post-game energy, and you're pretty sure your heart stops completely when you spot Paige at a corner booth, still in her game-day warmups because apparently she just casually walks around looking like a Nike ad.

"Analytics nerd!" she calls out, waving you over with that stupid grin that makes your brain cells commit mass suicide. "We saved you a seat!"

The 'we' turns out to be a collection of players who could probably stack on top of each other and touch the moon. You slide into the only open spot—right next to Paige, because the universe is clearly not done testing your ability to form coherent sentences today.

"Everyone, this is the elevator girl who knows more about our plays than we do," Paige announces, and your face goes hot enough to fry an egg. "Elevator girl, this is everyone."

"I have a name, you know," you manage, trying to ignore how her shoulder is pressed against yours in the crowded booth.

"Yeah, but 'elevator girl' has a better ring to it," she says, sliding a violently pink drink your way. "Plus, it's technically accurate."

"So is 'basketball menace' but you don't see me—" Your mouth snaps shut as her teammates start cackling.

"Oh, I like this one," says a girl you recognize as KK Arnold, grinning like she just got early Christmas. "She's got bite."

"She's got analytics," Paige corrects, but she's looking at you with something that makes your stomach relocate to somewhere in the general vicinity of Jupiter. "Speaking of which, you never did tell me how you caught that play coming."

You take a long sip of your Dirty Shirley to buy time, immediately regretting it when the sugar content threatens to give you instant cavities. "Holy shit, what's in this? Pure pixie stick powder?"

"Don't deflect," Paige says, poking your side. "We've got a whole team of analysts and none of them caught it. So spill."

"Fine, but only because you bought me diabetes in a glass." You shift to face her, accidentally-on-purpose letting your knee rest against hers under the table. "It was your head."

Her eyebrows shoot up. "My head?"

"You've got this tell," you say, getting into it now because apparently basketball analysis is your ideal flirting language. "This tiny little head tilt you do when you're setting up something sneaky. Like a cat about to knock something off a table, but make it basketball."

The entire table goes quiet, then erupts in laughter.

"She's got you there, P," Ice wheezes. "You do look like a menacing cat sometimes!"

Paige is staring at you with a mix of indignation and something else that makes your chest feel too small for your heart. "I do not have a cat tell."

"You absolutely do," you say, emboldened by sugar and the way her eyes keep dropping to your lips. "It's actually kind of cu—"

"SHOTS!" someone yells, and suddenly there's a tray of something alarmingly blue being passed around.

"Oh god," you mutter, watching the liquid slosh ominously. "Is this what happens when a Smurf dies?"

Paige nearly chokes on her drink. "That's terrible!"

"Just like these shots are about to be?"

She leans in close—too close, definitely too close for your remaining brain cells to function—and whispers, "Good thing I like terrible jokes."

Your stomach shoots to your ass (and possibly into another dimension) as she pulls back with a wink that should be illegal in at least forty-eight states.

"I hate you," you inform her, grabbing one of the Smurf funeral shots because if you're going to have a gay crisis in a college bar, you might as well commit fully.

"No you don't," she says with absolute certainty, and the worst part is she's right.

You really, really don't.

The night dissolves into a blur of increasingly ridiculous drinks (who knew they made something called a "Husky Howl"?), basketball stories that get more elaborate with each round, and Paige's thigh pressed warm against yours under the table. You learn that she stress-bakes before big games, that she once tried to teach her dog to play basketball, and that when she really laughs—like, really laughs—she snorts a little and it's possibly the cutest thing you've ever seen.

At some point, Azzi starts drawing up plays on napkins with increasingly chaotic drink-fueled creativity. Aaliyah Edwards keeps stealing her pen to "fix" the defensive rotations, while Nika Mühl throws wadded-up straw wrappers at both of them, critiquing their "absolutely trash spacing."

"No, no, look," KK follows imaginary lines with her finger across the napkin, accidentally dragging it through a puddle of spilled Shirley Temple. "If we run this here, and then—" she grabs your arm— "you're the defense, okay? Stand up."

"I absolutely am not," you protest, but Paige is already pulling you up with that stupid grin that makes your knees forget how joints work.

"Come on, elevator girl," she teases, positioning you near the booth. "Show us those analytics skills in action."

"I hate all of you," you mutter, but you're laughing as KK tries to demonstrate some elaborate defensive scheme that mostly involves her spinning in circles while Aaliyah provides unhelpful commentary.

"Your footwork is trash, bestie," Aaliyah calls out, now using maraschino cherries to build what appears to be a scale model of the paint.

"YOUR footwork is trash," KK shoots back, then promptly trips over nothing.

"Ladies, ladies," Paige steps in, all faux seriousness undermined by the way she can't stop grinning. "Let a professional show you how it's done."

She moves behind you, hands settling lightly on your hips, and your brain immediately flatlines. "See, proper defensive stance is all about—"

"Get a fuckin' room!" Nika yells, launching another straw wrapper that hits Paige square in the forehead.

"Actually," Paige says close to your ear, and your stomach does approximately seventeen backflips, "I've got that new analytics setup at my apartment if you want to see it. You know, for research purposes."

You turn to face her, very aware that her hands haven't moved from your hips. "Research purposes?"

"Mhmm." That dangerous grin is back. "Purely academic, of course."

"Of course," you manage, trying to ignore the way your pulse is doing a full drumline routine.

"Oh my god," KK groans from the booth. "This is worse than when Aaliyah tried to flirt with that barista using coffee puns."

"Hey!" Aaliyah protests. "That was smooth!"

"You asked if she wanted to 'espresso' her feelings!"

"And now we're dating, so who's the real winner here?"

Paige rolls her eyes at their antics, but her thumbs are drawing small circles on your hips that are making it very hard to focus on anything else. "So? Want to help me with some late-night analysis?"

Your stomach shoots to your ass as you meet her eyes, finding them sparkling with something that definitely isn't just about basketball statistics. "I mean, it would be unprofessional to turn down a research opportunity..."

"GET OUT OF HERE," Azzi throws a cherry that sails completely wide of both of you. "Your gay panic is ruining my plays."

"Your plays were already ruined," Nika points out, helpfully redrawing the vodka-smudged X's and O's with what appears to be lip gloss.

Paige grabs her jacket with one hand and your hand with the other, tugging you toward the door. "Don't wait up, nerds!"

"USE PROTECTION!" Aubrey shouts after you, causing several nearby tables to choke on their drinks.

"I mean, analytics can be very dangerous," you say with mock seriousness as you step into the cool night air, very aware that Paige hasn't let go of your hand. "All those numbers flying around."

"Absolutely hazardous," she agrees, pulling you closer as you walk. "Better stick together. For safety."

"For safety," you repeat, hoping she can't feel your pulse racing where your fingers are intertwined. "And research."

"And research," she echoes, giving you that sidelong grin that makes your heart forget how to beat properly. "Though I should warn you..."

"Yeah?"

She stops under a streetlight, turning to face you with eyes that sparkle with mischief. "My elevator works perfectly fine."

Your laugh echoes off the empty street. "Damn. There goes my backup plan."

"I'm sure we can find other ways to get stuck together," she says, and your stomach relocates somewhere in the general vicinity of Mars.

As you follow her down the quiet streets of Storrs, your joined hands swinging between you, you make a mental note to buy Mike the biggest coffee gift card you can afford.

Broken elevators might just be your new favorite thing.

Paige's apartment is exactly what you'd expect from someone who's somehow both a basketball prodigy and a complete dork—there's a literal trophy shelf right next to a collection of Star Wars Funko Pops, and her UConn jersey hangs framed above what appears to be a very elaborate gaming setup.

"Nice lightsaber," you say, nodding to the collector's edition propped in the corner.

"Nice deflection from how your hands are shaking," she shoots back, shrugging off her jacket.

"It's cold outside!"

"Uh huh." She disappears into the kitchen, and you hear cabinets opening. "Want some hot chocolate? I promise it's better than those nuclear waste shots Aubrey kept ordering."

Your stomach does a weird flip at how domestic this feels. "Only if you have—"

"Mini marshmallows and whipped cream? What kind of monster do you think I am?"

You follow her voice to find her already pulling out mugs, one of which has "Ball is Life" written in what appears to be glitter pen. "The kind that owns a bedazzled basketball mug?"

"First of all, Nika made this for my birthday and it's a masterpiece," she says, grabbing milk from the fridge. "Second of all, you're just jealous of my sophisticated taste."

"Oh, absolutely. Nothing says sophistication like..." you pick up a container from the counter, "unicorn hot chocolate mix?"

She snatches it back, fighting a grin. "It's limited edition!"

"Of course, my mistake. Clearly I'm in the presence of a fine dining connoisseur."

The kitchen fills with the smell of chocolate as she heats the milk, and you try not to stare at how she's rolled up her sleeves, forearms on full display as she stirs. You fail miserably.

"See something you like?" she asks without turning around, because apparently she has eyes in the back of her head.

"Just admiring your hot chocolate technique."

"My technique is excellent, thank you very much." She turns, holding up a can of whipped cream with a dangerous glint in her eye. "Want to see?"

Your throat goes dry. "I feel like this is a trap."

"Maybe." She takes a step closer, and your back hits the counter. "But you've been analyzing my moves all night. Shouldn't I get a turn?"

You're about to say something witty—really, you are—but then she's shaking the whipped cream can and all your brain cells collectively abandon ship.

"Don't you dare—" 

The words are barely out before she's spraying whipped cream directly at your face. You squeal (not your proudest moment) and grab for the can, resulting in a brief wrestling match that ends with cream basically everywhere except in the actual mugs.

"You're such a menace!" you gasp, trying to wipe cream off your nose while she cackles.

"Says the girl who called me out on my head tilt in front of my whole team!"

"That's different! That was professional analysis!"

"Oh yeah?" She steps closer, effectively pinning you against the counter. "Analyze this."

Your heart stops as she reaches up, thumb gently wiping whipped cream from the corner of your mouth. Time seems to freeze, your entire world narrowing to that point of contact and the way her eyes drop to your lips.

"Your technique could use some work," you manage to whisper, and she laughs—that real laugh, with the little snort that makes your chest feel too small for your heart.

"Maybe you should show me how it's done then."

Your stomach shoots through the floor as you reach up, threading your fingers through her hair (definitely getting whipped cream in it but whatever), and pull her down to meet you.

She tastes like chocolate and whipped cream and something uniquely her, and you can feel her smile against your lips as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. 

"How's that for technique?" you murmur when you finally break apart, both breathing a bit harder.

"Hmm." She pretends to consider it, but her eyes are sparkling and her hands are still firmly on your waist. "Might need more data to make a proper analysis."

"Oh my god, you're actually worse than me with the nerd references."

"You like it," she says with absolute certainty, leaning in again.

"Maybe," you concede against her lips. "But only because you're cute when you're being smug."

She pulls back just enough to give you that dangerous grin that started this whole thing. "Just cute?"

"And modest, clearly."

"I'll show you modest," she growls, and then she's kissing you again, deeper this time, backing you further against the counter until you're pretty sure your soul leaves your body entirely.

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, 

The hot chocolate goes cold on the counter, forgotten in the haze of warm laughter and sticky fingers. At some point, her lips found their way back to yours, sweet and a little messy, and now you’re on her couch, knees bumping against hers as you both settle into an almost tentative rhythm. She pulls back just slightly, her forehead resting against yours, and her breath fans across your lips in short, uneven bursts.

“You’re trouble,” she whispers, her voice low and a little breathless, her hands sliding up your arms to rest on your shoulders, thumbs brushing the curve of your collarbone.

“You like trouble,” you fire back, and there’s just enough of a spark in your tone to make her grin.

“I really do,” she admits, and before you can respond, her lips are on yours again, slower this time, deliberate. It’s not the playful teasing from before—it’s something heavier, something that makes your heart stutter in your chest and your hands curl into the soft fabric of her sweatshirt.

Her fingers tangle in your hair as she shifts, nudging you gently until your back hits the cushions. She hovers above you, her knees bracketing your thighs, her ponytail spilling over one shoulder as she leans down to kiss you again. This time, it’s a little rougher, her teeth catching on your bottom lip just enough to make you gasp, and the sound seems to light something in her eyes.

“You’re killing me,” you murmur against her mouth, and she pulls back just enough to look at you, her grin sharper now.

“Good,” she says simply, and her hands are on the hem of your hoodie, tugging it up. “This okay?”

You nod, swallowing hard, and she doesn’t wait for a second invitation. The hoodie’s off in a flash, tossed somewhere behind the couch, and her eyes sweep over you like she’s committing every inch to memory. Her hands are warm as they skim over your sides, fingertips brushing against bare skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“You’re gorgeous,” she says softly, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and the way she says it makes you believe her, even with your heart trying to beat its way out of your chest.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you manage, trying to sound casual even as she leans back down, her lips finding the curve of your jaw and then lower, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses to your neck. Your hands find her waist, and you can feel the strength of her beneath the soft cotton of her sweatshirt, her muscles flexing slightly as she shifts against you.

“Should we,” she starts, her voice trailing off as she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s a question there, unspoken but clear, and you answer it by pulling her back down, your lips crashing into hers with more urgency than before.

“Definitely,” you say between kisses, and that’s all the encouragement she needs.

Her sweatshirt joins your hoodie somewhere on the floor, and her hands are everywhere—your waist, your thighs, the curve of your hip. It’s all a blur of heat and soft laughter and the kind of clumsy, sweet desperation that only comes with two people trying to figure out how they fit together.

The couch is too small, the angles all wrong, and at some point, she pulls back just enough to breathe, “Bed?”

You nod, and then she’s pulling you to your feet, her hand sliding down to lace her fingers with yours as she leads you toward her room. There’s something about the way she looks back at you, her grin soft and a little nervous, that makes your heart ache in the best way.

The moment you’re through the door, she’s on you again, her hands sliding up your back as she kisses you like she’s trying to memorize every curve, every shiver. The bed is soft beneath you, and her weight is solid and warm as she follows you down, her knee nudging between yours as she leans over you.

“You’re really good at this whole ‘research’ thing,” you tease, and she laughs against your collarbone, the sound low and husky and so incredibly her.

“Don’t distract me,” she murmurs, and her hands are on you again, her touch firm and sure and just a little shaky in a way that makes your chest swell with affection.

And when she kisses you again, slow and deep, you think, for the first time all week, that maybe the universe actually got something right.

The mattress dips under her weight as Paige pulls back just enough to take you in, her hair falling loose from her ponytail, framing her face in a way that feels criminally unfair. There’s a glint in her eye now, something teasing but focused, like she’s about to run the most calculated play of her life.

“You look nervous,” she says, her lips curling into that sharp grin that’s been undoing you all night.

“I’m not nervous,” you lie, though your voice cracks on the last syllable like your body’s calling you out.

She chuckles, low and throaty, and leans down, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Good. Because I’m about to ruin you, and I don’t need you overthinking it.”

Before you can process what she said, she’s sliding down your body with deliberate slowness, her hands dragging over your sides, down your hips, and hooking around the waistband of your leggings. She raises an eyebrow, silently asking permission, and the second you nod, she pulls them down in one fluid motion, leaving you feeling bare and achingly vulnerable.

“Holy shit,” Paige mutters under her breath, her eyes locked on you like she’s just stumbled on a masterpiece at an art museum. Her hands settle on your thighs, thumbs tracing small circles that send shivers racing up your spine. “You’re so—” She stops, shakes her head, and looks up at you with that cocky grin. “Nah, I’m gonna show you instead of telling you.”

Her lips press to the inside of your knee, soft at first, but as she moves higher, her kisses grow hungrier, her teeth grazing your skin just enough to leave you squirming.

“Paige,” you breathe, your voice barely more than a whisper, but she just hums against your thigh like she’s savoring her favorite meal.

“Patience,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your skin as she shifts lower. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

Your response gets caught in your throat as her mouth finally finds you, and every coherent thought you’ve ever had promptly evaporates. Her tongue moves with the same precision she has on the court, all calculated angles and devastating accuracy, and it’s like she’s figured out exactly how to dismantle you.

“Fuck—Paige—” Your hips jerk involuntarily, but her hands hold you steady, her grip firm enough to keep you grounded while her mouth does the opposite.

She pulls back just enough to look up at you, her lips glistening, and there’s a wicked glint in her eye that makes your stomach drop in the best way. “Hang tight,” she says, reaching toward the nightstand.

“What are you—oh my God,” you gasp as she pulls out a vibrator, the sleek little device gleaming like it was made for moments like this.

Paige winks, all confidence and mischief, as she turns it on, the low hum filling the room. “You trust me, right?”

You nod, because at this point, you’d probably trust her to lead you into a cult if it meant feeling like this.

“Good.” She leans back down, her mouth finding you again just as the vibrator presses against you, and the combination is so overwhelming it almost knocks the breath out of you.

Your hands fly to her hair, tugging as the vibrations send shocks of pleasure racing through your body, and her tongue works in tandem, teasing and relentless. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you can feel yourself unraveling, piece by piece, with every calculated movement.

“Paige, I—” Your words dissolve into a moan that would make your ancestors weep, your thighs trembling as she doubles down, her grip on you tightening.

“That’s it,” she murmurs against you, her voice low and full of something that sounds dangerously like pride. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

And just like that, you do. The orgasm rips through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and clutching at the sheets as your vision whites out. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you swear you hear yourself speaking in tongues.

Paige doesn’t stop until your legs are twitching, and even then, she presses one last kiss to your inner thigh before sitting back with the most self-satisfied grin you’ve ever seen.

“Did I just—” You pause, catching your breath, your voice hoarse. “Did I just have an exorcism?”

Paige laughs, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “If you did, I think I’m gonna need to start charging for holy services.”

“Fuck you,” you say weakly, though the way you’re still grinning probably ruins the effect.

She crawls back up to you, her body warm and solid as she settles next to you, her arm slinging over your waist. “Oh, you’re definitely going to want to do that next,” she teases, pressing a kiss to your temple.

And just like that, you’re laughing, still breathless and a little wrecked, but somehow more at ease than you’ve felt in ages. Paige grins down at you, smug but soft, and you think, maybe, that this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Sometimes the best love stories start with a malfunction.

Just don't tell Mike. He's smug enough already.

The End

[heartfullofleeches]

fake pizza boy yan developed a concerning taste for seeing darling eating his cum after that first encounter and starts bringing a variety of menu items with “ranch dips” and “vanilla shakes”. plenty of visual material to keep the supply up for his next “delivery” and he is definitely not spiraling into crisis just because the only thing that gets him hard for his other shoots is the mental image of darling stuffed full of his—

(Slapping these two together since they have a similar premise)

Yan Adult Film Star Pizza Boy + Reader [18+]

[Masterbation, Food Play]

-

"Come on..... Come on....."

Twenty minutes till deadline. Since the beginning of his career he stuck to a strict schedule. A simple routine to get the ball rolling as he dipped his toes in the new venture. Now that he had so many eyes on him and his content, Brie was able to take more breaks in between filming, but at this point it had been almost two weeks since he posted anything at all.

He tried everything. His hands. Toys. Videos. Brie even thought about buying pills at one point, but gaining an erection wasn't the hard part of his situation. His viewers were into a lot of things - but if there was one thing that really got their wallets open for him it was when he painted the nearest surface to him with a heavy load of his release. His donations would be flooded with comments from his hands how they wished to be his desk or pillows - or for the opportunity to lick said object clean.

Kind of like how you licked your fingers clean on the day he first met you.

The brief flicker of your face in his mind made his aching length jump in his spit stained palm. The encounter he had with you was all that he could think about anymore. He was obssessed - The innocent confusion as you opened the front door, the genuine gratitude in your expression as you handed him some cash for all his troubles and the free meal. Brie would pay anything to see you sample his sauce again. The way your eyes lit up as the flavor registered on your tongue-

"Mmh....."

What he wouldn’t give to have those lips wrapped around him. If you liked what he gave you so much what better than to get it straight from the source, right? The slick sound of friction grows louder as his hand moves quicker - eyes scanning every corner of his room for more fuel for his fantasies. He wish he had kept the photos he found of you online on screen, but he feared loosing that knot of pleasure twisting at his insides if he took his focus off the task at hand for any reason.

His eyes fall on the drink cup from the takeout he picked up earlier in the day. A boring Styrofoam cup with no clear ties to any restaurant would be the perfect container to bring you another item off the menu. The peach tea he had earlier would be a dead giveaway for any tampering. He needed something thicker, ideally with a creamy texture.

A milkshake.

Who wouldn't enjoy a nice, refreshing shake after pizza? You surely had to be thirsty after eating all that bread. Brie fisted his cock to the image of you on your knees beneath his table - hands gripping the meat of his thighs as your mouth hung open awaiting your treat. You'd look so cute under him like that - his fans would absolutely love you-

A surge of jealousy strengths his grip. Nobody should get to see you like that but him. Those perverts could fotk over their life savings and it wouldn't be enough for Brie to share you with them. Maybe the occasional stream with the two of you couldn't hurt - your face held against his pelvis as he stuffed that pretty throat so nobody could see anything but his cock slipping past your perfect lips.

"Ah.... Y/n...." It's the first time he's said your name. The first time he's let his imagination run this wild. He makes a mental note to cut it out during editingthe. Brie swipes the camera off his desk, angling it better towards his lap and the empty floor below him. He then makes a grab for the empty cup - popping off its lid as he positions the container between his legs. They tremble - barely holding into the styrofoam without crushing it as Brie spits - whimpering as he coats his girth in another layer of his saliva. For a fleeting moment he can perfectly picturing the warmth dripping down his cock as your own - and that's all it takes for him to come undone.

Brie cries out your name with a shakey breath, clutching the edge of his desk for stability as his upper body lurches forward, pouring ropes upon ropes of his spend in the general direction of the cup. It's too much- With it being so long since the last time he came, this hard - tears stab at the corners of his eyes as he shutters, nails peeling chipping at the polished finish of his desk. He misses his intended target at first go, thighs glistening with cum as he hurriedly fixes the cup to catch the remainder.

Brie takes a long pause to catch his breath before wipping off his camera lense, posing with a shakey thumb up as he holds the cup for all to see.

"Shake's ready- Guess it's about time I make another delivery~"

-

"And here you are, one milkshake on the house. We're always trying out new things in the kitchen and like to reward our loyal customers by letting them sample new items first."

Swirling your straw through the thick slurry, you take another sip with a satisfied hum. "Hm. You said this was salted caramel, yeah?"

The delivery boy snaps back to attention - seemingly lost in thought as you gulp down the shake. "Y-yes. That's right- Your thoughts?"

"It's pretty damn good, actually. Been getting kinda hot these past couple of nights so this is just what I needed right about now."

Brie bites down hard on his bottom lip as you place the cool styrofoam against your bare neck, condensation running down to your chest.

"I forgot to ask the last time I can, but my boss finds it really helpful if I get some pictures of satisfied customers to put up. Would you mind if I took a couple of you right now?"

[livingdeadgirlflorette]

LATE NIGHT KISSES ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ carl grimes x fem!reader

tags / rundown : fluff, slightly suggestive, set in alexandria, straddling, making out, friends-that-make-out-'cause-that's-normal, getting caught

word count: 1.56k

a/n : hello! first ever fic on tumblr lols, i've never really thought of posting anything here but I think the carl daydreams in class are getting to be too much >_< also i'm not really that fluent in english, english isn't my first language so please bare with me ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

dividers by @cafekitsune .𖥔 ݁ ˖

PART 2: ARE WE STILL FRIENDS? ₊˚✩⊹

It wouldn't be a surprise to anyone how much you have a silly teenage girl crush on the leader's son, Carl Grimes. They think it's cute, seeing you get all flushed cause he places his hands around your waist when passing through you and you getting all tongue tied when he asks if you're okay.

Or when you guys were having dinner with the group at Maggie and Glenn's house and he tells you that there's something on your face, then proceeds to use his own hand to rub it off, all the while unintentionally caressing your face. To add more fuel to the fire, everybody shows knowing looks and silent chuckles with one another. It takes all of your willpower not to combust from being flustered and embarassed cause not only did he just unexpectedly caress your face unintentionally, everybody in the group had seen the interaction go down. . . Including his father, Rick.

It all chalks up to just a small infatuation with him, that's all. You're just a girl, you get crushes. It's all just an innocent crush. Given the way that Daryl had described you back when he had caught you sneaking around the forest scrounging for food, you looked teary and doe-eyed, as if you couldn't hurt a fly. Oh Little Miss Y/N, so cute and naive. They wouldn't have thought anything else.

But you'd pay to see the look on their faces when they find out that you'd sneaking into Carl's window just to sit on his lap on his comforter and kiss him through the night. Then with the sliver of dawn seeping through his bedroom curtains, an unspoken meaning where you slip away back where you came in, as if there was nothing between you two.

And that's where you are right now, on his bed with your knees straddling his lap with your arms around his neck, his hands hesitantly going through your waist and drawing soft circles while you two kiss.

You smile into the kiss due to this. It's cute really, how no matter how many times you have his mouth between yours he'll always act as if it's the first time you've ever done something like this. He handles you with such care and delicacy, as if any sudden movement and you'd break, treating you like a porcelain doll. Pulling away, you figured a teasing comment now and then wouldn't hurt the mood.

"Aren't you just sweet?" A small airy chuckle leaves your mouth as you lazily smile, eyes lidded with lethargy from just kissing.

The look on his face is enough to tell you that he wasn't annoyed at your quip, but he seemed as if he's tired of it.

Sighing, he leans in to kiss your lips and pulled away to put his mouth near your ear. As he got closer, you could feel his breath on your ear everytime he exhaled.

"Don't get too cocky now." He smiled as he leans back to get a full view of you, all tired and giggly just from kisses between you and him. You look at his face then specifically to his lips, until going back to his gaze.

Neither one of you seemed like you wanted this to end, going slow and chaste with each touch. Every caress and hold he leaves on your skin is tingly, leaving you hot and unarguably bothered.

Carl seemed like he wanted to take it a little further, leaving you surprised when he slowly but surely puts his hand on the nape of your neck, adding a slight pull to deepen the kiss.

Evidently shocked, when you pull away slightly with your mouth slightly agape until Carl leans in more to capture it, turning the seemingly chaste kisses between the two of you into something more. No matter how different it felt, there was no denying how much you both found it so pleasurable.

As Carl keeps leaning in with his hand still on the nape of your neck, he lays you down on the headboard delicately. When you both pull away, you both just gaze at each other, basking in the loving mood that had been created. With his body on your side with his face still near yours, you both decide leaning in for another kiss wouldn't be the worst idea.

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. With all the making out with Carl made you relaxed and sleepy, you barely registered a firm knock on Carl's bedroom door. You both pause and look at the door then look to each other.

Who'd be knocking this late at night?

"Carl? You okay in there?" Shit. You could tell who's that firm but caring voice came from, and it was obviously Rick's.

Like headless chickens, you and Carl scramble to find a hiding spot for you before Rick gave himself the go-ahead to enter, ending up with you under his bed frame.

The door opens and you see Rick's socks entering Carl's room. Luckily before Rick could get in, Carl had situated himself on the bed, going under the covers making it look like he had been preparing to go to sleep.

"Hey Dad, what's wrong?" Carl asked while rubbing his eye, feigning sleepiness.

Breathing is easy, but it felt a lot more stuffy when your friends' Dad is one movement away from finding you under his son's bed. Even so, you cover your mouth, trying your best to breathe evenly. All of a sudden Rick's weight is on the side of the bed, with him sitting on it looking at Carl lovingly.

"No, it's– it's nothin', I was just thinkin' about since i've been so busy here now, I never really got to give you the chance to talk to me." He places his hand on Carl's shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"I just wanted to tell you that no matter how hectic I get— if you got any trouble, be it problems for yourself or problems about. . . a girl, you know where to find me." He smiled at Carl, the latter doing the same to him also.

"Thanks Dad, that— that means a lot." Carl smiled and Rick pulled Carl in for a hug.

This was such a heartwarming scene, if it weren't for the girl seeming under Carl's bed, waiting to be let out. She felt as if she was gonna panic any moment now, plus the fact that she was feeling guilty. Rick was having a heart-to-heart with Carl and all she could think about was about how he laid her down, with his lips chapped yet still soft against hers, the room filled with silence other than their bated breaths.

With both people pulling away, Rick sat up and adjusted his shirt. There wasn't really anything he needed to adjust, he just really needed to fidget with something, otherwise it'll make it awkward.

"I'll see you at breakfast. G'night Carl." He ruffled his son's hair then smiled. Carl seemed to also smile, letting out an chuckle.

"Goodnight Dad." Before Rick could leave the room he looked as if he was contemplating. I guess he finally made a decision when he decided to say one last goodnight.

"Goodnight Y/N." Rick smiled then shook his head chuckling before closing the door.

Y/N crawled out under the bed, mouth slightly agape, and panicked. She didn't know what to think. Rick knew? If Rick knew how did he know? Did the others know also?

"How in the hell does he know? We were so careful too." She said, slight awed. They really were careful, acting as if nothing was going on behind the scenes. She plopped down on the side of the bed next to him, leaving out a sigh then shutting her eyes.

Carl leans forward, with his head nearing hers. "I'm not even sure how. But since he knows it doesn't really matter anymore, so does that mean we can. . ." Carl trailed off, then glancing at her lips, then back at her eyes.

Scoffing with a smile, she immediately got up.

"You cannot be serious right now Carl!" She chastised him softly, and started to ready her stuff as fast as she can.

"I'm seriously not going to stay here any longer. I don't know how much embarassment I can handle knowing Rick, your father knows about this and outright acknowledged me!" She uttered, "I think it's best if I go, I think I can't handle any more guilt 'cause I feel like i'm gonna burst—"

but before she could pack up any further Carl had stood up and went to her to grab both her wrists to stop her from doing anything else.

"Hey, look at me." Carl let go of her wrists and gently used his right hand lift her chin up. He kissed her chastely, then pulled away to look at her.

"We can handle this. I'll be with you, okay? It's not as bad as you think." He assured her, then placed a loving kiss to her forehead then placing it against his, holding her with such love and care.

"Let's just hope the others haven't found out yet, they'll never let us live it down." You joked, trying to lighten the mood. Luckily it worked, with Carl smiling back at you.

"I don't think it would be so bad, them knowing you're mine."

this one was a doozy, i'm thinking if i wanna make a part two to this hihi (๑>◡<๑) don't be a silent reader and let me know!

[savi0rr]

Sweet Wife .ᐟ

Viktor x Fem! Wife! Reader

In which, Viktor’s sweet wife came to visit him. But only at night, not to be seen by anyone.

a/n: this is like….a part to my other one I think idk

୨───୨୧───୧

୨───୨୧───୧

“I can’t believe you sneaked in,” Viktor scolded, his voice a blend of exasperation and underlying relief as you stood within the confines of the dimly lit lab. Shadows flickered and danced around the cluttered workbench, creating an atmosphere that felt both secretive and intimate. You could sense the weight of his words, yet a playful smile tugged at your lips, fueled by a mischievous spark. “Dear, could you truly blame me? I’d sneak into anywhere just to see you,” you replied, your voice light and teasing, tilting your head in a manner that conveyed a hint of innocence.

Viktor let out a resigned sigh, his shoulders visibly slumping as he leaned his weight onto his crutch. The familiar crunch of metal against the cold floor resonated in the stillness of the lab, accentuating the solitude of the space. You caught sight of the flickering fluorescent bulbs, their dim light illuminating the weariness etched on his face, a testament to long hours spent lost in his work.

Eager to alleviate his discomfort, you brightened, your fingers gently resting on his shoulders, feeling the tension beneath them. “What did I tell you about standing for too long?” you chided softly, a mixture of concern and affection coloring your tone as you guided him toward the chair. With a blend of reluctance and grace, Viktor finally set his crutch aside, his gaze lifting to meet yours. The warmth of your presence seemed to draw his attention, and his eyes wandered to the gleam of your wedding ring, a small yet brilliant beacon sparkling in the dim light, catching his focus like a moth to a flame.

You noticed his fascination, and a playful smirk danced on your lips. “My husband made it for me,” you said, positioning yourself in front of him, your heart swelling with pride at the thought of his craftsmanship and love.

Viktor responded with a deadpan expression, though the corners of his lips curled into the faintest hint of a smile. “Lucky man he is,” he muttered, turning his chair slightly as he moved closer to the desk, the scent of various chemicals mingling with the warmth of shared moments stolen in this sanctuary of intellect and passion.

Pouting softly, you leaned against the desk, feeling the coolness of the polished surface against your skin, grounding you in this moment. “Don’t be like that, dear,” you teased lightly, infusing your voice with a playful lilt. Setting your book bag down with a soft thud, you began rummaging through it, your fingers dancing over the contents in search of a little surprise you had carefully tucked away.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, curiosity flaring in his gaze as he leaned in closer, intrigued yet cautious. “I’m not sure if I want to know what you’re about to pull out…” he said, a hint of wariness threading through his voice, curiosity mixing with anticipation.

You giggled softly, feeling a rush of excitement coursing through you as you finally produced a small container from your bag. Viktor’s interest piqued; his eyes darted from the container to you, anticipation bubbling in the air between you. “Don’t give me that look,” you huffed playfully, lifting the lid with a flourish to reveal your surprise—a delicate slice of cake, its layers rich and inviting, a masterpiece of indulgence adorned with swirls of cream and colorful sprinkles.

“I know we were both busy on the day we were meant to go on that date…” you murmured, your cheeks warming with a soft blush as you recalled the moment. “I just happened to pass by our favorite bakery, and I couldn’t resist picking this up,” you added, your voice tender as you shot him a wink overflowing with mischief, the kind that made your heart flutter.

Viktor’s expression transformed, a softness washing over him as warmth spread across his pale cheeks. He watched you, his heart swelling with affection, the moment a sweet balm to his weary spirit. “Then I wonder if this cake will taste just as sweet as you,” he mused, the words lingering in the air like a beloved melody, wrapped in a teasing charm.

Suddenly, a beautiful silence enveloped you both, your heart began to race at his flirtatious remark. “V-Viktor!” you stammered, eyes wide and captivated as he decisively took a bite of the cake. The playful smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips suggested he enjoyed this moment far too much. “You taste better,” he shrugged nonchalantly, throwing a hint of challenge your way, leaving you both flustered and charmed by the sweet exchange between you.

—

edit: ik i just posted this, but im going to back and change a few things about it because i feel like i over did it and made it….a lot loving than i would expect from Viktor? Is it just me? Idk but pls let me know if i should change it or just leave😭

[princessbrunette]

… and now introducing, the 10K follower special… ᙏ̤̫ ✧༚

OBX - the nsfw alphabet guide ♡

dearest boobettes,

thank you for 10k followers, whewie how time flies! i am forever grateful for the majority support, kindness and above all patience you’ve exhibited especially during times where real life gets in the way and i needed to step away from writing. i hope you continue to chortle away with me in my asks & enjoy my silly little drabbles,

love from princess ^_^ ♡

A IS FOR… aftercare, ft. pope heyward ♡

it goes without saying, pope has done his research and has engaged in copious amounts of conversations on your boundaries. after sex, he overthinks — massively, always worried that he got caught up in the throes of passion and somehow became aggressive or forceful (…spoiler alert, he didn’t! not to a degree you didn’t thoroughly enjoy, anyway.) therefore, he needs to know what you need, pretty immediately too - almost too an annoying degree.

“hey, too far? tell me what you need baby.” he’s cradling you before you’ve even caught your breath.

“mmph—”

“lets use our words, yeah?” your eyes are shut, but you know that stressed crinkle is sitting right between his brows.

“just wanna lay.” you whine, and he knows that tone means to stop pressing you. if laying is what you want, it’s what you’ll get. he knows he won’t be able to help himself from jumping up to clean you up soon enough, but for now he’s happy to indulge in your sticky embrace, stroking your head and telling you just how good you were.

B IS FOR… body parts, ft. bunny!reader x rafe ♡

rafes favourite body part of bunny’s is undoubtably her lips. there’s just something about them, the shape of them, the colour of them — that makes her always get her way with him. whether she’s pouting them, batting her long lashes when she’s in trouble or painting them with a sparkly gloss, one he probably bought her that week that she’ll leave printed around his cock later on — he can never keep his eyes of them. her tits are pretty fantastic too though, he must say.

bunny’s favourite body part of rafe’s? but there’s just too many to pick one! she is particularly fond of his shoulders and chest and it shows, always stroking down his torso when she’s speaking to him — the muscle beneath his polo perfectly pudged from exercise without being too firm, also making the perfect board for her to scratch her manicured nails down while getting put through the mattress.

C IS FOR… cum, ft.kitty!reader x jj ♡

there is something spiritual about the way kitty interacts with jj’s cum— like she swears she can tell what he’s eaten, how many sips of water he’s had that day and what the weather was like just from the taste of it. she’d lift her head from his crotch, mascara dwelling beneath her eyes as she smacks her lips thoughtfully, waiting for the blonde to catch his breath.

his ringed hand is still planted atop her head, supporting her limp neck as he looks down at her through spent and lidded eyes. “how y’feeling bae?” he queries, noting the pensive look on her face.

“all caffeine.” she hums, brows furrowing. jj blinks.

“y—…uh, what?”

“you didn’t drink any water today? not even a little? what did i tell you? you can’t survive off redbull!” she squints all pissed off, even her nose balling up as jj watches her rise up from her position.

“aint no way.”

D IS FOR… dirty secret, ft. john b x puppy!reader ♡

well, it was his dirty secret. you guess you could say d is also for dad, because that’s what he likes being called the most in the bedroom. it fills some… sick hole in his heart, fuels this odd complex he has around pup. he likes that she relies so much on him, he’s always taken the leadership role in any group so when it’s just the two of them it only feels right. it started off as daddy of course, but he’ll always remember that one sweaty night, roughly 4AM and they’d been going at it for hours, her legs over his shoulders, thick cock hitting that abused spongy spot until the word transformed before his very ears.

“mm—mm—mm—daddy—daddy—dad… dad!” it was music to his ears. apparently enough to have him blow his load at the drop of a hat.

E IS FOR… experience, ft. mouse!reader x jj x pope ♡

until she met jj and pope, she’d never even kissed anyone. well — she tells people she had, one guy — but the one guy in question was her one and only boyfriend in fourth grade (who then dumped her the next day because he wanted to ‘focus on powerangers’. she hates powerangers to this day.) it’s not to feed into her whole innocent aesthetic, you know with the baby pinks and the ballet and the glittery blusher dusted on the apples of her cheeks, no. she was just painfully shy— too touch starved to even imagine herself being intimate.

it wasn’t until she was sat in the middle of jj and pope on her bed, asking them if they could kiss eachother first to ease her nerves before she could kiss them — that she realised how badly she’d been missing out.

F IS FOR… favourite position, ft. lord!rafe ♡

when sabrina carpenter says ‘have you ever tried this one?’ referring to an unnamed sex position on her hit song, juno — the chances are, with lord!rafe, you had. the man was creative, especially when he was high, wanting to see just how far you’d contort and push yourself to submit to him. to bend to his will. but at the end of the day, he was just a man — and he craved that deep intimacy that his favourite pledge could give him, and that was a mating press.

“you like this, hm? feeling all— all close like this huh?” he pants in your face, your knees squished to you in a way that made it hard to breathe, especially with the way he was brutalising your hole.

“mm, mhm. thank you lord.” your voice is spitty and pleading and he chuckles through his exhales.

“yeah. like this one the most. get to see the life leave your fuckin eyes when i pull out. you just want that seed so fuckin bad don’t you baby?” he basically growling so you know he’s close. your eyes struggle not to roll back at the feeling.

“yes. yes lord!” your voice breaks.

“well that’s too bad baby. that’s too fuckin’ bad.”

G IS FOR… goofy, ft. jj x deer!reader ♡

much like mouse!reader, deer is a tough one to crack due to her shyness. however, through hard work and determination — jj discovered that the best way to get her to ease up and let go, was to quite literally giggle her out her panties.

“these are pretty.” he compliments her, warm breath on her neck as they both look between their bodies at her frilly white panties, a red bow at the centre which he plucks at gently. when he feels her tense up, he raises an eyebrow with a playful expression — letting her know it’s still just him, still her silly jj. “can i borrow ‘em?”

she busts into a fit of giggles, and whilst distracted — jj grins, sliding the fabric down her thighs as she writhes elatedly. “what? don’t think they’d suit me?” he keeps her happy and the vibes up as he parts her thighs, her giggles turning into slow breaths. his grin melts into a smirk, prompting an answer. “hm?”

“w—well— i was j—just—”

“mmmhm. yeah, i know. it’s okay baby.” he cooes, lulling her into being just a little more limp for him.

H IS FOR… hair, ft.john b ♡

john b is super hairy down there, never seeming to have the time to groom himself. the hair on his head is thick and wavy, and that’s not exception to his downstairs either, enough to bury your face in whilst deep throating his girthy length, the hair even crawling up his happy trail to his belly button. the sight when he stretches, arms lifted over his head causing his shirt to rise up and expose it has trained your mouth to water.

equally, if anyone is gonna advocate for you having a bush — it’s him. he had access to a load of his dads porno magazines from the 70s that he thought he’d hidden, so since he was younger he’d always had an affection for a pretty lil tuft peeking out some pretty panties. hey, it’s your body your choice as he’d be adamant on telling you — but if you wanted to give up shaving for a little while, he’d have zero objections.

many nights would be spent with his hand just affectionately patting your mound through your panties in bed before casually slipping his hand inside, twirling his fingers around some of the wiry hair.

“john b.” you’d scold, a little hot in the face.

“what, babe? getting a pretty neat bouquet going on down here. love it.”

I IS FOR…intimacy, ft. starwars!au!pope ♡

each time captain pope fucks you, he never knows if it’s going to potentially be his last time before he gets shipped off to some far away planet where all communication with you is severed. hell, sometimes he’s not sure if he’s ever going to make it back from his mission at all.

because of this, when he sneaks away from the bunks to fly to your apartment and spend a night with you — he fucks you like it’s the last time. skin to skin, direct, watery eye contact, arms wrapped around you like he’s never going to let you go as he rolls his hips, sweat dripping down his back.

“stars, i love you. i love you i love you. fuck, i fucking love you.” he groans, eyes fighting to stay open because he doesn’t wanna miss a moment of you, needing to ingrain your image into his brain for those lonely nights away.

“i love you pope. my pope.” you’d cry out, like it was a promise — and it was. a promise to be together properly one day with nothing and no one standing in between.

J IS FOR jack off, ft. stepbro!rafe ♡

before your parents married and you moved into tanny hill, rafe thought he jacked off a normal amount for someone his age. it was like you hit this switch, left him fumbling for control of his own body. it was no wonder he was so angry all the time, you had his hormones going haywire like some kind of teenager.

he was certain he’d had to quickly beat one out in nearly every room of the house. he’d see you in the kitchen, reaching up to a shelf that was a little too high for you — your shirt rising up, tits pressed to the fabric, underwear peeking from the waistband of your shorts and he’d be zipping out the room to relieve himself in the bathroom. he sees you out by the pool, slathering greasy spf over your skin, oiling yourself up in your bikini making you look like some kind of pornstar, and he’s taking a risk — standing in the empty window downstairs, hoping no one enters the room as he tugs one out.

you can’t even do your laundry in peace, rafe worried about the wrong load when he walks in and is confronted directly by the sight of you bent over the washer, digging around for that one pesky sock. he could just take you. right here, right now— but instead he ends up blowing his cum into his own sock that never made it into the wash pile back in his room.

he’ll pass your bedroom, and you’ll be out — so he’ll take the liberty to blow a load into a pair of your used panties in the hamper. you didn’t do anything to trigger him this time, but he felt like you owed him that at least, for all the times you’d unknowingly teased him.

K IS FOR… kink, ft. receptionist!reader x fireman!john b x fireman!jj ♡

unsurprising to all, the sweet receptionist bunking in a tiny apartment with two beefy firemen definitely has a fantasy or two. she knows the realities of how scary these fires can be, so she always feels a little guilty in indulging in being a damsel in distress in her daydreams, her two boys coming to save her from a smoky building before taking her home, spreading her out on the bed and making her feel all better, the two of them still greasy, soot staining their clothes and the scent of smoke radiating from them.

sometimes they get home from their shift when she’s mid fantasy with her hand down her panties and suddenly has to dive out of bed to greet them, all disheveled with her pupils dilated to the moon and back.

“you uh… alright there sweetie?” jj plays into it, knowing something was a miss, smirking. she swallows thickly, nodding unconvincingly.

“mhm! you guys just caught me by surprise! i was uh, napping.” her voice still trembles.

“hold on, you do look a little flushed.” john b touches the back of her neck and her knees buckle. but luckily his fireman instincts kick in and he catches her with ease. god, this was just like her fantasies. “lets lay you down, okay?”

L IS FOR… location, ft. pizzadeliveryboy!pope ♡

when fitting pope into your seriously tight schedule — sometimes it was just the most convenient to fuck in a rather odd location. your car and the kitchen of your house were good enough to get the job done — but popes favourite location to have fucked you in had to be the bathroom of the pizza place he worked at.

now, usually — he was a stickler for rules. the violation of his work place would normally make him shudder, but it was just the way you’d marched in there, so publicly, leant over the counter and whispered “i need it now.”

safe to say you were not talking about extra pepperonis.

he took his break early, and hey — it was a slow day, so he wasn’t too worried about ushering you cautiously but quickly into a bathroom cubicle and fighting your shorts down your legs.

“seriously? while i’m working?” he hisses in a whisper and all you can do is giggle, leaning against your cubicle wall and sticking out your ass temptingly. you match his whisper at full volume, in the moment not caring who hears. it was the closest he could get to a public declaration of love and desire.

“dont complain. know you’ve been thinkin’ about it.”

he definitely had been, so he shuts up and gets to work.

M IS FOR… motivation, ft. shittysoundcloudrapper!jj ♡

what gets jj going, is your eagerness to help him, doing whatever it takes to push and promote his hopeless career in soundcloud rapping. needs a female voice to moan for the backing track again? you’re eagerly setting up the mic and spreading your legs for him. needs a video girl? you’re holding up mini skirts asking which one he thinks you should wear (he says whichever one is shorter.) stuck in a slump with writing lyrics? there’s not much you can do there but spell check them in his notepad with glittery pink pen and make suggestions. each assist made, you do it with the same wide eyed, pleading for approval expression that makes his dick throb.

he didn’t like to admit it, but he was enjoying playing with you too much to make you his certified girlfriend just yet. which makes him kind of a selfish asshole, yes. he just loved watching you melt when he’d come up behind his pretty best friend, grabbing your hips and rocking side to side with you, making you smile because you know he’s about to suck up to you and ask you for something.

“you wanna be my helpful girl?” he hums, and you shudder — instantly and pathetically becoming that wide eyed yes-woman he knows and loves.

“mhm…”

“wow that was eeeeasy mama. you’ll do anything for me, huh?”

“anything.”

N IS FOR… no, ft. daddy!john b x puppy!reader ♡

one thing john b really doesn’t like doing, is pushing pup past her limits — especially as sometimes she doesn’t quite know where they are. when having sex, during particularly intense sessions she gets dazed, unable to think and sometimes even talk for herself because she is just so overwhelmed by emotion and pleasure.

he’d have her face down ass up in the bed, strong arm wrapped around her hips to reach her cunt, rolling her pearl beneath rough fingers as his cock stretches her, collecting cream at the base from her abundance of releases. hes going at a relaxed pace, but pup is limp, unable to let anything out by strained noises.

“hows that sweetheart? we still feeling good?” john b croons, careful not to get lost in his own pleasure to focus on his own. “pup?” he calls when there’s no answer.

that’s a big enough of a red flag for john b to pull out, leaning over her to gently lift her head. her eyes are screwed shut with tears on her cheeks and she’s breathing quickly through her nose. it appears she’s worked herself up into a frenzy. the brunette knows not to panic, as these things happen, simply scooping her naked body into his arms and stroking her head. “how ‘bout a break. okay? did so good for me puppy. juuust need a break. little tiny break.” he punctuates the sentence with a kiss to her crown, doing everything in his power to reassure and soothe her.

O IS FOR…oral, ft. rafe x lamb!reader ♡

with someone as strict as lamb!reader, oral is the loophole rafe needed to get into her panties. in the early days, he weasels head from her — telling her it’s the only way she can properly apologise to him after mouthing off against him after he’d done so much for her. there’s the light threat that he’ll tell on her too if she doesn’t, unspoken and lingering behind their elongated gazes — and that’s enough for her to frantically scamper to her knees, demanding the satin scrunchie from her dresser.

rafe isn’t big on giving oral — but with lamb, he’d see it as a stepping stone into sex. because if he’s eaten her pussy, what’s the point in stopping there? they may aswell go all the way. it’s obscene the way he’d have her on her back on her bed, his knees in both of his hands, spread as far as they’d go revealing her wet, pulsing cunt causing the fabric of her thin white panties to be completely sheered.

“c—can’t, after the first time… i had to beg for forgiveness. if i do this rafe there’s, there’s no going back.” she’s trembling, the poor thing — but not from fear, from need, her clit twitching beneath his gaze just begging to be touched. it was true, religious girls ovulated too.

“yeah? you’d probably start crying if i stopped n’walked away now alright? you want this. no, you — you need this, i can see it with my own two eyes. okay? give in. jesus isn’t watching.” he’s irritable, but if rafe was anything— he wasn’t a total creep. he needed that green light. he needed a yes.

there’s a silence, filled with lambs shuddering and sniffles and he’s honestly about to give up himself before her voice sounds, meek and guilty.

“just… just a little bit. just kiss it a little bit. maybe… maybe touch.”

he huffs out a laugh. sure, just a little bit.

P IS FOR… pace, ft.apocalypse!pope ♡

in a world where everything was a mad dash for safety, sex was the one thing pope liked to take his time with. he saw it as a luxury, a blessing reminding him of his gratitude toward having shelter, safety, warmth, companionship. he was never a risk taker, only ever having one actual ‘quickie’ in an abandoned warehouse when you convince him to take you beyond the gates of kitty hawk. he was stressed the whole time, an eye constantly peeled and unable to fully enjoy you as he bounced you hastily on his cock.

“s’fine popey, no one’s here! nothin’s gonna — mmph— nothin’s gonna happen!”

“you don’t know that. fuck. you better cum. shit.”

back home at the base, he lights candles, lays you down on the blankets in his watch-tower, and gets to work. he rolls his hips languidly, relishing in every noise you make, falling love even deeper when you beg him to go harder, faster. but he never does. sex was one of the few enjoyable things there was left, and he wanted to make each time last. he never knew when it might be the last time, anyway.

Q IS FOR… quickie, ft. farmhand!jj ♡

farmhand!jj on the other hand, he gets off on the thrill of being caught. he doesn’t really want to— but there’s something so scandalous to him about the fact your father is a short walk up the hill, whilst you’re in the barn with him, grinding on his face, calling him daddy.

there’s a rarely a time either of you are able to get fully nude, relying on moving things out the way to put the ‘quick’ in ‘quickie’. he enjoys that element too, taking pleasure in pulling up that little gingham dress and moving your innocent looking panties aside to have his way with the farmers daughter.

he likes to tease you, it’s just apart of his cheeky personality — plucking some hay off your cheek as he fucks into you from the back, hay in your hair and dirt on your cheek on the floor blanket he laid down.

“what would ya’ daddy say, huh? if he saw you like this on his property? ain’t lookin’ too good for you, sweetie.” he teases, tightening his grip on your hips. you whine, which means ‘don’t say that’ in sex talk, barely glancing over your shoulder with hazy puppy dog eyes.

“you’re m’daddy.” you pout in the heat of the moment, pathetically and guiltily making him bark out a mischievous chuckle, biting his tongue.

“yeah? i’m your daddy. okay.” jj repeats with a grin, plucking his hat off his head and dropping it on yours.

R IS FOR… risk, ft. gooner!rafe ♡

look, he’s a rich, white guy in college. he doesn’t care about risks. before you, there wasn’t much risk in his porn obsessed habits, not outside of his search history being revealed anyway. but when he met you, someone who lets him do whatever he wants — it becomes more of a factor.

half way through fucking, he rolls off you, sliding the slippery condom off his cock and heading back to insert himself.

“rafey what are you doin’?” you mewl, shock and concern etched across your features. to be honest, the suggestion of fear in your tone made him throb.

“look, it’ll be fine, alright? i’ll— i’ll pull out, just need to feel that pussy. you gonna let me feel that pussy or no? hm?” he drawls, leaning over you on strong arms, the angle making it hard to disagree with him, infact — you felt your hand floating towards his shaft to guide him back inside, under his spell.

S IS FOR… stamina, ft. puppy!reader x jj ♡

what happens when you pair two of the most adhd, frantic beings in the obx in a bed together? it just keeps going, all night long. catch them when they’re amped up enough, and they’ll go like bunnies.

just when you think it’s over, the two of them catching their breath together in bed— they’ll turn to look at eachother with hazy smiles, before puppy rolls back on top of him.

“want more, jayj.” she’ll always beg, grinding her slick up and down his shaft as it twitches, blood rushing back to it.

“oh yeah? already? don’t need a snack? just… straight back in?” he teases, pretending to think about it until she pouts petulantly.

“dont need a snack want it right now!” she whines, frantically trying to stuff him back inside. he sits up, waving her hands away and cradling her.

“alright, alright no scooby snacks, got it. don’t worry, i’ll give y’what you want, mama.” he soothes, before flipping her on her back.

T IS FOR… toys, ft. toxicex!johnb ♡

let’s be real, whenever you and john b hook up — he wants to show you exactly what you’re missing, so when he feels the need to up his game, he’s definitely not above using toys to bend you to his will, guaranteeing a crazy orgasm you both know no one else can give you.

when you come grovelling at his door, he poses the vibrator he still keeps around as a punishment of some kind for leaving him. he’ll sit behind you on the bed with your legs spread open, holding the pink vibe to your clit as you fall apart.

“you know sweetheart i shouldn’t keep doing this… right?”

“mm—no—mmph john b, please!” you cry, willing to do anything for him to not turn the toy off just before you cum again.

“john b?” he repeats, voice dry and flat. “has it been that long?”

“daddy.” you mewl ashamed and feel him smile, satisfied with an exaggerated nod.

“ah. there it is. ‘guess i can make you feel good again. what’s one more time right?” his tone is sarcastic still as he rubs the vibe in circles, making your legs jerk obscenely, voice squealing involuntarily. “mm. but it’s not gonna be the last time, is it baby?”

U IS FOR… unfair, ft.spoiledexgf!reader x rafe ♡

we all know, when it comes to teasing — spoiledexgf!reader is straight up evil. she breaks less easily, never giving rafe what he wants unless it’s on her terms, using him for that delectable dick and money when she needs it. she knows he still belongs to her completely, and her attitude shows that.

she likes to call him at random times from another phone (because one of them always has the other one blocked on her phone.) just to check if she can still get what she wants. he’ll pick up the phone with “yeah, who’s this?”

“you know who.” she grins, kicking her feet and she hears him sigh, leaning back in his seat, probably pinching his nose bridge.

“what, okay — i’m working, what do you want?”

“i can’t just call to check up on my favourite businessman?” she coos, biting her glossed lip.

“no. you always want something. so what is it— or— or should i say how much? huh? how much you need?” he’s sarcastic, but she can literally him hear scuffling about for his wallet.

“just a humble 300. there are these pair of shoes and… well, i won’t bore you with the details. i’ll be sure to repay you.”

“yeah, you fuckin’ better, alright? not just a piggy bank. not doin’ that shit anymore okay i need something in return.” he demands, frustrated and dick already jumping at the thought of potentially getting to touch her again.

she taps her chin though he can’t see her, fluttering long lashes at the ceiling. “hmm. i’ll see what mood i’m in later. bye rafey.” just like that, she hangs up — waiting for the money to be transferred.

V IS FOR…volume, ft. pope ♡

if there was a contest for prettiest male moan— the trophy would go to pope. he’s not super loud, because you’re either doing it at his place or yours, and with your family situations it was rare you had the places to yourself.

however, you could listen to it forever — the sound of his soft groan in your ear as he’d roll his hips against yours, slipping in whispers of “oh my god.” and “fuck…” under his breath, which was absolutely music to your ears.

sometimes, when he’s super pent up — right before he cums he’ll whimper, eyes screwed shut as he focuses on getting to his peak of pleasure. that was pope at his most vulnerable, and you cherish every moment.

“fuckfuckfuck… you’re so beautiful…shit!”

W IS FOR… wildcard, ft. barry x bunny!reader ♡

you read that correctly — there is a universe out there where bunny and rafe break up, and barry is quick to get his hands on that. he lets her rant at his place, wiping her tears with his knuckle with a joint hanging from his mouth, he takes a huff before holding the roll to her glittery lips.

“he got you fucked up babygirl… know i wouldn’t do that shit right? i’on know, maybe you need a real man to get you right… s’all i’m sayin’.” he lets the smirk slide onto his face. her instinct is to deny him, but why? she’s single now right?

before she knows it she’s pierced on his cock with him guiding her hips, his mouth tasting of something unfamiliar mixed with weed.

“shit, keep that thing real tight don’t you mama? country club di’nt even know what to do with all that.”

X IS FOR… x-ray ♡

when i think of who is packing the most — two characters come to mind. pogue!rafe, who stands at 6ft5– he definitely has the dick to match his huge beefy stature, and dbf!johnb— just the idea of him having to train his friends daughter to take his thick cock is simply mouthwatering.

rafes stands at 9 and a half inches, and john b at 7.5, but way thicker.

Y IS FOR… yearning, ft. john b x reader x sarah ♡

this couple is potentially the biggest gooner duo of the princessverse. as previously discussed, the pair are constantly trying to integrate sex into your life by tricking your innocent mind into thinking it was your idea, so of course they are constantly yearning for you.

when you posted some scandalous bikini pics on instagram — you thought most people would give it a like, maybe a comment and then keep scrolling. what you don’t know, is that two of your closest friends are in bed together, touching themselves and eachother with your pictures pulled up — talking about all the yucky things they’re gonna do to you when they get their hands on you.

“can you picture it john b? her laying right here between us, letting me suck those perfect tits.” sarah sighs softly and john b’s jaw falls open with pleasure as she takes over from his hand gripping his cock, stroking up and down.

“holy shit. i’m gonna cum all over the screen.” he grits his teeth and she sucks on her plump bottom lip, clenching her tanned thighs together knowing it’ll be her turn soon.

“yeah… cum all over her.”

Z IS FOR… Zzz, ft. linecook!jj ♡

jj works long days, but he always ensures to reserve enough energy to lay it on you when he’s home from work. however, when he’s done — he’s done, so if you were planning on having any conversations with him, you have to make sure it’s before he gets his hands on you.

he rolls off you once he’s fucked you through two orgasms, finally getting his own, dropping face down with his pants pulled down.

you catch your breath before rolling over to kiss his bicep. “jayj, left some dinner for you in the microwave if you didn’t get to eat at work…” you blink, hazy eyed and still a bit disorientated. “jayjie?”

you’re met with a snore, low and deep — muffled by the pillow. you giggle, stroking his back affectionately and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. he’ll eat it for breakfast, you suppose.

[seelestars]

thinking about touching the exposed skin on aventurines chest…

the two of you were currently alone, enjoying some much needed peace after a long day. though, you suppose the peace wouldn’t last long since you let your impulsive thoughts take over.

what would happen if you teased the skin beneath aventurine’s chest window?

before you could stop yourself, your hand had already reached out to caress the exposed skin.

his reaction was one you found quite delightful, his body immediately tensing up as he narrows his eyes at you in a playful manner. “oh? I didn’t know we were playing this game tonight.” aventurine smirks—a feeble attempt at covering up the way you had slightly flustered him. it was obvious your touch made his heart throb and his breath quicken, his pupils dilated as his cheeks were coated in a rosy tint. your sudden touch had caught him off guard, his trust and affection for you allowing him to safely lower his guard around you.

“I just wanted to see how you’d react, that’s all.” you quickly respond, hoping to dismiss any ideas of him retaliating and teasing your body back as well. despite how you seemed to want him to forget about it, you only added more fuel to the fire once you decided to teasingly lick his exposed skin.

feeling your warm tongue on his smooth skin, aventurine couldn’t help but bite his lower lip as he looks down at you with half-lidded eyes. to be frank—he enjoyed it when you played these games with him. it gave him chances to amuse himself, as well as chances to enjoy your touch.

though … he considered reciprocation to be the best part in these little games.

which is why there was a mischievous and sly smirk on his lips as he uttered his next words. “mm… you say that, and yet, you’re still choosing to continue. I’m sure you’re aware of what you’re getting yourself into, aren’t you? so… better prepare yourself.” aventurine chuckles lowly at your surprised expression. now, he was sure he implanted many ideas into your head regarding what he would do to you—but he chose to make you anticipate his next actions as he begins to pull his gloves off with his teeth.

…this ended up much more suggestive than i intended for it to be(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*) but regardless, enjoy!