#I like to feel baby spin-cycling around in there

[lexiputellas]

Broken Vows

part2 - mdni

June 12th. Laundry day.

The monstrous, all-consuming, never-ending laundry day.

You remember when laundry was as simple as dropping off a bag of clothes at the dry cleaner and picking it up a few days later, crisp and fresh. That was before. Before life became an endless cycle of dirty socks, misplaced jerseys, and sheets that always seemed to need changing.

You start in Nora’s room. Nora, who is what some might call "spirited" but what you would call an absolute tornado. She plays football, like Alexia, but in terms of clothes, she is nothing like her mother. Alexia is meticulous. Methodical. Everything folded in perfect squares, socks matched like puzzle pieces. Nora? Chaos incarnate. At one point, you even wondered if she had ADHD, but then again, navigating a six-year-old’s mind is harder than you ever anticipated.

You strip the bed, replace the sheets, and move to Iris’s room.

The moment you step inside, a memory crashes over you. You and Alexia painting the walls, carefully placing the crib, folding tiny baby clothes. You were so pregnant with Iris that you joked about rolling around instead of walking. So big, so round, so full of expectation. But the reality was different. Harder.

You cried while feeding her, your nipples raw and bleeding. Your body didn’t feel like your own, you were right on the edge—so close to falling into postpartum depression that you still wonder if you actually did. Just a breath away from giving up.

But that was then. And today, you refuse to dwell on it.

You move to your bedroom, stripping the sheets, gathering Alexia’s clothes from the bathroom floor. You wash them the way she likes—because, of course, Alexia has a very specific way she likes things done. You are halfway through making the bed when her phone slips off the mattress, landing right on your foot.

Pain explodes up your feet.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you hiss, grabbing your foot before bending down to retrieve the damn thing.

You think about texting one of the girls, letting them know Alexia left her phone at home. But as you glance at the screen, a name catches your eye.

Eva.

There are several messages. You shouldn't look. You know that. You know it’s wrong. But the urge is overwhelming.

Who the fuck is Eva?

Your heart pounds as your fingers hover over the screen. You know Alexia’s passcode. It used to be your birthday, then hers, then Nora’s. You try and it works, the messages open.

It’s not a long conversation. Not pages and pages, just a few days’ worth. But it’s enough.

*Where are you? I’m worried.*

*Did your wife give you a hard time for getting home late?*

You didn’t. You pretended to be asleep when Alexia climbed into bed last night.

*When will I see you again?*

Your stomach twists. Maybe Eva is just a friend. A close one, maybe even a best friend. But deep down, you know. You fucking know. Before you can stop yourself, your fingers move.

You type back, pretending to be Alexia.

*Last night was good.*

You hit send. Your heart is pounding.

It takes barely a moment for Eva to reply.

*Oh, just fine, yeah?* she asks, her words dripping with a quiet, simmering edge of something darker.

*Was it just good when you fucked me against the balcony?* she adds, that sharp edge now unmistakable, laced with a daring smirk you can almost hear.

You freeze. Your pulse spikes, the room spinning around you. The words blur. The world tilts.

Alexia fucked someone else.

Eva.

Eva, who?

Eva, the reason she stopped coming home for dinner?

Eva, the reason she stopped tucking the girls into bed?

Eva, the reason she started giving up on you?

The name pounds inside your skull like a drum, like a fucking rock concert reverberating through your entire being. You can’t breathe. You can’t fucking breathe.

You drop to the floor, staring up at the ceiling, hot tears pricking at your eyes.

Is Eva prettier than you? Does she fuck better than you? Is she hotter? Funnier? Nicer?

You don’t know what to do. You don’t even know how to exist in this moment.

A cry pulls you back.

Iris.

You forgot you left her in her playpen.

You wipe your tears, stand up, and go to her. She snuggles into your arms, warm and safe. You hold her close, pressing your lips against her tiny forehead, and think—What the fuck am I going to do?

———————————————

7 PM. Dinner is ready.

You always wait until 7:30 to see if Alexia is coming home. You text Jana, telling her Alexia left her phone behind. Jana just says, Okay.

Alexia arrives on time. Kit still on, hair in a messy bun, looking every bit like the woman you fell in love with. She comes straight to you, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before heading to the girls, lifting them onto the kitchen counter as they sing along to something on the iPad.

She asks where her phone is.

"Upstairs," you say.

She kisses the girls again before heading up.

You had deleted the messages. Every single one. You’re not stupid.

When she comes back, phone in hand, she helps you set the table. You sit next to Iris, feeding her small bites, while Alexia chats with Nora. It feels normal. Eerily normal. Almost like the past.

You eat Dinner. Do the dishes. Put Nora to bed and Alexia tucks in Iris.

After being done you go to your bedroom, with an idea in mind.

Alexia is already there, sitting against the headboard, scrolling through her phone.

"You know what I was thinking?" you say.

She hums without looking up. "Hmm?"

"I got something for you. Want to see it?"

Her head tilts. She looks intrigued.

You haven’t bought or worn lingerie in years. Not since you stopped feeling like the woman who used to leave Alexia breathless. But you still have some—tucked away in the back of your closet, hidden like a past life.

"What it is? Show me," she says.

You step into the bathroom, slipping into the black lace. It hugs every curve, pushes up your breasts, makes you look almost unfamiliar to yourself. You barely recognize yourself.

But when you step out, Alexia does.

She stares.

Not just a glance—she looks at you like she used to, like she’s seeing something she forgot she could have. Like you’ve just stolen the air from her lungs.

Her phone slips from her fingers, forgotten.

You crawl onto her lap, slow, deliberate, feeling the heat radiating from her body the moment your thighs settle over hers.

Her hands move without hesitation—roaming, squeezing, claiming. Her breath is heavier, her fingers digging into your hips, trailing up your sides, gripping your waist like she’s trying to memorize you all over again.

"Fuck, baby," she murmurs, her lips dragging over your throat, her voice thick, ruined. "You look so fucking hot."

Her fingers move lower, tracing the lace, teasing the edge of the fabric. You roll your hips against her, slow and smooth, watching the way her jaw tenses, the way her fingers twitch against your skin.

She groans, low and guttural, her hands sliding up your back, over your shoulders, down your arms—like she needs to touch every inch of you. Her lips trail lower, hot and open-mouthed, sucking bruises into your collarbone, your breast, dragging her teeth over lace-covered skin.

Her hands are on your thighs, spreading you, guiding you against her. You grind down, chasing something desperate, moving against her fingers the second they find you—slick, eager, drowning in want. Her breath hitches as she pushes inside, stretching you, filling you.

Your forehead drops against hers, your breathing uneven, your body trembling. It’s messy. It’s hungry. It’s not enough.

And then—

You lean in, your lips ghosting over the shell of her ear, and whisper—

"Does Eva fuck like I do?"

Everything stops.

Alexia’s hands freeze inside you, her breath catching in her throat.

She pulls back just enough to see your face, her brows furrowing, her eyes flashing with something dark, something uncertain, something dangerously close to breaking.

She looks at you like she doesn’t understand.

Like she doesn’t want to understand.

You smile.

"Yeah, Alexia," you whisper, voice sharp, taunting, twisting the knife. "I’m not fucking blind."

[thunderheadfred]

week 24. my bladder is now a trampoline

[writingsbytee]

GET BACK

TOXIC BABY DADDY TERRY x BLACK FEM READER

Photo: @partiallyfuctional7

*Remember you are in charge of your own consumption. 18+ up audiences only; minors please don’t interact!*

WARNINGS / TRIGGERS: Reader has feelings of insecurities; Terry is a big, sexy, toxic, idiot here. 

PAIRING: Terry x Ava (reader)

SUMMARY: Tension develops between you and your baby’s father when he discovers you might be moving on. Terry’s unhinged ass is going to do whatever he can to get her back.

TROPES:  Second chance romance; MDOM or dominant themes

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I’m so excited to share this one with you guys! I’ve wanted to write toxic Terry for forever, but I was just nervous. I really liked writing this one. Maybe it’s the toxicity in me lol. Please tell me what you guys think, but be nice please. Babygirl is sensitive

“TJ get your cleats! Your father’s almost here!,” I shouted up the stairs. I hear the tell-tale thumps of his little feet as he rushes to put everything in his duffle bag. Wandering into the living room, I tighten up the area a bit. Straightening out couch cushions, the coffee table, you get the gist. Looking at the clock, I notice it’s almost two o’clock.

“TJ! Two minute warning!” I exclaim. Within seconds I hear the thunderous steps only a child can make. Then my little boy rounds the corner, a giant beam on his face. 

“Did it Mommy!”, he said proudly handing his soccer bag to me so I could double check everything. Rifling through the items I notice his epipen isn’t in there. Before I can ask my little man where it is, I hear the familiar chime from the ‘ring’ app on my phone. Grabbing it from the charger, I see my son’s father through the pixelated lens. I take a calming breath before walking to the door. 

“Hey baby girl, TJ ready?” Terry asked, smiling down at me. It’s truly unfair how fine this man is. Standing at his full height on our porch in a navy blue tee and olive cargo pants with asics. He could make a trash bag look good. I ignore the flutter in my belly at his smile and step aside to let him in. 

“He’s just about ready, but I can’t find his epipen. Can you come in while I run upstairs really quick?” I ask moving back so Terry can cross the threshold. He steps in like he owns the place (well technically he does).

“We gotta get going soon, I’m taking TJ to ‘Winter Wonderland’ after practice,”  Terry said, sweeping his eyes over the living room. 

I nodded, “Well I’ll find it and meet you guys there or at practice. Thanks for taking him,” I say, trying to be civil. 

“Just to let you know, Brandy’s going to be there,” Terry said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I feel my back molars grind, “That’s fine.” I can’t fucking stand Brandy. She’s Terry’s new situationship and we didn’t get off on the best foot. That sour taste has never really left my mouth when it comes to her. Why Terry’s bringing her around our son, I’ll never understand.

“I trust you’ll keep it civil,” Terry says, looking down his nose at me. I roll my eyes and head toward the stairs completely ignoring him. Who the fuck does he think he is telling me to behave? She better fucking behave, I’m liable to beat a bitch. When I reach the bottom of the stairs Terry grabs my hand, spinning me to face him.

“Ava, I’m serious, keep it cool,” Terry’s voice had a slight edge to it which I didn’t appreciate.

“Listen, as long as she plays nice I’ll play nice. Matter of fact I’ll pretend she’s not even there. That work for you Terry?” I asked in a sickeningly sweet voice. I never wanted us to end up in this tumultuous cycle, but it wasn’t my decision. Terry broke up with me, said he didn’t want to be tied down. Vowing to be a good father he gets Terrence Junior (TJ) every other week. He’s the best dad and I won’t take that away from him, I just thought we’d be a family. I was holding out hope for a year hoping he'd change his mind and we’d get back together. 

Ultimately, I shattered my own heart, scrolling on facebook. I saw that he’d been tagged  in a photo hugged up on another woman. I stopped hoping after that. I stopped trying to get a man to see that I was enough, stopped trying to get him to stay when he so clearly was happy elsewhere. 

“Terry, the last thing I want to do is fight with you right now, yes I’ll be nice. Please just take TJ and leave, he'll be late for practice,” I say on the verge of tears. 

Terry’s eyes soften as he takes a step toward me, “Bunny…”, he starts. I hold my hand up stopping him and shake my head. I can hear our son make his way towards us obviously hearing his father’s voice as he barrels toward him. 

“Daddy! Daddy!,” TJ yells, launching himself into his arms.

“There my little striker! C’mere man,” Terry’s face blooms into a megawatt smile as he reaches for our son. He picks him up and blows a raspberry on TJ’s cheeks, causing him to burst into giggles. A small smile forms on my lips as a warm feeling spreads in my chest. Moments like these made me wish that we could be a little family again. But I can’t think like that anymore, Terry made his choice. He wants to be in the streets, that’s where he can stay. 

“You ready to go little man? I’ve got a surprise for you after practice,” Terry said, putting TJ down. Spotting the epipen on the kitchen island, I grab it, and pass it to Terry

“Well I’m going upstairs to shower and change, and I’ll meet you guys there,” I say, turning toward the stairs.

“TJ, go hug your mama before we leave,” Terry says looking at me.  TJ comes barreling towards me, goofy smile and arms outstretched. A warm smile blooms on my face as I hug my gentle little man.

“Hey, mama loves you, be good and listen to your dad ok?” I ask straightening his backpack. 

“I always listen mama,” TJ giggles, with a playful roll of his eyes. Terry grabs his son’s hand and with a half- assed ‘see ya later’ from Terry, they’re both out the door. I grab my airpods and head upstairs. Needing the comfort of a dominant mafia boss, my current audible obsession to ease some of the tension I feel creeping up my neck. Pressing play on my audiobook I begin getting ready. After the grueling arm workout of trying to tame my curls, I place it in a slick back bun with a few face framing curls to enhance my beauty (ref). Then I put on some light makeup and a simple outfit for this bipolar Georgia winter weather (ref). Grabbing my purse and keys, I head outside to my bronco, mentally preparing myself for the next few hours. 

When I pull up to the soccer field, I see that practice is in full swing. I immediately spot Terry standing off to the side with all the other parents. Why does he have to look so fucking good just standing on the sidelines. Brandy’s standing next to him ear pressed against her phone, what a shocker. Getting out, I pop my trunk to grab my lawn chair.

“Ava! Let me!,” I turn to see Lance, another one of the dad’s lightly jogging toward me. A small smile forms on my lips. Lance is fine don’t get me wrong, he just gets around the bookclub if you know what I’m saying. Hmm, maybe my bookshelf could use a good dusting off. I think it’s about time I had a little fun. I haven’t been with anyone since Terry, that needs to change. 

“Aww, that’s nice of you. Thank you Lance,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice. Lance grabs my lawn chair out of the trunk and we head toward the soccer field. 

“I assumed you weren’t coming, since Terry brought TJ,” Lance said.

“Oh, so you checking for me now?”, I say, smirking at him. 

A small blush forms on the apples of his cheeks, “I look forward to seeing you at practices, sue me.”

A small giggle burst from my lips, “I’m just picking Lance.” He grins at me as we finally make it to the sidelines where the other parents are. My eyes find Terry to see him mugging Lance down. Lance isn’t paying him any attention as he sets up my lawn chair for me. 

“A throne fit for a queen,” Lance says, gesturing toward the chair. 

“Thank you Lance,” I say with a small smile before taking a seat. Okay so far so good, I just hope I can get through the rest of this evening unscathed.

TERRY

Since when did Ava and Lance become cool? That motherfucker has been sniffing behind her for over a year now. I subtly inch closer to the two, trying to listen in on their conversation without being detected. I hear him ask her what she had planned later. A pit forms in the bottom of my stomach dropping anchor and forming an uncomfortable weight there. I recognize the feeling in an instant, jealousy. Fuck. 

“Oh, Terry and his girlfriend are taking TJ to ‘Winter Wonderland’ downtown. I’m probably just going to tagalong with them so I can get pictures of TJ,” Ava says. Girlfriend? She thought Brandy was my girlfriend? Fuck no, I’m just having fun with her. I just didn’t want TJ to see the two of them arguing since they obviously didn’t like each other.

“Do you mind if Max (Lance’s son) and I join you? And maybe after I treat you and TJ to dinner?,”Lance said, smirking at Ava. My fucking Ava, and she’s smiling back?! Fuck nah, I ain’t about to have that. I take a step to interrupt their conversation when a hand on my shoulder grabs my attention. 

“Sorry boo, but I have to go. Family emergency,” Brandy said, before laying a kiss on my cheek and then she left so fast I would’ve thought her ass evaporated. I locked back in on Ava and Lance seeming to be in just a friendly conversation but I couldn’t shake the fact that Ava was entertaining him. As long as I’ve known her she’s only ever wanted me. So, to see her chatting it up with another man is really rubbing me the wrong way. 

She jumps up out of her chair, jumping up and down cheering for TJ. I damn near go cross-eyed trying to keep an eye on TJ and the jiggle of her ass when she jumps. Don’t get me wrong, I love Ava, she gave me my son, and she’s a fantastic mother, friend, and support system. I don’t know why seeing her potentially move on is fucking with me so bad. I pull out my phone and text my younger sister Trinity, I need advice ASAP.

ME: Trin I need your help. Fast

TRIN: Damn, no hi lol. What’s up Terry?

ME: It’s Ava, she’s going on a date tonight I think.

TRIN: Ok…what’s the problem?

ME: I don’t want her to.

TRIN: Aren’t you actively fucking that brittney chick??????

ME: ..yeah

TRIN: Ok so let me get this straight. Ava has to sit back while you fuck through all of Savannah, but the minute she gets a little bit of attention, you can’t deal?

ME: Well, when you put it like that..

TRIN:  I love you bro, but you’re a fucking idiot.

AVA

“We’d love to have dinner with you and Max tonight” you say, smiling at Lance. He smirks down at me, “I can’t believe that worked.”

Your brows furrowed, “What do you mean?” you asked.

“I’ve been trying to get you to look my way for months, what changed?” Lance asked, leaning in. ‘I’m trying to get over my baby’s father’ , you thought. But you can’t just say that out loud so instead you just smile and say, “I thought it was time I put you out of your misery.”

Lance laughs and says, “Well thank you for that pretty lady.”

A throat clears behind you and you glance over your shoulder to see Terry standing there.

“Can I talk to you real quick?”, he looks with anxious eyes darting back and forth between you and Lance. 

You glance back toward Lance, “I’ll be right back” you say, getting up from my chair. You follow Terry a few feet away to the edge of the field, but still able to keep an eye on TJ.

“What’s up?” you say, raising a brow.

“We need to talk, Bunny,” Terry said, wringing his hands. What’s going on? This nigga is never nervous. You raise both eyebrows this time, indicating that he can continue.

“What’s going on with you and Lance?” he asked, crossing his arms. Your eyes widen in disbelief, there’s no way his ass is questioning you about who you’re seeing.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” you reply, crossing my arms. 

Terry scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s my business if his ass is going to be around my son.”

You could feel the attitude crawling up your spine gripping your throat in a vice grip. “So you can prance all the bitches you want around our son? But when his friend’s dad; someone he’s familiar with, is around more often all of sudden it’s an issue?” you roll your eyes, Terry is really starting to piss you off. Just when you decide it’s time to try and move on he comes back with this.

“Terry what is this really about? You know Lance, you should be happy for me” you say pleading with him. His eyes soften, and he shuts them giving his head a rough shake.

“Happy? You can do way better than Lance!” he whispers.

A sarcastic laugh leaves your lips, “Mind your business Terry. I stay out of your love life, you stay out of mine.” you turn to leave but Terry reaches out and grabs your wrist.

“C’mon Bunny, you know I didn’t mean it like that. All I’m trying to say is he better kiss the ground you walk on, anything less is an insult.” 

You roll my eyes yet again, a small smile on my lips, “You’ll get him right if he doesn’t?” you ask with a subtle pop of my hip.

A smirk grows on his lips, “Bunny, you know how I’m coming behind you,” Terry said, crossing his arms. 

You shake your head to slow the smile from forming, “It’s nothing serious between Lance and I. I just need a little fun right now.”

“You know, we used to have fun,” Terry said, taking a step toward you. You could see it in his eyes. The way he was looking at you, he’s going to bend you over the first surface he can get his hands on. 

You reach your hand out, slowing his advancement toward you. “No, Terry. Don’t do this here.”

His smirk widens, taking in your panicked yet aroused features. You still wanted him , that he could see. “Don’t you miss me Bunny? We were good together. I could always tell what you needed before you knew yourself and vice versa.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Where is all this coming from? Less than two hours ago, you were telling me I needed to be nice to Brandy and now you wanna reminisce? We’ll talk about this later, I’m not doing this right now.” 

You couldn’t believe Terry!  ‘We used to have fun’, he thinks he can just walk in here all gorgeous and muscled and you’ll just roll over? Well you will but you want to make him work for it at least. You spin, prepared to return to your seat when Terry grabs your wrist. 

“Don’t go out with him tonight, Bunny. Let me treat you and our son to dinner instead, and I can explain everything.”

“What if I don’t want to hear your explanations Terry? I’ve waited and waited for you to finally come to the realization that we should be together. Now that I have the potential to find something with someone new, you can’t handle it. How do you think I felt watching you parade girl after girl in front of my face? If you’re serious about me, you and TJ becoming a family again, you’re going to have to prove it to us. The back and forth shit isn’t going to work, and TJ deserves stability,” crossing my arms, I finish my rant and turn to head back to my chair. 

TERRY

Fuck, I need to get my family back 

Okay, so I wanted to make this a little short and to the point So I can set you guys up for the next part. Let me know if Terry is toxic enough for y’all or should I crank it up a little. I wasn’t expecting to turn this into a series but I think I just might *winks* As always let me know what you guys think, if we’re feeling this or not. Happy new year beautiful people! Sending you all love I hope this year is better than your last and you get everything you want!

Happy New Year! Until next time

TEE <3

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[sturnshood]

⟢ "𝙞 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙩𝙬𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙚 𝙖𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨, 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮."

ᯓ★ matt discovers how much he likes being choked.

𖦹 warning: this work contains explicit content. this, as well as any other smut/explicit content on this account will always be written with consensual sex portrayals.

contains: slightly subby!matt — smut. choking, begging, pet names, unprotected p in v (do NOT do this in real life, please. wrap it up.) so. much. whining.

w/c: 1,606

⋆ 𝐼𝑇 𝑊𝐴𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸𝐿𝑌 𝐴𝐶𝐶𝐼𝐷𝐸𝑁𝑇𝐴𝐿, the way matt learned just how much he enjoyed the feeling of a hand pressed against the front of his throat. it was pathetic, really, the whole scenario. one of his best friends were just being goofy and jokingly grabbed him by the throat. it wasn’t even rough, but the new sensation of losing his breath a little made his brain damn near short circuit.

he thought about it for hours afterwards like a never-ending cycle. told his friend and his brothers goodnight and went to his bedroom, sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands lazily at his sides. he felt absolutely weak, like an internal warfare was taking place inside of his chest. he needed you.

his thumbs moved deftly over his phone to text you, a flustered and shaky sigh leaving his dry lips.

the time matt spent waiting for you to arrive consisted of him being stuck in his thoughts. he felt such an awkward sense of guilt, even though he did nothing wrong. the moment his bedroom door creaked open, he exhaled a sigh of relief. he stood to his feet and beelined his way directly to you, his hands finding your hips with a firm grip. it took you by surprise— his actions really didn’t match the energy of his texts from before.

“what’s goin’ on, baby?” you questioned softly, eyes darting over his expression for any sign of what could possibly be going through his head. your hands snaked around his neck, one of your hands splayed against his warm skin. the touch of your hand felt like shocks of electricity to matt, the warmth making him pull you in closer to close what little gap was left between the two of you.

matt nudged his way into the crook of your neck, peppering soft, hot kisses there. he practically whined his words in between pecks, “nate was here earlier, hangin’ out with me and the boys..” another string of messy kisses. “we were just fuckin’ around, jokin’ about god knows what, next thing i know he’s got his hand against my throat.” his teeth grazed across the base of your throat as he worked his way to the untouched side of your neck, only to assault your skin with more deliberate, hungry kisses.

he had your head spinning. you had so many questions, and not a single one of them made it past the tip of your tongue once you realized his intentions. the tips of your fingers carded through the hair at the nape of his neck, nails eventually scratching gently against his scalp. the touch had him actually whining.

“it’s not that i liked that he did it or whatever. just had me thinkin’ i wouldn’t mind if you did it.” he breathed, his lips closing against the spot right at the stretch where your neck met your shoulder, and god, it all made perfect fucking sense.

you blinked slowly, just letting the entire conversation register in your brain while walking him towards the bed. your hands reached to the front of his shoulders and you gave one gentle little push and that was all it took for him to go completely pliant. hearing your boyfriend openly express what he wanted had your heart fluttering proudly. you crawled forward, hovering his lap but not fully seating yourself just yet. you just needed to get a good look at his face. his blushy, shy face.

“might have to have a little talk with nate to remind him to keep his hands to himself, huh? since a little bit of dominance gets you all worked up.” you teased, a cocky grin rising to your lips. your hands fumbled with matt’s belt buckle, undoing it with a satisfying ‘clink’. matt’s hands fidgeted at his sides, searching for your thighs for something to grab onto. you couldn’t help but giggle quietly at the way he was practically itching to touch you before you’d had any chance to take the reigns.

matt looked so pretty under you like this. his chest rising and falling quickly with his needy and uneven breaths, his cock straining painfully behind the zipper of his jeans, lips twitching like he wanted to say something, but only giving you a shaky little whimper in response to your advances. cute.

he watched you in awe as you got his jeans pushed down to his mid-thigh, boxers following suit and letting his length spring free. you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t have you dripping in seconds.

“fuck, need you. please.” matt all but wailed as your hand wrapped around the base of his throbbing cock, giving him a few slow pumps against your palm. your thumb gave one little swipe over his leaking tip, making him twitch. matt’s hips bucked up to meet your hand, silently begging for more. who were you to deny him when he was this whiny?

“ride me.” matt muttered, “please. need to feel you.” you were always one step ahead. you lifted off of his lap to tug your shorts down and onto the floor before straddling his lap again. the only thing keeping you from giving him what he was so politely asking for was the thin material of your panties, that he ultimately reached down to pull aside. he used two fingers, dipping them between your folds with ease from how wet you were already. it had him smirking proudly, knowing that he was the reason behind your dripping pussy. you sucked in a short, shallow breath at the friction against your clit, a faint whine leaving your lips right after.

he made it so ridiculously hard to stay focused. you were in control here. you hesitantly pushed his hand away and lifted your hips up, free hand still wrapped around his cock to position him at your waiting hole, and finally, he hissed in pleasure as you began to sink down against him, slowly but surely swallowing every inch of his cock inside your warm, wet cunt.

your eyebrows knitted with focus and pleasure as he stretched and filled you to the brim. matt’s eyes rolled behind his eyelids at the relief he’d so desperately been searching for. his hands wasted no time in grabbing at your hips to keep you still for a moment longer, he fucking loved just feeling you keep his cock warm, even if it damn near killed him to not let you move just yet.

you needed more, though. your hands fell to press flush against his chest for leverage as you began to lift your hips, lifting and sinking slowly. a string of soft, sweet moans fell effortlessly from your lips as he massaged your walls, the head of his cock brushing against the spot inside you that had you needing so much more. “so fuckin’ wet f’me, shit. needed this just as bad as i did, huh?” he taunted, his hips thrusting upward into you and driving his length against your g-spot instantly. your hand slowly inches forward from his chest, up to the front of his exposed neck, fingers wrapping around gently and giving a slight squeeze. not hard enough to hurt, but enough to give him that pressure that he’d just discovered made him a fucking wreck.

matt groaned at the grip around his throat and you felt his cock twitch inside of you. “holy fuck..” he whined, eyebrows furrowed in the middle as his grip on your hips tightened. you hum contentedly at his reaction and it was everything you expected. your hips rolled against his, finding the perfect rhythm that had your stomach tightening more and more as the seconds passed.

“this what you wanted, pretty boy? to be choked like this?” you mewled, your voice only getting matt closer and closer to his release. he nodded quickly, lips parted as gravelly moans poured out of him. that look on his face was nothing less than sinful.

“y-yes, fuck. gonna make me cum soon if you don’t stop.” he stuttered, hips twitching beneath yours to signal that he was so dangerously close and teetering right over the edge. you manage to muster up a prideful smirk as your hips rock down into his, your walls clenching and fluttering around him.

“then cum. s’what you wanted, right?” you muttered, the warm, tight knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any second. matt gives you a half-nod, interrupted by a low grunt when your walls squeezed around him just right, matching with the slight tightening of your hand around his throat. just that tiny bit of pressure pushed him over the edge, making his cock twitch as he painted your walls with thick, hot ropes of cum. the breathy moans and whimpers leaving his mouth only helped push you into a state of bliss as your own orgasm came crashing down over you like a wave, pulling you under and causing your movements to stutter.

your head collapsed into the bend of his neck as his hips lifted up to meet yours, working you both through your highs. matt eventually was tethered back to reality, his head just as hazy and spent as yours. your hand finally loosened it’s slight grip around his throat and matt took in a breath, exhaling slowly.

“maybe do that more often?” he muttered, his hands reaching around to rest against your lower back as your breathing steadied. you exhale a breathy chuckle, pressing a warm kiss to the side of his neck.

“if choking you gets you off that easily, i need to tread carefully.”

♯┆note from the author.ᐟ please do not repost this and label it as your own.

© 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘥

𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵 ⭑.ᐟ @meatballlover10 @blushsturns @forgottxen @sturnslotto @chrislilcumslvt @baestvrn @sturnsvalentine @jeanncm @chrissbows

special thanks to: @blushsturns @shadowthesim @forgottxen for giving me the lil shove to actually write this!

[p0orbaby]

Reader being Beth Mead’s little sister & is dating Leah. Beth finding them in a compromising position/situation (shagging) 🤣🤣 feel like this would make a funny story

-

Beth has always been overprotective. It’s in her nature, like her knack for nutmegging defenders or her inexplicable hatred of pineapple on pizza. Growing up, you couldn’t so much as look at someone without Beth launching into her overbearing big-sister routine: “Who’s that? What do they want? Do I need to have a word?”

So naturally, when you start dating Leah Williamson—her teammate and captain of England—you make a pact with her to keep it under wraps for a bit. Just until Beth gets used to the idea.

That was six months ago.

Which explains why you’re currently in Beth’s spare room, shirt on the floor, Leah’s hair sticking to her face, and your brain short-circuiting as the door slams open.

“What the actual fuck?” Beth’s voice slices through the air like a referee’s whistle.

“Beth!” you shriek, scrambling for the duvet, which is already half-tangled around Leah.

“Mead-o,” Leah starts, holding up her hands like she’s negotiating a hostage situation, except she’s also very much topless. “I can explain—”

“Explain what?!” Beth snaps, her face a mix of outrage and something dangerously close to amusement. “Why you’re shagging my little sister in my house?”

“This isn’t—” you start, but you’re not even sure where that sentence is going.

“This isn’t what?” Beth interrupts, arms crossed, one eyebrow arched in that infuriatingly smug way she’s perfected over the years. “What it looks like? Because it looks like my friend is banging my sister on my spare bed”

Leah winces. “Don’t say ‘banging’”

“Sorry. Would you prefer I say ‘fornicating’? ‘Getting it on’? ‘Knocking boots’?”

“Beth!” you yell, throwing a pillow at her, which she bats away with infuriating ease.

The room falls into a horrifically awkward silence. You can hear Leah’s breathing beside you, shallow and uneven, and somewhere in the distance, the hum of Beth’s washing machine hitting its spin cycle.

“How long?” Beth finally asks, her tone softer now but no less accusatory.

“Six months,” Leah admits, sitting up and grabbing her shirt from the floor. “We were going to tell you—”

“Oh, were you?” Beth cuts her off, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Before or after I walked in on this absolute nightmare?”

“Can you not call my love life a nightmare?” you snap, pulling on your own hoodie.

“Baby, it’s her love life now too,” Leah mutters under her breath, which earns her a withering glare from Beth.

Beth sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s trying to summon the strength not to kill either of you. “This is mental. Fucking mental”

“Beth, come on,” you say, standing up and crossing the room to her. “It’s not like we planned for you to walk in on us”

“Oh, that makes it better, does it?” Beth fires back, but her tone is losing its edge.

Leah stands, hands stuffed in her pockets, looking more sheepish than you’ve ever seen her. “Beth, look. I know this is… not ideal. But I love her. And I would never hurt her. You know that”

Beth stares at Leah for what feels like an eternity, then at you, then back at Leah. Finally, she sighs. “Fine. But if I hear anything—”

“You won’t,” you both say in unison.

Beth shakes her head, muttering something about needing a drink, and leaves the room.

As the door closes, you collapse back onto the bed, groaning. “Well, that went well”

Leah snorts, climbing in beside you. “Could’ve been worse”

“How?”

“She could’ve filmed it for blackmail.”

You shove her, but you’re laughing now, the tension broken.

Later, when you’re all sitting around the kitchen table, Beth pours herself a very large glass of wine and declares, “For the record, I still think this is weird”

“Noted,” Leah says, raising her tea in mock salute.

“And don’t think this means I’m going easy on you at training,” Beth adds, pointing at Leah with a fork.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Leah replies, grinning.

And as deranged and mortifying as the whole thing was, you can’t help but feel relieved. Because if Beth didn’t truly care, she wouldn’t be sitting here, threatening Leah with a fork.

[junkpuppet225]

note: Daryl keeps his promises. A little smut. Fluff. Sugary sweet. Sigh. I love Daryl Dixon.

Promises

The look on Daryl’s face as Maggie places his son in his strong arms will be burned into your memory for the rest of your life. When his wet gaze lifts to yours the look in his blue eyes can only be described as wonder.

“…h-he’s so small…”

As if on cue the miniature version of himself lets out a mighty wail and the archers wonder melts into fear. “Ya think he’s okay?” His voice is quiet and full of worry. “He’s perfect.” Maggie assures, wiping at her own happy tears as Daryl rocks the baby in his arms gently soothing him back to sleep.

Maggie gives you one last check assuring everything looks good before telling you how amazing you’ve done. “You make having baby’s look easy Y/N.” Despite an agonizing eleven hour labor everyone is healthy and Daryl’s fear turns to relief. “He’s going to be hungry soon. I’ll come get him in a little while so you can get some rest.”

Once Maggie is gone Daryl sinks to the bed beside you running his thumb over the babies soft cheek before handing him over. It’s your turn to look at him in wonder, fresh tears pooling in your eyes as you bring him to your chest. “Ya did good today.” Daryl assures, his deep familiar voice soothing the baby as you smile up to him. The love you have for this man is all consuming but now that your son is here you feel your heart expand with the love you have for him. “We did good.” You whisper, brushing your hand over a tuff of soft dark hair. Daryl hasn’t left your side, not today or any day before.

He’s kept his promise to you.

“I love you.”

You meet his eyes again, a deep ache filling your chest as you nod. “I love you Daryl.”

“W-what we gonna name ‘em?”

You look down into your son’s bright blue eyes, running a finger over his forehead to watch them roll back in his head - a sudden smile creeping to his lips. You’ve seen that smile before.

“Daryl.”

“Yeah?”

You look up to the man beside you, your smile so bright it brings on his own - matching the one on the tiny face in your arms. “His name is Daryl.” The archers eyes go wide at the thought as he looks down to the baby in your arms. “He’s going to be your twin. May as well share your name.”

You return your gaze to Daryl Jr. as he drifts off to sleep with a quiet coo as his father leans over to place his lips to your temple. “I love you.” He assures again the words rattling deep in his chest as he leans back on the headboard and brings you into his arms.

X

Five years later.

You look up as Daryl struts into the house with a trail of children behind him. The closest one being his exact replica down to the small leather vest he wears proudly. “No tools allowed in the kitchen young man.”

Daryl Jr. gives you his father’s sly grin, placing the borrowed wrench in his back pocket as you cross the room to grab him up and cover his dirty face with kisses. “Me now mommy!” You place Junior back to his feet and grab up the next one, spinning three year old Sophia around the room as her loud squeals pierce the very earth then you’re smothering her with just as many wet kisses. “Where have you been princess?” She’s just as dirty as her brother.

Thanks dad.

“We helpin’ daddy fix his moto-cycle!”

Sophia produces her own smaller wrench, bursting into a fit of giggles as you narrow your eyes playfully. A second later Daryl is leaning in for his own kiss - sinking his hand into the back of your hair to hold you against him as his tongue brushes your lips for access. “Awww! Daddy kissing mommy!”

Daryl Jr. makes a face with his tongue sticking out as Judith bounces down the stairs behind Carl - pushing blonde wisps of curly hair from her eyes. Once Sophia sees her bestie all thoughts of you are gone and she’s kicking her tiny legs to slide down your body - hitting the floor running.

The borrowed house that Deanna gifted your group all those years ago is much louder now - especially when the whole gang is here, like tonight. You wave to Carol and Tobin as they shuffle into the house and before long everyone is content with full bellies and the sound of children laughing. Your group is scattered through out the house - Abraham laughing with Sophia, Rosita gazing into Gabriel’s eyes. Eugene and Tara are arguing about the rules of some board game they found while Rick runs his hand over Michonne’s growing belly. Little RJ will be here before long bumping Hershel from being the newest baby in the group. You glance over to Maggie and Glenn who are smiling and talking softly as they take turns rocking their fussy boy to sleep.

Then there’s Daryl. You spot him leaning against the kitchen counter with his eyes trained on you and when you smile at him his shoulders relax an inch, nodding to the staircase that will lead you to your shared bedroom. You feel the heat in his gaze, warming you from the inside out as you turn to Carol with wide eyes. The way Daryl looks at you makes your heart race. The idea of getting a few minutes alone with him sending a surge of pleasure through you. Carol gives you a knowing grin - silently assuring she’ll keep an eye on the kids as you practically run to Daryl and take his offered hand.

A minute later your back is against the bedroom door and Daryl is kissing you like his very life depends on it - sinking his hands into your hair roughly as a groan passes between you.

“…fuckin’ need ya.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair as he pushes you into the bedroom - locking the door behind him before he’s kissing you again. That’s a mistake he won’t make twice - Junior still tells everyone he meets the story of mommy and daddy hugging…, in the bed… naked.

You shake the thought as you push Daryl back to the bed, watching him unclasp his belt with the determination only a busy mother can appreciate. It won’t take long for Junior to snake past Carol in search of his favorite person in the entire world - the man beneath you.

You lose just enough clothes to straddle his lap as he grasps the nape of your neck to bring you to his fierce kiss - filling your mouth with his slow tongue and your cunt with his rigid cock. “F-fuck, Y/N.” The deep moan following your name proves that you don’t get to do this often enough, placing your palm to his broad chest as he grasps your hips - working you up and down his length quickly. “F-fuck. M’not gonna last like this.”

A surge of pleasure rushes through you, working your hips faster as Daryl fucks up into you roughly - his head falling back to the bed with a desperate groan. The devotion in his eyes take you over the edge, burying your face in the bend of his neck as you breath him in - moaning against his jaw as he joins you a second later - gripping the back of your hair while he fills you deeply - riding our your orgasm that has your entire body quaking in his embrace.

“T-that was…” You can only sigh with relief as Daryl wraps his arms around you, holding you to his chest while he stays buried deep inside of you. “…so good, Daryl.., you make me feel so good.” His dick throbs inside of you at the thought, his only reply a low grunt as he tries to regulate his breathing. If he were a betting man he’d say you both have less than two minutes before a miniature version of yourselves show up knocking.

X

Carol is still grinning as you and Daryl make your walk of shame back into the kitchen, both looking properly fucked for the first time in a long time. You try to smooth your hair as Junior runs into the narrow room and wraps his arms around your hips. “Where’d you go mama?” He demands, realizing his dad is standing behind you suddenly. Despite bringing him into this world Daryl Jr. crawls through your legs to get to Daryl Sr., play punching him in the thigh before he’s jerked up into the air and hanging upside down - his wild laugh filling the house. “Stay here with aunt Carol. I need to show your mama somethin’.”

“Are you going to do more naked hugging?”

Daryl gives him a stern look which closes his mouth and straightens his back. Ugh, if only you could be the dad for a day and your children would listen to you like that. He ruffles his son’s hair after sitting him on the table in front of Carol and places his hand to the small of your back, guiding you through the kitchen and into the cool night air.

Daryl slips his hand in yours as you make your way to Daryl’s home away from home - Aaron’s garage. A dim light is on in the corner and the room is cast in shadow as he rummages through the junk piled up on his work bench while you glance around. You take in your son’s handy work - several toy trucks smashed at your feet and a discarded hammer under the bench. Before you can go for it Daryl kneels before you but he’s not looking for the hammer - he’s holding out a shiny river stone in his palm, offering it to you.

“What are you——?”

“Will ya be my penguin?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise as you meet his nervous gaze, the smooth stone in his hand shining like a jewel in the dim light. “Yes.” You say without hesitation, sinking to your knees before him as he lowers his hand and offers you the stone again. “Jude found a book last week about penguins…, says they give their mates rocks as a symbol of their love…”

Tears rim your lashes as you take the beautiful stone from Daryl, turning it over in your hands as you appreciate the way it shines. “…there’s no one I love more than you, Y/N.” You tighten your fist around the stone and lean forward to kiss him, whispering how much you love him against his parted lips.

You kiss him again as he brushes the tears from your cheeks. “I want you to be my wife Y/N. I want every part of you. I promise to love you more every day.”

…and you know Daryl Dixon doesn’t break his promises.

[glossdebut]

everything i want (a take a bite drabble collection) | MYG ★ teaser

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader (TAB!couple)

✧ TEASER WARNINGS: references to pregnancy/trying for a baby, MC being an anxious mess, yoongi being a smartass, the slightest beginnings of dirty talk bc i can't give everything up NOW, nothing super explicit but definitely leading up to more, MINORS DNI

✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: hahahahahaha surprise... aqua glossdebut is once again resurrecting her comfort couple, despite the looming POF4 deadline and long list of non-yoongi requests waiting to be finished. OOPS. anyway, this is going to be a collection of 5 drabbles centering around TAB!couple's journey into parenthood. this is from drabble 2. i'm hoping to get the whole work posted by wednesday so stay tuned and drop your feedback in my comments/inbox!!!

✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 610 words

You feel a little stupid.

Maybe it’s because you don’t know how to act now. Nobody told you that planning to have a baby would suddenly put so much pressure on sex, but now here you are, standing in the kitchen in a too-tight dress while you try not to burn dinner.

You never cook. That’s Yoongi’s job. But you don’t know what else to do with all this restless energy, don’t know how else to initiate the ‘okay, I’m ready, knock me up’ conversation.

You’ve talked about the important things. You’ve dealt with the birth control issue. You’re taking, like, vitamins and shit now. All that’s left is to… actually try, right?

Except you’re nervous as hell, have been since you woke up to the notification from your cycle tracker informing you that you’re in your fucking ‘fertile window’ (ew!), and you’re suddenly acting like someone you don’t even recognize. Christ, you wonder if Yoongi has been feeling like this, too.

Speaking of Yoongi… He isn’t home yet, and for a moment, you think it’s not too late to just get rid of all of the evidence. Do away with the self-imposed theatrics, order some takeout, and act like it’s just another night. It’s not like Yoongi would mind.

But you’ve already committed to these stupid fucking steaks. And candles. There are candles.

It is too late, anyway. Almost as soon as the thought begins to form in your brain, you hear the sound of keys jangling and a lock turning, and then your future sperm donor himself is slipping his shoes off at the front door.

At least, he’s trying to. He’s got one socked foot out, frozen in his tracks as he takes in the scene before him.

“Did I forget an anniversary?”

You scoff, eyes rolling despite the nausea building inside you. “As if you’ve ever forgotten anything in your life.”

“Point made.”  He kicks his shoes off the rest of the way, nodding his head in the direction of the candles on the table. “Wanna tell me what this is for, then?”

You shrug, poking at the steak sizzling in front of you with a pair of tongs. “I wanted to make you dinner.”

“You don’t do that,” he says, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Well, I felt like it tonight,” you huff in exasperation.

“Okay,” he says, rounding the counter. His eyes rake over your form shamelessly, now that he can see all of you. “And the dress?”

“A girl can’t dress up every now and then?”

“Hey,” he says, raising his hands in surrender. “Not complaining, believe me. Just curious.”

You know you’re being a little bit testy. Evasive. But it’s not your fault. Is there a good way to say ‘I did all of this because I want you to cum inside me tonight’? If there is, you haven’t found it.

Instead, you settle on, “I just felt like it.”

Yoongi hums, sliding behind you so he can wrap his arms around your middle. “Just felt like it, huh?” he mumbles. You can feel his lips on the back of your neck, and it’s dizzying how quickly your body reacts to his proximity. “No ulterior motives?”

“Nope,” you say. It sounds like bullshit, even to you. But how are you supposed to spin a convincing lie when your husband’s hands are on you? Hands that slide from hips to waist to tits as his mouth grows insistent at your nape, making you shiver.

“Shame,” he murmurs, nosing at the curve of your neck until his lips reach the shell of your ear. “I was hoping you wanted me to fuck a baby into you.”

✧ TAGLIST: @sugar-snap @coffeedepressionsoup @butterymin @yourfavoritedeluluspot @angellekookie

@kkaetnipjeon @ktownshizzle @joonary @jajabro @pitchblack0309 

@ot72025 @futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @wobblewobble822 

@this-most-assuredly-counts @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @sugafun @whoa-jo @amarawayne 

@kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @jimingirl95 @jadestonedaeho7 @notsevenwithyou

@perfctlyunstable @yoonmetogether @kpophosblog @chimmchimmm @nnybtitts08

@itsmina29 @sophia--915 @jeanjacketjesus @kiki-zb

[mybelovedsylus]

For the Zayne fans on my poll ♡

First off, thank you to the crazy amount of responses on my poll! Second, I really hope this doesn't disappoint you all. This is almost 2.5k words- Zayne has been keeping track of your cycle and therefore has to have you in his office while you're ovulating - for the best chance of breeding ofc. Do with that what you will. Those are your warnings. I just know that while Zayne is like the perfect man to bring home to mom, he's absolutely a menace in the bedroom (lowkey confirmed by the valentine banner) I'm still newer to lads so if it's ooc I'm sorry I'm still reading through the stories.

I of course, didn't edit this, one day I will - when I can get back into my account on the computer because me and tumblr on the ipad do not get along. Today is not that day. Anywaaaaaays, 18+ no minors please and enjoy

___♡____________♡________________♡_____________♡________

Zayne's gaze snaps up from his laptop screen, and he briefly checks to make sure there's not a dent in the wall as the framed awards and his diplomas rattle on the wall. He knocks a few files over as he stands hastily and rushes over to you, smoothing down your wind swept hair and running his fingers over your flushed cheeks. He may also subtly shift them to take your pulse, but only because the way your chest is heaving can't be healthy. You clear your throat and raise an eyebrow as his eyes flicker from your chest to meet your eyes. 

"You sent 911, and you're just in here doing paperwork?" you ask out of breath, and the flush in your cheeks is reheating as you start to get pissed off. "Zayne,  I was in the middle of a debrief, what the fuck are you thinking?"

His hand reaches around you to push the door closed, which in turns means he's encroaching on your space. Your head is tilted up to look at him, and the anger dissipates as soon as you recognize a hungry look in his eyes. You gulp as you hear the click of the lock echo across the small clinical space. What is happening?

"I sent 911 because I have surgery in 30 minutes," he says in his usual matter-of-fact tone that makes you want to shake your head, as if there's some literal fog that can be cleared. It doesn't work though, you're still not connecting the dots, and honestly it short circuits as he places both palms flat against the door on either side of your head, effectively caging you against it. 

"I can see the gears in your head spinning, love. We have 45 minutes, the perfect amount of time for us to get started on conception, enough time for me to fuck a baby into you," your breath catches in your throat and you're wondering if you've flat lined as poised Zayne tapers off into the more feral behind close doors version of himself. No matter how many times you see this side of Zayne it still short circuits your brain. You're not certain it's not whiplash as he clears his throat back to his usual doctors tone for a moment. "After all, based on my tracking, you're ovulating today - so it's the perfect time."

His nose drags down the column of your throat and he works on sucking and biting the skin of your neck as your brain tries to desperately catch up. However, instead you throw your head back with a deep moan, to which Zayne reprimands you and captures your lips with his, plunging his tongue in your mouth. He tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth as he pulls away from you, eliciting a small whimper.

"Don't forget, we are in my office, and those noises are just for me,” he all but growls at me, and I can feel how wet my underwear is from just these few moments. Goodness, you love the contrast of who he is in private compared to the version of himself he gives to the world. 

“Wait - how do you know I’m ovulating?” You ask pushing on his chest as if the space will provide you reprieve to think for a second. He easily crowds right back into said space, molding his body to yours as he pushes you against the door. 

“You send me to pick up tampons, and two weeks later you jump me the second I walk in the door, it doesn’t take a doctor to figure that out, love,” He says tilting your head up so he has easier access to your lips. Before you can think his hands are running up your legs and you gasp as he presses on the seam of your jeans putting pressure right on your throbbing clit. “Definitely ovulating,” he smirks. 

“Shut up,” you gasp into his mouth, tangling your hands in his hair and standing on the tips of your toes to get a better angle. With the precision you only get from dating a surgeon, every button of your top is undone in seconds and with a simple flick of one hand at your back, your bra joins it. He wastes no time in bending to suck on your nipple as his hand drifts to the buttons of your pants, undoing them and the zipper, and pushing them over your hips. Before you know it you’re completely nude as he stands fully clothed, doctor coat included before you.

He simply smirks, dragging you to the couch where he seats you on the arm rest, back to the rest of the couch so he has plenty of room in front of you. 

“How many times do we think I can make you finish before they page me,” He asks, although it seems rhetorical as he passes you his glasses and sinks to his knees while throwing your right leg over his shoulder. You open your mouth to answer, but the words die on your tongue as you feel him use his evol to blow icy air over your slick folds. You drop his glasses onto the cushion, moving to put your hand over your mouth to try and smother the cry as his tongue finally hits you. He drags it flat over your folds, gathering your wetness, before working overtime to flick your clit in a way that has you wondering if he’s going to beat his record for bringing you to orgasm. You are certain he is when you feel his fingers probing at your entrance, working two in and opening you up. The sound of his fingers working through your increasing wetness is obscene, the squelching sound working in tandem with your strained breaths through your nose. When the fingers he has inside you curl upwards as he gives your clit a gentle bite, you don’t even have time to warn him as the wave rushes up on you and your vision blacks for a second. 

“That’s one,” he tells you with a cocky grin, his chin still wet as he stands back to his full height. His eyes glaze a bit as he watches you tremble and shake through the aftershocks. He undoes his zipper, pushing his slacks and boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. It’s clear he’s pent up from the angry flush of red it has compared to normal. 

“You’re really going to keep the coat on?” You ask him with a raised brow. He seems to really weigh the options with a shrug.

“It’s fine, I have to scrub in for surgery so it’s not like a sanitation thing to worry about right now.”

He pulls you up, before spinning you around and pushing you over the armrest, face landing on the cushion. He groans at the sight, dragging the head of his cock through your wetness before notching at your entrance and slowly working his length inside. Your fingers grasp for purchase in the fabric of the sofa and you gasp as he finally seats himself inside you. He doesn’t give you the usual time to adjust though, rather pulls back so only the head remains inside and then he pumps forward in a smooth deep stroke. He sets a steady pace for the onslaught, and at this point you’re sure that your moaning, his grunting and the sound of skin slapping will let all of his coworkers know exactly what is going on in here. 

“You’re going to look so good stuffed full with my cum, and then bursting with our child,” he folds himself over you, whispering the dirty words right into your ear and sending a shiver up your spine from the sensation of his breath on your overheated skin. 

He works both his hands around your body, one to rub tight circles on your clit, the other alternating between tweaking both nipples. 

“Zayne, I- fuck - I’m close.”

“I can tell, you’re squeezing me so tightly. Your cunt knows exactly where I need to be, I should just live in here, keep you here in my office whenever I need to take a break,” he mutters each phrase with a deep thrust for emphasis as he sets a quicker pace. At this point he’s basically fucking you into the couch and all you can do is try to hold on. The sensations quickly become overwhelming and when he bites down on the back of your shoulder, you’re coming with a gush. He lets out a guttural moan, working you through the crest, still firmly seated within you. 

“I think we have time for one more,” he states with a laugh, harder than ever inside you, while you feel practically boneless. “Gotta get you into a better position though, want to make sure we can get it all deep inside so it has the best chance of taking.” 

Holy fuck, okay. Next thing you know you’re whining about how empty you feel as he pulls out, only for him to reassure you it’s only for a second. Once he stands you up he finally shrugs off his coat, only to thread your arms through it, before he turns you around so you’re leaning on the very edge of the arm rest. 

“You’ve been dying to see me in the coat huh?” you ask suggestively, wiggling your eyebrows to tease him as you let the coat slip down your arms so it lays more like a shrug, keeping your naked form on full display. 

It’s then that you hear his phone go off at his desk and he spares it a glance for a second before he’s asking you to widen your legs as he steps in between them.

“Don’t you need to get that?”

“It’s Greyson, I told him to give me a two minute warning before the official page,” he tells you as he lines up and slides back in. He pulls you into a rough biting kiss as he sinks all the way to the hilt. This time, he’s a man on a mission, or maybe man possessed is a better description. You have your hand fisted in his shirt and his doctor coat between your teeth as he pounds into you like a machine. He’s battering your cervix on each downward stroke, and then pulling almost all the way out of you. 

“Wait, I need my glasses,” he gasps, halting all his movements and you can only respond with a desperate groan, letting your forehead rest on his chest. 

“Really? Now does not seem like the time for that,” you gasp but lean back, reaching until you find them crammed down in the cushion. You unfold them and place them on his nose, pushing them up until they sit in their usual place. 

“I want to see the mess I’m about to make of you,” is his simple answer, and he smiles devilishly at the clench of you around his shaft. Suddenly you found yourself wishing you ovulated a lot more often. You watch as he sucks two fingers into his mouth before using them to lavish your clit with attention once more. He’s using his evol to heighten it with the drastic contrast in tempature and you just know you’re a babbling mess as you climb closer and closer to your peak. 

“That’s it love, we’re going to come together, and you’re going to hold every last drop- right here,” he tells you, doubling down on his efforts. His free hand rests on your stomach and he lets out a deep moan when he realizes he can feel the press of himself at the deepest point. His brow is coated in sweat and the vein popping in his neck shows the strain as he relentlessly thrusts over and over. Your hands have moved to his back, holding onto him for dear life, probably still leaving marks down his back despite the fabric barrier. 

You can’t hold back any longer, hooking your legs around him as you cum, locking him to you. He groans, mouth meeting yours in a messy kiss as he pushes to get as deep in you as he can while he finds his own release. You can feel the added warmth as he paints your inside walls, and the clenching of you riding out your own orgasm serves to help milk him for everything he’s got. He shudders, pushing his weight against you, causing you to fall back on the couch, all the while he remains seated deep inside you. 

Your bubble is burst by the official page and you know you unconsciously grip him tighter before releasing him. He begrudgingly slips from you, but he angles you so that your hips are being held up by the arm rest, keeping your pelvis tilted. 

“You’re going to be a good girl, stay just like that so it all stays right where it needs to, up against your cervix, and if you can do that, when I get back from this quick surgery, I’m going to give you another load here and then we will go home where I will only give you breaks for sustenance,” he says darkly his eyes firmly fixated on what you’re sure is a mess. You can already feel his cum dripping from you to the sofa fabric below. What you are not prepared for is him scooping up some of what is leaking and pushing it back in with his fingers. His eyes flash for a second, but then the page goes off again and he sighs. He leans over you to give you a sweet kiss, and he pulls his doctor coat around you so that you aren’t completely exposed. 

“You sneak, you gave me the coat knowing you were going to leave me here like this?”

“Oh believe me, I’m going to dream of this picture for the rest of my life - I won’t be able to wear my coat without getting hard I don’t think,” he confirms as he tucks himself back in his pants and heads to the door straightening himself back into professional mode. He barely opens it to slip out, making sure that no passerbys can see into what’s his. 

“Remember - don’t move. I’ll know by how much you leak. And I plan to keep you stuffed to the brim or leaking for the rest of the weekend. I can’t wait to see you swollen with our child.”

[sunkissedrafe]

hii i was thinking bf!rafe x bunny!reader where she is ovulating and is all whiny and needy and rafe just funds it funny and cute

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“what’s gotten into you, hm?” rafe whispers lowly as you palm at his zipper under the table.

you don’t even care that you’re surrounded by his friends and family at a dinner celebration. you really didn’t even pay attention to the details of why you’re there, nor did you care. you just knew you had the opportunity to see rafe dressed up and delectably put together and your hormones started raging unapologetically.

“dunno… jus’ need you bad.” you mewl into his ear, not missing the goosebumps that erupt across his skin from your warm breath.

“you can’t be doin’ this, bun. not around all these people.” he nudges your head away from his neck with a quiet chuckle, adjusting in his seat and sliding his hand to rest on your knee lovingly.

his broad shoulders stretching his shirt across his back and his strong biceps filling out his sleeves makes your skin rush with heat. it quickly moves down your body to the soft cotton of your panties, making you squirm as they grow wet and sticky.

but of course, you knew you’d be feeling this way. you track your cycle down to the day. ovulation week was always intense with the need to climb rafe like a tree even higher than it always was.

you look over and stare in awe at his jaw clenching repeatedly, focused in on the various conversations at the table. he always has such a charming demeanor and an effortless aura of charisma that nobody can miss.

you snake your dainty hand down to rest stop his own, pulling it a little higher up your thigh and spreading your legs ever so slightly. he doesn’t say a word or even look at you, but his fingers dig into the plush skin and heed a warning that you know well. still, you can’t stop yourself.

the rest of the night is spent giving lingering touches to rafe, desperately groping and grabbing anything you can without anyone noticing. you’d hate to embarrass him, but you can’t help it. you need him.

you arrive home and as soon as rafe closes the door behind you he grips your waist, spinning you around to place his forehead against yours.

“what was that all about, huh?” he laughs and slides his free hand up and down your arm. “you damn near gave everyone a free show.”

“rafey i-” you start, letting a small whine slip past your lips. “you know how i get when it’s ovulation week.. my body wants your babies so bad.” you look down at your feet with rosy cheeks and tears welling in your eyes, suddenly embarrassed by your own behavior.

“yeah? is that right bunny?” he slips a finger underneath your chin and presses up, beckoning your gaze back to his. “need my babies?”

you nod quickly and your eyes widen, standing on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “yes! yes, please!”

he laughs softly and places a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose before locking his lips against your own, exhaling deeply as he pulls away. “you’re somethin’ else.”

“is that…” your cheeks heat up in a blaze.

“yes, it’s a good thing. go get on the bed.”

you turn around and trot towards the stairs, giggling when he gives you a quick pat on the ass as he trails close behind.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

taglist: @stepbrorafe @bunnycvnts @hewwokitti3 @pinkribboncoco @rafesgiirl @beautifuldisaster88 @mousie101 @laniirackssss @ditzyzombiesblog

[captain-huggy-bear]

i read your thought about period sex (with quinn i think) and i can't get clayton out of my mind 😭 i just feel like he would be so into that

Okay but you're so right. 18+ MDNI under the cut: Period sex, possessive Clay, Clay is a feral gremlin of a man, breeding kink a lil Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

I think with Quinn it's a practical thing, right? Like he enjoys it but ultimately it's a way of helping you out, it's a case of him not being bothered by the blood and so if you both want to have sex then great. If it makes you feel better excellent. But, if you don't want to be touched for the entire time he's cool with that.

With Clayton? Oh...it's feral, it's anticipatory. He's got your cycle tracked on his phone because he wants to know when you're about to go on your period, when you're ovulating, what phase of your cycle you're in. It's a possessive sort of thing with him, that he's allowed to touch you like that and at that time, that when you'd be repulsed by anyone else you want him. It's the way being covered in your blood makes him feel like he's owned by you, completely yours and you're completely his. It's how wet and hot you are at that time of the month, how most of the time you're completely insatiable and waking him up for sex and going to sleep after sex and even if he's away you're phoning him to hear his voice talk dirty in your ear., fingers between your thighs as you show it to the camera on face time. For Clayton, it's a bonus that it helps relieve your aches and pains, but the main crux of it is that it's for him, it's what he wants to do. He'd be a whiny baby if you didn't want to have sex at that time (respectful and always willing to accept it, but do expect him to pout about it). I also think he goes a step further, it's not just a willingness to get his dick wet in your blood, but he's willing to eat you out on your period as well, more than happy to taste all of you and know he's the only one who gets to. Happy to be completely coated in you. I think for Clay it's the combination of possessiveness mixed with his natural desire to take care of you and give you whatever you need.

"Fuck, baby...look at you..." The way Clay looks at your cunt is downright ravenous, blue eyes almost unrecognisable in colour due to how blown out his pupils are. His eyes are the fixed on the blood leaking from your slit like it's the best thing he's ever seen and not something most men wouldn't go near with a barge pole. He can't help it...God, you're so hot all the time, but like this? At your most vulnerable, letting him see you, touch you? Trusting him? The only man you'd ever let do this? It's enough to make his head spin, a little groan falling from the back of his throat at the way you push your face into your pillow, embarrassed but not once closing your thighs, not once denying him access to your cunt. Trusting him with your body.

Clay strokes two fingers over your centre, around your slit, blood and slick viscous and clinging to his fingers in a way that makes him throb in his boxers because fuck...the way you wriggle your hips, the little whine you let out, always so sensitive at this time of the month...

His patience simply isn't there, can't help the way he's stripping himself of his boxers, hand, fingers still slick with blood and cum, wrapping around his cock to tug, once, twice. Coating himself in you until he's hard enough, ready. He can't help the way he lines up, purpling head of his cock catching on your slit as he rubs himself over you, over your clit, over your centre. You're writhing under his hands that press your hips into the towel beneath you, every sensation ten times more sensitive, ten times worse (or better), almost overwhelming as you whimper under him.

He can't take his eyes away from the mess between your legs. How his dick is coated in you, your cunt clenching around nothing as he rubs his hands over your thighs and pushes them wider, spreading you so wide you feel a burn in the crease where groin meets thigh.

"Shit, you're gorgeous, baby, so good...fuck...you gonna let me fuck you, sweet girl? Make you feel good?"

He's a little mean when you don't immediately answer, fingers reaching out to pinch your clit hard enough to make you jolt, to make you moan out a 'please' that makes that dominant, possessive part of him preen. You're his, totally, completely and he knows that he's the only man who you've ever let touch you like this on your period, always so adamant it's gross, until him, until Clay was unabashed in his desire for you, until Clay made it clear he wanted you perhaps even more during your period.

The head of cock pushes into you slowly, as much as he wants to bottom out in seconds, he knows better. You're tight, pussy clenching and pulsing around him, pulling him in. So sensitive that each drag of him on your walls has you moaning, eyes closed, head thrown back so far that your neck is a perfect canvas for his lips and teeth to mark up.

"God, your cunt was made for me, baby..." It's mumbled against your skin as he inches in, teeth biting at your neck, your shoulder, sucking marks that will purple and bruise. Marks that will last at least a week if he has it his way, so that every man around knows better, knows you're not for the taking because you're his.

When he bottoms out you swear you can feel him in your stomach where your cramps had been, now just the overwhelming feeling of fullness, of Clay rocking lightly against you, "Shit, Clay, so deep..."

"I know, sweet girl...fuck, gonna make you feel good, promise."

His eyes are fixed where you're joined, fixed on the way his cock moves in and out of you with each thrust, disappearing inside of you only to come back messy. Fixed on the way he's messy, coated in you, in your very essence because as much as you're his, he is undoubtedly yours. Marked in your blood in a way that no one else is.

As he rolls his hips into you he leans forward, chains dangerously close to your face until he takes them between his teeth, biting them to keep them out of your way. Clay's hair falls in sweaty strands into his eyes, across your skin, tickling you in a way that has you giggling even as he fucks you stupid.

"You already dumb from my cock, baby?" He laughs at you, releasing the chains for a moment, just long enough to speak. You respond in whimpers and moans, pussy pulsing around his cock, pulling him in with each thrust and resisting his every pull backwards.

You feel so fucking good, his hand coming between the two of you to circle your clit, lighter than normal because of how sensitive you are. Even then you practically jerk in his hold, body spasming at the sudden influx of pleasure, at the lightest of touches but he doesn't let him, not until you're cumming around his cock, clenching so tight he can barely move.

He follows after, unable to resist the wet, throbbing heat of you, of the way his cum mixes with your blood, with your slick until you're entirely coated in him and he's coated in you and while he knows it's ridiculous. Knows you're at your least fertile, he still can't help but feel that possessive want to see it take, see this be your last period for a while while you grow round with his baby.

Clay rests his forehead against your own, not withdrawing from your heat, just resting his cock in you while the two of you catch your breath. You look so good like that, hair plastered back with sweat, cheeks boiling with warmth, mouth parted as you pant. So good with his cum deep inside you, the possibility of it taking...of you being completely and totally his.

"Feel any better, baby?" His hand finds your stomach, soothing little circles rubbing there, hinting at the cramps you'd been complaining about earlier in the day.

"So much better...fuck, Clay..."

[minnaci]

A DADDY A DAY (KEEPS CELIBACY AWAY)

contents: wriothesley x gn!reader, daddy kink, bdsm elements, kink/dynamic exploration, reader is called baby, mentions of other titles (sir, master), penetrative sex in unspecified hole (reader receiving), creampie, the aftercare to round 2 pipeline

or, we all have our little quirks. some people drink spring water like wine. others like to be called daddy.

the thing about wriothesley's daddy kink is that you don't expect it. you've dabbled with other titles since the first time he took you to bed, cycling through titles based on your creativity and his requests.

sir was good. master was better. but when wriothesley grinds deep inside of you with a low growl and a command— cum for me, baby— a soft, plaintive 'daddy' rips from your heaving chest as you tumble helplessly over the edge.

the honorific feels right. wriothesley takes care of you. he spoils you. he's gentle and tender and loving, and he makes your head spin with how he wields his easy, firm dominance. and most importantly, wriothesley likes it— his cock pulses before he spills inside of you with an almost pained groan.

"you're never going to let me live this down, are you?" he grumbles afterward, gentle hands wiping the sweat from your skin. "stop smiling at me like that, baby."

"like what, daddy?" you blink at him, all coyness and exaggerated innocence, and you feel his cock twitch valiantly. wriothesley looks absolutely mortified. "oh my god, you really like it."

"i thought that was evident by the way i literally came on the spot once you said it." wriothesley finishes wiping you down and tosses the warm towel off to the side, where he'll probably trip over it later. he snuggles in behind you, wrapping his arms around you with a deep groan. "also, it's you, baby. of course i like it."

"flatterer," you say, pulling his hand to your mouth for a kiss. he lets you nuzzle against him, so you do, lavishing his skin with gentle affection.

"only speaking the truth," wriothesley's voice cracks as you press another kiss to his hand. there's a growing hardness at your back that you can't ignore.

"so it seems," you tease. you wiggle around in his hold and press your lips against the corner of his mouth in a fit of adoration. the bulge at your hip hardens fully, and you can't resist the urge to indulge in him once again. you lean up, asking wordlessly for a proper kiss— one that he gives with passion and consuming lust. when you come up for air, your voice comes out in a thready whine. "oh, it really is everything i do, isn't it?"

"we just cleaned up, baby," he sighs, as if you're the one making his hips roll in a subtle grind (you're not— he's doing that himself). "what am i going to do with you?"

you put on your best doe-like, wide-eyed pout and cup his face in your hands. "please, daddy. make me feel good again."

you're flipped onto your back, folded in half, and moaning like the spoiled little thing you are within the next thirty seconds.

[freakspectors]

HELUVAKINKTOBER: DAY 3 - BUKAKKE.

A Chuuya Nakahara | BSD x Female Reader Smut Fanfic.

warnings ; smut , bukakke , sex toys , mutual masturbation , degradation , praise if you squint , overstim if you get a magnifying glass , dazai mention (you can't escape him) , minor crack , nowhere near proofread , it's 1 AM on a school night please don't mind errors.. , etc .

author's note ; girl i feel so dumb. like mid fic writing i re-looked up bukakke and found out it was MULTIPLE MEN cumming on someone's face when i couldve sworn it was just one person. IM SO EMBARRASSED. but anyways.. i'm half awake, if this is horribly written, i'm sorry, and if you find it funny, thank you. i'm funniest when I'm sleep deprived.

heluvakinktober 2023 m.list .

“Fuck yeah, Doll. Touch yourself just like that..”

Chuuya moaned, leaning back into the cool leather of his office chair. You continued to ride the Dildo under his desk, rubbing tight circles on your puffy clit as the Executive before you stroked his length right before your eyes. His strokes were languid, almost teasing. You felt your mouth and pussy moisten at the sight of pre-cum coating the tip of Chuuya’s penis, the warm lighting of his small lamp making it shine beautifully.

He taps his cock on your right cheek, chuckling as a sticky ‘plap’ sound is heard in the obnoxiously silent room. You were fighting your thoughts — the urge to wipe the wet feeling off your cheek and lick it up, finally getting a taste of the redhead on your tongue. Chuuya interrupted your thoughts immediately, as if he were an empath.

“If you move your hands anywhere other than that pretty pussy of yours, there will be some punishments; and I don’t think you want that. Do ya, love?” Chuuya asked. His tone was insincere, shamelessly mocking you with a wide smile plastered on his annoying face. You wanted to retort, but god, were his reprimands attractive. You whine out a defeated ‘No’, sighing as a boisterous laugh rang in your ears. “Good girl. Now ‌keep bouncing f’me.”

Jackass. There was absolutely no wonder why that Dazai fucker hated his guts; who would like this son of a bitch?

That’s what your mind said. Your body, however, quaked for him. Your pussy pleaded for Chuuya’s dick, fingers, tongue, anything other than the cheap plastic he had made you ride. It was pathetically obvious, too, the once pristine tiled floors now coated in a pool of your slick. You wished for Chuuya's sick and twisted game to end, for him to fold you in half and have sex with you until you were senseless—

You hadn’t noticed how sensitive you made yourself while you were fantasizing about Chuuya like a schoolgirl, your clit raw and cunt mush from how hard you pleased yourself. You could’ve cummed just now and you wouldn’t be aware of it. But you couldn’t stop. Your body wouldn’t let you, not after the gorgeous sight before your very eyes.

Chuuya looked disheveled. He leaned all the way back in his chair, his hands tangling in his copper locks as his chest heaved while staring down at you. His moans got louder, louder, and louder, sure to worry anyone that so passed by the Executive’s office. Your gut was put on a spin cycle, the tight feeling in your abdomen returning for the umpteenth time that evening. You flicked, spun, and rubbed your clit as quickly as you could without it hurting, until his left, gloved hand gripped you by the hair and pulled your hair back.

“Open your fucking mouth, baby. I’m gonna glaze you so goddamn much you’d qualify as a fuckin’ donut — Oh, fuck..” the Executive groans. His words were so quick, you could barely understand his sentences. But words hadn’t been the reason for your nearing climax, no. How he handled you so roughly, the way he spoke to your quivering body. It was all too much to handle and process; soon enough, you’d reach the peak of your arousal.

It did. It hit you like a bullet train.

Thick, creamy white globs gushed around the dildo as you clenched around it, moaning out Chuuya’s name as if it was he you were riding like Paul-fucking-Revere. The redhead curses your name, visibly close to his own arrival. You could count how many times his cock twitched before he came; it was almost like everything was in slow motion.

One.

“FUCK.. Take it all, bitch, I want every drop of my cum on your face..”

Two.

“You’re gonna look like such a slut after all this.. I’ll take so many pictures of you just like this and — Shit!”

Three.

And your vision goes black. Well, white.

@ HELUVAKU 2023 . do not share or repost .

[charlessainzz]

Date Night?

here's the first fic, next one will be on sunday. hope you guys like this!

Another night you spent waiting for him. Another night you spent all dressed up alone. Another night ending in disappointment. 

Here you were in that little black dress, lipstick on, and clutch in hand sitting on the couch waiting for Max to walk through the door. You were ready to give it to him. Ready to rip him a new one. 

You hear the door unlock and creak open. You see his face peak through. He’s a sweaty mess so he must have been at training…. again. That’s when you notice his bloodshot eyes. At first you thought he was drunk but then you noticed his tear stained cheeks. Tossing your bag to the side you jump up and run to him in the doorway. Grabbing his face in between your hands, his face is hot to the touch. Your eyes looking him up and down searching for the source of his pain. 

“Max, what’s happening?”, you worried. He closes his eyes and just shakes his head. “Please baby tell me so I can help or-or just talk you through it”, you plead. 

“I can’t do this anymore y/n! I do all this to make him happy!”, Max says as he begins to raise his voice. You felt a pit in your stomach. Max pushes your hands off him as he starts pacing around the living room. 

“I skip parties, I cancel plans, I neglect our relationship to make sure I’m the world’s greatest Formula 1 driver… all for him! A-and it’s still not enough!”, he boomed. You instantly know who he’s talking about. His dad. 

“I fucking stood you up today to get in more training time! And when I ask to take off he starts lecturing me about how I’m not dedicated enough!”, he yells. “What does he want from me?”, Max asks throwing his hands into the air. He’s reached his breaking point. 

You look at him, knowing you can never give him an answer that would be appeasing but you had to try. “Oh Max… he’s the type of person that will never be happy enough. Never be satisfied enough. He just wants more and more”, you stressed. “And he’ll keep asking for more and more because he knows you want to make him happy. But it’s a never ending cycle”. 

He looks at you and nods. Tears still run down his face. He knows that’s the best answer he’ll get and he knows there is no easy solution. But at least you were there for him, and trying to help. “Thank you”, he murmurs. 

“For what?”, you inquire. 

“Just being here. Taking all the shit that comes with dating me”, he says. You see in his face how disappointed he is in himself for standing you up again. However, you knew why at least.

You move towards him with arms stretched out. Inviting him into your safe embrace. Max’s whole body relaxes as he wraps himself into you.

Pushing your hand into his hair you say, “I would take anything to be with you Max. I would go to the ends of this world to just be near you”, you confess and place a kiss on his lips for a second. Going back to just holding each other, you feel like the only two people left on Earth. The world solely spinning for your love. 

Feeling his breath on your neck, he holds you even tighter. Trying to squeeze every ounce of love out of you. “You’re my everything y/n”, he whispers into your neck. 

“You’re my whole world Max Verstappen”, you proclaim. Wanting to lighten the mood a bit you say, “But one more date night that goes wrong and I’ll give away all your World Champion trophies”, you say with a sly smile. 

Max picks his head up from your neck and grins. He leans down and as he’s about to give you a kiss you feel his hand wrap into your hair and tug it. “I promise to do my best y/n”, he says with all the seriousness he could muster. 

“That’s all I ask Maxie”, you breathed. You crane your face up to connect your lips once again.

[juletheghoul]

Chores

AN: So, things got in the way - as they usually do and I couldn't post on Sunday. Hopefully this makes up for it! This is the third installment, part one is The Party, and part two is The Date. This is totally unbeta’d, so expect a few mistakes lol. Hope you enjoy xox. 

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings;  piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, a tiny little ball tug lol, creampie, let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 2.1k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

He’d been at your place the whole weekend, most of the week too. There were more and more of his things popping up amongst yours, a flannel draped over the back of your couch, his smaller toolbox near your front door, a toothbrush plopped in the cup beside yours on the sink. You saw them all, and relished the way they made your insides feel all warm and fuzzy. Relished how he managed to make you feel safe with his jacket hanging on the coat rack and his big work boots by the door. 

His presence in your home, in your life—your bed, was so welcome. Necessary even. 

Crucial. 

It had been months since that first date, when the dinner reservation had been missed, replaced with ordering in and a night full of sex and laughter. Months of learning everything there was to learn about one another; like the way he took his coffee. Or the fact that he snored, even though he insisted that he didn’t. You’ve learned that he’s thoughtful. He notices, he listens. 

He’s a quick study, both inside and outside the bedroom. 

He’s an avid reader. He wears glasses. 

He prefers action movies and thrillers, grumbles playfully when you put on a romcom but always gets invested, nonetheless. He’s a great cook, but he can’t bake for shit. 

You’ve learned that despite already having been married, he’d been an intensely lonely man.

You watch him from your place at the table, enjoying the breakfast he’d made for the two of you. The messy halo that is his hair, combined with the worn cotton of his t-shirt make him almost irresistible. 

“Anything you want to do today?” He smiles, catching you staring. 

“I have a few things in mind.” You smile back. “Laundry’s piling up, some groceries definitely wouldn’t hurt.” 

He hums around a sip of coffee.

“You got a list? I can go for you.” Your mouth cracks open with a smile.

“You’d go for me?” You reach your hand over towards him and he takes it instantly, his dimple making its first appearance of the day. 

“Of course, baby. Make me a list, I’ll go, while you start the laundry.” He pulls you gently from where you sit and you let him guide you around the table to sit across his knees. “Of course—“ He skims the tip of his nose along the column of your throat, his lips pressing soft kisses as his arms wrap around you oh so comfortingly. “It’ll cost you.”

“Oh, and just what exactly is it gonna cost me?” You wrap your arms around his neck, curling your fingers into the thick waves of hair at the back of his head. 

“I haven’t decided yet.” His lips are petal soft against the exposed skin of your shoulder. “Maybe I wanna spread you out and use my tongue, just how you like.” You shiver at the tone of his words, pressing yourself closer.

“Now how am I supposed to get anything done when you say things like that?” You pull his face up to kiss him, soft and sweet.

“Because it’s better when you wait a little, you get all wet thinking about it, just how I like.” He presses his lips to yours, chaste for a moment before slanting his head to kiss you properly and lick into your mouth, pulling a moan from somewhere in your throat.  

He pulls away just as quick as he started.

“Okay, let’s do what we have to do.” He smiles, and you try to remember how to function. 

-

The machine vibrates against your hip, the spin cycle doing its thing and while you wait, you think of him. You practically feel him inside, the stretch of him, the way he likes to hold your thighs open for his tongue. It’s enough to make you hum dreamily, to make you smile, to make you drip into your panties. 

The blissed-out smile shifts into a frustrated eye roll.

That tease, with the lingering kiss he’d laid on you at the door, the meaty grab of your ass before jogging out to his truck–grocery list in hand. The machine chimes, and you turn away from your steamy thoughts with a sigh, trying–and failing–to focus on the task at hand.

-

You catch him smiling as he tucks the purchases away. He notices, but never acknowledges the way you’re ogling him. He knows his words had the desired effect, and can see it in the way your hands fidget, the way you practically vibrate. 

“How’s the laundry coming along?” the innocent words do not match the sultry tone of his voice in the slightest. He thinks he’s so fucking slick, and most of the time he is but you know he’s just as wound up as you are. You can see it too, the way his eyes have tracked your every movement since he stepped through the door–the way his thumb swipes across his bottom lip every so often. 

“Last load is in the dryer.” Your voice is light, and you wait for him to turn to look at you before walking out of the kitchen and towards the bedroom, knowing in your heart he’ll follow. 

You aren’t in the bedroom ten minutes before he proves you right, finding you undressing casually. 

“What are you doing, baby?” He stands at the door, arms crossed and leaning against the frame.

“I’m going to lay here, naked, and spread out–just how you wanted me.” You toss discarded clothing items into the laundry basket as you speak to him, smiling at the hungry look on his face, “isn’t that what you said?” You unclip your bra, his gaze raking over you greedily as he moves to join you. You watch him now, your bottom lip caught between your teeth as those big hands you love pull his soft cotton t-shirt up and off, revealing that golden skin you can practically taste. 

“Are you now?” He asks even as he watches you scoot back, his tongue dipping out to wet his lip as your legs drop open, showing him just how right he was about the state you’d be in. “God, I can see how fucking wet you are from here.” He already sounds wrecked, his voice dripping in lust, in love. 

You smile from your place on the bed, leaning on one elbow while your other hand slides down to where his eyes are locked, fingers dipping into the pool of slick with his name on it to give your clit a quick, delicious swirl. 

“All yours Frankie, baby.” You spread the lips of your sex open and he groans, now frantic to kick his layers away in his haste to reach you. 

He all but growls, his hand wrapping around the reddened tip of his cock, giving it a couple of strokes before he falls into the bed, and your arms. 

There is no preamble in his kiss, no warm up, no chastity. His tongue is obscene, it seeks out yours and lays down the law. His kiss heats your blood, it makes your pussy throb, makes you all slippery for him. It claims you for his own every single time and when he moves his mouth down to your jaw, your neck and further down still, it leaves you drunk. 

Your fingers run through his hair when he latches onto one nipple, and then the other, teasing you further still. 

“God–I wanted this all fucking day–” You can’t help but gasp when he uses his teeth, the tiny edge of pain heightening the arousal, a boyish grin on his face as his tongue soothes. 

“I know baby, me too, thought about this–” He positions you how he wants you, legs up, bent and open. His hands pull you closer to his mouth, roughly and he stares at your cunt like it’s the gates of heaven, “been daydreaming about tasting you all fucking day.” He dives in, his tongue slipping in as far as he can to drink you down from the source before honing in on the center of your universe. 

Just like his mouth lays claim to yours when he kisses you, his tongue lays claim to your cunt when he eats it. He relishes it, savors it. For him it’s an art, and he’s a prodigy. 

It’s embarrassing how fast he manages to have you mewling. 

His fingers spread your lips open, exposing the plump little jewel of your pleasure for his mouth. He smiles before letting his saliva drip onto it, chasing it with tongue. 

“Oh fuck–” his rhythm is perfect, precise, the wet steady glide of his tongue rocketing you towards your orgasm much faster than he had any right to and when his fingers slide in to slowly tap tap tap at the spot only he ever seems to find, your universe explodes. The orgasm rips through you like a sunburst, lighting up all of the nerves in your body as you float away. 

He slows, but doesn’t stop. 

It’s less intense, but no less passionate, his tongue moving again to drink your release down, moving away only to lick your slick off of his fingers. He places a kiss on your mound, another on your belly, trailing them up and stopping to once again give your breasts the attention they deserve. 

“Good?” He skims his nose along your neck, waiting until the gears of your mind start up again. 

“Uh-huh,” Your arms feel heavy but you need him closer and you wrap them around his neck to pull his mouth towards yours, “you always make it so good.” you can taste yourself in his kiss and it always gives you a thrill. “How do you want me?” 

“On your knees.” He scoots back, his hands landing heavy on your hips to get you where he wants you, and despite him having turned your legs to jelly, you scramble to get there. 

His palm lands a solid crack on the cheek of your ass and you let out a breathless laugh, his eagerness to slip inside the slick fist of your pussy ramping up your arousal once more. He doesn’t disappoint, he never does. 

Even with the stretch of his fingers, even with the way you’ve been aching for this all day, it’s intense.

“There it fucking is,” your heart races, the sound of his voice, the fucked out tone of it is enough to make you moan, “how do you always feel so fucking good, huh?” He punctuates his question with a harder thrust, the blunt tip of his cock practically hitting your womb. 

You have no words for him, all you can do is press your face into the mattress and focus on the bruising grip of his hands on your hips, on the wet sounds between your legs, on the way your nipples rub against the rumpled sheets beneath you. 

“No words for me?” He’s cocky, in more ways than one as he thrusts into you hard enough to make your flesh bounce. “This what you wanted?” his words are breathless, but his rhythm is steady, “You wanted my big dick huh baby?” you moan because yes, this is exactly what you wanted.

He doesn’t falter as he leans forward, draping himself over your back, his hand sliding around from your hip to swirl around your clit and the effect is almost instant. Your legs tense as he pulls a shorter, but more intense climax out of you. 

“That’s it, get me all fucking wet.” He breathes the words into your shoulder, and now he’s somehow pressing closer, getting as deep as he can get. 

His breath ghosts along your skin where his face is pressed against your shoulder, raising goosebumps in its wake and all you want in this moment is to have him fall apart. His strokes are steady as the idea pops into your head and you’re almost drunk on the effect it’ll have on him. You reach down between your legs and gently grab his balls, tugging at them softly. 

It’s like pressing a button, and he explodes inside you. You relish the punched-out groan he lets out when he fills you with his come, grinding it deep as he collapses onto your back. 

It takes him a minute to catch his breath. 

“Good?” You ask him, mirroring his tone from earlier and he lets out a breathless laugh. 

“Yes, you fucking got me.” He pulls out with a hiss and lays next to you, a blissed out smile on his face, letting out a deep breath before pulling you to lay your head onto his chest. Golden hour shines through the cracks in the curtains, and the comforting thump thump thump of his heart under your ear lulls you, makes you tired and sleepy. He hums, his heart slowing down and now he’s tired too, and the two of you fall asleep together, tangled up and comfortable.

-

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[dollsvampi]

Echoes of the Tide

Frank Castle x Reader

Description: Haunted by emotional wounds, only to seek solace in Frank's arms longing for a path to healing. [Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Life, Emotional Vulnerability] (Pet names used: Baby, Darlin') [No use of Y/N]

Warnings: Mentions of Trauma, Familial Dysfunction & Guilt, Emotional Distress. (3.2K words)

A/N: First post ever lol bare with me. I didn't like this sitting in my notes on my phone so why not share

Every once in a while, you reach that breaking point—a moment where everything feels too heavy to bear. A dull, residual numbness settles in, aching deep in your chest. It feels unbearable, as though your mind is trapped in an endless cycle—spinning aimlessly before crashing into an invisible wall, only to start again. You're stuck, caught in a loop with no way out.

Is this what shutting down is?

Only a few words passed between you and those around you it was hard to connect when you didn’t feel like yourself. It was as if you were caught in plunging, rushing water, one foot forward and the other behind, your body twisted mid-motion with arms outstretched, grasping for something to hold onto. You couldn’t take another step; your hips frozen, your body trying but failing to move forward. Instead, you were drowning in an endless tide of swimming thoughts, unable to tear your gaze away from the weight of the past.

No, it wasn't often you felt like this, but it was inevitable feeling overwhelmed and hollow, from the weight of the trauma of it all. Just thinking about or seeing your family can bring on a wave of triggers. Most of the time you check on them and it simply brings dread.

Sitting on one of the kitchen island stools to prep a few things for dinner, your brows are slightly furrowed in concentration. Meanwhile, Frank is polishing and cleaning his guns. He had a direct line of sight of you, studying you cautiously. He noticed each and every little thing about you. "Baby, you alright?" Frank didn't want to push—testing the waters. He didn't want to outright inquire; How come you weren't yourself? How come you didn't strike up a conversation? How come you aren't laughing? How come you aren't playing music?

The poor man thought back to his own actions—had he possibly done something wrong or forgot to do something? Glancing up from the scattered ingredients, you manage a faint smile, "Yeah." He didn’t believe you, but then again, neither did you. Your family, though—they would have, without question.

"I was thinking..." the vigilante, sharp and observant, piqued your curiosity. You hummed in acknowledgment as he went on, "We should eat outside and finally test out that hammock we got."

You thought some fresh air might be nice as you cleaned up the kitchen island, "Sounds good." Frank rose from his seat, heading off to store his guns, but paused. He walked over to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, his free hand lightly squeezing your hip, "Alright, I’ll go get started outside."

Once the food was prepared—delicious and fresh—it was carefully arranged in its respective containers and plates, ready for the little backyard feast. Frank quickly cleaned off the table and chairs before setting up the hammock. Propping it up was effortless—it was a sizable design made for two. The framed canvas, adorned with pastel blue stripes, even came with a matching pillow.

It took several trips to retrieve the food, beverages, and utensils. Frank assisted with the final touches of setup, including bringing out the speaker you have. He handed you his phone almost immediately after turning it on and connecting it, "Go on, play music."

You'd shared your playlists with Frank long ago; he knew exactly what music helped you unwind and relax. He needed you to be at ease. With a few taps on his phone, music began to play softly through the speaker, loud enough to fill the atmosphere but quiet enough for conversation. Frank wanted to bring up the subject, but he held back. He knew you well—when you were upset, your appetite was the first to go, which he didn't want. Patience came naturally to him when it came to you, so he decided to wait for now.

Sitting down and fixing each other's plates, you look around the backyard. The hammock was a nice addition, "Hey that hammock is not bad." He hums, as he glances where you are looking, "Easy to install too." Your eyes don't stray from the space as Frank begins to eat, "We really should get some shade, some trees would be nice."

The man was going to town on the food, which brought a smile to your face. "I wanted to put up the canopy tent, but some trees would be nice darlin'," he was subtle in his reasoning. You could definitely use some sunlight with the way things have been. He gestured with his hand, "We can get some smaller ones, and add on to the garden."

Frank is a man who resolved your words were law. As the both of you continue eating, you give it a good thought to how plans should be. "Yeah, maybe a decent-sized one, right at the edge where the small field begins." He followed your eyeliner yet again, "Perfect, anything my baby wants."

Lowering your gaze slightly you shook your head. Whatever he was doing was working, the sweet-talking, the way he had said it with conviction fulling meaning what he had said. The music in the background is a way to ground you. What had been circulating in your mind is distilling. You were now able to talk about what had been going on, you aren't completely shut.

Maybe you caught on—it was a sweet gesture. Yet, your thoughts still lingered on your family… how something so simple could never be accomplished with them.

The two of you finished the rest of your meal in comfortable silence. Your gaze wandered, taking in the surroundings—the chirping of distant birds, the slow drift of fluffy white clouds across the sky. As you closed the lid on the bowl, your focus shifted, flitting between the patches of grass and the outhouse door, until your eyes began to glaze over.

"You haven't said much all day darlin', what's on your mind?" Frank's eyes were steady on you, and you had to get it off your chest. You couldn't tell him that it was nothing. It would be wrong not to. How was he supposed to understand if I kept holding back?

'Secrecy has a way of evolving—sometimes into something different, and other times into something far worse.' Frank had told you, almost in passing, as if it were a lesson learned from his own experiences. He’d seen how secrets, no matter how small or harmless they seemed at first, could twist into something darker over time. He spoke from a place of understanding, the kind born from years of keeping things buried—things he’d witnessed, things he’d done, and the weight it left on him. You knew he wasn’t just talking about others; he was speaking from his own scars.

Taking a deep breath, after so long being submerged you've breached the surface. "It's just- I don't know what to do... or feel with my family," you couldn't settle your eyes on him just yet. "With these people, it's this guilt, the sense of loss and not belonging. The exclusion they do or just the pure disfunction... it's a lot of things Frank."

He could see how it took you a lot to get to voice this, "That's a lot to carry and even worry about." There were brief mentions of what you had endured, and it really did anger Frank because you didn't deserve that.

"I know I've mentioned but all this stress is inevitable especially how they live out their life. At times I do believe I'm the burden. It's-" You do gesture you often make to stop yourself from crying. Frank knew what you were about to say and immediately cut you off. "It's not your fault, baby. Look at me... look at me." He moves his chair to sit closer to you placing a hand on your shoulder. "It's not your fault." You meet his eyes as tears begin to form in yours. "There you are, breath okay."

Frank grounded you as you focused on your breathing, steadying yourself. Finally, you continued, "Every time I check in or see their posts, I just feel like such an outcast. It’s a reminder that I can never truly be myself around them, and if they ever found out, it’d turn into a whole mess." You can practically hear the comments and insensitive remarks.

"Forget about what they might say, baby. Just be yourself." His voice was steady, resolute. He would defend you without hesitation, daring anyone in the world to challenge you or your worth.

"I know, Frank. With the way my family obsesses over their image, it’s almost impossible not to absorb some of it. All they ever do is critique others. Minding their own business is the last thing they’d consider. They love to nitpick, always searching for the smallest reason to argue or stir up drama." As you spoke you could feel the way he was gently squeezing your shoulder, his thumb moving soothingly.

"That’s not on you, though. You don’t have to carry their baggage or let it shape who you are. Let them exhaust themselves with their nonsense—none of it changes the fact that you’re better than that." He shifted slightly, his hand still on your shoulder, and his gaze softened. His movements were slow and deliberate, with a sense of calm assurance.

Culture played an important role, with traditions deeply ingrained across generations, creating an even greater sense of immersion. The idea that some individuals were unwilling to embrace new perspectives, choosing instead to cast others out, was a harsh reality.

You sigh, placing your hand gently over his. "This is why I feel bad. I mean, it's not entirely their fault either. I see how they choose to live their lives. It makes me feel like I should be doing something to help. But their world just revolves around their beliefs."

He says nothing at first, but his hand moves to hold yours, as if he is carefully considering your words. Finally, he speaks in his consistent, no-nonsense tone, "You cannot bear their burdens for 'em. All you can do is make your own decisions, ones that will keep you standing. If they can’t see that, that’s on them, not you." Frank leans in slightly, realizing that you're still torn. "I get it. You're worried about what they'll say or do if you stand your ground. But you cannot continue to live in fear of their judgment. You've already carried enough for them. You have to put yourself first."

His words hit harder than you had expected, sinking in deeper than you wanted to admit. There is natural hesitation, your chest tightening, as if you were in cold harsh water. You try to push down the gnawing feeling of guilt. That fear still lingers, like a shadow you can't outrun.

You glance down at your intertwined hands, resting on your thigh, as if they can offer some relief, and in the rhythm of the music that envelopes the both of you.

You couldn’t help but think about how they’d always handled things—like when your boundaries were crossed, or when your choices didn’t align with theirs. It was never about understanding or compromise, but about control and making sure you fell in line with their beliefs. The idea of standing up to them felt like a storm waiting to break.

"It still eats at me. Every time I see them, it’s like the facade falls into place. We all act like nothing was ever left unsaid—thanks to my parents, I guess. They’re the biggest hypocrites I know." You squeeze Frank’s hand gently. "I was made to believe my problems didn’t matter, that my family had enough on their plate, so why add more? There are things I still don’t know about my own family, things they’ve kept from me. And it makes me wonder—am I even worthy of knowing? Am I not family?"

Frank scoffs, shaking his head. "Christ." He knew that tactic all too well the 'don't say anything to protect either party.' It was a way of keeping everything buried, even if it meant pushing the pain aside. He got an even clearer picture of your constant restraint that kept you from truly speaking your mind. The aftermath of emotional scarring has left its mark, no matter how hard you try to hide it.

Uncertain if Frank would say more, you felt the urge to continue. "I have to force myself into a certain mindset whenever I visit... and prepare for the possible worst, just in case. That's what has been eating at me most of the time, even taking sleep away. It certainly was worse when I was younger."

Frank acted without hesitancy as usual. He was all too familiar with bracing for the impact of something that never felt safe. "You shouldn’t have to do that. No one should have to armor up just to face their own family." He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes hardening in his seriousness. "But no matter how hard it gets, you don’t have to face it alone. You’ve got me. What did you do to keep your head straight, huh?"

The question brought a faint smile to your face—a real one, the kind that had been absent for far too long. You nodded toward the speaker playing your favorite tunes. "Listening to music. I had to distract myself however I could. Sometimes, I’d read or write down the things I wanted to say but—" You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill, your chest tightening at the way he's so close to you, and outright providing you with unwavering warmth.

Frank reached up, cupping your face gently with his free hand. "It’s okay, baby. Let it out if you need." His voice was steady, but his gaze searched yours, piecing together what you’d shared. He could see how writing had been more than a distraction—it was survival. A way to give your thoughts a voice when no one else would listen.

You huffed a bitter laugh. "And that’s when I think—if I could just open my mouth and defend myself... but I never know how to say it right. I wish I really knew how to articulate what I feel to them." Your hand tightened around his wrist, grounding yourself in the comfort of Frank’s steady touch. His thumb brushed gently across your cheek, a silent reassurance that he was there.

You lowered your gaze to your lap, the words catching in your throat as the weight of it all pressed down. Frank’s jaw tightened, his heart sinking at the pain etched across your face. He couldn’t fathom why anyone would put you through this, why they’d leave you carrying such a heavy burden. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.

The silence was pierced as you dropped your hand from his. "And to be real honest with you, Frank..." your voice trembled, and your lip quivered as you tried to keep it together.

His heart breaking at your vulnerability.

"I—I wouldn’t want you to go through that... to see it happen," your voice cracking under the weight of the admission. Tears welled up, and before you could stop them, a helpless cry escaped your lips. You turned away, trying to hide your face in your hands, but it was too late.

Frank exhaled deeply, closing his eyes for a moment as if willing himself to take your pain away. Then, with the utmost care, he let go of your hand only to pull you into a firm, grounding embrace. "C'mere," he murmured, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

You buried your face in his shoulder as the sobs overtook you, his presence the only thing keeping you from falling apart entirely. One of his hands moved soothingly up and down your back, the occasional pat adding a silent rhythm of comfort. "Let it out, baby," he whispered, pressing the side of his head to yours.

Frank held you as though shielding you from the weight of the world, his jaw tightening as he listened to your cries. It hit him hard—how selfless you were, even in your pain. You’d been so considerate, worrying about how your situation might affect him when you were the one left battered by it all. The thought of you constantly lying, draining yourself to keep the peace, or worse—standing up for yourself only to be torn down again—cut him deeply. "

"'S okay," he said softly, his voice a firm anchor. "I've gotcha baby. 'S okay."

You cried into his arms until the tears subsided, leaving you drained but calmer. Slowly, you regained your composure, sniffling softly as you leaned back to meet his gaze. Frank’s hand was already there, gently wiping away the lingering tears on your cheeks.

"I love you so much," you murmured, your voice still shaky but full of gratitude. You couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the comfort of having someone like Frank by your side.

"I love you," Frank's tone filled with conviction. His arms tightened around you slightly, pulling you closer as if to shield you from the world. "I’ll always be here for you," he added, pressing a firm, reassuring kiss to your cheek.

The tenderness of his words made your chest ache in the best way, and you fought the urge to cry again—this time out of happiness. Tilting your head back a bit, you let your gaze drift to the yard.

"Ah, shit," you muttered suddenly, catching sight of something.

Frank raised an eyebrow, already poised to ask what was on your mind.

"We really should try out that hammock," you said, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Frank burst into a deep, genuine laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest and catching you off guard. You turned to him, grinning as you joined in his laughter. Before the moment could pass, he leaned in, closing the space between you and placing soft, lingering kisses all over your face, his affection as natural as breathing.

The weight you’d been carrying felt just a little lighter. You couldn’t help but lean into him, letting the laughter fade into a quiet peace. "Let’s go," Frank said softly, his lips brushing your temple before he pulled back, his hand still resting at the small of your back.

Together, you rose, the promise of something simple yet meaningful—like testing out that hammock—feeling like exactly what you needed.

The hammock swayed gently beneath you, cradling you like a soft ripple on calm swift waters. It was steady, unlike the turbulent currents that had once consumed you. Where your mind had felt like it was drowning in endless waves, here was something solid yet pliable—a quiet buoy against the storm.

Frank beside you, his presence like the anchor that helped you beach. The two of you settled into the rhythm of the hammock's sway, the soft creak of its frame blending with the distant chirp of birds. The past felt far away here, as if it couldn’t touch you in this cocoon of stillness and warmth.

For the first time in a long while, the tide in your chest seemed to ebb, leaving behind a strange but welcome calmness.

[kruegerspillow]

‘Your touch devours me, baby,’ A werewolf Soap fanfic.

Creator's note: I have appeared outta nowhere again, with the most random fic in the world. Well, enjoy this, keep in mind that English isn't my first language, and this hasn't been proofread. Eat up girlies.

Summary: You knew that Soap was a lycanthrope, and you've opened up to him about being interested in learning about their species. But there's one thing that he didn't give you a heads up at.. his heat cycle.

Genre: Real kinky smut.. MDNI ! 🔞

Words: 2,121 (including these creator's notes, warning, summary, genre, etc..)

Warning: NSFW, absolute feral Soap, a lot of swearing, no mentions of y/n, reader is AFAB, Soap is a wayy submissive here. PiV, breeding, brief mentions of blood, Soap got caught humping on a pillow (yes, you read that right.), CNC (?), SOAP IS SO CARING HERE ASKASKSk, super soft Soap !! After care.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, the charming werewolf that everyone knows. He's known for his charisma, and of course, his heightened capibilities.

The base had been oddly quiet after the mission, most of the soldiers had already went to the usual pub to celebrate another succesful mission. Though, you felt like someone was missing, which gave you an eery feeling. Thus, you decided to walk your way back to base to check out on that person— Johnny.

You walked out of the group of soldiers, the unpleasent smell of alcohol lingering around you— you squeezed your way through the crowd, wincing and muttering a small apology for every person whom you bumped into. As you finally succeed to get your way out of the crowded pub, you wandered your way back to the base— goosebump forming on your arms everytime the wind breezes.

Your boots crunched against the cold, hard ground. You made it back to the base, before walking your way to the quarters. As you turned to one of the corners, you froze on your spot.

A familiar voice rings into your ears, before you recognized that Scottish accent. Though, as you walked closer to his dorm door, you heard those familiar sounds of pleasures— along with bed creaking and the wet noises.

“Fuckfuckfuck, [name].. feel so fuckin' good, grinding against me like that..” You heard him choke out, followed by a high-pitched whine.

The familiar heat creeps up onto your face, feeling your body jolt slightly at the sound of him calling out for you like that. Your hand rests on his doorknob, debating on whether to open the door and intervene, or.. listen to his noises of pleasure.

Well, the door creaked.

You got into his room quickly, before closing the door behind you. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, before you locked the door to his dorm. You stood there on the doorframe, before your eyes met with his. Soap had never looked so guilty in his life. His body shudders against the pillow, before he completely froze— his hand grips the sheet, just enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“C'mon, don't stop on my account, Soap. Go on with what you're doing,” You grunted out, crossing your arms as you looked down at him. His face went completely red, lips parting as his tail wags in excitement.

“Shit, [name], you.. you shouldn't be here.” He murmured out, sounding more cautious as his cock twitched on the pillow. Your scent lingers around him, his head spinning from your strong smell. His breath hitches, precum spreaded on his pillow.

You decided to take matters in your own hand, quite literally.

You walked even closer to him, before leaning down to face him, enough for Soap to feel your breath against his hot face. He bit his lip, stifling any noises he's about to let out. One of your hand reaches down to support you on the bed, before the other went to his twitching cock.

“Fuck! Don't.” He hissed out, warning you for the consenquences of his heat, “I dont want to risk hurting you, bonnie.”

You maintain eye contact, eyes rolling at his words before you crawled onto the bed. You were on your knees, legs beside his trembling thighs as your right hand kept itself on the tip of his cock.

“Try me, Johnny.” Your voice was low and raspy. His tail immediately perks up once again as he tried to hold himself back. He tried to resist wagging his tail, pushing the pillow that was sprawled with his precum away. His eyes showed how badly he's asking for it.

“Baby.. shit, at least keep distance with me,” He whined out, afraid to hurt you in any kind of form. “Don't wanna fuckin' hurt you.. Get out before it's too late,”

You ignored his pleas, before you stroked his cock, your hand twisting everytime it went against the tip of his cock.

“[name], bonnie, fuuck..” He whined out, trying to resist his hips from bucking up as both of his hands clenched the sheets beneath the both of you. He had practically given up on trying to stop you, though. His eyes rolled back slightly, whining out like he's begging you to let him breed you, to mate with you.

“I know, I know, relax a bit for me, will you?” I shushed him, trying to keep him quiet as I stroked him. Your other hand reaches up to his chin, making him face you as you gave him a passionate kiss. He kissed back desprerately, biting your lip gently— well, he tried to. He drawed blood on your lips, his sharp fangs cutting your lip. The sensation of pain and pleasure mixed, and before he could even apologized, you shoved your thumb into his mouth.

He grunted out, bucking his hips completely now. He sucked on your thumb, but this time, even more careful as he knew that his fangs were way too sharp to be played around. His tongue swirled, feeling himself going closer and closer to the edge. He looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes, trying to signal you that he's about to cum.

“Cum.. about to, ngghh, about to cum..” he panted out with his muffled voice, feeling his saliva drip down from his chin. He felt feral, yet so submissive around you.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile before your hand picks up the pace. You earned a whimper from him, his noises coming in between his little pants as his tail wagged.

“Cum for me like a good boy, will you?” You teased him, before you tipped him just over the edge. His back arched, fangs showing as he let out a long whine. His hips kept bucking, cum shooting out from his leaking cock to his own stomach. His cock twitches in your hand, still obviously hard even after the orgasm.

You chuckled, amazed by his intense orgasm as you let go of your hand from his cock, letting him catch breath for a second. You pulled out your thumb from his mouth, seeing it dripping with his wet saliva. As he catched his breath, you met his gaze— your right hand entering his mouth once again— making him swallow his own cum.

“Swallow it like a good ol'boy, hm..” you praised him as he swallowed his release. As you pulled out his thumb, his hands shots up to your waist as he tried to tug your trousers down.

“Wanna eat.. eat you out so badly, please..” he groaned out, before you heard small footsteps outside the room. It was probably the soldiers going back to their dorm anyway.

You smiled at his words, before letting him tug your trousers down. He pulled them down as fast as he could, his fingers fiddling with your zipper as he finally got them down. He pulled you by your waist, before laying on his back and pushing you down onto his face— your clothed clit right on top of him.

“You, ride my face, don't even think if I can breathe or not.” he breathed out, before his fingers tugged your panties down.

Your breath hitched slightly as his gaze met with your dripping cunt, you grunted at the sensation of his warm breath against your core. He didn't even wait anymore, his tongue lunging at you like a feral beast with it's prey. He licked and sucked, the sounds of your slickness loud and clear for others to hear.

His hand shots up to your thigh, pushing even more weight down to his face. He grunted out, squeezing your thigh as his tongue went in deeper into your swollen clit. You whimpered out, your hand reaching down to tug on his hair— which nearly made him cum on the spot too.

He moaned out, his voice muffled as he devoured you fully, his tongue felt so good in you. You clenched around nothing, before looking down at him, your chest rising up and down.

“I.. I'm close, Soap, don't stop..” you moaned out, biting your bleeding bottom lip— luckily, he didn't notice the amount of blood he drew from you.

His tongue wiggled in you, wanting to feel you cum on his face as he let out a breathy chuckle. You spasmed, before letting go. As your orgasm occured, he lapped up your juices, seeming to be more then satisfied to make you feel really good. You jolted as he continuted to lick and suck for a few more seconds, before fully stopping. You got off of his face, just to see his saliva mixed with your juices drooling down his chin. A small grin tugged in the corner of his lips, he still looked.. desperate.

He grabbed your waist once again, before positioning you towards his cock.

“Need to feel you around me, hnngh..” he slurred out, voice raspy as he slowly lowered you down. His tip went in, and he nearly came just from the sensation of you clenching around it. Wet sounds formed as he slowly inserted his cock, inches by inches, it was finally in.

With a small 'pop', he's fully inside you now. He groaned out, back arching as you started to ride him on the spot. You grinded down against him, purposely clenching around his cock just to tease him even a bit. He whined out, ears drooping as his hips bucked. His hand stayed on your waist, supporting you as he made sure he didn't miss the feeling of even a single sensation. You thrusted him in and out from you, feeling his cock twitch as you moaned out.

“Feel so fuckin' good..” he murmured out in pleasure.

And in a second, he flipped you over, making you lay on your back against the messy sheets. You gasped in amusement, before letting him do his own thing. Suddenly, he absolutely ruts into you with no mercy, panting as his tongue poked out of his mouth. He lets out little whimper and whines, feeling you clench around him when he fastened the pace.

“Fuuck.. I'm sorry baby, can't. fuckin'. hold. back. anymore.” he moaned out in between deep, long thrusts. He ruts into you, a feral wolf he is.

He chased his orgasm, as well as yours. Thrusting deeper and deeper, he felt himself getting closer— along with you clenching around him.

“Need to breed you, need to fucking cum in you, need us to cum together. Wanna breed you so fucking bad..” he slurred out, lost in the sensation of pleasure.

He picks up his pace by the second, before the both of you tipped over the edge. One last thrust, and you could feel his knot in you.

You whined out, feeling his knot dripping into your greedy cunt. You clenched around Soap's cock, before arching your back. Soap grunted out, panting heavily as his cum still drips out. In a few more moments, the both of you catched your breath. He slowly pulls out, earning a gasp from you.

“Bonnie.. did I hurt you?” He asked in concerned, before his eyes glances down to your core, his cum dripping out. His cock hardened once more, but he decided to let it be, as he didn't want to hurt you again. You shook your head, appearing to be fine before his fingers gently fucked the cum back into your cunt.

He prepared aftercare for you, grabbing a warm towel and tossing it to you and handing you a glass of warm water after he took a shower with you, tugging his boxers back up— the imprint of his still hard cock visible, but he ignores it. His tail wags, ears perking up as he crawled into your arms softly.

“Your touch devours me, baby, I am all yours.”