#Gut Conditioner

[clottedscream]

it’s june again motherfuckers. time for more Cameron Sitting On A Wall content

[Image ID: a digital illustration of the artist’s oc sitting on a brick wall. The image is in perspective, with the foreground occupied by the oc’s skateboard propped up against the wall. The skateboard has a multicolored splatter paint design and is covered in a multitude of stickers, including two cat faces, a lesbian pride flag, several stars, and a purple oval that says ‘defund the motherfuckers.’ The oc is a woman with short, shaggy bleach blonde hair that covers one eye. She is blowing a gum bubble and reclining against the wall with her headphones on. Her outfit consists of a cropped tank top with a similar splatter paint pattern to her skateboard, with the word “PUKE” emblazoned across the chest, worn over a black tank top and denim shorts. she has several multicolored bandaids on her body. In the background behind the brick wall, a tree is drawn in a less realistic and more scratchy, hand-painted style. The sky is abstract, with paint drips and splotches, and the sun casts a rainbow lens flare. End ID]

[sceletaflores]

slippin' and slidin' all over you!

pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

wc: 4k

contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, sweating, mutual masturbation, sweat licking (i don't know???), not-so-dry humping, p in v, JUST THE TIP RAHHH, creampie, fingering (fem!recieving), oral sex (fem!receiving), come swapping, come eating, literally over four thousand words of pure nasty smut, this is gross lowkey, idk i'm h*rny, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

nat’s note: very much not the winner or even an option of the poll i posted last week but...shhh don't hate me. it’s october and over 80 every single day, what the fuck is that? only good thing that came from this heat is thoughts of nasty sweaty sex with logan. once again shoutout to my wonderful husband @ebodebo for reading this over for me (i successfully changed her vendetta against sucking up some man sweat...which was the real point of this fic tbh) go give her fics some love if you're a slut for ghost! kisses!

logan forgot to fix the ac...

It's too hot out to be alive. 36°C and sunny.

One of the hottest days in recent memory for Alberta, and you're really feeling it.

"Remind me," you say slowly, the first words spoken in almost ten minutes. "How many times did I ask you to fix the air conditioner?"

"Don't start," Logan says from his spot across the room. His head is tipped back to rest on the couch cushion, eyes slipped shut.

You ignore him, lazily rolling your head to the side to look at him through squinted eyes, your brows furrowed in thought. "Was it ten? Or maybe thirteen?"

Logan huffs a breath, slow and heavy, but he doesn't move--doesn't even open his eyes. “I said don’t start,” he mutters again, though there’s the faintest edge of a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Don't worry baby," you say, voice pitched lower in a terrible impersonation of Logan. "I'll get to it, promise. Won’t get too hot for another couple months."

Logan finally cracks an eye open, just enough to give you a sideways glance, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You done?"

You hum noncommittally, the sound lingering in the air like the lazy summer breeze doing nothing to cool the temperature outside. Your gaze slips down the side of his face to trace the jut of his jaw, then lower to the sweaty column of his neck. 

Both you and Logan lost most of your clothes earlier in the day, too hot to bother wearing anything but underwear. You trudged around the house like zombies until you finally gave up on trying to be productive, you both ended up in the living room. 

All the windows are cracked open, trying in vain to let in any cool air. You claimed the armchair closest to the fan, refusing to be anywhere near Logan and the massive heat wave he constantly gives off.

Logan’s on the couch, stripped down to the thinnest pair of sleep shorts you’ve ever seen. His chest is bare, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat that mats the dark hair dusted along his pecs to his skin. 

You can’t help the way your eyes follow the drops of moisture that slide slowly down the contours of his abs. A low heat starting to swirl through your gut when it disappears into his happy trail.

It's funny. When you basically peeled yourself off your mattress this morning, sex was the absolute last thing on your mind.

Now, as your eyes glide over the strong expanse of Logan's body on full display, you're having second thoughts.

Maybe it just comes with the heat. That sort of slow, syrupy feeling that slides along your overheated skin to pulse pleasantly between your thighs.

A bead of sweat slides down the length of your spine slowly, falling until it soaks into the damp waistband of your panties. You try to not notice how Logan is halfway across the room, not touching you.

You fail.

“It’s just a shame, though,” you start, fingers idly toying with the hem of your tank top. “If it was cooler, I could come over there.”

You slide a leg up, letting it rest against the wooden rest, newly exposed skin gleaming under the sunlight filtering in. 

The move isn't lost on Logan. You see his jaw clench slightly, the tiniest shift in his posture.

"Something you wanted?" Logan asks, his voice going low and teasing. "Looks like you've been gettin' yourself all worked up over there."

“Just thinking,” you reply, shifting slightly on the sticky leather of the chair.

Logan’s fingers twitch at his sides, his chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths. His eyes slide the rest of the way open, his gaze heavy and lingering as it ventures down to where your thin shirt sticks to your skin, outlining every curve.

“Oh yeah?” he prompts, his voice a little rougher now. “Thinkin’ about what, baby?”

“You,” you say easily, fingers slipping down to your thigh. You bring your other leg up, perching it against the opposite armrest. Your thighs spread wide enough that you know Logan has a full view of the wet spot growing along the gusset of your panties.

The hitch in Logan’s breath has you stifling a smug smile, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the way his chest starts rising faster.

"That's real sweet, sugar," he drawls, an unimpressed look on his face as he drags his eyes back up to your own. "But if you're tryin' to get me over there, you're gonna have to do better than that." His voice slides through the air heavy and warm like molasses.

You bite back a grin, enjoying the slow game that's unfolding between the two of you. 

"Maybe I don’t want you to come over here," you let your fingers trail a little lower, just to the edge of your panties, teasing. ��Maybe I like you right where you are.”

Logan’s brow raises, his thighs tensing before he spreads them just a touch wider. The fabric of his boxers goes taut over the strong muscle, riding up to expose even more hairy skin to your greedy eyes.

"You're playin' with fire, kid," he warns.

The tent in his shorts is obvious now, the hard length of his cock pressing against the fabric where it lays across his thigh. Your other hand twitches by your side at just the sight, your pussy throbbing with the sudden need to be filled.

"Am I?" you murmur, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties, just enough to make sure he knows exactly where this is headed. ”It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it, you’re too busy pouting."

With a deliberate slowness, you slide your fingers lower, brushing against your clit with just enough pressure to let out a soft gasp at the contact. You arch your back slightly, relishing in the way the air feels against your skin, hot and sticky.

You want him to see how badly you need him—how his heat is the only thing that could truly satisfy the insatiable ache building between your legs.

Logan's nostrils flare, jaw tightening and eyes darkening at the sight of you teasing yourself. His restraint is slipping, and you can practically feel the tension building in the room, thick and stifling like the oppressive summer heat. 

But he still doesn’t move, doesn’t rush over like you expect him to. Instead, he shifts his hips slightly, spreading his legs wider and letting his hand fall on his thigh. 

You can’t help the way your breath quickens at the sight, the way his fingers drift dangerously close to his own growing bulge, teasing you just as much as you’re teasing him. 

You tilt your head to the side, gazing at him through your lashes. “You're really just gonna leave me hanging?” you goad, fingers circling lazily around your sensitive clit. “Come on stud, whip it out.”

Logan chuckles low, a sound that sends shivers through you. "Is that what you want, baby?" he asks, voice thick and taunting, a smirk curling on his lips. “You want me to whip it out for you?”

“Yeah,” you murmur breathlessly, biting your lip as you maintain eye contact, your breath starting to come in short bursts. “I need to see you, Logan. Need to see how hard you are for me.”

“Need to, huh,” he muses slowly, fingers finally grazing over the hard length of his cock. “What’s in it for me?”

“How about this?” You slip your hand out from your ruined panties, fingers glistening with your own wetness as you hook your thumbs on either side and drag them down your legs.

You let the soaked cotton fall to the floor, leaving you completely exposed to him.

Logan’s pupils dilate, an inky black completely swallowing the warm hazel. He licks his lips slowly, the tip of his tongue running along his teeth like he wants to sink them into you. His cock twitches visibly beneath his shorts, the growing tension in the air between you thick enough to choke on.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, his voice low and gravelly, more of a growl than a word.

You smile, shifting in the chair to give him an even better view, your legs spreading wider. "Yeah?" you purr, running your fingers over your slick inner thigh, feeling the heat radiating from your own skin. “You like what you see?”

Logan swallows hard, his hand finally slipping beneath the waistband of his shorts, palming his cock as he watches you. “You know I do,” he says, voice rougher than before. 

You let your hand trail back down to your clit, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as you hold his gaze. “Then show me, Logan,” you whisper, your voice almost a plea now. "I wanna see you."

Logan lets out a low, rumbling groan, his fingers making quick work of shoving his shorts down enough to free his cock. It springs free to slap lewdly against his stomach and you can’t help the moan that escapes your lips at the sight.

He strokes himself slowly to start, his eyes locked on you, watching your every reaction, feeding off the way your chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths.

"Like this?" he asks, his tone taunting as he strokes himself from base to tip, his thumb swiping over the head with a low hiss. “That what you wanted?”

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, straining and in his hand. The sight of his thumb brushing over the tip of his cock sends a hot, electric pulse through your body, your hand between your legs moving in time with his slow strokes.

"Yeah," you whisper, voice trembling with need. "Just like that."

You slip your hand lower, sliding two fingers inside yourself with a low moan. Logan groans like he’s the one being touched, his hand speeds up, eyes glued to where your fingers disappear in your slick heat.

His cock leaks pre-come over his knuckles each time his fist passes over the dripping head, the wet sound of it mixing with the low hum of the fan and your own breathy sighs.

"You look so fuckin' good like this honey," Logan groans, his voice rough, strained. "All spread out, playing with that pretty pussy for me."

You whimper at his words, your body aching for more than just your own touch. You need him, need the feel of his rough hands on your skin, his mouth, his cock—anything.

Your fingers move faster, slipping deeper inside with each pump, but it’s still not enough. The stretch is nothing compared to taking Logan, to the feeling of him carving a place for his thick cock inside your pussy, hitting that spot inside you that your fingers can’t quite reach.

Your hips buck up towards your hand, your back arching off the chair as your free hand clutches the armrest tightly.

Logan’s pace quickens, his fist pumping his cock with a new urgency, heavy balls bouncing with every rough tug.

“God, look at you, such a needy fuckin’ thing” he growls, chest heaving as his gaze flicks between your flushed face and the glistening mess you’re making of yourself like he can’t decide where to look. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

"Please," you whine, desperation creeping into your voice. Too keyed up to draw this out any longer. “I need you inside me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore.”

Logan groans, a sound that rumbles deep in his chest. His hand falters slightly on his cock, squeezing hard around the base as your words push him dangerously close to the edge. His jaw clenches, eyes raking over you, and with a growl, he stands. 

The last threads of his restraint snapping.

 He crosses the room in two long strides, towering over you where you sit. His cock swollen and hard, sways between his legs with every step, glistening with pre-come that drips to the floor. His eyes, hooded and burning, drink you in as he reaches down, yanking your hand away from your slick heat.

“Thought you said it was too hot to move,” you tease breathlessly, unable to quit egging him on even when your legs start to tremble with need, spreading wider to welcome him.

Logan ignores you, tugging your hand to his lips. Your breath catches in your chest, a weak moan escaping you as he takes your soaked fingers in his mouth. His tongue swirling along your skin to taste you, his eyes never leaving yours as he does.

“Changed my mind,” he growls, strong hands rough and possessive as they drop your wrist and haul you out of the chair so he can spin around, collapsing into it with you in his lap. The wood gives a warning creak beneath you but neither of you care.

Not when his mouth is on yours, hot and demanding as he slides his tongue past the seam of your lips. The heat radiating off his body is suffocating, but you welcome it—craving the weight of him on you.

You melt against him, feeling the hard planes of his body against yours, every inch of him alive and pulsating with need. Logan’s hands find their way to your hips, fingers digging in just enough to send a rush coursing through you.

It’s intoxicating, the way he devours you, his hands exploring every inch of your back, grasping and pulling you impossibly closer. 

The hard jut of his cock presses against your thigh, a thick plane of heat that makes your pussy throb with need. You shift your hips, grinding down on him in messy circles.

“You feel that?” he growls, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all for you, darlin’.”

“Need you,” you whimper, grinding down against him faster, desperate for the friction that sends pleasure rippling through you. “Please, Logan, I need you inside me now.”

“Hold on, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and husky, sending sparks all up your spine.

He dips his head, capturing your lips again, while his hands roam hungrily down your sides, fingers curling around your thighs to urge your legs open wider. “You wanna tease me, you’re gonna have to get off just like this.”

Logan angles his hips so that his cock slips between your drenched folds the next time you roll your own down.

The hot, slick glide sends electric shocks of pleasure racing through you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. You gasp against his lips, fingers tangling in his hair as you push down, desperate for more.

“God, you’re so fuckin’ wet,” he growls, his voice dripping with lust as he watches your movements with hungry eyes. “Just for me, huh? She’s droolin’ just for me.”

You nod breathlessly, chasing the friction, craving the feel of him so close. You lift your hips and rock back down again, the blunt head of his cock brushing against your swollen clit, and you feel your body pulse in response. 

“More,” you plead, leaning in to nibble at his lower lip. “I need it.”

Logan pulls away, shaking his head with a wicked grin. “Come on, tough shot,” he says, giving your ass a quick smack and kneading the tender flesh in his hand roughly. “You’re gonna come like this, you can do it baby.”

You whine, dropping your chin to your chest. Your hands find his shoulders, nails digging crescent moons into the strong muscle. Your chest slips slickly against his, the front of your tank almost entirely soaked with sweat.

Yours or his, it doesn't matter. The white cotton turned transparent enough that your breasts are on full display, nipples hard and visible.

You watch a single bead of sweat make its way down the length of his throat. It trickles down and down and down until it dips between the pronounced muscles of his chest.

You duck your head, dragging your tongue up the valley of his pecs. A deep moan bursts from your lips, pussy drooling more slick over Logan’s cock at the coarse feel of his thick hair on your tongue, at the heady taste of his sweat filling your senses.

Logan groans, hands tightening their hold on your waist. The dull ache his strength leaves behind is enough to let you know that two hand shaped bruises will be blooming over your skin by tomorrow morning. 

“Come on, girly,” he encourages, nipping at the sweaty column of your throat, the sharp points of his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin deliciously. “Fuck me, give it to me good.”

Your hips speed up, his hard cock sliding through the slick folds of your cunt faster. The tip bumps against your clit deliciously with every move, smearing pre-come along the way to add even more to the mess between your legs.

“Gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he groans, breath puffing warm and hot agasint the slick skin of your lips. “Pump you so full of my come you’ll be leakin’ for a goddamn week.”

He shifts underneath you, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance just enough for it to push inside on the next grind of your hips.

The barely there fullness has you coming with a sharp cry, nails roughly dragging down Logan’s back hard enough to leave red welts that heal as you go.

The pain mixing with the pleasure of finally getting to feel the warm, wet suction of your pussy has Logan coming with a rough shout of your name. He throws his head back, hands tightening their grip on your hips enough to have your bones grinding together as he pumps you full of his come. 

“Logan…” you mewl, your pussy fluttering over the tip of his cock, greedy little clenches like you're trying to suck him the rest of the way in. Drunk on the way his release paints your insides, how you can feel each thick spray coating your walls to claim you in the rawest way.

Logan pulls back just far enough to meet your gaze, his eyes dark and smoldering as he watches you squirm in his lap.

"You’re not tapping out on me already, are you?" he teases, his voice rough and gravelly. "I thought you were tougher than that."

A weak, breathy laugh escapes you, but it’s cut short when he applies just a little more pressure, making your thighs quiver. "Not tapping out," you manage between shallow breaths, your head falling back against the chair. "But you’re—fuck—you’re insatiable."

Logan smirks, leaning in to nip at the sensitive skin of your throat, his teeth scraping just enough to send shivers coursing through you.

"When it comes to you, baby?" he murmurs against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over your pulse point. "Fuckin’ always."

A lazily smile takes over your lips as you tighten your core and push, the rest of Logan’s come leaking out over his fingers. Logan groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder to try and ground himself.

His cock throbs where it sways heavily between his thighs, still hard and ready to go even after he just came. His hand slips down your body, thick fingers running through the creamy mess of come and slick to messily push it back inside you.

“Fuckin’ shit, honey,” he groans lowly, pressing his thumb to your clit. “You’re gonna kill me.” 

Before you can respond, he stands again, gently placing your trembling form back into the chair and dropping to his knees in front of you.

Your breath hitches, legs widening despite the way your pussy shakes with overstimulation, like you can’t help but spread your legs for Logan anytime he wants.

Logan smirks up at you from between your legs, his lips already ghosting over the inside of your thigh. "Look at you," he growls, voice low and filled with lust. "Still so needy."

The slick heat of his tongue runs along your folds, lapping at the mess he just made of you. You let out a sharp gasp, thighs trembling as your fingers weave into his hair, tugging him closer.

The sensation is overwhelming—the rough, demanding pace of his tongue as it swirls around your clit, teasing you, while his hands grip your thighs with bruising force. Keeping you exactly where he wants you, keeping you spread open for his tongue.

Your body arches off the chair with a loud cry, every nerve alight with raw pleasure as he feasts on you, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"Fuck! Logan," you moan breathlessly, head falling back as you try to keep up with the sensations he's pulling from you.

The heat that was pooling low in your belly reignites, stoked by the way his tongue flicks faster against your clit, each stroke sending you higher.

Logan doesn’t let up, his tongue delving deeper, drinking in every moan, every shaky gasp as he drives you closer to the edge. He moans into your pussy, his own arousal clear in the way his hips buck into the air, seeking any kind of friction.

You tug on his hair harder, desperate for more, for release. "Logan, please," you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with need.

"Atta’ girl," he rasps, his voice thick with desire as he watches your face contort with pleasure. "So fuckin’ pretty like this. You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come for me again?"

Every lick, every rough squeeze to your thighs, every teasing stroke sends you spiraling closer to that edge you’re dying to reach again. You can feel the heat radiating off him, his breath hot against your soaked skin and driving you wild.

“Logan, I—” You gasp, fingers tightening in his hair, urging him closer, closer, closer. “I’m so close—”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, nose and jaw glistening in your juices.

"Give it to me," he growls, the rough rasp of his voice sending a shiver through your overheated body. "I wanna feel you come on my tongue."

It’s all the encouragement you need. With a strangled cry, your body tenses, thighs quaking as the orgasm crashes over you.

Logan keeps his mouth on you, tongue working you through every pulse, drawing it out until you’re trembling and gasping, your body boneless in the chair.

When you finally come down, panting and spent, Logan pulls away. With one last kiss pressed over your clit, he makes his way up your body, not dropping eye contact as he settles over you.

His hand comes up to your face, thumbs meanly hooking into either side of your cheeks to gently force your mouth open. You part your lips willingly, the heat still radiating between you, a mix of lingering pleasure.

Logan leans in, and the intoxicating scent of sweat and sex surrounds you as he spits what he collected from between your legs back into your own mouth. 

Your cheeks burn with shame, a broken moan ringing through the space between you. Your glassy eyes stare into Logan’s, his own gaze so intense and all consuming you fight the urge to squirm.

"Swallow," he commands, unwavering. 

You hesitate for just a moment, caught off guard by the pure audacity, but the way his eyes darken with hunger makes your resolve crumble. With a breathless whimper, you obey, tasting the remnants of your own pleasure mingling with his, the act both humiliating and intensely arousing.

Logan watches you closely, his gaze never straying as you swallow, a dirty smirk creeping onto his lips. “That's my girl,” he praises, his tone thick with satisfaction.

As the taste lingers on your tongue, you can feel the weight of Logan’s stare like a physical touch.

“Think you can handle another round?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “I don’t plan on letting you off that easy, kid. Not with all that mouthing off earlier.”

You catch your breath, shaking your head in exasperation. “You’re relentless,” you whisper, a hint of laughter in your voice, though your body betrays you, already craving more.

“Only for you, baby” he replies, brushing the strands of hair plastered to your sweaty forehead behind your ear. “Only for you.”

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

mini nat's note: i started my period today chickens...that explains it...

[butchcarmy]

let me love on you

Rating: Explicit (5.4k)

Summary: carmy makes you come once with each: his fingers, his mouth, and then his cock. That's it. That's the summary

Tags: smut, porn with NO PLOT, established relationship, fingering, squirting, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, soft dom carmy, multiple orgasms, slow sex, sprinkling of praise kink, general sappiness

a/n: HIII this is just filth… first time smut posting yay!!! Also fun fact this doc is called “PUSSY EATING CHAMPION!!!!!” hope you enjoy this indulgence!!

You swear to him that you’ve nothing but innocent thoughts when he pulls you into his side. He’s just so warm, heat thrumming under his skin. It would’ve been impossible not to melt into him. Resisting is a futile effort. Besides, it’s not your fault that he has these gentle, long-lashed eyes, and when you stare at them, you have to kiss him. There’s little choice in the matter.

But maybe—just maybe—you’re the one that snakes your hands into his hair. Maybe you’re the one that curls your fingers and tugs, not too gentle, not too rough—just right. 

“Missed you today,” he whispers against your lips. He’s starting to press you against the cushions, but you don’t care. You like it when he’s on top of you. 

“Saw you this morning,” you tease, but with the way his callused hands are up your shirt, it comes out breathless. 

“Yeah,” Carmy acknowledges, “I know. Still.”

“Mm.” You can’t help the smile on your face. “Missed you too,” you admit, and you feel him smile back against your lips. 

“Stop smiling so much, I can’t kiss you,” he says through a laugh. He’s pulled back, so you can see the grin still overtaking his face. 

“You first,” you challenge, and he shakes his head with another short chuckle, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You laugh, too—you can’t help it, not after hearing his wonderful little laugh. You lean your head against his hair, freshly washed and soft. It smells like his shitty old spice shampoo you’ve been begging for him to replace, but you don’t mind the smell so much. Although today, it smells a little bit like a new conditioner of sorts. 

You’re about to ask him if he’s starting using a different conditioner, but then he’s pressing kisses to the side of your neck.  

“Wanted you so bad at work today,” he murmurs against your skin. His hands are roaming down now, playing with the edge of your waistband. “Kept thinking about you like this.”

“Like what?” You breathe out. It’s hard to think when he’s sucking hickeys into the tender skin of your throat. 

“Like this,” he says again, and his left hand snakes down the front of your pants. You bite your bottom lip as you feel his fingertips grazing over your clothed pussy. “Under me, letting me touch you…”

“Must’ve been distracting,” you say, trying to tease, but it comes out far too breathless to hold any weight. 

“So distracting,” he agrees. “Thought about you so much I had to take care of it.”

“You—” You imagine Carmy, locked in the bathroom fisting his cock, and arousal throbs in your gut. “Fuck, really?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles. His cheeks are red, and heat flares through you. 

“Touch me,” you plead, suddenly filled with an urgent impatience.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers, dutiful and giving, and his fingers tug your underwear to the side. You let out what feels like a sigh of relief when you feel his fingers pressed against your folds. 

He doesn’t waste any time in rubbing your clit in the way he knows you like, a mix of slow circles and side to side. As he is with all things he cares about, he is efficient, excellent, and this is no exception. Your clit quickly hardens under his persistent touch. With each movement of his fingers, he drags little breaths out of you. 

“Good girl, getting wet for me,” Carmy murmurs against the tender skin of your neck. Two fingers press against your entrance, dipping into the leaking wetness. He rubs the pads of his fingers there to coax you further open, to get you wetter. 

You tuck your face into his neck and wrap your arms over his shoulders. You whimper at the sweet pleasure of his newly slicked fingers drag up your clit. Wetness quickly covers your clit, and it slides easily under his touch, making you shiver.

“Carmy,” you breathe. You’re unraveling, and the both of you know it. His fingers are insistent, taking what it wants from you. God, how you’ve thought about him like this—his broad, tattooed hands shoved down the front of your pants to tease your clit. 

“You like this?” He asks, a bit breathless. His breath is warm on your skin. “You like me?”

“Like you so much,” you get out between moans, and between the noise he makes at that and the growing bulge you’re seated on, you suspect that he likes you, too. 

“You want my fingers?” His voice is low, close in your ear. His lips move from your neck to the side of your head, pressing little kisses there. Each kiss makes you shiver. 

“I do, I want it,” you murmur, hips bucking when his fingers touch your clit in that way he knows makes you react. 

“Then look at me,” he says, and it’s a command.

Reluctantly, you untuck your warm face from his neck. His blue are dark, his pupils blown with arousal, looking at you with a deep hunger. His gaze is strong, unwavering in the way it grabs you. He has always been rather beautiful, you think, but he especially is now with his curly hair falling into his face, expression hungry.

You feel his roaming fingers sliding between your folds before nudging at your entrance. Your entrance pulses once, needy, and he makes a low, pleased noise.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he says quietly, drinking in your expression, and he pushes his two fingers into you.

“A-Ah—“ You bite back a moan, digging your teeth into your lower lip. Your eyes flicker away nervously, but return with Carmy’s soft words.

“Eyes on me,” he commands, gentle yet insistent. You struggle to with the way his two wide fingers gradually stretch you, and with how they just keep going. You guess they’re longer than yours.

“C-Carm,” you whimper, looking at his shakily through wet eyelashes. “Please.”

He smiles at you then, a warm and tender thing. It’s so full of affection it almost makes you want to look away, but you don’t, basking in it.

“Perfect,” he murmurs, and he presses his lips against yours. 

His mouth is urgent, almost as if he’s trying to map the feeling of your mouth with his. You reciprocate, rolling your tongue against his, and that’s when you feel him go down to the last knuckle. His fingers are nestled into you now, and your hole sucks at him once, twice.

You moan quietly against his lips, your hole suckling at his fingers nestled deep inside you. He makes a delighted noise of pleasure back, curling his fingers in you and gently stroking your walls. The pads of his fingers drag slowly across your squishy, wet walls, feeling slowly.

But then his thumb is at your clit, rubbing it from side to side, and you feel as if you’re finally unraveling.

“God, fuck,” you gasp against his lips, desperate for a chance to catch your breath, but you can’t. Not with the way he’s thumbing at your clit and rutting his deep fingers in you.

“Good girl, taking me so well,” he pants against your lips. “You’re so hot inside.” You let out a quiet, needy whine at his words, unable to say anything with the feeling of his fingers deep inside you.

Carmy keeps you here for a while, just fingering you and thumbing at your clit. Your composure is deteriorating quickly, unable to do anything but pant into his mouth. His fingers are so curious, so dutiful in the way he rubs you everywhere. You’re oozing onto his fingers, dripping down them and smearing onto his palm. 

“I wann’ come, Carm, please,” you beg, pulling back from his hungry kisses to hide your face again in his neck. “Feels good, s-so close.” 

“I’ve got you, baby, I got you,” he whispers. “But I wanna see your face when you cum.”

You clench around his fingers. Hard.

“O-Okay,” you stammer, reluctantly leaning back. His half-lidded eyes are taking you in, so hungry it’s making you want to look away, but another part of you drinks his expression in with delight.

“You like the sound of that?” His fingers are moving again, and this time, they’re quick, brutal. In and out, in and out, they thrust, and the way his fingers slide against your walls is making you tremble.

“Yeah,” you moan, because that’s all you can manage to get out.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Carmy says softly, like it’s a travesty, like it’s a gift from above. His other hand cradles your face, thumb stroking your cheek. It’s an unbearably soft gesture, especially compared to the other one pounding your pussy. The repetitive sound of his insistent fingers is wet and slick. The volume of it would typically embarrass you, but so you’re close you don’t even care.

“Oh god, I’m, I’m gonn’ come,” you gasp, legs beginning to tremble. The pressure, the tension coiling in your stomach is so tight it’s almost scary. Your legs tremble around him.

“I’ve got you,” he says again, as if sending your twinge of nerves. “I’m right here, so come on my fingers for me, okay?”

“Fuck me, Carmy, I—I—“ you moan, eyes momentarily squeezing shut as the heat crescendos, rising and rising and his fingers thrusting and rubbing and thrusting until—

“That’s it, baby,” he whispers, and you’re gushing all over his fingers. 

You shakily keep your blurry vision on him, tears beading in the corner of your eyes as you come. Your whole body seizes with the effort, your hole sucking tight at his fingers which stroke you through your clenching orgasm. He leaves no part of you untouched, clit throbbing under his circling thumb. Carmy is nothing but dedicated and thorough.

Through the midst of your peaking orgasm, a sudden surge of wetness gushes out of you.

“Shit,” you gasp, a mixture of panic and arousal. You want to say something apologetic with the way you’re drenching his hand, but the pleasure is so immense you can’t form the words. 

Surprise flashes across his face, and his hand in your pants pauses. But the pause is brief, and then he keeps going, going, going. 

“Fuck, does it feel that good, beautiful?” Carmy murmurs. He’s looking at you like he wants to eat you, and maybe he does. You wouldn’t mind. 

“Mhm,” you affirm distantly, gradually riding the slowing waves of your pleasure. You’re shameless rutting into his hand, rubbing your pussy raw against his skin. The squirting was intense but brief, now tapering off into little spurts in his palm. 

He holds you there for a little while longer, stretching out your orgasm like a melty string of caramel. You’re panting, eyes fluttered shut as you catch your breath. He keeps his two fingers inside you until you stop squeezing around him. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you mumble, exhausted from how hard you came. You’re coming back to reality now, and you’re registering how wet the front of your jeans feel. “Did I get anything on the couch?”

“Don’t apologize. It was hot,” Carmy replies, and his honesty makes your chest feel warm. He looks down, checking the couch cushions before continuing. “I don’t see anything. I think your jeans got the worst of it.”

“No, I think that would go to your hand,” you laugh, a bit strangled with embarrassment. He just grins, unabashed in his pleased, almost smug expression. 

“Guess we’ll see.” That’s when you feel him removing his fingers, sliding out of you and your pants. He wasn’t wrong—you definitely do see it.

You’ve spent more time than you’d like to admit staring at his hands. His handsome hands, littered with faint burns and scars from over the years. One of your favorite things about his hands, though, is his tattoos.

A tattoo of a knife stabbing a hand sits on the back of his right hand, and SOU is written on his first three fingers on his left hand. Those are the letters you see staring back at you, glistening under your fluids that coat his fingers. 

“Um,” you start, but you don’t say anything else. Your ears feel hot. Your throat feels dry. Carmy’s staring at his fingers, and they’re shiny under the light. Very shiny. You can see thin rivulets trailing down his forearm, too. Fuck.

Without saying anything, his tongue drags up the fluid dripping down his arm. 

He does this once, twice before licking up his palm. His tongue travels up his fingers before sucking them into his mouth, eyes fluttered shut like it’s honey. You can’t look away, not even when he opens his eyes again, staring right back as you as he sucks your come off his fingers. 

When he drags his fingers out with a quiet pop, they’re completely clean.

“Can I take your pants off?” Carmy asks first before you can say anything. His voice is a little hoarse. 

“Please,” you whisper. You can feel yourself getting hot again. 

You both struggle with your wet jeans, the fabric uncooperative, but he manages to get it off of you. Your underwear is completely soaked, and it’s almost laughable how easily he yanks it off. He throws it somewhere to be found later.

“Mm, you look so fucking good,” Carmy mumbles, eyes glued to your pussy, and you swear you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. His praise sends heat up your chest and across your face, ending at the tips of your ears. 

“You gonn’ fuck me?” You ask, spreading your legs wide for him. He makes a noise of approval. 

“Yeah,” he says, “but not yet.”

You’re confused, but only for a moment. It clicks together when he gets off the couch and moves to the floor to sit. Then, he hooks his arms under your legs and hoists them over his shoulders. With your thighs bracketing his head, his hands grip them to spread them again.

“Oh,” you whisper, realizing. 

“After you come again on my mouth, I’ll fuck you,” Carmy promises. Seeing him between your legs like this is already reigniting your arousal. His curls are soft against your skin, a little ticklish even. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh. 

“But what about you?” You ask. You bring your hand to his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. “I wanna make you feel good too…”

“It makes me feel good to make you feel good, baby,” Carmy murmurs against your palm. “Don’t worry about me. I can’t wait to be inside you, but I need to taste your pussy first. Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” you repeat quickly. The heat in your stomach is growing, squirming as his eyes stare at you. 

“Good girl,” he praises lowly, licking his lips, and you have to hold back a groan. The things this man does to you.

“You really made a mess of yourself, y’know.” He drags his tongue up your inner thigh, licking up the slick that dripped down from earlier. “Drenched my fuckin’ hand.”

“I, I don’t remember the last time I’ve, uh, squirted like that,” you mumble back, because you don’t know what else to say. His tongue rolls over the junction where your inner thigh meets your crotch, and you can’t think. 

“Wanna make you do it again,” he confesses like a dark secret. Sucks a mark on the soft inside of your thigh. “Think you could squirt on my cock?”

“Fuck, I don’t know,” you groan, flustered by his words. He won’t stop kissing you down there. “M-Maybe?”

“I wanna see it, not just feel it.” You feel his hot breath ghost over your pussy, and you look down at him to see his eyes glued to it. “Need to see your pussy come next time, see how wet it can get.”

“Carmy, oh my god,” you groan, embarrassment white hot on your cheeks. “Sh, shut up…”

“I can do that,” he murmurs, devilish, and he sucks your cunt into his mouth.

“Ah,” you gasp, sounding like the air got punched out of you. The sight of his lips molded to the curve of your pussy is way too much, so much that you have to look away. It’s enough to feel the wet heat of his mouth enveloping you. 

He sucks, and then licks you as he keeps you in his mouth. You throw your head back, panting as his tongue weaves between your folds, pulling the remnants of your previous orgasm into his mouth. He’s also making these little pleased noises, like he’s delighted with the way you taste. 

He pulls back, mouth separating from your cunt with a wet noise. Pants over your pussy as you feel his fingers part your folds. Goes back in, nose buried in your pussy as his tongue buries itself in your hole. 

“Came so much for me,” he pants, retreating for just a second before going back in. His tongue is shameless, stubborn in the way it pushes into your hole. It’s times like this you remember how strangely long his tongue is. It swirls at your rim, pulling in and out to drag your slick out of you. 

“You’re gonn’ kill me, Carm,” you whine, a little delirious with how his tongue feels inside of you. He doesn’t quite respond, just making a low noise of approval you can feel against your pussy. 

One way to get him to shut up is to get him between your legs. He acts starved when he gets like this, focused on nothing else except your pussy like a goddamn animal. You’ve never had anyone go down on you like he does. He takes and takes and takes, licking endlessly into you. 

There’s a part of you that notes the feeling of wetness dripping out of you, but you’re not sure if it’s come or spit. Probably both, but you quickly forget about it. Carmy sucks once on your hole, an incredibly loud and messy noise, and does it again when he hears you whine.

“You taste so fucking good baby, you got no idea,” Carmy moans, sounding almost dizzy. He’s come up for air, hot breath ghosting over the skin of your thighs. You feel a little dizzy too, but in a different way. “You should see yourself. God.” He drags a finger through your thick wetness. 

“I should be the one saying that,” you argue breathily, an incredibly strangled sound. His pretty pink lips are glossed heavily with slick. It doesn’t just coat his mouth, instead also smeared on nearly the entire lower half of his face. Messy eater, you think hazily to yourself, the thought so potent you feel yourself throb. 

Carmy doesn’t respond, just smiles knowingly and gets back to work. 

He keeps you on the edge for a while, purposefully avoiding your clit to lap at you, slurp at your entrance. He goes from sealing his mouth where you’re leaking to languidly rolling his tongue against your pussy, squishing your folds under it. You’re really, really not sure how much more you can take of this. You swear you’re about to explode, between the wet sounds of his mouth on your pussy or his little, pleased moans. He can’t keep doing this, keeping you right at the edge like this—

Suddenly, his lips wrap gently around your swollen clit, and then, he sucks.

You can’t really register the noise that rips itself from your throat, but you do grip his hair with a desperate urgency, all in a plea to keep him there. He lets out a sharp moan when your fingers curl into his hair, and it vibrates deliciously around your clit. 

“Please, please,” you beg, even though his mouth remains at your clit, sucking dutifully. You’re not sure what you’re exactly asking for, but you know you need him. 

Carmy’s face is pressed deep into your pussy. With his lips sucking at the base of your clit, your folds bracket his chin. You’re throbbing, and you wonder if he can feel it. You’re close, very close. 

He definitely knows this, because he sucks your clit in a brutal, quick rhythm, and you’re done for.

There’s the sound of someone crying, and it takes a second too long for you to realize that that’s coming out of your mouth. Tears bead at the corner of your eyes, squeezed shut at the force of your orgasm. When Carmy feels you throb in his mouth, the suction grows gentle. He pulls back, but only for a second. He guides you, and he keeps your clit suckled carefully between his lips. 

Liquid drips out of you again, trailing out of your hole. With Carmy’s face still shoved into you pussy like this, it dribbles down his chin, down the front of his shirt. This time, you don’t care, fists tight in his hair to keep him there. As your grip tightens, you distantly register Carmy sharply moaning, almost as if he’s coming himself. You didn’t think you saw him touching himself, but maybe he was, with the way he sounds. 

You lay there with your eyes closed a little bit, drifting with the feeling. Carmy’s finally peeled his mouth off of you, leaving you to throb and drip in the open air. He always does this to you, that bastard. Wrings you out, sucks your soul out of your pussy and leaves you withered on the sheets. He’s always had an appetite, to say the least. 

When you open your eyes and look down, you see Carmy resting his cheek on your inner thigh. He meets your gaze, and his cheeks have a beautiful flush to them. 

“I saw it, this time,” he says. 

“Huh?” You react, instinctively, and then you remember. The sight of fluid dripping off Carmy’s chin, his tank top so drenched its transparent on his chest—it makes you realize. It must show in your face, because Carmy’s grinning, a small, yet proud thing. His lips are even more glossy than before. “Stop that,” you protest, but there’s no heat behind it. You’re too tired. 

“Stop what?” He responds, playful. He’s still smiling, though. He knows, so you roll your eyes. 

“Were you touching yourself?” You ask instead.

“No,” he admits, and your eyebrows raise. “Got close, though.” 

“Mm.” Wow, you think. The thought of him almost coming, completely untouched, gasping against your spasming cunt—it renders you speechless. “Let me see you,” you say, finally. “I need a minute. But…in the mean time…”

And because he’s Carmy, of course he gets a little embarrassed. You recognize it in the way he looks to the side, at you, and then to the side again before unbuttoning his jeans. 

If you hadn’t just came so hard you saw the pearly gates, the sight of him would’ve gotten you wet. Not to say that you don’t still enjoy it, though. As Carmy shimmies out of his jeans, you zone in on the wet spot on the front of his boxers. His boxers are so tented it looks painful. 

Well, maybe not quite as painful as how hard he is. 

It’s as if you had him in your mouth. His tip is flushed, reddened by nothing except eating you out. It’s dribbling with pre-come. You think you’re drooling. You’ve seen longer cocks, but you haven’t seen any quite as thick. His cock is heavy, and your gaze traces the vein on the underside of it. 

“I want you,” you say, before he can protest. He maintains this bad habit of dealing with his arousal himself after he’s wrung you out. You understand why—he can’t bear to ask much of you, not when he gets self-conscious. But, shit, you want him. You always want him, even if he doesn’t want himself. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, positioning himself above you. He’s so careful, even when you can hear the thinly-veiled arousal just behind it. 

“I’ll need a minute or two,” you elaborate, “but. Yeah.” You smile at him then, and although you mean for it to be more sweet, it’s definitely more salacious. “I want you to fuck me,” you whisper, spreading your legs for him. You snake a hand down to your pussy and spread your lips wide. You clench your hole, too, because you know he’s looking. 

Carmy doesn’t respond for a moment. His eyes are elsewhere, and it makes your smile widen. 

“Goddamn,” he mutters, mostly to himself. His eyes look back up towards you, blue reflected against brown. “You’re just…”

“Just what?” You run your tongue over your lips. 

“You’re way too fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles, like it’s sacrilege. He positions himself over you then, cock resting against the warmth of your pussy. He feels heavy against you and is equally as hot. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, soaking you in. “Shit…”

“Not yet,” you remind him in a whisper. His eyes flutter open again, half-lidded. “Kiss me for a bit instead?”

You barely even had to ask. 

Because he’s so lovely, he kisses you. His lips are hot and wet from eating you out, and you taste yourself on him. Your head is distant after coming viciously twice in a row, and you ride the wave of Carmy’s tongue in your mouth, slow and sweet. And all the while, his hard cock rests heavy against the folds of your hot pussy. It feels like a dream.

You can tell the arousal is getting to his head. Rather, it’s already gotten to his head. His kisses started sweet, slow, but he’s getting hungrier, unable to resist. 

“I’m not gonna last,” he admits, panting against your lips. You pull back to stare into his dark eyes, pupils blown with arousal. 

“That’s okay, I just wanna make you feel good.” You laugh breathlessly. You love seeing him all worked up like this. “Fuck me, Carmy… I’m ready for you.”

“When you say it like that…” Carmy’s amused smile poorly veils his arousal. 

He rubs his flushed head at your sensitive clit, grinding on it, tapping it. You keen, thighs twitching from the little jolts of pleasure. Then he drags himself down, tip of his cock nestled as your entrance, and he pushes in. 

The both of you let out a shaky exhale when the head pops in. Carmy’s panting into the crook of your neck, breaths hot and heavy. 

“Takin’ me so well,” he murmurs. “Fuckin’...shit…” He pushes in further, dragging slowly along your tight, wet walls. 

“Carmy,” you moan sweetly, arms linked around his neck to keep him close. “You feel so good inside me…” You let out a muffled moan into his shoulder when he bottoms out. He fills you up just right, the perfect amount of stretch…

“Dirty girl, fuckin’ squeezing around me like this…” He’s stopped moving, stilling in your contracting pussy. There’s beads of sweat in his hairline. “Fffuck…”

“Don’t you wanna come?” You whisper, and you grind down on his cock, making him moan into your neck. You trail a hand down to trace your stretched lips molded to the shape of his cock. Wetness gathers on your fingertips, and you drag it up to your exposed clit. It’s all so slippery, nothing left untouched.

“Not yet��I wanna at least fuck you a little.” This makes the both of you laugh. 

“Just use me, Carm,” you plead. “However you want.”

This makes Carmy untuck his face from your neck. His expression is nigh indescribable, a mix of animalistic, horny, and eager. 

“However I want?” He echoes back, quietly. 

“However you want,” you repeat, and warmth swells in your gut. As if you couldn’t be more turned on than you already are. 

You’re not sure what you expect from him after that. Part of you expects him to start ramming into you, skin slapping hard against skin. To fuck you so hard that you can barely breathe. To grab at your hips to slam you back down when he fucks forward. It…wouldn’t be the first time. 

So, you admit that when he does the opposite, you’re a bit surprised. 

He drags his cock out slowly, so slowly. It’s almost torture, the way he’s pulling back inch by inch. It forces you to feel every ridge of his cock, every vein and curve against the length of your walls. Your eyes flutter shut, heat surging through you in a new way. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble under your breath. His head is just about to pop out when he pushes back in again, slowly…

“You’re perfect,” Carmy moans. “Fuck, you’re so good…” His cock resheathes itself in you gradually. The slowness of it forces you to really feel how he carefully fills you up to the brim, really feeling the shape of his swollen head inside of you…

After he’s done this two more times, that’s when you realize exactly what he’s doing. 

He’s luxuriating in the feeling of you, taking in everything you can give him. He’s indulging in you like a sin. He’s taking his time to relish in every sensation, every little feeling, every little part of you that he loves. There’s no rush to orgasm, no hurry to finish, only taking the time to let the pleasure permeate fully through the both of you.

Emotion swells in your chest. 

“I love you, Carmy,” you moan all of a sudden. This slow fucking has you feeling a whole new type of crazy. You’ve never felt his cock like this before. 

“Baby,” he whispers. “I love you so much.” Fuck, he’s pushing in again. You just can’t catch a break. 

“Kiss me,” you whimper, and he obliges immediately. 

Although you wanted to kiss him, you’re having a time of it. With this slow fucking, the pleasure’s creeping up on you, and you can’t stop moaning against his lips. He patiently kisses you through it, although it helps that he’s somewhat the same. 

“I’m close,” Carmy moans, verging on a whine. “Can’t take much more…”

“I, I can’t either,” you stutter. The sneaking pleasure is swelling inside of you like a balloon, straining, about to burst. His even thrusts have become hastier, a bit jagged, but still slow. 

“Wanna feel you come on my cock,” he pleads. He’s pressing kisses to the corner of your mouth, your neck. “Then I’ll come inside you…please, baby…”

His fingers are messily rubbing your slippery clit from side to side, and that’s all that it takes for you to come. 

“I—I—oh my god—” You let out a high-pitched, wrecked noise as you come tight around his cock, pussy pulsing. Sharp pleasure tightens your body like a bow. You throw your head back, mouth open in a silent scream. He slowly fucks your contracting pussy through it, but not for long. 

“Fucking—shit—” Carmy moans beautifully as he comes, face tucked into your neck. His ragged moans are nestled right next to your ear, letting you hear every little breath and whine he fails to swallow. You feel him pulse inside you, filling you…

After three destructive orgasms, you’re on the verge of falling asleep on the couch. It doesn’t matter that Carmy’s softened cock is still inside of you, either. You’re exhausted.

“Baby,” Carmy murmurs. He’s spooning you, holding you in his arms. He kisses the side of your face, lips dragging tiredly. “We gotta get up.”

“Mmgh,” you grunt back. You’ve both been cuddling on the couch for a while now, but you still don’t wanna get up. 

“Baby,” he tries again, amusement coloring his voice. 

“How about you come three times and see how you feel after that,” you mumble, and that gets a laugh out of him. 

“That’s fair.” He moves carefully, gently slipping of you. The change in pressure makes you sigh, especially feeling him drip out of you. “C’mon. I’ll carry you to the bathroom.”

“Okay,” you mumble, begrudgingly moving to sit up. He scoops you, one hand behind your back and the other tucked behind your knees. The angle makes his cum drip out of you more. You squeeze your hand between your legs, sealing your hand against your pussy. 

“Maybe next time we’ll make it four,” he teases, and you slap a hand against his chest, making him smile mischievously.

“Maybe next time I’ll wreck you instead,” you say, leaning your head against his chest. You hear his low laugh right against your ear, and you smile. 

I love him, you think again, and you close your eyes. 

[emmyrosee]

I just like the smell of men’s body wash and it’s my hubby’s birthday 🥺🩷

—-

There’s a smell from the shower that Atsumu’s not used to, unless he’s in it.

On the outside, it smells like citrus and cedar, but there’s also a tinge that can only be classified as ‘the color blue’ as it circles the air around him. He furrows his brows as he lets his feet follow down the hall, into the bedroom, and right in front of the bathroom door.

You’re using his body wash.

The sound of the shower is still pattering loud as you scrub away, the music on your phone mingling with the shower water and the smell of his body wash seeping from under the door with the humidity of steam.

He smiles and bites his lip softly.

You’re using his body wash.

You’ve been together only for a few months, the necessity of keeping certain hygiene products being more important the more you spend the nights together.

And tonight, it seems like you’re more than content to use his.

It’s a few minutes after he snaps himself out of his trance, he hears the water stop, then your music pauses, and he has to fix up a facade that he wasn’t just standing outside of your shower, sniffing.

“Hey baby,” he says, pulling off his shirt with the least amount of nonchalance. “How was your shower?”

He hides a snicker as you glare at him, only in his boxers and a stretched out tee shirt.

“I hate your freaking 17-in-1 crap,” you grumble, sitting on the bed to slip on your socks. He says nothing, merely grinning as he watches you go about your routine. “Frying the ends of my hair, drying my skin. Next time we go out we’re splurging shampoo and conditioner and a good body wash.”

“You still used it though.”

“Yeah, because I ran out of my stuff that I keep here.” You say it as if your cheeks aren’t heating up before his eyes, and your hands aren’t shaking suddenly with the discussion. “You should just have good stuff then.”

Atsumu chuckles, then moves over to your perch on the bed. He takes the hands from your sock and gently kisses your knuckles, eyes fixated on yours. “I was just touching my feet,” you snort.

“Yeah; I also walk into the bathroom when you’re peeing. Transitive property, I’m still gross.”

You let out a string of laughter and lean down to meet his lips for a kiss, and he moves a hand to gently cup the back of your head to cradle you close.

When you pull away, he nudges his nose with yours, “maybe you should keep your good stuff here.”

“Or we should get you good stuff-“

“But I want yours.”

“Then we’ll buy mine-“

“I’m asking if you want to move in with me freak show,” he groans, immediately shifting to stand up and pin you to the bed, fingers tickling wildly while you kick and scream, swatting his hands away. “You gotta make every little thing a process don’t you-“

“Yes!” You squeal, and he pauses to ask you which one you’re saying yes too-

Only for you to kick him square in the gut.

And that’s exactly how atsumu wanted to spend the night he asked you to move in with him; trapped in the ER with a fractured rib.

But hey; at least you were the to take care of him.

And you never left.

[itadores]

summary: sakura likes the way you smell. he thinks it makes him a freak.

note: i like him terribly so. this may be so incredibly niche but it’s for me :p

pairing: sakura haruka x gender neutral reader

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, minor angst but it gets resolved, sakura-centric

sakura hasn't put much thought into the products he buys for himself for much of his life. unlike like some of his friends, he doesn’t have an elaborate multi-step self-care routine. he’s content with his generic shampoo and conditioner and his cheap laundry detergent that he buys from the corner store on his block. he’s satisfied until he’s not, until he's dating you and subconsciously begins to seek out your scent. sakura is blissfully unaware of this fact until one day it hits him like a punch in the gut. the realization that he likes the way you smell. a lot.

a sense of shame takes root in his chest. he feels like some sort of creep, feeling this way. it’s weird. he’s weird, he’s convinced. and yet, sakura can’t help but start to take note of the products you use when he’s over at your place. it’s not snooping if it’s on display right? sakura knows it’s just a flimsy argument that he's using to reassure himself, but he has to know what sort of products you’re using. he makes a mental list of the brands and scents of your shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and laundry detergent amongst other things. and when he’s at the store, he’s skittish as ever, feeling as if he’s doing something intimately wrong as he buys the same products you use for himself.

sakura thinks you won’t ever discover his shameful secret. if only.

you're at his place instead of yours for a change of pace. sakura's lounging on his dingy couch that he bought second-hand when he first moved into his apartment. he's waiting for you to finish up in the bathroom, so he can hit play on the movie you've been meaning to watch together. his head’s resting on the back of the sofa and he turns his cheek towards the hallway when he hears the bathroom door unlock, expecting you to enter his view soon enough.

you do, and sakura's stomach drops when he sees what's in your hand. it's a shampoo bottle. identical to the one you own.

"what's this?"

sakura's at a loss for words, unable to come up with a good excuse on the fly.

“it’s the same one i have.”

he feels himself teetering on that tightrope, at the verge of falling down into the abyss of loneliness once more. are you mad? are you going to leave him?

“how come you bought it?”

sakura takes a deep breath, trying to pull himself out of his spiraling thoughts. no, he shouldn’t assume the worst. all you did was ask him a question. your tone isn’t accusatory, merely inquisitive.

“i-i like the way you smell.” he says small and quiet, entirely unlike how he usually is. he chooses to let his head hang low, staring at the couch cushions rather than you. he’s afraid of what he may see if he looks your way. even if he doesn’t want to think the worst, he’s sure you’re put off by what he’s said. who wouldn’t be?

“haruka, can you look at me?” sakura stubbornly keeps his head down. tendrils of fear have taken ahold of his heart, paralyzing him. he stiffens when you gently sigh. “please?”

slowly, sakura lifts his head, bracing himself for your reaction. sakura expects disgust or distaste to be plastered across your face, but he's shocked when he's greeted with a smile, bleeding with a fondness that's so familiar to sakura it makes him ache a little.

"i'm not mad," you say as if you can read sakura's thoughts. or maybe you can just read his expression. "i'm flattered that you think i smell nice, and i honestly think it's really cute that you want to smell like me."

"really?" sakura's brows furrow, disbelieving. "you don't think it's weird? or gross?" sakura doesn't know why he's saying these things, things that could push you further from him, but he doesn't get why you don't think what he's done is strange or unusual.

sakura startles when you take a seat beside him on the couch. he didn't even notice you moving across the room.

“why would i think that?” a confused lilt to your voice. you reach out towards sakura, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear before caressing his cheek. the tips of your fingers rub against the ends of his hair. “i think it’s sweet. honestly, i really like the idea of us using the same products." your expression goes thoughtful. "it's like even when i'm not around, a part of me is still with you." a rosy hue colors sakura's cheeks. he didn't expect you to say something so embarrassing. you continue on, a growing grin on your lips. "and now whenever i sleep over, i don't have to worry about packing toiletries, i can just use what you have here!”

your laughter fills the air when sakura pulls back from you, rolling his eyes at your attempt of lightening the mood. it works though. sakura is admittedly feeling considerably better than he did just moments ago. he doesn't know how you do it. you somehow always know what to say, what he needs to hear. sakura no longer finds himself performing a balancing act on that tightrope as often as he once did in his adolescence, but from time to time, he's there again, teetering from side to side, afraid of falling. but now he realizes that fear is unfounded.

you're a safe place for him to land.

[celestialprincesse]

I love poly 141 x (fem/afab)reader way too much, so what if reader finds out that she’s pregnant? Like me personally I love it when I’m reading a silly lil fic and the fmc hides her pregnancy until it’s a bit noticeable but like obvi they’d have really good trust in each other, reader would tell them after she misses her period and she’s taken a test etc etc :D

Too many thoughts on this so sorry if it doesn’t make sense LOL

-R

YES YES YES YES I especially love when her partner sort of notices something is up, but doesn't push until she's ready to tell, even though he probably found the test in the bin or something🤭🤚

The main problem with keeping secrets in your relationship? John. Captain John Price.

He's always been hyper vigilant towards your needs - towards every minute aspect of your life. He knows how stressful it can be to not only share your home with four people, but four stressed, grumpy, massive military men with a penchant for eating you out of house and home? In his eyes you're a saint for putting up with all of them.

Because of this, he tries to streamline your day to day life as much as possible. The fridge stays stocked, as does the bathroom cabinet, always supplied with nice shampoos and conditioners, your favourite body lotion, and practically the entire sanitary product aisle of your local store.

The first red flag is the fact that the window during which you usually have your period has been and gone, and none of the new boxes of tampons he restocked have been opened.

He doesn't think much of it though, rationalising that maybe it's just late, or that you'd had some leftover from last month that you'd used up. Later on though, when Kyle comes home to you bent double over the kitchen sink, hurling up your guts, concerns raise substantially. He'd only been coming in to grab the charger for his laptop when he'd heard the ruckus, and promptly called for a day off to look after you.

You soon realise what's up, and promptly shit yourself when you realise that you're carrying a baby with four potential dads. Like Mamma Mia but so much worse - and with far less wonderful Greek architecture and bright sunshine.

The boys all manage to work it out before you do, especially when you cry until Simon takes you to your local drive-thru for burger pickles and a milkshake. Just burger pickles and a milkshake. They're all surprisingly calm about the fact that you're pregnant, albeit slightly concerned that they should maybe nudge you in the right direction, seeing as you try to go about day-to-day life when you can't even smell cheese without barfing.

When you do eventually stalk into the living room with a pregnancy test in hand, and a sheepish look on your face, they try their hardest not to act surprised, even though they've already been going through paint samples for the nursery, wondering which one you'll like best - and they hope, for your sake, that it's a girl. God forbid there's any more testosterone in your house.

[captain-hawks]

hi dee :3 i'm a big fan of your writing and ginormous brain, and i love the spicy sleepover concept you've got going !! (sorry for not popping by earlier, i'm a lil shy hfjhdj >~<)

this wknd could i humbly request that you expand upon a certain roommate!kuroo.. omg that post has been living in my brain non-stop for the last 48h.. 🙏

(hihi thank you so much you're so sweet<3<3<3!!!!!!)

night swim

tetsurou kuroo x f!reader

c: 18+ only, pining, roommate!kuroo, semi-public sex, pool sex, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie

SPICY SLEEPOVER WEEKEND — HEAT WAVE EDITION

It shouldn’t be weird—treading water after hours in the city pool with Kuroo under a blanket of stars and one dull, flickering street light just outside the chain link fence, the air still thick with the unrelenting humidity of a week-long heat wave.

It shouldn’t be weird that you’re swimming in your underwear, Kuroo’s bright idea to hop the fence and dive in mid-way on your walk back to your apartment from the convenience store too enthusiastic to deny. Too tempting against the uncomfortable, lingering prickle of heat and sweat on your skin after the two of you spent all afternoon trying to fix your one and only shitty, busted air conditioner in the living room. 

Kuroo’s been your roommate for nearly two years now, and you’ve accidentally seen each other naked more than a dozen times at this point—it’s become an occupational hazard you’ve long-since come to terms with.

(At least, you’ve lied to yourself enough to say as much.)

It wouldn’t be weird, if your stupid, traitorous heart would settle back into place behind your rapidly expanding ribcage, if it would let you continue to deny the inconvenient, messy feelings that have settled down roots deep inside of you as of late.

Roots that sprouted to life at the strange, funny feeling that unfurled inside of you at the odd expression on Kuroo’s face when you told him you finally broke up with your cheating boyfriend six months ago. 

Roots that dug their tendrils in even tighter as his room suddenly seemed all too quiet at night, his casual hookups dwindling dry.

(Roots that threatened to choke you the first time you realized you’d accidentally moaned his name into your pillow as your vibrator tipped you over the edge of a trembling, gushing orgasm.)

But it’s too late to backtrack this monumentally disastrous decision, not now that your ill-fated splashing match (an effort to derail the feelings simmering in your gut) finds you caged in against the side wall of the in-ground pool.

You’re a deer caught in headlights beneath his triumphant, smirking gaze—if the deer was secretly begging to get fucked by the goddamn car, that is. 

You haven’t quite decided if it’s better or worse that you’re not wearing your usual comfortable weekend undergarments at the moment, a now-cancelled date (which you’d swiped right on solely with the misguided hope of fucking Kuroo out of your system) finds you still wearing a new lacy pink bra, your nipples clearly exposed through the sheer fabric, and matching thong. Soaking wet and clinging to your skin, neither are doing much to hide the swell of your breasts or the swollen outline of your throbbing clit.

Water splashes gently against the side of the pool, and though you’re not certain who stops laughing first, you find yourself quietly staring at Kuroo and his damp, messy hair and stupidly handsome face.

“What happened to your date?” he asks suddenly.

“He cancelled,” You swallow, trying to play it off as you wave a hand at yourself. “Waste of a new outfit.”

Kuroo’s voice is a little rough as he replies, “His loss.”

“Is it?” you ask quietly.

He stares at you for a moment, seemingly thinking something over before he finally speaks. “You’re not as quiet as you think.”

Though you’re fairly certain you know exactly what he means, you still sputter out, “I—” 

You’ve made an unfortunate habit of it ever since the first time—slicking up your vibrator to thoughts of a tall head of unruly black hair and hazel eyes. Plunging the silicone toy in and out of your cunt to the fantasy of how Kuroo’s deep voice would sound against the shell of your ear.

“Is it fucked up,” Kuroo breathes out in a gravelly tone, one finger feathering over the strap of your new bra, “that I don’t want anyone else to see you in this?”

“Do you think it’s fucked up?” you ask.

His answering laugh is low and self-deprecating as he drags a hand through his hair, rogue strands sticking up in the wake of his fingers. “I mean it’s definitely fucked up how many times I’m gonna jerk off thinking about how your tits look right now.”

The heat simmering in your chest flares white-hot, and your throat goes dry.

“I feel like your view might be a little obstructed,” you tell him, swallowing hard.

He chokes out another laugh, incredulous, like despite the fact that he knows you moan his name while you’re masturbating, he can’t believe that you’re insinuating you want to dump your tits out for him in this public pool in the middle of the night.

“Yeah?” he asks.

You nod, reaching behind you to unhook your bra, and an insistent lick of arousal crawls up your spine at the way he mutters, “Fuck,” under his breath as your soaking wet, naked breasts are inches away from his own bare chest.

Reaching down, you tug him a hair closer by the waistband of his boxers, biting your lip at the feeling of his erection that’s now pressed against your thigh.

“Fucking perfect,” he exhales, carefully reaching up to cup your tits in his hands, eyes darkening at the soft little moan you let out when he strokes his thumb over your pebbled nipples. “You’re so fucking perfect, you have no idea.”

And then you’re gently caressing the nape of his neck, and all it takes is a soft whisper of his name from your lips to have his mouth crashing into yours.

It’s messy and it’s desperate and it’s perfect, the way Kuroo’s lips fervently slide across yours, his tongue dancing across the seam of your lips until they part, the kiss deepening into something that has you dizzy with heady, unrestrained desire. 

“Kuroo,” you whimper as he presses you flush against the wall, his cock a rock hard line against the puffy swell of your pussy. 

And then you press back into him and nearly see stars at the friction, and he groans, rocking forward into you in turn. You spread your legs a little wider, halfway tempted to just wrap yourself around his waist and rub your cunt against his thick length, and clearly he has the same idea—because he grabs hold of your thighs and murmurs, “Keep going.”

You’d be more than a little worried about getting caught, if Kuroo wasn’t swallowing down each of your increasingly lewd moans and whines with rough, hungry kisses, sloppy trails of spit hanging between your mouths each time your lips part for air. 

It feels so fucking good—dragging your cunt up and down his length, your nerve endings flaring with hot, sharp bursts of pleasure. 

But it’s not enough, not when you can feel just how big his cock is, when your pussy is pathetically clenching around nothing with each thrust.

You don’t realize you’ve moaned the same words out loud that you whine in the dark in your room until Kuroo curses, his grip on your hips tightening as he outright drags you against him. 

“Fuck me, Kuroo.”

Almost the same words—

“That’s not what I heard you say last night,” he rasps, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. 

You stare at him for a beat before you slowly say, “Fuck me, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo groans, his forehead falling against yours, and he kisses you roughly before reaching between your bodies, tugging aside your thong to slide his fingers through your slick folds. Even despite the water you’re currently swimming in, slick arousal coats the walls of your cunt, and you nearly come right then and there as he appreciatively moans as he explores your tight, desperate hole with one thick finger, which is soon joined by a second as he stretches you open. 

By the time he starts teasing the head of his shaft against your slit, you’re two seconds from begging for it, a sob on the tip of your tongue as your fingers claw into his back.

He chuckles.

The fantasy of your vibrator is nothing compared to the fat stretch of Kuroo’s cock as he finally sinks past your quivering entrance, burying his shaft balls deep in the choking, clenching grasp of your cunt. 

It’s nothing compared to the way Kuroo’s hips snap into yours as he holds you in his grasp while he fucks you right there in the pool, your tits bobbing in and out of the water with each plunge and drag. The wrecked manner in which he murmurs your name, the possessive way his hands roam your body, like he knows you nearly fucked someone else tonight.

(The way he fucks you like he knows you wanted it to be him all along.)

“Tetsurou,” you breathe out.

“I was wrong,” he gasps as he tries to bully his dick in even deeper, as you hump into him in turn, greedy for every inch.

“About what?”

“I thought you ruined me for anyone else the first time I heard you moan my name through the wall.” He exhales, pulling out before thrusting back inside of you. “But that doesn’t even come fucking close to this.”

You’re not entirely sure what’s the catalyst for the sudden climax that explodes within you—your pent up desire, the thumb he’s currently stroking across your throbbing clit, the raw honesty of his words. 

All of it, likely.

Given the way you nearly black out under the force of your trembling, gushing orgasm, Kuroo groaning at the way your pussy expands and contracts against the stretch of his shaft, lost in an overload of pleasure.

“Inside,” you gasp out at the unasked question that lingers on his face as his own peak approaches.

Kuroo’s answering kiss is filthy as he groans into your mouth, cock pulsing heavily as he spills rope after rope of hot cum inside of you, filling you deep.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes out, forehead falling against yours as his orgasm tapers off, his shaft still nestled inside of you.

You float there in comfortable silence for a few moments, Kuroo pressing soft kisses along the side of your face.

“So—”

He freezes, waiting for whatever it is that you’re about to say.

You continue, “I don’t feel very confident in my ability to jump back over that fence now.”

Given the nearly liquified state of your sated limbs, which feel damn near close to jelly as your legs remain wrapped around Kuroo’s waist.

“The lock on the gate is broken anyway,” he shrugs.

You balk, “Then why’d you make me climb it in the first place?!”

He shrugs, not looking anywhere near apologetic as he replies casually, “Your ass looked good in those shorts.”

[nyxvuxoa-writes]

Tangerine taking female girlfriends virginity after months of dating.

Taking a break from my first Kraven fic, to write this as my first Tangerine fic. Jumping in head first. Thanks for the prompt. ♡

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧

Tangerine x Virgin!Fem!Reader

◢ Genre: Oneshot, Smut — Suitable For Adults Only

◢ Warnings: Smut, with slight plotting — No one under 18. Virgin reader with an experienced Tangerine. Use of pet name: Sugar. Slight fingering. No mention of "cherry popping", not everyone bleeds with first-time sex. Slightly dominating Tangerine. Slightly submissive, shy, but eager reader. Unprotected sex. P-n-V. ◢ Word Count: 3.4k

◢ A/N: This is my first Tangerine piece and the first things I have written since coming back from my mental health break, so go easy on me ya? Got a bunch of ATJ fics coming up, keep an eye out. Gif and divider credit goes to myself.

It's hot, disgustingly so, and summer has only just started. But that didn't stop the weather from being muggy and gross, or your air conditioner to stop working suddenly. It seemed like one thing after another, but you were making due. The windows to your place open, fans going so that there was some sort of breeze, and you walking around in a pair of panties and a t-shirt that belonged to your boyfriend.

How long has it been now? Roughly six months...or coming up on it and he had been your first truly serious relationship. Though, this relationship came with strings attached, like his work (which he didn't really talk about with you) or Lemon...but you made due, and honestly, you actually enjoyed his brother's company from time to time.

Six months though...and here you two were. The only difference between you and the other girls he dated or has been with was... that you are a virgin. You weren't sure if this was the first time he had ever been with one, or you really didn't know much about his sexual history in general, but he has actually been rather patient with you on waiting.

Which, still surprises you from time to time when you think about it in passing, often leaving you to question what it was about you that made him stick around. But recently, these thoughts about feeling Tangerine had been becoming stronger, and more frequent. Maybe it was time to finally take everything to the next level?

You weren't sure when Tangerine would be in town. For a little while there, he went dark and there was no contact. A part of you had been worried, naturally, but something in your gut had told you that everything was okay. He was okay. So, for now, you kept yourself busy as you waited for responses to a text or at least a phone call. But nothing came.

You were feeling a little antsy because of it, but you refrained from sending him another message and instead kept yourself busy with cleaning up your place. You had been watering a few plants by the windows when you heard the key in the lock and the sound of the door opening. "Sugar?!" He calls, his accent booming out for you. "Are you home? I'm sorry! I lost my fuckin' phone." He adds, almost growling at himself.

And that wasn't too far from the truth, though it was more like that phone saved his life by taking a bullet for him while it had been tucked into an inside pocket of his suit coat. He closes the door behind him, turning back to look into your place, seeing you slide across the floor as you come around the corner and run at him.

You launch yourself at him, jumping up, your legs wrapped around his waist with your hands draping over his shoulders. Your lips press firmly against his, soft at first before the kiss deepens as he returns it. Tangerine's hands move to your ass, gripping slightly as he keeps propped up against him and the gap between you two closed. There was something different about this kiss, a feeling behind it he couldn't quite put his finger on and he liked it.

"Did you miss me that much?" He asks you softly against your lips. "I did." You admitted to him softly with a smile. Having him here brought a sense of calm to your mind. It had been a relief to see him after he had vanished on you. In your mind, you didn't question the loss of his phone, because he had come home to you. The details of it all were unimportant, so long as you felt his arms around you again.

He carries you into the living room, setting you down to your feet again as he goes to slip off his suit coat. He folds it neatly before he gently lays it over the back of a nearby chair. Tangerine's gaze goes to you, watching you as you stand there chewing on the corner of her lip and zoning out on him slightly. "Got somethin' on your mind, Sugar?" He asks. You snap out of your thoughts slightly and look up at him. Blinking a few times as you gather your thoughts before you smile. "Yeah, actually. I do. Can we talk about something?" "Of course." Tangerine sits himself down on your couch, his hand coming up to loosen the tie around his neck. He unbuttons the first few buttons of his shirt, and you take a glimpse at his neck and collarbone for a moment, almost wanting to zone out again as you think about it. You are ready, right? Still, even with being ready, there were butterflies forming in your stomach, a small sense of anxiety. Would it be as big of a deal to him, as it would be to you? These questions ran through your mind as he made himself more comfortable on your couch. He takes a moment to slip off his shoes and socks, setting them to the side before he leans back again and brings his leg up, resting his ankle on his knee. One hand goes to rest on his leg, and his other arm stretches out on the back of your couch.

It was a sight that you had seen half a million times, and yet at this moment, it ran your mind into those thoughts you kept to yourself. You chuckle nervously as you go to sit down next to him. You keep your posture relaxed as much as you can, turning slightly and leaning your shoulder against the back of the couch. Tangerine's brow arches slightly. "So I have been thinking....maybe tonight we could... you know." You say, your voice going a little quiet at the end there before you chew slightly on your bottom lip.

It took him just a brief moment to realize what you were talking about. His stormy blue eyes look over your face briefly before he smirks slightly and lets out a small chuckle.

"Are you sure?" He asks, wanting to double-check. Tangerine knew that you wanted to wait. He knew that this would be the first time for you, and while it wasn't starting off how he pictured it, there was a sudden anticipation in his mind. He wondered how you would respond to him. Will you enjoy the way he feels?

You lick your lips and nod, giving him a smile. "One-hundred percent sure." You say, reassuring him of your choice. But what now? Do you just jump into this? You felt a little lost on the matter suddenly, losing that sense of balance in the situation so-to-speak.

Picking up on your nervousness, Tangerine didn't hesitate to take control of the situation. Having been working, the stress relief would be good for him, and on top of that, he would finally get to feel you. The thought had crossed his mind more often than he would admit. There had been plenty of moments while working that the thought of you moaning his name had become a distraction.

He moves himself and reaches for you, gently pulling you to his lap and making you straddle him on the couch. Not the first time, but this time, it would go further than just a heated small make-out session. His fingers move along your thighs, dancing against your skin for a moment as he lets his fingers wander to your panties under that oversized shirt.

Your breathing is already picking up at the feeling and his touch leaves goosebumps against your skin. You smiled, shifting your weight on him slightly only to realize that this man under you was already starting to get hard under the fabric of his suit pants. Your hips press down against him slightly, wanting to feel that excitement start to grow.

Tangerine's fingers start to wander against the waistband of your panties, guiding you down against his pants slightly, feeling as you pressed yourself down. You were curious, and he was going to show you exactly what you needed to do. He fixes his posture, sitting up slightly as he leans in and kisses you.

A small kiss at first, followed by little kisses that started to last longer as each one happened. The kisses start to deepen becoming a little more heated, his tongue slipping in with yours and wrestling with yours for a moment before he broke away from the kiss. His lips start to wander against your jaw and neck, kissing you gently as he lets his lips explore you.

Your hands move to rest against his arms, your fingers trailing up the dress shirt he wore. You occasionally pull at the fabric slightly under your fingers, leaning into the kisses against your neck. You can feel your body heating up, a not unfamiliar feeling at times, but right now it made the butterflies seem more intense. It was as if you couldn't get them to calm down. You are excited and nervous, with a small sense of performance anxiety crossing your mind.

It felt like time had slowed for a moment, feeling his kisses against your skin. You were lost in the moment, and when he went to stand up and carry you into the bedroom, you squeak in slight surprise. He smirks, feeling as you wrap yourself around him, your face nuzzling into his neck slightly. You take in that familiar expensive scent, mixes with his own natural scent, and you can feel as if your body simply melts into him.

Tangerine sets you down on the bed before he reaches for the t-shirt and strips it from your frame. He couldn't help but smirk, the side of his mouth coming up as he gazes over you. Sure, he might have seen you naked before, possibly in passing while you were getting out of a shower or bath, or even getting dressed for your day. But this was different.

His hand reaches for you as he cups the side of your face, leaning down to kiss you before he guides you to be more centered on the bed, and lying on your back. Reaching for your panties, he slid them off, getting a good look at the already dewy hole between your legs. Wanting and waiting for him. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, and you smile shyly before you chew on your lip. Tangerine took this opportunity to strip down, something you watched intently, his clothes thrown casually to the floor. At this moment, the way his suit was kept, was the least of his concerns. He looks down at you, taking that moment to admire you in this position. He wanted to ravage you, while at the same time, he didn't want to rush you. This though, meant he had plans for the future, things he wanted to show you or teach you; things he enjoys when it comes to sex.

"If you need me to stop, you need to tell me. Do you understand?" He asks, while he brings his body to hover over yours and smiles down at you. All you could do was nod, quickly, your hands coming up to touch him slightly. He shakes his head and smiles.

"Don't touch me. Not yet." He says softly. "Why?" You ask, your head tilting slightly. "Just trust me, Sugar. Keep your hands on the bed and relax." He coos at you. Your brow furrow slightly, but you do as you are told, bringing your arms to rest at your sides. Your fingers fidget with your comforter slightly.

"Good girl." He says softly and the words hit you in a different way. What feeling was that? You smile, your face turning red slightly.

Tangerine lowers himself slightly, his lips coming to your breast as he takes your left nipple into his mouth, his tongue playing against your flesh slightly before he lifts himself up to hover a bit more. With one hand he braces himself, holding his weight up as his free hand moves against your stomach. It trails down to between your legs and you feel the brush of his fingers against your swollen bud.

You are sensitive and wet, your juices already coating your lower lips and wetting his fingers. He couldn't help but let out a small groan before he smiles. He knew it was his fault that you were like this, and the man was feeling rather proud of it. His fingers simply play with your sensitive bud, a gentle circular motion that causes your body to tense up. You take in a small breath, feeling the tension in your core, a heat that feels like it's spreading throughout your body.

Watching the way you respond, he smiles, letting his fingers pick up slightly in their pace. He grazes the tips of his fingers against your clit, following it down to your opening where his fingers tease you slightly, grazing against the hole without sliding into it. He watches the way you squirm slightly, your lips parting in needing breaths.

Tangerine's own breathing starts to pick up more as he feels himself becoming more hard with each passing moment. But he was savoring this. He listened to the little whimpers that start to come from you, that needy tone he was the cause for. He knew what you wanted, but he took his time for a moment longer as he relished in the way you would become more wet.

When he was ready, positioned himself between your legs. Feeling his skin brushes up against your inner thighs, your core tightens with anticipation. Tangerine drags his tongue against his lower lip, gripping himself as he starts to slowly press the tip of his cock against your wet opening. As the tip of him starts to breach into your opening, his strong hands move to your hips and he gently grips at you as he slowly starts to press himself into.

Feeling pressure as his girth starts to stretch you, there is a pain as he slowly presses himself in deeper. You weren't expecting it to hurt, not like this. Your body tenses and you grip the sheet as you let out a strained whimper. This didn't cause Tangerine to pause in actions, he knew that the feeling would pass and so he pressed a little deeper before he started slow motions of pumps into your body.

Letting out a heavy groan, Tangerine found himself enthralled with how you felt. You are tight, more so than those he had been with previously. Then again, those girls hadn't been virgins. At first, it had been slightly uncomfortable, but as your body started to adjust to the feeling and size of him, it felt amazing.

He watches the way you arch your back against the bed. Pain turned to pleasure and your mind focused on the way he felt, the smells, and the sounds around you. Flesh hitting flesh softly, his groaning matching the little noises that escaped from you. It was all so picturesque.

Tangerine comes to hover over you, bracing himself with his hands and his legs adjusting under him as the gap between the both of you comes to an almost close. His lips meet the crook of your neck as he starts to kiss your skin. He groans against you as his pace starts to pick up slightly, the sound of flesh hitting flesh becoming a little louder.

"You feel so good, Sugar." He mutters as his lips trail up your neck. His breath is hot against your skin and his groans are louder now, echoing in your mind as the sound roughly, but sweetly hits your ears. His words cause you to moan louder and your head goes to lean against his slightly as you take in his expensive scent.

Everything is a little overwhelming but in such a satisfying way. A sort of sensory overload to your mind, your body feels hot and tingly all over. You tighten more around him as his cock twitches with his even-paced motions. You whimper and moan with his groans, almost synced with each other as you give in to the passion of the moment.

As his lips come to find yours the passion starts to increase. His motions become quicker in pace and you can feel as his chances the way his hips move, allowing you to feel his length more with each rhythmic motion he goes to make. Faster now, a little more rough, he finds himself losing a small sense of control.

His tongue feels rough against yours, fighting in a small way, wet, and he moans into your mouth as he presses his length in as deeply as he can. He can feel you tense with the slight pain that he causes, but hearing you moan with it caused him tense with enjoyment. He can feel the pressure building, and the thought of filling you with his seed becomes a rather forefront thought in his mind.

Tangerine shifts his weight, bringing his legs a little closer to you as he adjusts the way he's pumping into you just slightly. It was enough that the motions into you would graze against your bud just slightly. The sensation of the motion caused your hands to leave the comforter, and you quickly grip your boyfriend, your nails digging into his skin slightly as a strong tensing feeling starts to creep through your body.

"F-fuc-fuck..." You manage to mutter.

It had been the moment he had been waiting for. When you needed something to grip on, the nails in his flesh, scratch marks on his skin. He knew he was hitting those sweet spots that made your body feel all sorts of things for the first time. It drove him into an almost feral state.

Tangerine pumps harder, faster, knowing that it was going to hurt and yet feel good for you at the same time. You start to channel the pain and pleasure as your back arches against the bed and you let out louder moans. Your toes start to curl against the bed and that tension spreads more through your body, creeping like another heat wave.

It had been a matter of moments after he had changed his positioning slightly that you found yourself with trembling legs and an almost electrifying feeling through your body. Your clit pulses with your heartbeat and heavily pumping blood as the muscles respond to the full body rush he had given you.

Feeling that moment of your lower lips gripping at him with an increased, pulsating tightening, Tangerine lets out a loud groan as he pumps a little harder into you. His own release is just within reach. He's quick to move, sitting himself up more as his hands quickly grips your hips once more and takes control of his finish.

He uses you for just a few moments longer, feeling this hyper-focused pleasure. His cock twitches heavily as his release is achieved, coating your interior walls with hot ribbons of his seed. His eyes closed for a moment as his lips part in heavy breaths, and then his body starts to relax and the tension from the moment and from the day start to fade.

The smell of sweat and sex hit your nose as you relax against the bed, that coming back to earth feeling washing over you as you look up at him and smile before you cover your face with your hands for a moment. It was all overwhelming and yet, at the same time, you were eager for more.

Tangerine slowly pulls from you, watching the mess from between your legs with a rather satisfied grin. He brings himself to lay down next to you, his hands reaching for you as he brings you closer and smiles.

"How are you feeling?" He asks softly. "A little sore, but good." You admitted as you uncover your face. Tangerine nods. "Take a shower with me?" He asks.

You look at him, nodding your head before you lean in and kiss him softly. His fingers, run against your skin, touching you so softly and sweetly. These hands can kill, and yet they can do something like this as well. In time, you would learn more about him; some good things and some bad, but chances are nothing was going to change the way you felt about him or how he was feeling about you.

◤━━━━━━━━━━━◥ TAG LIST: @voxmortuus @david-winters-93

[sunaluvs]

♡ tags: afab + gn reader, highly suggestive so 18+ MDNI, showering, readers implied to be shorter than meguru but this is a timeskip so he can be 7ft if u wish, fluff.

♡ a/n: i haven't written anything in 2 years and this is disgustingly self indulgent. unfortunately this mans rotting my brain and i am weak. i wrote this in a daze

Through your light humming and the spray of water, the sound of a door flinging open rings clear through your apartment.

“I’m home baby!” Bachira’s voice booms through your home, the sound winding through the small space left open in the bathroom’s door, the thud of a bag and shuffle of feet following his words.

“Welcome home!” you call back, rinsing the last of the shampoo out of your hair.

You hear him do a little jog towards the bathroom, socked feet thumping against the floor, before his voice calls, “Coming in!”

That’s all the warning you get before your door is thrown open, the sounds of your boyfriend singing your name and the shuffle of his clothes bringing a small smile to your lips.

“How was your day, baby?” you ask, grabbing your bottle of conditioner and squeezing a bit onto your palm.

“Fun as always, I experimented with a few new moves,” he replies, excitement clear in his voice. “My shoulders are busted though, feels like they’re gonna fall off. I’m convinced it’s because you didn’t kiss them before I left this morning.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you massage the conditioner into your hair, “Oh yeah, definitely, it couldn’t possibly be due to the rigorous training you do every single day.”

“Nope,” he quips, whipping the shower curtain open with a shit-eating grin, stepping in the stream of water in all his naked glory. “It’s not every single day, I get a break on the weekends.”

You hum in reply, lazily dragging your eyes down your boyfriend’s physique, the results of all his hard work. It’s all prominent muscle and compact strength, sharp, defined abs and a strong core, hulking thighs you’ve had the delightful pleasure of sitting on (and between), packing power you’ve seen used to launch countless balls precisely and ruthlessly across fields. The shape of him, embraced with golden sun-kissed skin from the summer sky, is made almost lewd with the addition of water dripping over his body, glistening and moist and trailing deliciously down to his co—

“Eyes up here baby,” he sings, stepping closer to your heating body and bringing his face lower to meet your gaze head-on, beaming at the hazy appreciation clear on your features. “You stare any harder and I’ll start getting shy,” he teases.

That snaps your eyes back into focus, and you snort incredulously, “Oh please, you haven’t known shame since you popped out of the womb. I could fill an address book with all the people who’ve seen your dick.”

He giggles and brings his hands to your hips, gliding over the wet skin, and pulls you slightly out of the water’s stream. “I’ll learn some just for you, baby.”

“Hmm, as long as you don’t suddenly start getting shy on me,” you hum, tipping your head to look at his playful expression. “You can have some shame with everyone else, though. In fact, I am requesting that you do.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he grins, pulling your chest flush against his and dipping his head to kiss you. It’s slow and lazy, wet with the lingering water on your face, his tongue licking your bottom lip like he’s savouring the feel of every crease beneath it. Bachira drags it out as he always does, but doesn’t escalate it, keeping it slow and steady as his hands slip over the soft curves of your body, caressing your waist, thumbing along your rib cage, dipping beneath the swell of your breast. Being out of the water and subjected to his teasing touches pebbles your nipples, and you release a sigh into his willing mouth. Your skin shivers, nectarous arousal gradually trickling into your gut, but there’s no urge to hasten the moment along. For a man always on the move, always looking for the next goal and next game to win, being the one Bachira slows down for is not something you take for granted. You savour every easy breath and satisfied hum he lets out against your lips and lean into his precious, languid warmth.

It’s only when his fingers lightly flick your nipples that you break apart, a string of spit connecting your lips, remaining close enough for your noses to touch fleetingly and your warm breaths to gather in the space between you. His honeyed eyes, typically bright and wide and wild, settle transfixed and heavy-lidded on yours, his gaze no less intense and singularly focused on you. It’s overwhelming sometimes to have all the world’s devotion directed sacredly at you like this, brilliant and irresistible and all-consuming. Bachira never goes halfway at anything, not at his football or his principles, and least of all you. He is persistently and overwhelmingly fierce with his adoration, an ebullient fire that never stops consuming. You’ve never loved the sting of a burn more.

“Getting a little handsy there, ain'tcha,” you murmur, thumbing softly at the grin that spreads on his lips.

“Jus’ playing with my food a bit.”

“Never learned your manners, did you?” you breathe, goosebumps rising on the skin of your thigh as it brushes against his dick, thick and slowly hardening.

“Think I just lose ‘em all with you,” he laughs breathily, the sound hanging adoringly in the steam as he rests his forehead against yours. “Missed you so much today. Every day. Wish I could pack you up in my training bag and take you everywhere with me.”

You huff, bringing your arms around his shoulders and tilting your head to the side, “You don’t think staying home would be easier?”

The words give him pause, eyes fixed on yours as he opens and closes his mouth. His eyebrows furrow. The heat of the moment dissipates as your boyfriend gives your question a genuine thought.

“I mean, yeah? But—well. What about practice then? I don’t think that’d be very productive to my progress and today was actually kinda huge in terms of breakthroughs, I was finally able to get a handle o—”

You burst into giggles at the bewildered expression on his face, torn up at the choice you’ve apparently forced him to make. 

“I’m just playing, baby,” you grin back at him, squishing his cheeks and puckering his lips, cooing, “I’d never be so mean and make you choose.”

He heaves a dramatic breath of relief, planting his face on your shoulders and whining, “You’re being mean now! I almost had a heart attack.”

Your chest feels full to bursting with affection. “Aww, my little honey bee, my sweet baby angel, sorry for forgetting how fragile my sensitive darling is—”

He groans and shakes his head, and you delight in the pout you can feel pressing into your skin, “You’re a bully,” he mumbles, pressing impossibly closer to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your middle.

“I don’t know what you mean, I love you, sweetheart,” you laugh back at him, kissing the top of his dampening head.

His pout transforms into kisses along your shoulder as he hums, moving along the lines of your collarbones. “Yeah?” he breathes against your skin, lips curving up. “You love me?”

“Uhuh.” You indulge him, fingers playing with the hair curling at his nape. “Love you so much, Meguru. Makes me feel kinda crazy sometimes.” 

You feel the soft smile he was pressing into your skin transform into a grin, his eyes no doubt twinkling and bright with delight. “It does?”

“It does,” you repeat, using your hold on his hair to pull his face up from where it rested against your collarbones. Just as you thought, his eyes glisten with infatuation, little crescent moons as he beams up at you with a dopey smile. Your breath catches in your throat at the stunning sight, profound adoration sitting in his faint smile lines and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes, earnestly dripping like syrup from his voice.

“I make you feel crazy? In love? Really?” he breathes, bringing his face close enough to yours for his warm breath to fan across your lips. “Say it again. Say it, I wanna hear it.”

And who are you to deny Bachira Meguru anything?

“I love you so much, baby,” you murmur, rubbing the tip of your nose against his damp cheek. “Always make me feel so crazy, so full of your love.”

“Again,” he tries to demand, but it’s a plea, you know. A supplication, a prayer to bear witness to the fire blazing with ardour in your chest, one that burns divinely for the man in front of you. His eyes are impossibly bright, drowning you in their sea of sunny reverence, and you know that he, too, would happily walk into the sting of your own flames.

“Feels like I can’t breathe sometimes.”

“Again.”

“Can’t think properly when it comes to you.”

“Again.”

“I love you, Meguru.”

“Again.”

[moondirti]

cock warming sailor price..

docking the boat when gunmetal clouds start to froth with an approaching storm, watching from a porthole as his favourite girl runs across the pier, towards him. you’ve grown familiar with the cut of his sails, the idiosyncratic barnacles crusting the hull, and have since kept sight of the horizon, waiting for it to come into view like an apparition. a phantasm of the sea, here to teach you about pleasures shunned on land.

you’re wound up, he can tell. in the cabin, his calloused hands smooth the dress off your skin to find knots beneath flesh. your spine quivers under the appraising graze of a knuckle, fingers hooking into his belt desperately. tiny, tugging. he catches your wrists until you’re naked, leading backwards into his armchair, where he sits and spreads you over his lap, either knee anchoring by a still-clothed thigh.

you already feel rashed by his presence, raw and dominated while he hardly does anything at all. fog encroaches on your consciousness, much like the fog that slowly eats away at the sea. it’s gotten choppier since you arrived, waves curling and cresting into high peaks around the keel. you find it hard to maintain your balance — but then again, you don’t need to. he keeps a steady grip on your hips, fingers bruising when you teeter a little too far.

“please.” you whine, pawing idiotically over your glistening cunt. gossamer webs of arousal link your fingers together, make it hard to do much other than rub your hand over your clit.

“shh. be a good girl f’me now, mm?” he unbuckles his belt. the pants don’t come off, rather he unsheathes his thick cock from above the waistband, wrapping around it to work it up to its full potential. if it was big before, it grows to a monstrous size, more fat that it is long, particularly around its middle which blushes in a angry shade of red. almost conditionally, you salivate. he hunts the look in your eyes, clamping a palm over your mouth as if to admonish you. “none of tha’, girl. suck.” he says, two salty fingers pushing past teeth to press over your tongue.

not to sate your oral fixation, you find, but to wet enough that it doesn’t hurt when he works them into your cunt. they’re brutish still, finding home in shelter that can’t house them, stretching you out but not enough to take his breadth without struggle.

credit to you, you certainly try. price runs the uncut tip along your vulva, smearing prespend onto the fluttering folds, and you don’t wait before planting yourself over it. the progress stops about halfway down, too tight to take him to the root. tears bead, spoiling your precious eyes.

“w-wanna– wanna take… it all!”

“i know, little one. you will. jus’ need to get used to it, mm, we have time.” he hums, thumb working over your ripe bud to ease the effort. slowly, with the rocking of the boat or else your determination, you start to sink lower, cock battering a path to your guts. “makes me happy to think you’ve kept chaste in my time away. no one amounts to me, eh?”

“no, no, no– no one! no one daddy. no one.” you pant, sweat glossing your skin. he nips at plump breasts, beard skinning you until you’re flayed all over. your nipples darken with the attention he assigns, crackling into raw centres of activity, painfully acquiescing to the bite of his teeth. he kneads your ass simultaneously, working both doughy globes apart to expose your sphincter to the cold air. it works as intended; you press closer to him for warmth, burying your face into his neck.

at the first whip of lightning, the waters guide the boat nearly sideways, and you slip onto the rest of his length like its never really left.

you both find the same satisfaction in it, groaning low and in tandem, burrowing under one another’s skin. he’s glad you’re on the same page when you don’t move and he suggests you stay that way; allowing the rough sea to piece you together, movements of the boat grinding him into you, never quite reaching the eye of the storm but revelling in the rage all the same.

you’ll find your peace eventually. for now, he’s content to wind you tighter into yourself, imprinting an indelible mark into your insides with every push of the waves.

[shes4twnksinatrnchct]

Straight to the Heart

Josh Kiszka x fem. reader

You and Josh were friends long before you were lovers, yet somehow can't manage to grapple yourselves into an actual relationship with one another (oneshot).

Warnings: Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, explicit language, angst, mutual unrequited love? kind of? smut (dry humping, oral {f. receiving}, unprotected sex, p. in v.)

Words: 2.7k

Please keep in mind this is a work of fiction and enjoy!

Why were you here, again?

You know it always ends this way.

A tear falls and splatters on the top of your foot, your elbows digging into your knees from where you’re sitting on the edge of the tub in the hotel bathroom while holding your head in your hands. 

If the small digital clock on the nightside table is correct, it’s nearly 3:00a.m.

You should go get back into bed and continue staring at the ceiling to avoid looking at the man that’d been lying next to you in a deep sleep–to avoid the guilt that shreds at you because you know this time will be no different. 

He knows it, too, deep down…he just refuses to acknowledge that feeling that settles in his gut and tells him repeatedly it’s never going to work between the two of you. 

And it’s an easy fact to ignore when you’re so entrapped in one another. 

All the begging, whining, moaning, cursing, praising, gasping, grasping, hounding, grinding, licking, kissing, touching, holding, pulling, scratching, biting, teasing and everything else that conspires between the two of you acts as bountiful excuses not to accept the simple fact that those primal things is all your relationship will ever be. 

You’re both so drastically different that it’s difficult to bond over anything other than being completely addicted to the feel of each other—any further step you’ve tried to take toward an actual relationship had always ended in the two of you fighting each other. 

He was too him—who you adored–but quickly came to the realization that he was overwhelming in a relationship. Just as he realized that you were far too you, who he thought the world of but felt smothered by outside the boundaries of friendship.

Too opposite, perhaps, but it didn’t stop you two from trying to force it to work. 

It was just a constant run-around of bickering, having sex, breaking up, having sex, getting back together, having sex, and repeating the cycle. 

You’re pretty sure his family and friends, and yours, are ready to strangle the both of you because how quickly things change between you so often…

Wiping your eyes, you sniffle and head back into the room.

It’s freezing cold, the air conditioner offering a peaceful rustle in the corner of the pitch-black room. 

The lights of the city flicker through the window every now and then when the a/c catches the curtains every once in a while, other than those, however, the only light is that of the smoke detector. 

Padding across the carpet, you step to the bed and see the silhouette of Josh still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling with each breath. 

It’s been a few hours since you both got out of the shower after a drawn out reunion in the mid-priced hotel that’s across town from the much pricier inn that his bandmates are staying in. 

He felt like a teenager sneaking out once everyone got back to their rooms after the show. 

His security was sworn to secrecy of where he was going and who he’d be with, because he didn’t want to hear his brothers try to talk him out of it. 

The moment he knocked on the room door, it swung open, and he didn’t even have time to admire your infectious smile before you were snatching him inside by his shirt, gathering his soft hair into your hands while his mouth wasted no time in seeking yours. 

You should change out of his shirt, pull your clothes on and leave, but he’s right there within reach, which is something he hadn’t been in a couple months. 

Though the two of you would make up for it over the phone, it never compared to hearing, seeing, feeling everything in person. 

Josh feels the dip in the mattress when you get back into bed, crawling over to him.

Careful not to put your weight on him, you swing a leg over his hips, your lips press to the smooth skin of his chest, gently trailing up to his jaw while he shifts in his sleep that’s growing lighter the more you kiss along his skin.

By the time you get to his prominent cheek bone, his hands are grabbing at your thighs, pushing up to grab your waist to pull you further down onto him.

“Fuck,” You breathe out shakily as your already sensitive clit rubs along the fabric of your panties, the feel of him underneath you causing your eyes roll back as one of his hands grab at your jaw.

“Back for more already?” He whispers, the tickle of his facial hair dancing along your mouth as he speaks, his nose teasingly swiping against yours gently.

You nod pathetically, and he obliges, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue before it tangles with yours. 

You’ve already battered and bruised one another, hickies decorating the two of you, bite marks imprinted in skin, not to mention the soreness between your legs that spikes with you growing all the more wet when his hands slip under his shirt you’re wearing to squeeze at your chest.

It’s discarded rather abruptly, the soft white being thrown quite aggressively before his hands are back on you, rolling your nipples, taking in the sight of you once again moving against him, your nails biting into his hands. 

That wave of something strikes in you, your mouth falling open as you hump against him, no doubt ruining your panties while he grins up at you, groaning out softly from the friction against his throbbing cock as a sharp gasp leaves you at the sight of him being so amused watching you. 

“Make as big of a mess as you can, pretty girl, I wanna clean up every last drop.” He assures you, guiding your hips. 

“You do?” You ask weakly, needing to hear him divulge how badly he wants to taste you. 

“I always do, don’t I?” 

You nod, falling forward to brace your palms on his chest, squeezing your eyes closed as you grow closer and closer to your finish. 

He feels the sticky wetness of you through your panties, the thin sheet and his underwear, his mouth watering with anticipation as he shifts his hips up to meet yours. 

“You’re so wet, aren’t you?” He asks, a frantic nod from you being his response. 

Your mouth falls into an “O”, brows sharply furrowing as you look down at him and pick up your pace. 

“Josh.” You whine, doing the best that you can, your eyes going blurry as you pant, sweat cloaking your chest as your clothed pussy works desperately against him. 

And then it rapidly happens, your orgasm swallows you whole when you see stars, your walls throbbing and clenching at nothing as your release spills out of you and he gets his wish. 

He chuckles at you, a breathy, “Fuck, y/n,” leaving him while he pushes you off of him. 

You’re limp, your eyes shut and your mind unable to think while he grabs your ankles and drags you to the edge of the bed. 

Josh stares down at you, running a hand down his face at you disheveled and sweaty, hair tangled, lips swollen. 

He splays you out, palming at himself through his underwear at the sight of your soaked pussy soaked, already able to feel your tight cunt around him. He can’t wait to get you split open on him, writhing and crying, begging for him to fuck into your harder just for you to try to crawl away say it’s too much, it feels too good, only to end up a fucked-out mess, scrambling to open your legs wider to take him deeper and plead for him to cum in you. 

You’re predictable in that aspect, but every time it feels like it’s the first time you two have done any of it. 

Just as exhilarating. 

Your back arches and your hands tangle in the sheets when he reaches out to run his palm along your pussy. 

The sound itself is vulgar, a soft, “Oh,” leaving you as his fingertips tease at your clit. 

“You want my mouth here, don’t you?” He asks smugly, picking up his pace as your hips start rolling with his movements. 

“I want your mouth everywhere,” You confess, more than content to have him anywhere you can get him. 

“Good answer.” He leans down, kissing your lips while one finger slips into you.

Your teeth bite into his lip as he digs into the spongey, soft flesh of your back wall.

Josh pulls from your mouth and adds a second finger, his forehead resting against yours while he watches your face shift. 

“Whose is this?” He questions you, knowing very well the answer. 

Even when you’ve had non-exclusive suitors, and potential partners through the years, they all are thrown out the moment he gets ahold of you. 

“It’s all—ah! It’s yours,” You promise, gasping, the wet sound of him finger-fucking into you echoing in the room. 

“You’re so fucking tight, y/n, you know that?” He asks, next, your pussy clinging to his digits as if trying to milk them for what they’re worth. 

All you can do is nod, his movements growing more demanding, repeatedly digging into your g-spot, giving you no other option but to cum again.��

“Oh, where are my manners?” He suddenly pipes, pulling his fingers from you, causing you to nearly cry, tears in your eyes as the orgasm you were approaching is torn away from your grasp. 

“Josh!” You complain, looking up at him when he stands back up. 

“Do you want me to eat it or not?” He slyly inquires, smirking down at you. 

You can’t argue, adamantly agreeing with a loss of your breath, pushing up on your hands when he sinks to his knees. 

Your head falls back when he kisses along the inside of your thighs, your chest heaving as he looks up at you and finally licks at your swollen.

He groans when you tug at his hair, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth before shaking his head, your back having to collapse into the mattress because your shaky arm lets you down as a high-pitched, “Ah!” Crawls from the back of your throat and you try to close your legs. 

His hands dig into your skin when he forces your thighs apart, and drinks up. 

Rolling his tongue has you struggling to breathe, but then his fingers push back into you. 

“Josh!” You don’t even try to muffle it, probably giving your neighbors a wake-up call as you moan it out brazenly. “Please, please don’t stop, Josh, please, it’s so good, you eat it so fucking good.” 

You can’t help but grind into his face the best you can, feeling like you’re hostage to his touch that’s unrelenting as he mercilessly digs into that spot again, lapping at your clit simultaneously. 

You’re done for, he can tell in the way you stop speaking and just cry out, your legs shaking. 

He keeps his word, licking up every drop of your slick, pressing sweet kisses to your pussy in between strokes of his tongue, examining his work once he’s finished, wishing he could acceptably take a picture of you like this. 

Now you really are out of it, your core aching from the ghost of his fingers, your body twitching from the aftermath of pleasure while he’s stripping from his underwear, stroking at his cock that feels as though it holds his heart beat with the relentless pulse of his desired release. 

The thick tip of it runs along your folds before he eases it to your entrance. 

“So pretty,” He says to you, but his eyes are locked on the juncture of your thighs, a hiss leaving the both of you when he pushes his tip in. 

“Ow,” you whisper, despite being slick enough to take him easily, there’s still that initial pinch of adjustment while his mouth falls open from the vice grip of you around him. 

“You okay?” He asks you with a shaky breath. 

“It’s just so big,” You say thickly, furrowing your brows as he eases deeper into you. 

“I’ll have you good and stretched out—fuck— before too long, baby.” 

You clench around him with his promise, wanting nothing more than for him to do just that. 

When he bottoms out, you’re reaching for him, wanting him on top of you, as close as he can be. 

Grabbing your legs to rest them on his shoulder, he sinks deeper into you and you close your eyes, feeling his lips press to your temple when he crawls over you. 

“I’m so full.” You whisper, looking up at him with watering eyes at the pleasure of him slowly pulling out of you only to slam back in.

“You’re gonna be when I come, too,” He gets it out roughly before kissing you, his thrusts becoming quicker but keeping their depth, your toes curling and your hands roaming his muscular arms and back before settling in his hair. 

Any other time he’d fuss about his precious curls being harassed, but sex is never a time for complaining in his eyes—whatever makes you feel better, screaming louder, come harder, he’s in full support of it, so long as he gets to watch your pretty face as you do so. 

Your compressed lungs struggle for breath, the heat of him over you eating you alive as the stretch of his cock pounding into you renders you speechless aside from moans. 

He leans down to kiss you, and you eagerly return it, your tongues working together in a lazy, sloppy, dance.  

When the two of you are like this, it’s hard to believe that you aren’t in-love. That’s why it’s so damn hard to walk away. 

You regain your vocals when he pulls from your lips and his hand snakes between you and starts toying with your clit again, licking his lips when you untangle your arms from him and start trying to get away. 

“I can’t, baby, I can’t, I can’t,” You beg, the sensation nearly painful as another orgasm builds in you, your abdomen already trying to recover from earlier in the night. 

“You can, just let go, baby, I wanna feel you,” He tells you, feeling more of your juices coat him as you grow louder with your cute little whimpers that try to stifle your screams. 

That is until he’s pulling from you, flipping you to your stomach and re-entering you. 

It’s impossible not to be loud like this. 

He learned long ago if he wanted you to really show out, you had to be bent over and rode into. 

The mattress does absolutely nothing to quiet your cries—and you are crying—the ecstasy laying into you relentlessly with your back arching painfully as you take him to the brim. 

The back of your thighs get soaked from your own arousal in this position, running down them, getting all over his legs, the mattress below the two of you…

Your have to bite into the covers when he angles himself to find that spot again, and when he does, it’s hell. 

“There she is,” He praises you as you grow louder than before, struggling to keep your ass up with your shuddering thighs as your hot walls spasm around his length, “Just like that, y/n, you keep taking it.”

He kept to his word, your pussy ruined with him, the sight of your swollen cunt greedily accepting him being enough to make him clench his jaw and chase his own release. 

“Do you still want it?” Josh asks you, struggling to keep himself together. 

“As deep as you can, baby, please,” You beg, and he does as you ask, burying himself to the hilt as he comes with a sighed out, “Fuck, y/n.”

He stays inside of you as you both calm, his lips meeting the base of your back as he catches his breath. 

The two of you collapse beside one another, sharing a sweet kiss as he looks at you with those big, beautiful brown eyes of his that always seem to convince you that this will end differently than what you both know it will. 

That’s why you’re here, after all.

[hyukasmiles]

Helloooo, how are you doing?

I just discovered your blog, and omg, you are soooo talented, and your brain is super sexy and delicious as hell!

I really wanted to send you an ask for a drable of sweet, soft, service top husband Taehyun (let's be for real, Terry is such a hubby material), breeding kink and strength kink (?.

Just the fact that he is so down on his knees if it's about you, he doesn't see a future without you, wants to make you part of his life forver.

Sweet love making with your perfect husband, him whispering lovely nothings in your ear, manhandling you into any posision he wants, caresing your body with a firm but soft touch, holding all the love he feels for you and all the stars in his eyes, as he breeds you to the brim, you kissing his forehead while he purrs into your neck

ILSKDODL yeah, that man is making me go fereal

That's all babe, thank youuu

—TAEHYUN—

(nsfw & not proofread)

This is kind of all over the place and i’m sorry about that 😭

—

“Hey!” Yeonjun cheers from the table, waving Taehyun over. “We didn’t know if you were coming or not! The rest of the guys should be here soon.”

“Yeah I’m sorry it was so up in the air, we closed on a house today.” Taehyun hugs his friend, settling down next to him.

“Hey, you came!” Kai smiles down at him, the other two guys behind him echoing similar sentiments. “Broke away from your bride just for us!”

“He must really love us.” Beomgyu laughs. “Let’s get drunk!”

Taehyun misses you, it’s a deep gnawing feeling in his gut that grows with every sip of beer. You haven’t texted him all night and he's slowly convincing himself it’s because you’re angry with him and the gnawing grows bigger as he does.

His friends are laughing, playing rock paper scissors over something as he pouts, staring at his phone. If he was sober he’d realize you’re just asleep but right now panic claws at his throat with the idea you’re leaving him. “I have to go, guys.” Taehyun mumbles, grabbing his coat and stumbling out of the restaurant.

He can’t lose you. He’d be nothing without you.

Your shared apartment is dark when he gets home, pitch black with the absence of you. It’s just him, the couch, and the gentle hum of the air conditioner. Your name breaks the silence, Taehyun’s voice shaking as he maneuvers through the house.

Most of your apartment is in boxes, you must have spent the night packing. He remembers the house you picked out, the one you fell in love with. Taehyun couldn’t have cared less about where you guys end up but the way you lit up as he followed you through the property changed his mind. You were right, you were always right, especially when you grabbed his hand and whispered about how it was perfect for starting a family with him.

The memory makes him smile. You make him smile.

Relief washes over him when he opens the bedroom door, your body a lump in your shared bed. “I’m home.” He whispers, letting his coat fall to the ground. You don’t move, still asleep as he sits on the edge of the bed. “I missed you.”

You accept Taehyun even in your sleep, wrapping him in your arms as he settles into the bed. “I love you.” He’s on the verge of tears, pressing a kiss against your forehead. “So much.” Another kiss on your nose. “Too much.” A third kiss on your cheek. “Never leave me.” A final kiss lands against your lips.

Your face scrunches up as you rouse, trying to hide your face in his neck. “Sorry love, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” Taehyun kisses his words into your shoulder.

You’re so warm in his hold, soothing his panic with a hand against his chest. “Did you have fun?” Your lips graze his skin as you talk, each movement resulting in a tiny kiss.

“No, I spent my whole night missing you.” Your hair is slightly damp, you’ve always been too lazy to fully dry it, relying on Taehyun to do it for you. “I should have stayed home and dried your hair.”

Your laugh is heavy with sleep. “Yeah, you should have.” Taehyun knows you’re just joking but his anxieties from earlier surge forward, stinging like bile in his throat.

“Please forgive me, I can’t live without you.” You’re more asleep than awake, it’s obvious from the way you hum at him. “Don’t leave me.”

“What?” You push back on him a little, your pretty fingers caging his face as you look at him. “Hyun, you’re crying.” Your lips feel like rose petals against your cheek as you kiss his tears away.

His head hangs as you soothe him. You follow the same order he did; forehead, nose, cheeks, and then lips- it shouldn’t surprise him, he learned it from you. You taste like toothpaste, like waking up to love and falling asleep with it, like the simple life Taehyun has always wanted. “Don’t leave me.” His arms wrap around your shoulders. He’s determined to pull you closer to him, close enough your atoms fuse with his.

“I’d rather die.” Another kiss against his nose. “You’re my better half.” Your eyes crinkle in a tired smile.

“Will you sing for me?” Taehyun’s request makes him feel childish, the way you cradle his face makes him feel like a baby. “Just a little.”

“Really? You’re the singer.” Your words tickle his hair as he curls up, nestling his head into your chest. “Ok.” Your lips are against his head as you hum.

It’s a slow sweet melody that takes Taehyun a while to place, it’s just as he’s drifting off that it clicks. “Why this one?”

“I love it, it reminds me of our wedding. How you cried while we danced to it.”

“Cause I love you so much.” His hands rest on your hips, gently rubbing up your side and back down. “You looked so pretty in your dress.”

—

Taehyun wakes up to an empty bed, a frown taking over his face as he reaches for his phone. His only notification is a text from you, explaining that you’re cleaning the new house and you wanted him to get some sleep.

He’s in the car in minutes, barely remembering shoes as he rushes out of the apartment. His anxieties are back with his hangover, hand reaching to rest on a thigh that isn’t there as he drives.

You’re right where you told him you would be, doing exactly what you said you would be doing, humming as you wipe down the kitchen counters. You must have your headphones in, completely unaware of him as he approaches, jumping a little when he wraps you up in a hug, chest pressed against your back. “Hey, beautiful.”

“Sleep good?” The smell of shampoo eases his headache as he hums out a yes. “I’m glad, you were so upset last night.”

“That's why I don’t drink. I get all sappy.” Taehyun kisses you as you turn around, hands still wrapped around you as press closer to him. His tongue swipes over your lips, quickly accepted by your own.

Your breath shakes as you speak. “Hold…” You grab onto his shoulder, gently pushing at it. “Hold on, I wanted to show you something.”

“Can’t it wait?” Taehyun nips at your bottom lip as he talks, sliding his fingers under your top. “I’d really like to fuck you.”

You laugh like he’s joking, hitting at his chest as you wheeze. “Stop- come look.”

You lead him to one of the rooms, smiling as you open the door. A small crib is waiting for him. “Took me all morning to build it, but I decided this is the best room for a nursery.” Taehyun nods along with your words, a deep need blooming in his chest as he stares at the wooden furniture. “You ok? Hungry?”

“Yeah.” He mumbles. “I wanna eat you.” You laugh again, it’s an awkward puff of confusion that he cuts off with another kiss. “I’m serious, I wanna devour you with my love.”

You let him split open your mouth with his messy kisses, his hands exploring the skin under your t-shirt as he sucks on your tongue. “Should we go home?” You're a mess, voice pitched, legs shaky, eyes watery, the idea of stopping to go home almost makes him laugh.

“No.” Your skin is on fire under Taehyun’s lips, the warmth from it spreading from them throughout his whole body. “I’ll have you right here.” Contrary to you, the door is cold against Taehyun’s palms but it serves well to cage you in and ground him.

“Standing up?”

Taehyun shakes his head. “No, it won’t stick that way, I just want to kiss you some more.” He can hear you repeat the word stick, your pretty eyebrows scrunching as you look at him. “Yeah, gotta get you pregnant, love, so this crib has a purpose.” You open your mouth to speak but the words don’t come out, leaving you wide open for another kiss. “You taste sweet.” Taehyun groans, tongue pressing against yours. “Like honey.”

He kisses you until you turn impatient, pulling at his hair and whining for more. “I’m sorry, love. Let me make it up to you.” His knees hit the floor with a thud. The button of your shorts pops so easy, the jean material pooling around your ankles.

“That tickles.” You whine as he liters your stomach with kisses. Taehyun almost can't believe how wet you are, underwear sticking to your sweet, honeyed cunt as he slips them down.

“Come here.” Taehyun grabs the back of your thighs, supporting you in full as he spreads them apart. “Hold onto me, baby, I’ve got you.” The first taste of you has his eyes rolling into his head, grip tightening as he licks at your folds. “Fuck-“

Your only point of contact to the door is the middle of your back, your body hunched over, hands pulling at his shirt and hair as he works your clit with his tongue. “Hyun-“ He hums, sending shivers up your spine as he lifts you off the ground, trying to force himself further into your cunt. “I want you in me, hurry.”

“Fuck. Fuck, ok.” Taehyun sets you down against the floor, pulling your shirt over your head. “I love your tits.” The flesh distracts him, thumb swiping over your red nipples. He can hear you whine for him to hurry, your hands trying to strip him of his shirt. “This little bit of skin…” Taehyun licks at the valley in between your boobs. “…is so sexy.” He sucks a hickey against the skin, then another, then a third, and more and more until your chest and neck is covered in the little red marks.

You’re whining at him still, begging him to hurry. “You’re a tease.” Taehyun kisses you again, swallowing your whimpers, fingers slipping through your soaked cunt.

“Want me to fuck you so bad but I can barely get my fingers in you.” The back of your head hits the door making it bump into the wall with a soft thud. “Careful.” Taehyun’s hand tangles in your hair, big hand cradling your head. “Don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Hyun,” Your hands claw at his clothed shoulder. “I need you to take this shit off and fuck me. Now.” He tries to coo out something about taking his time but you’re quick to cut him off, “Now!”

When Taehyun pulls away from you to strip he’s stunned by the image of you in all your prettiness. The way you’re slouched against the door, face flushed and smeared with the mixture or your and his saliva, hair a mess, eyes droopy, shorts hanging from your ankle, it almost reminds him of a painting. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Oh, shut up.” You groan, wrapping one of your legs around his waist. “You can tell me about it after you fuck me.”

You’re delusional if you think Taehyun can wait, sweet whispers of your beauty filling the air as he pulls down his sweats. He tells you how lucky he is as he grinds his erection against your slippery cunt. Mumbles about his love for you as he slowly spreads you open on his cock.

“So perfect for me.” Taehyun’s lips press into your hair, his hand coming back to hold your head. “You’ll get a headache if you keep hitting your head.”

“It’s your fault, you chose right here.” Your words are choppy, clipping off every time his hips hit yours. Your cunt is so warm and gooey, melting his brain.

Taehyun can’t shut up, his forehead resting against your shoulder as he rambles. “…N’ your laugh is so pretty, n’ the way you blush…” More and more as he bullies his hips against your own. “I love you, so much, so fucking much.”

Your legs shake under his hold, hand under your knee as he pushes it out. “The stretch hurts, Hyun.” It comes out more as whines than words as he pushes you more. “So deep.”

“That’s good, it’s gotta stick.” Taehyun groans at your pitchy cries, softly begging for more. “Will you rub your clit for me baby? My hands are full.” You do as he asks, fingers trailing down his stomach before pressing into your puffy clit.

He can just barely see your fingers moving in circles against the bud, his neck bent so he can stare. “I feel so good.” You confess, head fighting his hand as you try to rest it against the door. “I’m gonna-“

Your voice cuts off as you squirt, cunt tightening even harder against Taehyun’s cock as you spray against his stomach. “So perfect.” Taehyun groans, pistoning into you harder. “Give me an orgasm now, ok? I wanna feel you cum around my cock, love, I need to feel it.” He’s babbling again, hips bruising as he fucks you.

It doesn’t take too long, your back arching as your orgasm builds up. “C’mon baby, please.” He pleads with you, trying to force himself deeper. “Need it, please, I need-“ You cum with a broken groan, clamping down so hard Taehyun struggles to push in as his own orgasm sparks.

White hot spurts of cum fill you to the brim, his eyes watering as you wring him out. “Fuck- thank you, love, you’re so perfect for me.”

[wonnieaura]

THE ULTIMATE SUMMER GLOW UP GUIDE

Wanna glow up this summer? Here are some few tips I’ve put down for y’all to help everyone of y’all have the best summer ever. You’re welcome girlies 🥹💗🫶🏻

Skincare

1. Hydration

- Drink plenty of water.

- Use hydrating serums and moisturizers.

- Apply a hydrating mask weekly.

2. Sun Protection

- Use broad-spectrum SPF 30+ daily.

- Reapply sunscreen every 2 hours.

- Wear protective clothing and hats.

3. Cleansing

- Double cleanse at night.

- Use a gentle, hydrating cleanser.

- Exfoliate 1-2 times a week.

4. Targeted Treatments

- Use vitamin C serum in the morning.

- Apply retinoids at night (if not too sensitive).

- Incorporate a hyaluronic acid serum.

Haircare

1. Hydration and Protection

- Use a leave-in conditioner.

- Apply a heat protectant before styling.

- Wear hats or use UV protection sprays.

2. Styling

- Embrace natural textures.

- Avoid excessive heat styling.

- Use lightweight, non-greasy products.

3. Maintenance

- Get regular trims.

- Deep condition weekly.

- Use a clarifying shampoo once a month.

Nutrition

1. Hydration

- Drink at least 8 glasses of water a day.

- Consume water-rich foods (fruits and vegetables).

- Limit caffeine and alcohol intake.

2. Balanced Diet

- Eat plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables.

- Incorporate lean proteins and whole grains.

- Limit processed foods and sugars.

3. Supplements

- Consider taking a multivitamin.

- Use omega-3 supplements.

- Incorporate probiotics for gut health.

Fitness

1. Cardio

- Engage in at least 150 minutes of moderate-intensity cardio per week.

- Try activities like swimming, running, or cycling.

- Include interval training for variety.

2. Strength Training

- Do strength training exercises 2-3 times a week.

- Focus on all major muscle groups.

- Incorporate bodyweight exercises like squats and push-ups.

3. Flexibility

- Stretch daily or after workouts.

- Consider yoga or Pilates classes.

- Focus on full-body stretches.

Mental Wellbeing

1. Mindfulness

- Practice meditation or deep breathing exercises.

- Keep a journal for reflection.

- Spend time in nature.

2. Stress Management

- Engage in hobbies or activities you enjoy.

- Set aside time for relaxation.

- Connect with friends and family.

3. Sleep

- Aim for 7-9 hours of sleep per night.

- Establish a regular sleep schedule.

- Create a calming bedtime routine.

Fashion

1. Wardrobe Essentials

- Invest in versatile summer pieces (e.g., sundresses, shorts).

- Choose breathable fabrics like cotton and linen.

- Opt for light and bright colors.

2. Accessories

- Use statement sunglasses and hats.

- Incorporate light scarves and jewelry.

- Carry a stylish yet functional bag.

3. Footwear

- Wear comfortable yet stylish sandals.

- Opt for breathable sneakers.

- Ensure proper foot care with pedicures.

[xcherryerim]

A Helping Hand

Touch starved Mike x gn!reader | wc: 2.4k

“It will take a while for the scars in my heart to heal, that’s what I believed. At some point, I am in your embrace. You touch my heart baby” — Touch by Miss A

SMUT ONE SHOT | MDNI | +18 ONLY

warning: Friends to lovers | Mike is having an existential crisis | Handjob | Oral sex (only Mike) | Facial | Shower sex | porn without (much) plot | Calling mike a “good boy” | angst

In the warm lit bathroom, illuminated only by a single soft glow of the cheap lightbulb, Mike sat on a plastic chair, his broken leg propped up on a stack of towels. The lukewarm water cascaded over his body, mingling with the salty tears that traced down his pale cheeks.

His eyes, red-rimmed and glistening, pleaded with yours as he whispered, "Please touch me."

For the past few weeks, you'd been there for Mike whenever he needed you. He was once a self-sufficient man who refused help from others, but now that his leg was momentarily immobilized, he found himself at the mercy of those around him. His job not compensating for his leave, coupled with the overwhelming weight of daily struggles, had left him feeling trapped and helpless.

The realization that his life had spiraled out of control weighed heavily on his shoulders. It was one thing to acknowledge the despair, but quite another to confront it head-on with nothing but time on his hands. In this cramped bathroom, surrounded by tiled walls, he felt even smaller, more isolated than ever.

With tenderness and care, you stepped into the shower stall, succumbing to the task of helping Mike bathe despite the challenges posed by his injured leg. As the warm water poured down upon both of you, you began to wash his hair with the specialized shampoo and conditioner, working the suds through his locks with gentle precision.

When you moved onto his back, your fingertips brushed over his tense muscles, tracing the web of pain etched into his skin. Each stroke, each caress seemed to pull at the threads of his empty heart, finally, he couldn't contain it any longer when you stood in front of him, trying to wash his neck and chest. His fragile facade cracked as tears formed into his honey soulless eyes.

Looking at his reddened eyes and the sniffling sounds emanating from his nose, concern washed over you. "Mike, are you alright?" you inquired, worry lacing your words.

"Please touch me," he choked out, his voice barely above a whisper. "Just… touch me. Please."

Your heart ached for him, seeing him like this - broken, vulnerable, and begging for human connection. His erection strained against the fabric of his shorts, an unmistakable sign of his need for intimacy.

“I know I'm asking too much, I know I've been a burden with all the favors you've done for me these past few days, but I just—" Mike hesitated, his voice breaking as he struggled to find the right words.

His admission hung in the air between you, thick with guilt and the weight of his burgeoning dependency on your kindness.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he continued, "I just can't take this loneliness any longer."

His confession struck you like a punch to the gut, his vulnerability laying bare the emotional toll his situation had taken on him. You could see the fear lurking in his eyes, the desperate plea for understanding and support. And though a part of you yearned to provide the comfort he sought, you also knew that giving in would only complicate matters further.

Instead, you opted for a different approach, seeking to ease his pain in words rather than touch.

"Mike, I understand how hard this must be for you," you said softly. "But you're not alone, and we'll get through it together. I promise."

Your hand lingered on his shoulder, a tentative gesture of solidarity, offering the smallest measure of comfort without breaching the boundaries of your friendship.

Despite the distance you maintained, you could feel the tension in his frame, the unraveling of his composure under the strain of his emotions.

"You don't find me attractive?" he asked, his voice strained as if the very thought pained him. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill over as he searched your face for answers. "I... I didn't mean to push you, I just..."

Swallowing hard, you replied softly, "It's not that, Mike. It's just... your request would change things between us. Our friendship would never be the same."

Defeat washed over his features, and he shifted his gaze downward, fixating on his length before quickly looking away in embarrassment. "I just want to feel wanted, desired, useful to someone... anything..." he whispered, the depth of his anguish echoing in every word.

"It could be just once," Mike suggested, grasping at any sliver of hope he could find. His hopeful eyes locked onto yours, their pleading depths reflecting the faint light from the bathroom fixture.

His grip on your hand tightened, a silent prayer that you'd consider his desperate proposal. The air grew heavier with his unspoken desires, the weight of his needs bearing down upon both of you in the confined space.

“Our secret.”

You stood there, torn between compassion and conviction, struggling to reconcile the gravity of the situation. It was impossible to ignore the sincerity in his gaze, the raw need for human connection that seemed to emanate from him. Yet, you couldn't shake the sense that giving in would irreparably alter the course of your relationship.

Finally, you managed to find your voice, your tone heavy with uncertainty as you answered, "Mike, I don't think it's a good idea. This isn't something we can undo or ignore later.” Uncertainty lacing your words.

But his grasp on your hand tightened, his pleading gaze never wavering. "I don't want to ignore it. I want you, I truly do. Please, just do this for me." His fingers trailed along your palm, his touch lingering on your skin as he guided it towards his trembling form. When his hand paused at his pelvis, you felt the heat radiating from him, a testament to the turmoil within.

Staring into your eyes, he implored you once more, his voice quivering with the weight of his longing. You could see the torment reflected in his pupils, the raw honesty of his need. And yet, despite the yearning, you knew that giving in would be crossing a line neither of you could return from.

Yet you found yourself drawn to the sight before you: his waterlogged body, the foggy atmosphere, and the haunting desperation in his eyes.

With a shaky breath, you gave in, nodding reluctantly in agreement with his plea. "But, this never happened," you insisted, attempting to impose some semblance of control over the situation.

Slowly, your hand descended to meet his base, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the dampness of the surroundings. Each nerve in your body screamed at you to stop, urging you to reconsider the implications of your actions. But the anguish in his eyes pulled you forward, forcing you to grapple with the reality of his suffering.

Biting your lip, you closed your eyes, swallowing hard as you began to move your hand, knowing full well that this moment would forever change the course of your lives. The steamy air seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome of your decision as the two of you were in the shower, bound by a secret neither of you could escape.

Mike nodded numbly, a silent agreement between you both as he attempted to stifle the rising cries of pleasure. "Thank you," he whispered, his gratitude overshadowed by the raw emotion surging through him.

Watching your hand move delicately over him, he couldn't help but feel the intense mix of shame and ecstasy coursing through his veins.

You steeled yourself against the stirrings of guilt, focusing solely on the task at hand. The water continued to pour over you both, serving as a constant reminder of the fragility of your situation.

As Mike's breath hitched and his eyes rolled back in bliss, you found yourself lost in the dichotomy of his emotions: the gratitude, the shame, and the overwhelming need for connection.

You opened your eyes, catching sight of Mike biting down on his fist, a futile attempt to silence his cries of pleasure. A small, involuntary chuckle escaped you, the sound carrying a hint of tension.

“You can make sounds, it's okay," you reassured him, a tender smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Closing your eyes once more, you hoped that the vivid imagery of their current predicament wouldn't scar your memories.

But the sight of Mike's flushed skin, his eyes tight shut in ecstasy, and the pink length curved around your hand was enough to dispel any remaining reservations. To your surprise, your grip tightened around him, your movements becoming more assured, more passionate. The water continued to fall, oblivious to the shift in dynamics between you both.

"Fuck!" Mike groaned, gripping your wrist and urging you to increase your pace. His gratitude shone brightly in his eyes as he spoke. "Thank you."

Nodding in agreement, you positioned yourself between his legs, the steamy environment providing little privacy in this intimate encounter.

Mike's head shook slightly, his eyes cast downward in a display of vulnerability. "You don't have to do this, It's okay." His voice trembled, tinged with shyness.

A smirk played across your lips. "Be a good boy and take what I give you," you instructed playfully, wrapping your hand around him once more. Your tongue danced around his tip, drawing a startled whimper from him.

"I'll be a good boy! I'll be a good boy!" he cried out, his words punctuated by gasps of pleasure.

His moans filled the bathroom, a testament to the newfound intimacy that had consumed you.

As you continued, the boundaries between friends and lovers blurred, leaving no room for regret or hesitation. Every touch, every movement was driven by an unspoken understanding, born of necessity and longing.

This time, you engulfed him fully, relishing in the way his body shuddered under your touch. It seemed as if he teetered on the edge of release, his cries growing louder and more fervent.

His hand reached back, gently guiding your head to him, a combination of shyness and desperation etched in his expression. Over time, his grip tightened, urging you to accept more of him, hungry for the sensation.

Your heart raced, the consequences of your actions weighing heavily on your mind. But the hunger in his eyes, the pleading earnestness in his touch, made it difficult to resist.

"You take me so good..." Mike murmured, locking gazes with you as he succumbed further to his desire. His appreciation was palpable, the praise you offered striking a chord in his soul.

In response, you slowed your movements, meeting his eyes as you whispered, "And you feel so good in my mouth." The compliment sparked a blush and a small, grateful smile on his face. Praise – an elixir for his wounded heart.

The water continued to rain down on you both, rendering the bathroom a sacred chamber of vulnerable admissions and simmering passions. In this cramped space, the two of you were stripped bare, submerged in a maelstrom of shifting emotions and escalating pleasures. The boundary between friend and lover had vanished, replaced by a new territory where your instincts governed your actions.

Mike's breathing quickened, the anticipation of release building within him. And though you knew this moment was fraught with consequence, there was an undeniable pull toward the ecstasy that lay just beyond the horizon.

"Can I...?" Mike stammered, his voice trembling and hoarse. After collecting himself, he asked hesitantly, "Can I come on your face or, your body?"

"You're close?" you inquired, unable to hide the curiosity from your tone.

"Yeah, I couldn't last that long with you... you know," he admitted, flustered. Taking a deep breath, he hastily added, "Sorry, I wanted to last longer." Embarrassment colored his features, but his eyes beseeched you to understand.

Mike's apology lingered in the air, but you dismissed it with a gentle wave of your hand, recognizing the power of your connection. Despite the enormity of what was happening between you, the bond that once existed seemed to transform, adapting to the new landscape of emotions and desires.

His release drew near, every twitch and moan drawing you closer to the precipice. The water continued to pour, its relentless cadence echoing the intensity of the situation. And while the implications of your actions weighed heavily on your mind, the thrall of the present moment beckoned you, the two of you locked in an intricate dance of surrender and acceptance.

Finally, Mike released a strained cry, using the last of his strength to guide his release onto your face. It painted your skin, marking you with the evidence of his passion, only to be washed away by the endless stream of water. In that brief moment of shared ecstasy, the room seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the outcome.

Then, without warning, Mike hauled you in for a kiss – a desperate, yearning embrace that had years of suppressed feelings woven into it. His lips pressed against yours, a testament to the depth of your connection. The water continued its steady descent, but you barely noticed as you were consumed by the weight of the moment.

As the echo of Mike's cry faded, you found yourselves frozen in the aftermath, clinging to each other like shipwrecked sailors finding solid ground. The reality of your actions bore down on you, a stark reminder of the journey you had just embarked upon. Yet amid the chaos, there was a strange sense of calm, the two of you buoyed by the shared experience that would forever bind you together.

Mike reached for the loofah hanging on the wall, extending it to you between gasps for air.

"You didn't do my back right," he panted, half-joking.

Rolling your eyes, you rose to your feet, a soft chuckle escaping you. "Asshole," you muttered, taking the loofah and moving behind him. As you carefully scrubbed his back, you couldn't help but study the contours, each mole a tiny piece of art etched onto his skin.

"We seriously need to find you a partner or a sneaky link," you sighed, the gravity of your recent exchange weighing heavily on your mind.

"Or maybe a friend with benefits?" Mike countered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

You considered his suggestion briefly, a faint smile playing on your lips. "Maybe," you agreed, the idea hovering between laughter and contemplation.

The water continued to flow, washing away the remnants of your uncertainty and hesitation. The room felt charged with the knowledge of what had transpired, yet there was a strange comfort in the weight of it all. Your hands moved gently over his back, the loofah a buffer between the new reality and the old normalcy.

my dumbass forgot the taglist bro: @freak-accident419 @joshhutchersonsgf @valreanakuroo @cassiecasluciluce @jhutchismyl0verb0y

[freelancearsonist]

and they'd find us in a week

➔ Javi Gutierrez x gn!Reader - 1.8k

➔ Javi whisks you away to Italy for your honeymoon. The only problem is, you're too busy exploring your new husband to leave your hotel room.

➔ Rated MA for basically just husband!javi fluffy cock-worship, oral (m receiving), handjobs, cum swallowing, lots of spanish pet names (reader is spanish speaking), no use of y/n, reader is able-bodied but no description of anatomy and no pronouns used. [please let me know if i missed any :)]

You’ve never woken up quite as languidly as you do today.

The first thing your senses are alerted to is the roaring crash of waves. Bright light floods your eyes even through your closed eyelids, and you roll over with a groan to press your face into the plush pillow beneath your head for a few more precious seconds of darkness. It smells of your favorite leave-in conditioner after your shower last night–a familiar scent in this otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Not that you can complain–this is the softest bed you’ve ever slept in. The mattress is cloud-like and the sheets are silky and warm… except on the other side of the bed. Those sheets are rumpled and turned back, cold with absence.

You sit up and rub the remaining dregs of sleep from your eyes, glancing around the sizable hotel room in search of your fiance–husband. You’re still getting used to that shift in title, but it’s a very welcome change.

The balcony door is open, which is why you can hear the waves so clearly. There’s a gentle breeze swirling in through the opening, fluttering the curtains and sending a slight chill down your spine despite how warm the morning already is. The air smells so fresh here–salt and water and everything you love about the beach. It’s spring, the season of rebirth, and things are changing. Leaves are returning, flowers are blooming, and you’re starting a new page in the story of your life with the man of your dreams.

The man of your dreams, who is currently nowhere to be found.

You swing your legs over the edge of the mattress with a groan of protest, still sore and shaky from yesterday–your third day of honeymoon bliss. Your suitcases still sit on the dresser across from the bed, zipped and neatly packed; you haven’t worn clothes in three wonderful, languid, pleasure-filled days. It’s been absolute bliss.

The sound of the shower shutting off alerts you to the fact that it was running in the first place–it was barely noticeable over the sound of the ocean outside the windows. You smile to yourself and lay back down against the pillows, the mission of finding your husband completed. 

Javi comes out of the bathroom moments later, wrapped in the most plush white robe you’ve ever seen while toweling his hair dry. And really, you’ve done nothing over the last three days except wet your sexual appetite–repeatedly and vigorously–with your husband. But seeing him like this makes you hungry; it drives a burning hot rod of arousal straight through the deepest, most unfathomable part of your gut. Your want over the past few days has been completely insatiable.

You look up at him—sleepy eyes half-lidded, wet hair slicked back, the faintest of smiles tugging at his perfect lips—and you are so, so in love with him. 

“Oh, you’re awake!” He says with a smile. “Do you want to order breakfast?”

You’re shaking your head before you can really stop yourself, because there’s only one thing that could quench your appetite right now and it’s standing right in front of you. “No, I’ve got my breakfast right here.”

His mouth opens to ask what you could possibly mean, but you catch his hand and pull him into a deep, languid kiss before he can say anything. It’s slow and syrupy, the morning bleeding into the action. You trace your tongue over his bottom lip and his mouth parts so eagerly to accept you. He’s become so familiar with your desires over the past few days, even after years together thinking he knew everything there was to know. But he keeps learning and adapting, finding new ways to draw little sounds and reactions from you. He’s nothing if not attentive to details and extremely eager to please.

He’s been doing a lot of pleasing over the past few days, though. He’s certainly earned a break and some appreciation, you think.

He lets out a little grunt when you gently push him into the mattress; his lips curl into a smile when you crawl over him to straddle his sturdy hips.

“Mi amor,” he mumbles, trying his best to lean up so he can keep kissing you despite your hands pinning his torso to the plush mattress. “Por favor–”

You lean down to appease him, lips feather-light against his as you whisper, “calmate, mi esposo. Yo cuidaré de ti.”

You can feel how quickly he hardens from your words even through the thick robe covering him and it sends a heady sense of power rushing through your veins. Your husband is a strong, important, powerful man–you’re the only person in the world who can bring him to his knees. He’ll even beg for it, if you ask. He’s putty in your hand, but you don’t take it for granted. You’re lucky and you know it–you’ll spend every day for the rest of your life thanking whatever deity there is for giving you Javi.

“Mi cielo,” he murmurs as your fingers find the tie of his plush white robe. “You don’t have to–”

“I want to, Javi,” you assure him as you slowly pull the knot apart. “Please?”

You can see the gulp that bobs his throat even as his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head back. “Okay,” he whispers.

You unpeel the robe like a wrapping around a candy, appreciating the sight in all of its decadence but desperate to dig in. 

He’s desperate for it, too. Aching and hard just from your kisses, thick and flushed with arousal. Every beautiful inch of him is ready and waiting for your attention, from the soft curls at his base to the weeping mushroom head of him. 

The first touch of your fingers against his length is electric–he nearly jolts from it. Your fingers are so light and soft, it’s more like a whispering breeze than an actual touch. That is, until you wrap him firmly in your hand, fingers barely long enough to completely circle him. He moans then–a shuddery, shaky, utterly wrecked sound not quite like anything you’ve ever heard before.

“Still sensitive?”

He nods wordlessly, and you can’t blame him really. All you’ve done since arriving in Italy is go at it like rabbits, and last night he actually came dry. He’s bound to be a bit overstimulated, the poor thing.

You halt your hand and meet his dark brown eyes when his head pops up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” He flushes a bit, surprised at his own desperation. “No, amor, por favor no pares.”

You can’t help the gentle laugh that flows from your lips–you love him like this. Stripped down, not just physically, but spiritually. Soul bared to you in a way that no one else has ever seen him. He allows himself to be weak and vulnerable in your arms because you build him back up stronger every time.

You lower yourself to him and lick languidly, one large stroke of your tongue up the vast length of him. He shivers with the stimulation and lets out a groan, hands clenching into fists at his sides to will himself not to squirm. It’s so hard to sit still like this, though–just the barest touch of your tongue, and he’s already near the brink.

He takes a deep breath, then another, then wills every cell in his body to not come.

Somehow, miraculously, it works–when you take his tip between your plush lips and swirl your tongue just right, he manages to hold it together. He lets loose a low grumble from deep in his chest, though, when your fingers dance down his stomach and over his hip to cradle his balls.

“Ay, dios mio…”

“Good?” You giggle when you ask, because you don’t really need him to answer. You can feel the way his thigh trembles beneath your free hand and see the way his chest hitches with shuddering breaths. His body is tuned like a fine guitar string to your skilled fingers–you know exactly the right chords to strum to get the sounds you want.

Your mouth presses deeper and deeper, the thick head of his hitting the back of your throat long before your nose finds those soft, soapy-smelling curls at the base.

“Ay, mi amor.” It’s more of a whimper than an actual spoken statement–high-pitched and needy. “Por favor…”

You pull off with a pop and let your hand take over with firm strokes that make him whimper. “Qué necesitas, mi cielo?”

“I need–” He gulps thickly, hips stuttering up into your grip, cock twitching as if in anticipation of your permission. “Need to come.”

You hum and lick slowly around his tip, dragging the flat of your tongue over his slit to taste the salty precum pooling steadily there. “Then come, darling.”

And Javi–ever only obedient to you–does exactly that. His body shakes with the force of it, beautiful damp sandy-brown curls splayed out against the pillows and broad hands scrabbling for purchase in the sheets as he fills your mouth. 

You never get tired of the taste of him; he’s the perfect mix of salty and sweet and something wonderful that can only be described as Javi. The first drop that meets your tongue makes you crave more–you push as far as you can to take every following spurt that he pulses into your mouth.

You swallow around him–drawing a whine from his throat in the process–before pulling off to admire your handiwork. And surely you can call yourself an artist, because the fruits of your efforts are a masterpiece. He’s flushed red from the shoulders up, chest heaving as he slowly steadies his breath, mouth agape around moans that have finally ceased.

You kiss up his body as he comes down from the high, over the soft round of his stomach and up his flushed neck, finally coming to his parted lips. His eyes meet yours, and suddenly the entire world is spinning on its axis until it’s flipped onto its back–your back. He chuckles as he hovers over you, scattering kisses all over your face.

“Gracias, mi amor,” he hums contentedly. Like this, you can feel every inch of his skin pressed against every inch of yours, the open robe falling around the parameters of your bodies and caging you into a soft, feathery cocoon.

“Was that what you needed, my darling?”

“Everything I needed and more,” he tells you earnestly. His kisses start to stray off course–across your cheeks, then along your jaw, then down your neck. “May I return the favor?”

It’s a tantalizing offer, certainly; as much as you’re eager to finally leave this room and go explore Italy, it’s not looking like today is going to be the day.

“Por favor, mi esposo.”

And Javi, ever the faithful servant, is more than willing to oblige. Con gusto.

THE END

➔ Translations:

calmate - calm down yo cuidaré de ti - let me take care of you por favor no pares - please don't stop qué necesitas - what do you need? con gusto - with pleasure

➔ A/N: the title of this one is another hozier song (big surprise cece) - "in a week" is so beautiful, pls give it a listen :) thank you as always to @shakespeareanwannabe for betaing this lil thing 🥺 thank you as well to the dieter bravo brainrot club for always enabling me <3

➔ Want to see more from me in the future? Follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when I post new fics!

➔ Want to support me? Please reblog this fic! It helps boost it in the algorithm and gives it more circulation no matter what your follower count is :)

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 22: Lipstick Prints

Photo: From Pinterest, JAW getting ready for the Golden Globes

Bearblr Promptober Day 22: Costumes

Summary: Carmy's getting ready for a costume party, and he learns he likes his girlfriend's lipstick prints on him. Fluff.

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of trauma, mentions of The Devil (Chef David), mentions of Donna Berzatto, Carmy is startled, comfort, fem reader/generic lass who is a trauma surgeon, she/her pronouns. (1,611 words)

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list. Sideblog for commentary and yapping: @m-z-shoroi

Also, if random letters or words are black/white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

22 Oct 2024

“Fuck me, Bear, you can’t go looking like that,” she said.

Don’t ask me how it happened (okay, maybe it had to do with her confessing that she wants to have children with me, what the fuck is my life), but I decided to accept Darling’s invitation to a costume party that people from her work were putting on. I don’t know, I had a weird sort of confidence that evening.

Had.

I froze while buttoning up my shirt, a sheer black number that I was pairing with a black suit. My stomach lurched. Did I break a social rule? The fuck did she mean, I couldn’t go looking like that?

“I-I’m sorry?” was all I managed to get out.

“I want to eat you.”

Oh. Oh, I suppose that was valid. I felt myself start to shrink, dammit.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t weird confidence. Maybe I was just fucked up enough to do something crazy in some asinine attempt to ward off gnawing guilt from refusing to pick up 3 calls from ma and then refusing to talk to her when Nat wandered into the kitchen with her on the phone. It was eating a hole through me, those stupid little bubbles on my phone and then Sug’s sad eyes. Missed call from Mom. The number of times I thought about blocking her number or deleting it, and then thinking better of it because surely, surely at some point Donna Fucking Berzatto was going to have a crisis bad enough that she’d call me, and I didn’t know if I could live with my guts twisting into knots knowing she—I don’t know—bled out in a car wreck because she was driving drunk again and I just happened to have her phone number blocked at the time.

Only to then not pick up the phone. To just stare at it while it buzzed at me, frozen in space, drowning in flashes of her tear-soaked face, the smell of stale cigarettes, cheap wine, that old, shitty perfume she wore to cover up the smell of booze. That sting from every time she hit me across the face in my agonizing eternity in that house. I would’ve thought I had enough of my shitty little life figured out to at least pretend to want to hear from her, to not care about her emotional manipulation, her gaslighting, listen to her spun stories, get lulled by her laugh only to get bit by her insults. I could certainly do it while I was in New York, so what changed in Chicago?

I hate admitting it, but I was more bulletproof in The Devil’s home.

Maybe it was because he never stopped whipping me. Kept the armor in check, the drawbridges up, the archers at the ready. And then when it stopped, the exhaustion set in.

And when Darling set in, the exhaustion amplified.

“Pretty boy?” She sung.

My attention and gaze snapped to her. Doorway of the bedroom, long plum-colored dress with a black cloak, a little witch’s broom slung over her back. Hood pooled around her shoulders. More eyeliner, darker, brought out the color in her eyes. Black lipstick. Why did I like that so much?

“Hi.”

“Hi. Hey. Sorry,” I mumbled. Raked back my hai—

“No, no, no don’t ruin it!” She hissed. She darted forward, brushed my hand out of the way, and messed with my hair. “It looks gorgeous right now; I wanna try to keep it that way.”

That’s right. She’d tackled my hair with water and some kind of leave-in conditioner or something, so it actually had a curl pattern instead of whatever bird’s-nest bullshit it ended up in from me dragging my fingers through it a thousand times a day. She had her mother of pearl necklace on. One new to me, a fine gold chain with a little medallion, was just barely visible above her cleavage.

She then started adjusting my shirt collar. “I didn’t think you would have something like this.”

“I own nice clothes. Just, uh, don’t have a ton of opportunities to wear them here.”

“No, I mean a sheer black dress shirt.”

“Yeah, I don’t really, um, have an explanation for that…”

She smoothed her hands down my chest. I fought to keep my eyes open. It was a problem now, how fast my eyes would drift shut if she touched me, how hard it was to stay focused on anything when she had her hands on me, or when I could pick up her scent. It wasn’t just that airy vanilla and citrus note either, there was a scent to her skin. Warm, musky, maybe a bit salty like an arid coastal town that barely qualified as coastal except for when the surf was rough, and that saltwater-laden air would drift further inland. It drove me insane.

“I like it,” she murmured, now tracing her thumb over my lips. “Very witchy. And I didn’t have to buy you a shitty costume.”

I hooked her chin, leaned in for a kiss, she pulled back, and—it was entirely instinct, maybe because of the whole phone call situation, maybe because of other past experiences—I jumped back. My heart shot to my throat and my face flooded with heat. Thinking about it now, the only logical reasoning is that I still had the phone ordeal on the brain because I was expecting her to snap at me. Or swing at me. Not once—not a single time, not once, not ever, no matter what happened—never, ever did Darling make me feel unsafe. Never. It’s why I could love her so much. Why I could crumble apart in front of her, why I could crawl to her after taking a beating during service and just lie on the couch with my head on her stomach and her hands in my hair, soul smarting, stinging, sometimes screaming in pain. I was always safe. Darling is safe.

A look of horror flashed on her face.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” It came out as a whisper. “I’m sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I just didn’t want to get lipstick on you.” She raised her arms a little. Slowly.

And I collapsed into them. She squeezed me—I keep forgetting how fucking strong she is—but the tight hug was needed. Felt like it was holding me together. My heart was still pounding, and it was a million fucking degrees, but I pulled her flush to me, buried my nose in the crook of her neck, and drew in the deepest breath I could, focused on the vanilla, citrus, the warmth. She mumbled apologies repeatedly, pressed her lips to the side of my neck, somehow held me tighter. I wanted to tell her that she’d apologized enough, but words didn’t occur to me. It was honestly just nice to be held. I didn’t realize how badly I’d needed it all day.

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Yeah, I’m okay, I just. I dunno, it wasn’t you, it was-it was other stuff today.”

She pulled back to study my face. “I don’t want you to be scared.”

“No, I’m-I’m okay.” I rubbed my eyes. I doubt it helped her feel better. “I just. I wasn’t expecting it is all.”

She leaned to the side. “Oh. I left a print on you.”

I turned and looked in the mirror. There was a black lipstick print on the side of my neck. It wasn’t perfect, a bit smeared from the angle she was at when she left it. The warmth drained from my face. Was replaced with a comfortable coolness.

“I like it,” I declared.

Her reflection arched her eyebrows. “Yeah?”

I stepped closer and studied the print. It still looked identifiably like her lips, dark gray all over with more of a black around the outside edge and a few little lines near the center of the print. Looked almost like an interesting tattoo. It was a strange sort of feeling, the feeling of being claimed, of being marked as hers. She’d been leaving those marks—lipstick prints, hickeys, bites, scratches—in places clothes could easily cover up for months already, but something about the imprint being so plainly visible, unmissable on the side of my neck, it was an addictive prospect.

Fuck, I could get a tattoo of it.

“Yeah,” I breathed. “I-I like it a lot.”

She stroked my cheek with her thumb. Giggled. “Should I start giving you kisses on your neck to take to wo—?”

“Yes.” I met her eyes. “Yes. Please.” Please, leave a mark on me that makes it obvious that I’m yours. Please, Darling, my love, my sweetheart—I need to show people I belong to you. I don’t know why, I’m not interested in knowing why, I just need it to be obvious to anyone and everyone, most of all, to myself, that I am yours.

It took a moment for a wicked grin to appear on her face. She tipped my head back, pressed her lips just to the side of my throat, right over my carotid. I swallowed a pleased sound and tried to ignore the stir of heat in my core—we needed to actually go to this damned party, after all—and was rewarded with a perfect lipstick print on the other side of my neck, visible from the front. She smoothed my shirt over my shoulders. Leaned in to whisper in my ear.

“There. That one’s for you to look at.”

I bit my lip. Nodded.

I was going to wreck her when we got home.