#Just had a heady weekend!

[aeolianblues]

What a strange weekend— the most ‘glammed’ up weekend my career’s had. Industry meet n greets, backstage passes, interviews in a shady back alley, commercial radio debut, drinks with bands, strangers saying they love you, afterparty invites, dancing with strangers, bands saying they love you—lots of people in general saying some very nice things about you! I don’t know how this all happened. What a weekend! And now in the aftermath, I am left to clean up 2h+ minutes worth of audio in three hours. Typical rock n roll ;)

[hemmingsleclerc]

Welcome Back ┃Sebastian Vettel

Pairing: sebastianvettel x wife!

summary: sebastian and his wife give a surprise visit to the drivers

The sun was setting over the prestigious circuit, casting a warm golden glow over the bustling F1 paddock. The air was filled with the heady aroma of fuel and excitement, as fans and teams prepared for the next race. Unbeknownst to the drivers, a surprise awaited them in the form of a familiar face.

Sebastian Vettel, four-time Formula 1 world champion, was near the paddock entrance with his wife Y/N. After a brief hiatus, they returned to the racing world, not as competitors, but as spectators and supporters. As they walked through the meadow, whispers of excitement and surprise followed them.

Sebastian and Y/N decided to visit the drivers, many of whom had considered Vettel as a role model and mentor throughout their careers, and Y/N as a second mother, having always been there for them since their beginnings. Their first stop was the Scuderia Ferrari garage, where Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz were engrossed in pre-race conversations with their engineers.

The moment they entered, the atmosphere changed. Leclerc and Sainz turned to see the iconic duo standing there with warm smiles. The garage buzzed with excitement as the younger drivers embraced Sebastian like a long-lost friend and Y/N, with her gentle lover, radiated warmth, making the meadow feel like a homecoming.

"It's amazing to have you both here," Charles exclaimed, his eyes shining with admiration. "We've missed having both around!"

Carlos nodded in agreement, "Yeah, it's like having our racing parents back. How's life outside the cockpit treating you?"

Sebastian chuckled, "It's different, but we're enjoying the change. And we couldn't resist coming back to witness the thrill of F1 and catch up with all of you."

The surprise visit continued as the couple toured the paddock. Each meeting was marked by genuine enthusiasm and candid conversations. Max Verstappen, who upon seeing them from afar, ran towards them and hugged them tightly, excited to tell them all of his achievements that he had managed to achieve thanks to their help and support. Lando Norris, who almost fainted from excitement when he saw them in front of him, grabbed them both by the arms and took them to the McLaren garage, eager to introduce them to his new partner, Oscar, and the other drivers enthusiastically shared stories of their trips in the mountains. races and asked the experienced couple for advice.

As Sebastian and Y/N approached Lewis Hamilton's Mercedes garage, the air was filled with anticipation. Hamilton, Y/N's old friend, rival and former teammate, greeted them both with a warm hug along with a big smile on his face.

"Seb, Y/N, it's been too long!" Hamilton exclaimed. "This paddock hasn't been the same without you. We need your wisdom and humor back in the game."

Sebastian grinned, "Well, we're here to bring some of that back, at least for today. But remember, you're doing just fine without us. Keep pushing, and the wins will come."

''It's good to see that I left the Mercedes seat in good hands, George has been fantastic in this new season!'' Y/N exclaimed with a touch of emotion and nostalgia when remembering the boy's first season.

The surprise visit of the Vettel's became the highlight of the racing weekend. The drivers, in the midst of their high-risk world, appreciated the moments with them and the peace of mind of knowing that even if they were no longer there every race weekend, they would always be with them. As the day of the race went on, the echoes of their visit persisted, inspiring the drivers to try harder, not only for victory, but also to make their grid parents proud, who watched them grow up, gave them advices, helped them get up when people started to turn their backs on them, who told them to never give up their dream, and who had given them a new meaning of ''family''.

[maysileeewrites]

Don’t Want You Like A Best Friend

17+ content; mdni!

Part I | series masterlist | my Coryo masterlist

summary: You and Coriolanus have been best friends ever since you can remember. You've always thought of him as the protective older brother you’ve never had, but lately, your feelings towards him have changed - not quite so pure and innocent anymore ...

chapter tags/warnings: some best friends to lovers angst and emotional confusion, lots of fluff, slightly ooc Coryo (don't worry, the possessive jealousy borderline crazy obsessive behavior will come in later parts!), a lil smutty treat at the end of the chapter

word count: 5,7k (it’s worth it, I promise!!)

You and Coriolanus have been best friends ever since you can remember. 

You’ve grown up together, experienced everything together, with your family living just across the street from Coroy’s family’s apartment. 

You’ve been there for each other during the dark days of the war, when both his parents and your father died. You’ve attended the academy together for years. 

You’re planning on going to University together as well, though that is still in the future, seeing as it will be a few more months until you’ll both finally graduate the academy. 

Really, Coriolanus is such a constant, important aspect in your life, you can’t imagine life without him. 

He’s always there for you - whether it be to laugh over a silly joke one of you two made or to hug and console you after a bad day or to look out for you and protect you. 

You’re inseparable, really, spending almost every moment together. 

Before, you’ve always thought of him as the protective older brother you’ve never had, but lately, your feelings towards him have changed - they’re not quite so pure and innocent anymore.

Lately, you’ve caught yourself staring at Coriolanus more and more often, gaze lingering on his bright blue eyes, his mischievous smirk, his blond curls or his toned, muscled arms or chest. 

When he hugs you, you can’t help but notice how good it feels to be pressed against his toned chest, feeling his heartbeat against your skin. 

When he reaches out a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face, you have to fight the urge to close your eyes and lean into his warm, comforting touch. 

When he reaches out to draw you closer, his hand settling possessively on your waist, the first thought in your head is that this - this feels right. You and Coryo together, as close as possible. 

And you can’t help but want, no, crave, more of it. 

More of Coryo, more of you two together, more of that dizzying, heady feeling you get whenever he touches you that sends your thoughts spiraling and makes your heartbeat go haywire. 

You’ve started to crave his touch more and more, always trying to come up with ways to inconspicuously touch him - letting your hand brush against his, laying a hand on his arm to steady yourself or reaching out a hand to brush a stray curl from his forehead. 

You feel yourself starting to get addicted to him more and more - and you have no idea how to stop it. 

Though, if you’re honest with yourself- you don’t want to stop it. 

You want to get lost in this snow storm of feelings. 

“Let’s go through this one more time”, Coryo says from his place at your desk, prompting a sigh from you. 

“Coryo”, you say, whining, “we’ve been going through this this whole afternoon. I think you’ve got it. Besides, the test is not until next Monday, you’ve got the whole weekend to continue studying - not that you need it.” 

“You know that I can’t afford to get anything other than an A on this test, right?”, Coryo replies, sighing. 

“And you know that you’ll get an A, even without studying, Coryo”, you reply, finally sitting up from your sprawled-out position on your bed. 

You can see Coryo shaking his head, about to say something else, so you hastily add: “Please, Coryo. I know how much you worry about your grades - I get it, I really do. But, you’ve slowly been driving me insane this afternoon, I can’t go through this stuff yet again, at least not right now.” 

When Coryo doesn’t reply immediately, you nervously bite down on your lower lip. You didn’t want to sound so mean, but the truth is that he has been driving you crazy this afternoon. You’ve already gone through all your notes of ancient history three times and you really don’t want to go all through 18 pages - front and back, in Coryo’s small, neat handwriting no less - of notes yet again. 

Coryo sighs frustratedly. 

You look up, only to find his intense gaze fixed on you, his blue eyes boring into yours. “I’m sorry, you’re right”, he says, sighing again and running a hand through his blond curls. “Maybe I just need to take a break-“ 

“That sounds wonderful”, you say, cutting him off before he has the chance to add a but to his suggestion. 

You get up from your bed, walking over to your desk and grab both of Coryo’s hands, trying to get him to get up, but Coryo doesn’t cooperate, becoming a dead weight to you. 

“Coryo, come on”, you plead, huffing a sigh of frustration, when he still makes no move to get up. 

You take another step closer to him, putting even more strength into the motion of your arms - just when Coryo smirks up at you, before tugging hard on your hands, causing you to stumble forward; right into his lap. 

“Asshole!”, you exclaim, pushing against his chest with your hands, but Coryo doesn’t budge. 

He just looks up at you with a triumphant smirk, a daring expression in his blue eyes. Daring you to do what exactly, you’re not quite sure. You just know that you’re trapped in his gaze, unable to do anything but look at him and get lost in his blue, blue eyes. 

And - this isn’t the first time that something like this has happened lately. In fact, lately you’ve found Coryo’s eyes lingering on you more and more often, his intense gaze seemingly burning you. 

And it should frighten you, how much you’ve come to crave the feeling of his eyes on you. And it does, but there’s something else there as well - a yearning for his attention that hasn’t been there before. 

The soft sound of Coryo chuckling at your scowling expression draws you out of your thoughts. 

“Need some help?”, he asks you, smirking. 

You huff a sigh of frustration, trying to push against his chest again - at the same time that Coryo tugs on your arms again, causing you to shift even more forward in his lap, until you’re pressed flush against his strong, muscular chest. 

Flustered, you feel your cheeks warming, your heartbeat quickening. Coryo is so, so close to you, you can feel his breath on your skin, his heartbeat under your hands. 

And - well, you’re sitting right in his lap, and once you’ve worked through your initial confusion at his sudden closeness, you can feel something else as well. Something hard pressed against your stomach- 

Coryo clears his throat then, gently pushing you away. You stumble, disoriented from the sudden motion, but then Coryo’s hand is there on your waist, steadying you. 

He leans in even closer towards you, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He smiles softly, as if nothing has just happened. “You were saying something about taking a break?” 

You swallow, trying to calm your still erratic heartbeat and forcing a smile onto your face. “Sure. How about a snack and some hot chocolate?” 

“Finally satisfied with all the torture you’ve put me through today?”, you say, yawning, when you see Coriolanus finally closing his folder - you feel like you’ve been studying for ages and you never want to see his ancient history notes ever again. 

He laughs softly, the sound reverberating against your back. You don’t quite know how you’ve ended up in this position - both of you on your bed, Coryo sitting behind you, you sitting between his legs, your head leaning against his chest. 

It shouldn’t feel so good, being this close to him, especially after that incident earlier this afternoon- that still has your mind reeling and your cheeks heating up whenever you think about it -, but it does. 

In fact, now that you’ve got a taste of it, you don’t ever want it to stop. 

You bite down hard on your lip, trying - and failing - to stop this dangerous line of thinking. Because allowing yourself to let your thoughts spiral like this, allowing yourself to feel this nervous, heated energy that’s coursing through your veins, instead of suppressing it, like you’ve done until now - is dangerous. 

It will only lead you down a road of heartbreak. Yet you can’t seem to find it in you to hit the brakes and stop. 

„Torture?“, Coryo now says, drawing you out of your thoughts. „You seem to be in an awfully good mood for suffering through a whole afternoon of torture.“

You can’t help but smile at his words, though you’re glad that Coryo isn’t able to see it - he’d just call you out and tease you for smiling like an idiot to yourself. 

„Yes, well, going through eighteen pages of notes - front and back - four times is torture-“, your words are cut off by a surprised, startled yelp, when suddenly, Coryo starts tickling you. 

„No - Coryo, please!“, you manage to get out, but he’s unrelenting, only tickling you harder despite your protests. 

Both his hands are wrapped around your waist and your back is pressed flush against his broad chest. And even though you’re still giggling, trying to fight him off, you can also feel that nervous, heady feeling that sends your thoughts and heartbeat haywire again. 

You give up trying to fight him off, then, which Coryo immediately notices. He laughs softly, before finally ending his tickling attack and resting his head on the crook of your neck. „Enough torture for today?“, he asks and you can hear the smirk in his voice. 

You try to turn around to face him then, but both his hands are still on your waist, trapping you in place. „You’re a jerk, you know that, right?“, you say, though your voice doesn’t sound quite as steady and dry as you’d intended it to. 

Coriolanus just laughs, the sensation of his warm breath ghosting over your skin causing you to shiver involuntarily. „You’ve never complained before.“ 

You huff, rolling your eyes. „Well, you’ve never bothered to acknowledge it.“ 

„Mhm, that’s probably for the best …“ 

You roll your eyes again - his answer is just so typically Coryo. 

„What, no witty retort?“, Coriolanus asks, but you only shake your head, yawning.

„We both know that you can be quite the jerk, ’s nothing new … besides, it’s late …“, you mumble, trying to suppress another yawn and leaning back against his chest again. It is late - already way past eleven, the street outside your window already dark, safe for the streetlights. 

You close your eyes, wishing that you could just stay like this, wrapped in Coryo’s comforting embrace, if only for a short moment longer.

„You’re right, it’s late“, Coriolanus now says. „I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have held you up so long, I should get going …“ 

„Or you could stay.“ 

The words are out of your mouth before you’ve thought them through and you can feel yourself flushing again. Now, you’re really glad that you’re still facing away from Coriolanus - you feel like you’d die from embarrassment if he could see your face going beet-red. 

„I could …“, he says, his voice uncertain. 

„Yes … you, uh, could …“, you say, feeling your cheeks heat up. You’re glad that Coriolanus isn’t able to see it - really, you’re just glad that he hasn’t noticed how weird you’ve been acting around him lately, your heartbeat picking up, your cheeks flushing, your hands getting sweaty when being around him; sometimes just from a single touch or a lingering look from Coryo. 

It’s not like you’ve never done this before, like this has never happened before. This wouldn’t be the first time that Coriolanus sleeps over at your place. In fact, he used to do so a lot when you were younger, right after his parents died and he was plagued with nightmares. It stopped happening as often when you both got older, and now, it hasn’t happened in years. 

And somehow him sleeping over at your place now seems to be something totally different than him sleeping over at your place when you were both little kids. 

You’re not little kids anymore - you’ve changed. You both have. Your friendship has changed, evolved as well. 

Coriolanus is still your best friend, the one person you wouldn’t want to live without; but somehow, he’s not just that. He means something more to you as well, something else, something much less innocent than friendship-

„Yes, I could - I mean, only if that’s alright with you and your mother-“

„Sure“, you interrupt him, your voice sounding incredibly high and nervous. Fuck, you think, running a hand through your hair, and trying to calm your erratic heartbeat. „I mean, it’s no big deal …“ 

Lie. 

It is a big deal, but it’s probably for the best that Coriolanus doesn’t know that the thought of falling asleep right next to him excites you way more than it probably should. 

Coriolanus laughs softly. „Great … Should we get ready for bed then? It’s quite late and you always take ages getting ready for bed-“

„Just admit that you need your beauty sleep“, you interrupt him, teasing him back. You don’t need to turn around to know that he’s rolling his eyes at your remark. 

„Exactly“, he says, dryly, before gently losing his embrace and getting up. 

You follow him to the bathroom, your mind still spiraling. Just minutes earlier, you were complaining about going through Coryo’s ancient history notes four times; now, you’re following your best friend to the bathroom that’s connected to your room, to get ready for bed - with your best friend who’s sleeping over. 

In your bathroom, you hand Coriolanus a spare toothbrush, a comb and a towel, trying to ignore the tingly feeling in your fingertips when your hands brush against his. But then, he draws you closer with one hand, his hand resting on your waist for just a moment too long and you’re blushing again, the thought that you shouldn’t feel so excited and nervous about your best friend sleeping over already forgotten again. 

It takes you quite some time to get ready for bed. Not, as Coriolanus keeps insisting, because of your way too long and time consuming evening routine; but because of him distracting you with his lingering touches and stolen glances - messing your hair up again right after you’ve combed through it; catching your gaze in the mirror over the sink again and again while you’re brushing your teeth; drawing you closer just when you’re about to reach for your night cream. 

It’s way past midnight when you’re finally laying down in bed - right next to Coriolanus, who turns to look at you with a soft smile on his face after you’ve reached for the bedsheets, drawing them over you both. 

He scoots closer to you, before wrapping an arm around your waist, bringing you even closer to him, your back flush against his chest - the gesture so casual and natural, as if it doesn’t make your heartbeat go haywire. 

„Good night“, he whispers, before resting his head on the crook of your neck. 

Your heart skips a beat then. 

„Good- good night, Coryo“, you manage to get out, your voice wobbly. 

You close your eyes, though you already know that actually falling asleep will be almost impossible - how are you supposed to just fall asleep with Coriolanus right there, your back pressed against his chest, his hand on your waist, his head resting on the crook of your neck? 

No - you probably won’t even catch a single second of sleep this night. 

But somehow, that doesn’t sound too bad. (Not when you get to spend the night like this, with your best friend wrapped around you.) 

The next morning, you’re the first one awake. 

Coriolanus is still soundly asleep, his even breath ghosting over your skin, causing you to shiver. You’re in almost the same position as you were when you fell asleep, with Coriolanus’s hand on your stomach, his head resting on your shoulder. 

You were right, you think, yawning, you didn’t get much sleep. It took you ages to fall asleep, your mind still reeling from Coriolanus’s overwhelming closeness. You must have fallen asleep at some point though, because you distinctly remember waking from Coriolanus tightening his hold on you and muttering some unintelligible. 

You yawn again, carefully turning around to face Coriolanus. 

He’s still asleep. 

You can’t help but let your gaze linger on him, study his face - as if you haven’t already memorized every single one of his features. He looks so calm and peaceful when he sleeps, his expression soft and open. 

Without thinking, you reach up with one hand and brush a stray blond curl from his forehead. The motion seems to wake Coriolanus though, because his eyes flutter open, and then he’s looking at you - his blue gaze still a bit disoriented, but you feel caught up in his gaze nonetheless. 

„Hey“, he says, his voice still a bit sleepy, „sleep well?“ 

You quickly withdraw your hand, forcing a smile onto your face. „Well, could’ve been better if you hadn’t snored so loudly“, you say, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Coriolanus just scoffs. „I do not snore“, he says, indignant. 

No, you think, but you still kept me awake all night long, just by having your hand splayed across my stomach, your head resting on my shoulder. 

Still, you force yourself to shrug. „Easy for you to say.“ 

Coriolanus just scoffs again. But even though he’s annoyed by your comment, shooting you another indignant look, you can’t help but think that you want to spend every single morning just like this. 

You want to wake up right next to Coriolanus every morning - something you shouldn’t even be thinking about, but something that you still desperately crave nonetheless.  

It becomes a habit, then - Coryo sleeping over at your place.

At first, he only does it after one of your study sessions, once or twice a week. But then, it starts happening more and more often - him sleeping over after a movie night (considering that it took you a lot of convincing to get him to finally agree to a movie night, he seems to be enjoying himself quite a lot, cuddling up to you on your living room couch, resting his head on the crook of your neck, sending your heartbeat haywire) or after an evening of cooking together or after a long evening spent together at the Academy’s library, finishing an assignment for Professor Sickle.

At first, you don’t really think anything of it. 

But then, one Sunday morning you’re going through your clothes (for once, Coryo didn’t sleep over at your place, because he and Tigris promised the Grandm’am an early breakfast before helping her out with her roses) and suddenly,  you realize that there’s a whole stack of Coryo’s clothes in your closet. Dress shirts, plain shirts, pants, even one of his favorite shirts - it’s all here, in your closet. 

Without allowing yourself to think too much about it, you grab a simple long-sleeved grey shirt from the stack with Coryo’s clothes and put it on. (It’s oversized, the sleeves way too long, but you don’t care, the shirt is so soft and comfortable. And besides - it still smells like Coryo, like roses and powder and something else, something that’s entirely him.) 

After throwing on some simple, comfortable pants as well, you walk over to your bathroom - and startle when you see the box with Coryo’s things on one side of the big, marble sink. A toothbrush, a comb, even a small tube of Tigris’s face cream that he secretly uses - you’re the only one who knows and he’d made you swear not to tell a single living soul that fact. 

You smile at the memory, absentmindedly running a hand through your hair and letting your eyes wander through the bathroom. 

But everywhere you look, you see Coriolanus. Everything seems to somehow remind you of him. 

That towel on the sink, which is lying neatly folded right next to the box with Coryo’s stuff. It’s one of your own towels, nothing special in your opinion - you’ve got lot of other towels and really, a towel is just a towel - but Coryo insists that it’s softer than your other towels and feels better on his skin. 

That old butterfly-shaped hairpin of yours, lying abandoned on the windowsill. You only have to look at it to be taken back to Thursday night when you were getting ready for bed, brushing your hair in front of the great mirror over the sink, when suddenly Coryo walked into your bathroom, your old hairpin in hand. 

„That’s the hairpin you got for your tenth birthday, isn’t it?“, he asked, smiling to himself. 

You nodded. „Yes, I thought about giving it away, maybe gifting it to my little cousin, because I don’t really think that it suits me anymore.“ 

Coryo’s smile seemed to freeze at your words. „Really? I still think it looks great, look“, he said, drawing you closer with one hand whilst reaching up with his other hand to place to pin in your hair. 

„See?“, he said, smiling. 

You laughed, shaking your head. „I mean, yes, it’s beautiful, but I’m not ten anymore, Coryo.“ 

You wanted to put the hairpin away, but Coriolanus insisted on you keeping it just a little longer - maybe you’d change your mind about it. 

You reach for that hairpin now, absentmindedly running your fingers over it. Coriolanus is right, the pin is beautiful, even though it looks a bit worn down after years of usage. 

You decide to keep the pin, then. Not because you think that you’ll wear it again, but as another reminder of Coryo. 

It is in this moment that you realize that your feelings towards your best friend have changed - you no longer view him as just your best friend. 

You no longer want him like a best friend. 

You don’t want to be just his best friend anymore - you want so much more than that. You want - no need - his attention, want his lingering eyes on you, want his warm, comforting touch before falling asleep, want to wake up next to him, want to feel his lips on yours. 

You tighten your grip on the hairpin, until you feel it starting to dig uncomfortably in your skin, but the pain still can’t distract you from your thoughts and the heavy, crushing feeling in your chest. 

Because no matter how much you might want to be more than Coryo’s best friend - to him, you’ll never be anything else. He’ll never see you as anything other than his best friend. 

It somehow becomes both easier and harder to be around Coryo after your realization. 

Easier, because it means that you still get to be around him, get to talk with him, fall asleep with him at your side, ly next to on your bed while he’s motivating you to study. 

Harder, because it means that you still get to be around him - all the time. Looking at him, laughing with him, touching him; fantasizing about him in ways that you definitely shouldn’t think about your best friend. 

His presence is almost like a drug to you; addicting and intoxicating, leaving you craving more of it, even though you know that it’s not good for you - in the end it’ll be your heart that’ll be broken. 

„Something on your mind?“, Coryo’s soft voice draws you out of your thoughts, his hand absentmindedly drawing circles on your back. 

It’s already late evening and you’re lying together in your bed - you wearing one of his shirts, which he noticed with a satisfied smirk earlier, over your nightdress. 

You shake your head, thankful that Coriolanus can’t see your face, seeing as he’s spooning you from behind. „Not really, no … just all these papers we’ll have to hand in during the next two weeks …“ 

„Well, if it’s nothing else …“, Coriolanus says, laughing softly, his warm breath tickling against your skin, but something tells you that he doesn’t quite believe your words. 

„Nope“, you say, trying to sound nonchalant, before freeing yourself from Coriolanus’s grip, taking off his shirt, so that you’re left in only your lacy, red nightdress. 

The distraction works - Coriolanus’s swallows, the expression in his eyes darkening. „Won’t you - uhm, freeze? If you’re only sleeping in that, I mean, it doesn’t look very warm …“, he stutters - actually stutters. 

„Freeze?“, you ask, grinning, „with you right next to me?“ 

Coriolanus just scoffs, rolling his eyes. It’s a discussion you’ve had quite often these last few weeks - with you convinced that his body temperature is too high, and him convinced that yours is running too low. 

Though maybe Coryo does have a point and you always feeling so hot when you’re being embraced by him has more to do with your heartbeat quickening and your palms turning sweaty from being so near to him and less with his body temperature. 

Suddenly, Coriolanus sits up, leaning in towards you, before closing both his arms around you, caging you in his embrace. Both of his hands are splayed possessively over your stomach, though one feels dangerously close to your chest. 

Though - maybe that is just your imagination running wild with you again.  

„Warm enough for you?“, Coriolanus asks, resting his head on the crook of your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. 

You laugh, trying not to squirm - you’re insanely ticklish, something Coriolanus very much know. „Yes, Coryo, more than enough …“ 

„Hm …“, he laughs softly. „Can’t have you freezing now, can I?“, he adds, reaching for your blanket and draping it around you both. 

„Hm ...“, you hum, closing your eyes and leaning your head back against his chest. You feel so warm and content, being so close to Coryo. It’s so easy to get lost in your imagination like that, to pretend that you can actually have this with him, to pretend that this is not just your best friend messing around with you - to pretend that he feels the same way you do. 

You stay like that for a moment - Coryo holding you in his arms, bodies pressed flush together. 

Then, after a while - you can’t tell whether it’s been only a few minutes or a few hours; time always seems to either stop or pass you by in a blur whenever you’re with Coriolanus - he clears his throat, breaking his embrace. 

„It’s late, we should probably try to get some sleep …“, he says, trying to suppress a yawn. 

You nod, forcing a smile onto your face. „Sure … can’t have your mind in a foggy, exhausted state when you want to make a good impression in Sickle’s class tomorrow morning …“ 

Coriolanus scoffs, laying down on your bed. 

The moment you’ve lain down as well, he scoots closer to you, enclosing you in his arms. Something he does every night when he sleeps over, though your heart still skips a beat at the action. 

This is dangerous, you think. You can’t keep thinking about your best friend like that, can’t keep falling and falling for him- 

„Good night“, Coriolanus says - and then he does something he’s never done before: he leans in closer towards you, pressing a gentle, soft kiss to your hairline. 

Your heartbeat quickens and you can only hope that Coryo won’t be able to pick up on it. 

„Good - good night, Coryo“, you say, your voice shaky, barely being able to get the words out. 

Coriolanus laughs, before resting his head on the crook of your neck again. 

You swallow, trying not to shiver. 

This night, it takes you a long time to fall asleep. 

When you wake up, Coriolanus has wrapped himself around you, caging you in between his arms, one of his hands splayed possessively across your stomach, his other hand dangerously close to the hem of your admittedly quite short night dress. (You may have decided on deliberately wearing this particular lacy red night dress, seeing as it has made Coriolanus look at you with a dark expression in his eyes when he’d seen you wearing it once before.)

His strong, muscled chest is pressed flush against your back - though that’s not the only thing pressed against your back. 

You feel your cheeks heat up when you realize what this means. This has only happened two times before, and both times Coriolanus was quick to embarresedly scoot away from you when he woke up, realizing that his erection had been pressed against your back. 

Now, though, Coriolanus seems to be asleep and in no hurry to move away from you. In fact, he suddenly makes a low muffled noise, his grip on you tightening, his hand at the hem of your night dress moving up even higher until you can feel his fingertips brush over the soft skin of your inner thighs. 

You can’t help the surprised noise that escapes you then - even though all of this should feel so wrong; it doesn’t. 

It doesn’t feel wrong at all. In fact, you want - no, crave even more of this, of you and Coryo pressed so closely together that not even a single leaf could fit between you, Coriolanus’s hands on you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when Coriolanus suddenly says your name, his lips brushing against your skin, causing you to shiver. 

„Cory?“, you ask, trying to turn around, but his grip on you is too tight, keeping you in place. 

Then - your name falling from his lips again, followed by a loud, coarse moan. 

„Yes, right there - fuck, so good, so good“, Coriolanus moans, one hand suddenly finding its way under the skirt of your night dress, his fingers moving up higher and higher on your thighs, coming dangerously close to the hem of your panties-

„Fuck!“ Another loud moan, followed by Coriolanus’s hips moving against yours, his erection pressing against you. 

Oh, you think, cheeks impossibly warm, biting down hard on your lip to keep yourself from making any sound. 

Besides your imagination running wild these last few weeks, one dirty fantasy of you and your best friend chasing the other, this has never happened to you. You thought that it never would happen to you - at least not with Coryo. 

Though he’s only caught up in a dream of his own, you try to remind yourself, when his hips move against yours again. 

It’s only a dream. But why is it your name that he’s moaning then, not any other? But maybe it’s just a coincide-

Every single thought is wiped from your head, when Coriolanus’s fingers brush over your panties, teasing your clit though the thin fabric. 

You can’t help the moan that escapes you then - not when this feels so good, Coriolanus’s fingers teasing over your clit, his hips moving against yours, his lips pressed to the skin of your neck, his other hand still splayed across your stomach. 

Coriolanus moans your name again then, his fingers cupping your cunt through the thin fabric of your panties, and you find yourself moving your hips against his, driven by pure instinct. 

The low, coarse groan that escapes Coriolanus then has you wanting to squeeze your thighs together, but his fingers are still there, still teasing over your clit. 

Suddenly, his fingers start to move, drawing teasing circles over your clit, and it’s all too much for you. Overwhelmed by all the different emotions coursing through you, you tear yourself away from his grip, getting up on shaky feet and walking over to the bathroom that’s connected to your bedroom. 

Your head is still spinning when you find yourself leaning against the cold, marble walls of the bathroom, your core still aching, yearning for Coriolanus’s touch. 

You shiver, even though you feel too hot, your skin feeling like it’s been set on fire. Coriolanus touched you. Your best friend’s fingers were almost inside you and- 

Fuck. 

Fuck, you’ll never able to look your best friend in the eyes again, even though all you want is to be as close to him as you were moments ago. 

Acting on pure instinct, you shimmy out of your nightdress, letting it fall to the floor, before stepping inside the shower. Maybe a good, cold shower, will help, you think, turning on the shower. 

You step back, letting the cold water hit your body. But even though the cold water feels like needles prickling against your skin, you still feel as if your entire body was set on fire, your core still aching and empty. 

Almost on their own accord, your fingers find their way to your clit. You bite down hard on your lip, trying to blink back the tears in your eyes that are suddenly threatening to spill. 

Still, you can’t help the low moan that escapes you when your fingers find their way between your folds. 

You close your eyes, letting your head fall back - letting pure instinct take over, as you fuck yourself on your fingers, wishing that it were Coryo’s fingers filling you up instead. 

When you come, it’s with a desperate, breathless cry and images of Coriolanus pressed against you playing over and over again in your mind.

What you don’t know, though, is that Coriolanus has been awake all this time - every single touch was a deliberate, strategic move on his part and you’d reacted even better than he could have imagined. He followed you to the bathroom when you got up from bed, and now he’s watching you come undone from his position behind the door that you forgot to properly lock in your haste.

He feels like he’s going crazy, crawling out of his skin as he watches you screw your eyes shut, throwing your head back. Your breathless whimpers and moans are all that he can hear, echoing through his mind. 

Wracked with shame, guilt and desire coursing through him, he shoves one hand into his pants, his eyes still fixated on you. 

It only takes a few strokes over his already achingly hard length until he comes undone as well. 

And when he unravels, it is with your breathless moans echoing through his mind, his eyes on you, and your name like a bittersweet, deadly poison that he just can’t get enough of on his lips. 

sooo ...? please, please lmk what you think, I'm so excited to hear your thoughts!

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@asapkyndall @slitsphilia @ravenclawprincess33 @mckennah123 @serving-targaryen-realness @mentallyyy-unstable @mizuki80 @snows-wife @prettyinsatiable @ashcosmo @generally-awqward @snowflxke @nallasstuff @ajs-222 @spiritofbuddha @notyourwildestdream @earthangel-111 @bhdem @toogardenheart @iheartinkonpaper @daisiesformylove @ebsmind @dominqueeekk @cherrybomb8484 @dangelnleif @minmin1328 @scarletttargaryen

tumblr won’t let me tag some of you guys, please check your settings (settings —> general —> mentions —> anyone) whether anyone can tag you in posts! :)

comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

[skelly-words]

Hey! If cool I was wondering if you could write tentacle smut. I’m not too sure on the plot but wanted reader to be very much in some sort of public setting with loads of people just watching as she gets railed by a tentacle. The kinks I wanted to ask if they could be in there is Voyourism (public sex), public nudity, squirting and/ watersports and overstimulation.

If not that is totally okay! I just wanted to ask :) and am exited to see what you come up with if your comfortable with writing this

okay cool so....

Not proofread, tags in the ask + spit a lil bit, ass eating, idk futa shenanigans, ahhhh milk (i kinda scared myself w/ this at the end)

My brain immediately went to big networking conventions that businesses have where the important people from the different corporate branches come together to drink, schmooze, and brag about sales numbers to each other.

Your boss asks you to come with her to help with the demonstration. The travel expenses and hotel costs are all covered, so you agree to spend the weekend on Wall Street with her.

I hate this, but there's the slightest bit of lore, so i ECOURAGE you to read the other parts first -> masterlist

MINORS DNI, stay away 18+ only

The presentation room of the hotel caters to corporate mixers like this. Circular dinner tables decorated with charcuterie fill out the hall. Your knee bounces nervously as people begin to file in. Saturday had been boring, spent bumming around the all-inclusive spa while your boss attended other company presentations not too dissimilar from this one.

"Relax." Your boss whispers. She sits in the squeaky folding chair beside you. Her hand lands comfortably on your thigh, stilling your knee with her warm touch. "All you have to do is bend over the podium."

You nod and try to emulate her flippant attitude. The bounce returns to your knee anyway because nerves are impossible to hide. The minutes slip by as people settle into their seats. The dimming lights act as a cue to hush the small talk and side conversations.

“Ready?” She gives your thigh a heady squeeze.

“Yea, ‘m ready,” you mumble.

Her gait is steady and comfortable up to the front of the room, and you trail behind in the shelter of her shadow. You smiled unsteadily at the sea of unfamiliar faces. Your boss tapped her knuckles on the podium, clearing her throat to get the rooms attention.

“Thank you all for coming,” she begins. “My branch is testing a few new methods of increasing productivity today. It’s all based on the same principle, ‘a happy mind is profitable one.’

“Of course, we’ll begin with the demonstration, just to prove how much it’ll help you focus on the rest of the presentation.”

An interested hum sweeps through the crowd as she leads you around the front of the podium. You aren’t wearing panties, only a skirt, which immediately becomes apparent as she lifts your waist up to the podium. The sturdy wooden surface slopes slightly up toward the room, propped up for dozens of eyes ogle your bare skin.

The position makes blood rush to your head, almost dizzy from the heavy heartbeat in your ears. Your skin feels hot and sensitive. The skirt tickles, sliding down the gentle slope of your back. You wonder if they can see how wet you are, cunt aching from all the attention.

The speech sounds so far away, like all your senses are dulling to make way for the electricity running beneath your skin. From the corner of your eye, you see a couple workers wheel three tanks up to the front of the podium.

The terrariums are large and damp, too fogged up from humidity to see anything through the glass. They're pushed into a neat line, starting at your side and progressing to the front of the stage in single file. The tank closest to you is the smallest. It's the only one you can properly look into because the creatures have suctioned themselves to the wet panes. Their round bodies flatten into mounds on the glass, little mouths busily opening and closing. You watch them, mindlessly observing them inch in little circles, around and round, maybe spirals if you spent enough time staring. You shiver, imagining the pattern it could suck into your skin. From your position now, you wonder if you look anything like that mouth on the glass to that polite crowd of people.

You feel a warm hand skim over your ass, inviting your neatly pleated skirt to drape over your back completely. The gauzy brown fabric went well with your blouse, and you remember packing it for this conference a week in advance. It feels silly now, to think what you're wearing matters when it's really the demonstration that's important.

The first tank slides open with a squeak, and your boss pulls a writhing blue tentacle out with a cloud of steam following it. You can barely see what's happening in your peripheral vision and only when you turn your head to the side. She wastes no time at all, taking the companies limited resources into account, the conference room was only reserved for an hour. Her other hand traces up and down your back, nails first, to scratch gently through the layers of fabric.

"You're doing great, hun." She whispers the reassurance into your ear, low and husky so only you can hear it. In one motion, she presses the end of the tentacle into your butt. It's bigger than what you had at home, which is what you prepped for. Her hand flattens to soothing circles when the pain comes through in your groans. You quiet to a whimper as the thing flails, twisting to orient itself inside you. It still hurt, but you were adjusting quickly to the pressure in your ass as it slithers down to find your pussy.

Now, no matter how you turn, you can't see what's going on. The suckers drag against you, that much is easy to discern from the sense of touch. The rest of your senses besides that have gone totally useless, so you watch the hypnotic pattern that the specimens in the last tank trace in the condensation.

The blue tentacle pushes into you. It's fat, thick and showy so the people in the back can see. Your eyes might be crossing from the way it slowly stretches you out. A shiny blue slime drips from every pore, sucker, and gland on the thing, making you squish obscenely from every movement. In. Out. In. Out. And your boss is still talking, you can even see the slides she flicks through when your eyes roll back, but it all sounds like white noise as the monstrous size shoves into your cunt, slipping out to momentarily attach an oozing sucker to your clit. Then it squirms right back into your hole, so slick that it runs down the inside of your thighs.

It's hopeless to imagine paying attention to anything else.

"But that's when we ran into the issue of hygiene. Clearly, this doesn't fit corporate dress-code."

That cuts through your thoughts, followed by light chuckles. The second tank slides open with a thunk, and you don't have to crane as much to see the pink tentacle calmy wrap around her arm.

"Oh, f-fuck," you finally make a sound audible over the disgusting squelch of that blue monster. She's trying to press the thick bulb at the end of the pink one into you, leaning real close, almost cheek to cheek as she forces it further past your rim. A glob of spit falls from her lips, you groan as she smears it around with her tongue.

"Just relax for me." And you're not even sure she's talking to you in that raspy tone. The hand on your back has inched lower to keep you pinned in place, and it's making you sore from how the podium’s edge digs into your hips.

Your sounds fall freely now, turning to whines as she licks you to ease the stretch. The hand on your back lightens up as the fat plug slides into place alongside the blue one. An affectionate smack lands on your ass, rubbing her warm palm over the spot as she watches the pink tentacle unfurl and flatten.

You can't see it, only whine as the weight shifts and adjusts inside you. The blue tentacle stops moving as if to behave and play nice with a friend. The gummy feelers attach as the pink tentacle latches on. It cups your swollen pussy, cleaning up the appearance quite nicely to the audience's disappointment. But your moans grow louder, echoing to let you know the sound made it to the back of the room. The little fingerlings lining the pink tentacles interior are so active. They pinch at your clit, making it slip between the soft jelly limbs while the others started playing with the rest of you.

"...And when properly stimulated, this specimen can be prompted to release its reproductive material on command." That faint comment reminds you of the eggs.

Your gasp is mixed between startled and concerned when her hand begins to brush the tentacle wrapped around your crotch. Being stuffed with the twitching blue tentacle makes you wonder where all the slimy eggs will go.

At her light brushes, the tendrils start to pull you apart. They slip inside you, just barely, enough to make your legs start to shake. You can feel them start to pour in as her thumb pushes down, squeezing out the soft spawn like horrific toothpaste as she slides the digit up from the base.

The blue tentacle comes back to life now, helping push the pink jelly into your poor pussy. You can feel the tiny limbs scoop and blue suckers fuck the eggs up against your sore cervix. And still, nobody can see. Your boss stands over you. Her hand trails between your thighs, tapping in the drying slick that's become tacky. She tugs at the tip of the tentacle, pinching firmly at the pink appendage and peeling it back.

Not all the eggs made it inside, rolling down your thighs as the mess is exposed. She's slow with her reveal, trailing her fingers through the juices to try the combination. You've gotten quieter, trying to keep your whimpers silent now that it's easier to hear. She starts to pull at the plug, and you have to bite your lip to keep it down. It doesn't wanna come out of your ass, still pulsing from so recently releasing eggs. Still, she tugs, making you squirm and clench your cunt. You've been on the edge for so long, and feeling the stretch to your rim makes your thighs squeeze together. They can barely shut to rub around your throbbing clit.

"I might as well introduce the last one then." She gives up on freeing the pink tentacle with a frustrated sigh and finally steps behind the podium to reach the tank in your eyeline. "They fit perfectly under your bra, so we'll both be demonstrating."

Your eyes follow her hand, from the lid, to inside the tank, to the buttons on her shirt. You strain to look up at her because she's standing so close, watching with jealousy as that thing sucks on her nipple. Her breasts look bigger too, spilling from her bra when she tries to squish them back into her shirt. A glance back down makes you blush. A bulge starts to bubble from her pencil skirt. It wouldn't be very noticeable if it wasn't a few inches from your nose.

"My turn?" You look up at her from between watery lashes, bending to smiling crescents when she nods. She lifts your chest just enough from the podium to let the green lump latch onto you. It doesn't seem to mind being squashed against the wood when she lowers you back down. They feel good, sucking at your breasts in a perfectly alternating rhythm. You start to feel weird, hotter as your tits get sore. The mouths pinch a little, not enough to hurt, barely more than a warning bite. You groan, the throbbing in your ruined pussy is getting worse. It makes you imagine what your boss is feeling. The pre dripping into her underwear. You probably could take her cock too if she asked you. She's still giving a presentation, talking through a slide as the buttons on her dress shirt strain. Her hand slips back to your butt, where it was yanking the bigger plug out of you.

She braces the opposite hand on your asscheek, rocking the pink tentacle back and forth to coax it out. You can barely hold sound back, dissolving into pitchy breaths when the fat blue fucker decides to start up again. It starts slow, but that pace doesn't last. After packing you with eggs, it's eager to let its cum out. Every loud thrust makes the eggs probe deeper. You can feel it in your tummy, pressed flat to the uncomfortably hard podium.

Your sensitive nipples pulse in time with the relentless suckers. You can't even care to be surprised as they spurt milk, moaning instead from the toy twisting in your ass.

The pink tentacle finally slips out of you, put back in its tank where it belongs. But you're sore, hole left gaping for the blue one to fill in as it swells. It gets bigger in your pussy too, larger with each beat. Even as she talks, her fingers can't stop playing with you, either pinching at your skin or dragging a digit through your slit. Her microphone is ther only thing keeping her intelligible over your cries, strung out from the pleasure.

Her fingers swirl around your clit, so sensitive. The touch isn't any more than light nibbles on your chest, but it makes you gasp and jump against her hand. You start to cum when she twists harder. The moans inside you spill out in one cry as you squirt. The pinch to your clit makes you spurt all over the front of her clothes.

She gasps in disgust and yanks you off the podium. The flooring is carpet, soft enough for your sore ass when you slump against the sturdy wood.

Your boss brushes off the interruption like nothing, simply indicating the conclusion of the demonstration as the slides flick to a new segment. She steps carefully between your legs when walking back to her place behind the podium.

The front of your blouse is halfway unbuttoned, however much was needed to get those creatures on, and now you notice how swollen they made your tits. You whine as the blue thing keeps moving between your thighs. There's more leverage at this angle and you don't know if you should moan or cry. In a few stunted thrusts, cum starts to fill you up, thick ropes of it that still somehow leak out from between all the eggs and the fat tentacle.

The pretty blue sheen coats your inner-thighs and the conference room floor. Something’s still wrong though. The ache between your legs isn't gone, not completely no matter how much your sore body begs to stop. It's the milk, or the hormones that come with it asking for just a little more. The demonstration portion is over. You're done, everyone's supposed to be focused on the woman speaking.

You slip a hand to your clit, circling the bud with shaking fingers. Just one more, and you'll be fine. Your boss doesn't even notice the room's eyes drifting lower. The blue tentacle indulges you, lazily moving in your cunny along with a few pumps of its warm seed. You can look at the lump it makes in your stomach from this angle.

This time, the orgasm builds fast and you have to muffle soft pants against your hand as you cum. Your poor pussy hurts, but you still need another and the tight circles on your clit don't let up.

There can't be that much more time before the hour is up and she has to get these things off you. Yet, your wrist is getting sore and weak dribbles of piss leak out of you at each peak. You notice people in the crowd hiding their arousal, and that somehow makes your crazy mind even hornier. Your abused clitty gives a heartbeat to your thumb each time someone palms their crotch or crosses their legs, still trying to be politely discreet.

The lights brighten as the presentation ends and a few odd bursts of scattered applause break out at a few tables. You still don't have the decency to leave your needy cunt alone, finally closing your legs around the blue tendril still curled up inside you as the people leave the room to pick a brochure up.

I had another anon ask abt going to find a new tentacle with the coworker from pt.2, but I kinda decided they were aliens (pink and blue both would normally use a host for mating and the suckers kinda do the same thing but for food, ig they're all just parasites sorry if that's gross), so i added a new variety into this one for you <3

A/N- how'd she do that? i would've gone ngh~ *squish* IMMEDIATLY, sry can you tell idk anything about an office job? oh well, stfu and enjoy the smut then (this is way over the top 😭) Also why did i give myself the displeasure of two (2) unnamed characters, give me names for Ms. boss or i'll start adding y/n (a threat)

[bitchiswild]

Backstage

G!P Yunjin x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUTTTTTT🤪

A/n: some Coachella smut for you guys 🤭 (kinda not really bullshitted this :3)

Since the moment you glimpsed the lineup and saw Le Sserafim's name, you'd been eagerly counting down the days.

Le Sserafim wasn't just another group to you; they held a special place in your heart. You were determined to catch their set, even going as far as snagging VIP tickets just to be near them, to be near Yunjin. And as luck would have it, you spotted her a few times throughout the weekend, whether she was grabbing drinks with her members or snapping photos for her Instagram. Each time, your heart skipped a beat, completely taken by her presence.

What you didn't realize was that Yunjin, was also keeping an eye on you. From across the VIP area, her gaze often found you, drawn to your magnetic aura. She knew she wanted you, craved you beneath her, and would stop at nothing to make it happen. Each glance exchanged only fueled her determination, igniting a urge she couldn't ignore. As the festival's pulsating energy surrounded them, Yunjin was ready to do whatever it took to make you hers.

As the doors opened, you rushed to the Sahara Stage and wasted no time securing your spot near the front, eager to immerse yourself in the magic of Lesserafim's performance later that night. Hours passed in a blur as anticipation mounted, but finally, the moment arrived.

As Le Sserafim took the stage, you found yourself spellbound by Yunjin's presence. Her ethereal beauty and magnetic energy captivated you, drawing your gaze like a moth to a flame. Throughout the entire performance, you couldn't tear your eyes away from her, each movement she made, each note she sang, sending shivers down your spine.

Little did you know, Yunjin was also aware of your presence. Peeking out at the crowd before her performance, her eyes locked onto yours, and she knew she had to meet you. Throughout the set, she stole glances in your direction, her heart skipping a beat each time your eyes met, but careful not to draw too much attention.

As the music pulsed around them, a silent connection formed between you two, each stolen glance speaking volumes of the desire and anticipation simmering beneath the surface. And as the final chords echoed through the crowd, Yunjin made a decision – she had to meet you, no matter what it took.

As the final notes of Lesserafim's performance echoed through the Sahara Stage, the crowd erupted into cheers and applause. As you prepared to make your way back through the throngs of people, a figure caught your eye – Yunjin's manager, rushing towards you with purpose in their stride.

With a mix of surprise and anticipation, you watched as they approached, their expression a mix of urgency and excitement. Before you could even process what was happening, they were standing in front of you, extending an invitation that left you speechless.

"Yunjin would like to meet you backstage," they explained, their words ringing in your ears like a surreal melody. Your heart raced with excitement as you processed the invitation, the realization sinking in that you were about to come face to face with the object of your admiration.

Without hesitation, you accepted, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you followed Yunjin's manager through the backstage area. Each step brought you closer to the moment you'd been dreaming of, the chance to meet Yunjin in person and perhaps even share a moment alone with her.

As you approached Yunjin's trailer, your pulse quickened, nerves and excitement intertwining in a heady mix. With a deep breath, you stepped inside, ready to embark on the next chapter of this unforgettable Coachella experience.

Inside Yunjin's trailer, the air crackled with an electric tension that seemed to draw you both closer together. As Yunjin stepped into the room, her gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine. You couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lingered on you, a silent invitation sparking between you like a flame in the darkness.

"Hello," she greeted, her voice soft but tinged with a hint of something more, something that set your pulse racing. "I'm so glad you could make it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you struggled to find your voice, the heat of her gaze making it difficult to focus. "Thank you for inviting me," you managed to say, your voice husky with emotion. "It's an honor to meet you, Yunjin."

As you exchanged pleasantries, the tension between you grew thicker with each passing moment. Every touch, every shared glance, seemed to fuel the fire that burned between you, igniting a desire that threatened to consume you both.

In the intimate confines of the trailer, the boundaries between you blurred, giving way to a palpable chemistry that simmered just beneath the surface. You could feel the heat of her body as she moved closer, her breath mingling with yours in the close quarters of the room.

"I've been eyeing you all day," Yunjin confessed, her hand raising to gently brush a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your breath caught in your throat as her touch sent a jolt of electricity coursing through you. With a shaky sigh, you managed to reply, "I've been eyeing you since you debuted," your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with a nervous giggle.

Yunjin's smile widened, a playful glint dancing in her eyes as she leaned in closer. You felt the heat of her breath against your skin as her gaze flickered down to your lips, then back up to meet your eyes.

“You know why youre here right?” She questioned. A shiver ran down your spine as Yunjin's voice took on a husky tone, her gaze burning with an intensity that made your heart race. Her hands trailed down to your hips, their touch sending waves of sensation rippling through you.

You met her gaze with a mixture of anticipation and desire, your breath catching in your throat as you searched for the right words. "I think I have an idea," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the air thick with tension.

Yunjin's lips curved into a knowing smile as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. "Good," she murmured, her voice sending shivers down your spine. "Because I've been wanting you since the moment I saw you."

With that, she closed the distance between you, her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss that set your world ablaze. In that moment, there was no Coachella, no trailer, just the two of you lost in a whirlwind of desire and longing.

The kiss deepened between you and Yunjin, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of her lips moving fervently against yours. A low moan escaped your lips, mingling with the soft gasps of pleasure that echoed in the intimate space of the dressing room.

Feeling emboldened by the intensity of the moment, Yunjin's hands roamed eagerly over your body, her touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. With a sudden urgency, she pushed you gently backward until you felt the edge of the bed against the back of your legs.

Your heart raced as you tumbled onto the soft mattress, Yunjin hovering above you with a hunger in her eyes that mirrored your own. With a sensual grace, she straddled your hips, her movements fluid and deliberate as she pressed her body against yours, igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Her hands trailed along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in their wake. You arched into her touch, a soft gasp escaping your lips as pleasure coursed through you. And when her lips found yours again, the kiss was searing, a passionate symphony of tongues and teeth that left you breathless and wanting more.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrendered yourself to Yunjin's touch, allowing her to explore every inch of your body with a fervor that left you trembling with desire. And as she moved with increasing urgency, her movements becoming more frantic and desperate, you knew that there was no turning back — tonight would be a night to remember, a night of unbridled passion and ecstasy that would leave you both forever changed.

Yunjin's hands moved with purpose, trailing down your body until they reached the waistband of your bottoms.

With a gentle yet urgent tug, she began to slide them down, exposing your skin to the cool air of the dressing room. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation, a rush of heat flooding through you as Yunjin's touch sent electric currents dancing along your skin.

"Let me please you, baby," she whispered, her voice husky with desire, as she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against your ear. "Let me touch you, please."

Yunjin's words ignited a fire within you, and with a hungry whimper, you nodded eagerly, unable to contain the waves of desire crashing through your body.

"Yes, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with need as you reached out for her. "Touch me, please."

As Yunjin's warm breath teased your skin, anticipation coiled tightly within you, every nerve on edge in anticipation of her touch. When her tongue finally made contact with your slick folds, you couldn't hold back the gasp that escaped your lips, a jolt of pleasure racing through your body.

Her tongue danced across your sensitive flesh, sending waves of ecstasy crashing over you. Your body quivered in response, pleasure coursing through every inch of your being as she expertly teased and tantalized your most intimate area.

Unable to contain the overwhelming sensations washing over you, you arched your back, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you as pleasure consumed you. Yunjin's movements grew more fervent, her tongue flicking and swirling with a rhythm that mirrored the pounding of your heart.

Yunjin's tongue traced slow, tantalizing circles against your throbbing clit, a chorus of moans escaped your lips, mingling with the sound of your ragged breaths.

"Oh, god," you gasped, your voice thick with desire as pleasure rippled through you. "Yunjin, please... don't stop."

Yunjin's only response was a low, guttural growl of approval as she intensified her ministrations, her tongue flicking and teasing with a practiced precision that left you trembling with need.

"Yes, just like that," you whimpered, your fingers tangling in the sheets as you surrendered yourself to the blissful onslaught. "Harder... faster..."

With a primal hunger that matched your own, Yunjin obliged, her movements growing more urgent as she drove you relentlessly towards the brink of ecstasy.

As the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of release, every touch, every lick pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

And then, with a final, exquisite flick of her tongue, Yunjin sent you hurtling over the edge into a blissful abyss, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed over you, leaving you trembling and utterly spent in her embrace.

Your breaths grew ragged, your body writhing with uncontrollable desire as she drove you relentlessly towards the edge.

"Oh, god, Yunjin," you cried out, your voice raw with need as pleasure engulfed you. "I'm... I'm gonna cum so hard for you."

Sensation overwhelmed your senses, every touch, every flick of her tongue sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your veins. You were teetering on the brink, on the precipice of an earth-shattering release that promised to consume you whole.

With a final, fervent thrust of her tongue, Yunjin pushed you over the edge, and you exploded into a crescendo of pleasure so intense, it felt as if the world itself had shattered around you.

Your cries of ecstasy filled the air, mingling with Yunjin's name as waves of euphoria crashed over you, leaving you trembling and utterly spent in the aftermath of your explosive climax.

Yunjin's sudden movement drew your attention, and as she yanked down her own bottoms, revealing her throbbing, veiny cock, your jaw dropped in stunned amazement. The sight of her arousal, her shaft glistening with pre-cum, sent a surge of desire coursing through you, igniting a primal hunger that burned hot and fierce.

Your eyes widened with anticipation as you took in the sight before you, unable to tear your gaze away from her magnificent arousal. The sheer size and potency of her cock filled you with an overwhelming sense of longing, a need so intense it bordered on obsession.

With trembling hands, you reached out for her, your fingers trailing eagerly along the length of her shaft, reveling in the sensation of her hardness beneath your touch. A low, guttural moan escaped your lips as you felt her pulse against your skin, the heat of her arousal searing through you like a wildfire.

you leaned forward eagerly, your lips parting to take Yunjin's throbbing cock into your mouth, a low groan of pleasure escaped her lips. The taste of her pre-cum on your tongue sent a shiver of delight down your spine as you eagerly took more of her length into your mouth.

Yunjin's fingers threaded through your hair, guiding you gently as you worked her shaft with fervent enthusiasm. With each bob of your head, she let out a string of soft moans and gasps, her hips moving in time with your movements.

"Good girl," she breathed, her voice husky with desire as she praised your efforts. The words sent a thrill of excitement coursing through you, fueling your desire to please her even more.

With a newfound determination, you redoubled your efforts, taking her deeper into your mouth, swirling your tongue around her length, and sucking her with an intensity that left her trembling with pleasure.

In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in a world of sensation and desire. And as Yunjin's climax approached, her grip on your hair tightened, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she reached the pinnacle of ecstasy.

With one final, desperate thrust, she came undone, her release flooding your mouth with the taste of her pleasure. And as you swallowed every drop.

As you turned around, positioning yourself on your stomach and lifting your hips in anticipation, a whimper of desire escaped your lips. You glanced over your shoulder, locking eyes with Yunjin, conveying your eagerness and need with a single, longing gaze.

Yunjin wasted no time, her hands gripping your hips firmly as she positioned herself behind you. With a low growl of anticipation, she pressed the tip of her throbbing cock against your slick entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come.

"Please," you begged, your voice thick with need as you pushed back against her, desperate for the exquisite release only she could provide. "Fuck me, Yunjin. Hard and fast."

With a primal hunger that matched your own, Yunjin complied, driving into you with a force that left you gasping for breath. Pleasure surged through you in waves as she pounded into you relentlessly, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

Your cries of pleasure mingled with Yunjin's own grunts of exertion as she claimed you as her own, the intensity of your connection igniting a fire that burned hotter with each passing moment.

Her thrusts intensified, the sound of skin meeting skin echoed through the air, punctuated by the wet, rhythmic slapping of her hips against yours. Each impact sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through you, the sensation heightened by the intoxicating mix of pain and ecstasy.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Yunjin groaned, her voice thick with desire as she drove into you with primal urgency. "You're so tight, baby. Just for me."

Her words sent a shiver of delight down your spine, fueling the fire of arousal that burned hot and fierce within you. With each thrust, you felt yourself teetering on the edge of oblivion, pleasure threatening to consume you completely.

Yunjin's cock drove deeper into you, stretching you to your limits, a wave of pleasure mingled with a hint of pain washed over you. You could feel every inch of her thick shaft filling you, stretching you in the most deliciously agonizing way possible.

Each ridge and vein on her cock teased your inner walls, sending shivers of ecstasy coursing through your body. The feeling of her veins rubbing against your sensitive flesh sent sparks of pleasure dancing along your nerves, amplifying the intensity of each thrust.

"God, you're so tight," Yunjin groaned, her voice thick with desire as she buried herself deeper inside you. "You feel so fucking good around me."

With each movement, Yunjin's cock seemed to find new depths within you, hitting spots you didn't even know existed and sending waves of pleasure radiating throughout your entire body. The sensation was almost overwhelming, bordering on too much, but you welcomed it eagerly, craving more of the delicious torment she was inflicting upon you.

In that moment, there was nothing but the sensation of Yunjin's cock stretching you, filling you, and the overwhelming pleasure that accompanied it. And as she continued to drive into you with relentless passion, you surrendered yourself completely to the exquisite bliss of being taken by her, knowing that there was nowhere else you'd rather be.

Yunjin's thrusts grew more frenzied, her grip on your hips tightening as she approached the edge of release.

"I'm gonna cum," she groaned, her voice thick with desire as she pounded into you with reckless abandon. "Cum for me, baby. I want to feel you come apart around me."

The words sent a surge of pleasure coursing through you, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing moment. With a cry of ecstasy, you felt the first tendrils of release begin to wash over you, pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo.

"Yes, yes," you moaned, your voice a breathless chorus of need as you gave in to the overwhelming bliss. "I'm gonna cum for you, Yunjin. I'm yours."

And then, with one final, earth-shattering thrust, you tumbled over the edge into ecstasy, your climax consuming you in a whirlwind of sensation and pleasure. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, each sensation more intense than the last as you surrendered yourself completely to the rapture of orgasm.

In that moment, Yunjin followed suit, her own release washing over her in a torrent of ecstasy. With a guttural groan of satisfaction, she spilled her essence deep inside you, filling you with the warmth of her climax as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together.

As the last echoes of ecstasy faded into the air, you collapsed into each other's arms, spent and sated, the blissful aftermath enveloping you in a cocoon of contentment.

A gentle calm settled over the room, the only sound the soft echo of your breathing as you lay tangled together in the aftermath.

With tender care, Yunjin withdrew from you, her touch gentle and reverent as she pressed a series of gentle kisses along your spine, soothing the lingering ache of pleasure. Her arms enveloped you in a warm embrace, pulling you close against her chest as she whispered sweet words of affection and adoration into your ear.

"You were amazing," she murmured, her voice soft with tenderness as she traced gentle circles on your skin. "Thank you for letting me be with you like this."

A contented sigh escaped your lips as you snuggled closer to her, basking in the warmth of her embrace. "Thank you," you whispered back, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude. "For everything."

In that moment, there was only the two of you, lost in the quiet intimacy of your shared connection.

[rosedom]

hi there! I'm here because I wanted to share with you an idea I had in mind.

wanderer x guitarist boyfriend reader where he finds the reader's hands attractive and started to masturbate in his room imagining the reader's fingers inside him and reader catches him masturbating in his room once he got back to his place after a band performance.

I hope this is okay with you, I'm sorry if it's not though. I love your works btw! also can I be 🥯 anon?

"in an open match, 【 🥯 】 has invited WANDERER to play . . . a well-strummed man

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!wanderer, hand kink, fantasizing turned to masturbating, getting caught (by you), vaginal fingering, lots of love & praise .

A/N : i've been thinking about this scenario these past weeks, oh my goodness . . . (⁠♡⁠ω⁠♡⁠ ⁠)⁠ ⁠~⁠♪

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Kunikuzushi is a dead, dead man.

Listen. It's not like it’s his fault you’re a guitarist, much-less the lead of a band; and it most certainly does not fall to his blame that he’s been lonely, alright?

You’ve been out all weekend, and it’s already Sunday night. He—he won't admit he misses you, but it’s a close thing.

“I’ll be back Monday, baby,” you’d said, last Friday. You’d held him in your broad arms, your large palms a searing brand to his hips as he grunted at you for spinning him.

He had shoo’d you away, said, “Okay, okay!” and pushed you out the door with your guitar and damning crooked grin.

You had pouted, too, standing in the doorway like some kicked kitten, and Kuni couldn’t deny such pitiful look on your handsome face. “C’mere,” he’d grumbled, reeled you in and kissed you soundly on your lips. “Goodluck, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You’d kept your faces together for a few moments, breathing in him, before you ultimately straightened up. “I love you.”

With a scoff, another shove and a soft, “Goodbye—,” one you gave him back, your own adoring farewell—he had murmured, “I love you, too.”

(He hasn't seen the smile on your face for you turned the other way. It made your heart skip a beat, made you hold tighter to the purple straps of your guitar as you went to the curb your bandmates had been waiting for you on.

Kuni had seen, however, the grip of your fingers across the leather; he had seen it well. So well.)

Kuni groans. Your hands. He can't get your hands off his mind: your hands tightening around your guitar strap, your hands holding tight to his waist, your hands covering the expanse of his pale skin, your hands dipping down, your hands stroking his cock and nudging into his cunt and and—

he’s a goner. Not only dead, but gone: utterly, entirely, wholly for you.

Your hands are just so—enticing. That's it, that's all. They're nice to look at.

. . . and nice to imagine knuckle-deep in his cunt. Of course, they’re nice to feel actively thrusting in him, rubbing across his chubby cock and smearing the mess of slick and lube across his hole; but you're not here right now, and he's left with only a whisper of you in his imagination, and a video of you playing live.

He couldn't attend your show, thanks to a paper he had to submit by Saturday night. But tonight's Sunday, and the paper's squared away and submitted and done, and he's lonely, right now, replaying your recording, eyes watching the both steady and jerking movements in turn of your fingers across the guitar strings.

His cock throbs. “Shit.”

With another groan—albeit far weaker, without any gusto behind it—, Kunikuzushi lets his phone fall to the side and sinks full-bodied into the bed. The plush blankets wrap around him, swaddling him in a semblance of you, you, you. They carry your subtle scent in them, a mixture of your soap and his own embedded into the fabric in a heady mix that Kuni greedily drinks in, pressing a corner of it to his mouth and nose as his other hand teases down his body.

A tweak—gentle, mimicking your own soft touch—to his nipples through the thin fabric of his shirt makes him lowly gasp. It’s not as satisfying, with his own touch, but the sensation still makes small zaps of pleasure zing up and down his spine, ending with a heavy pulse at his cock and sending his cunt dribbling.

Pulling off his briefs is an easy thing, if not made a bit messy by the string of slick that connects to and snaps from the seat of the fabric. It’d be embarrassing if you were here to see it, feel it, taste it; but you're not here right now.

He's sorely reminded, again and again: he's alone, for now.

(He misses the embarrassment under you, already, misses the way your touch is always so gentle against him, teasing him and bringing him to release again and again with those damning hands.)

He plays across his opening, now bare, with his fingers, just like you'd do. The wetness clings to his fingertips, and he mourns the loss of the calluses on your hands; his own are soft n’ smooth, providing little friction against the parts that need it most.

“Please,” he whispers to himself, to the air, to absolutely no-one.

He wants you here, so, so bad; but the next best thing is the slide of two fingers, right off the bat, right into the third knuckle. It’s slow going, but it's smooth, and he sharply exhales at the barely-there stretch.

It’s quiet save for the squelch of his fingers, the in-n’-out thrust

When his mind starts playing your voice, the devilish thing, he's a goner twice-over. “Takin’ my fingers so well, baby,” you’d say, he imagines you saying. He mewls at the thought, bending his fingers sharply in the way he knows you would. Though they don’t come into contact with his g-spot how yours would, not at first, the press against his sensitive walls makes him bite his lip still.

Sometimes, Kuni wonders if you know his body better than he does. (You do.)

He thinks, then, of the other things you'd say to him, pressed up close and deep in him. Maybe you would tell him, “So needy,” with a lilt to your voice that reveals you're really not mad at all. “All wet n’ dripping for me, aren't'cha? Aren’t I so lucky to have such a pretty boy under me?”

Maybe you'd lean down and lick at his cock while you spread him open. The thought makes him whine all loud-like, working a third finger in beside the other two, whimpering quietly after the shame of his initial whine.

“Turn over for me, babe,” the you in his head sweetly commands. He swears he can feel your phantom touch on his hips, murmuring, “There you go,” guiding him to roll onto his belly. The shirt he’s kept on bunches up, allowing a whisper of the cold bedroom air to brush his nipples. “My obedient, good boy.”

He feels safer like this, pumping his fingers into his cunt the best he can with the new position. The angle no longer allows his fingers to curl into his g-spot, but it mimics how you handle him: a worthy trade-off, he thinks. He imagines you on his back, stretching him on your fingers as you drape yourself across him, licking n’ kissing at his neck and blushing ears.

“Opening up so good f'r me,” you'd say; Kuni whimpers, biting the pillow—your pillow, saturated in the subtle scent of your shampoo—to muffle himself. He’s safe, like this.

This is as close as he can get to having you, right now—

until it's not.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Kuni, sweetheart.”

Fuck. Fuck.

“You—I—” Kuni wrings himself upright, coming right up to your face, inches away from his own. He growls at you, but it falls short—how could it, when he’s red-faced and pushes at your chest with his slickened hand? “When did you get home?”

“Just now,” you murmur, grabbing his hand and bringing it up to your lips for a kiss, for a taste of him. Then, “Have you cum?”

He rips his hand back. “You can't just—”

“So you haven't,” you say, grinning. Silently, he sputters, but then you're leaning in and kissing him soundly and pressing him down into your bed and—

“Gonna let me make you feel good, baby?” you ask. Your grin turns devilish when you dip your fingertips into him, just so, the callouses on your two fingers already resting so perfectly against his opening.

Your roughed-up thumb presses into his jutting cock, right as he whines, “Yes,” his whole attitude turned on a dime. Sweet, sweet Kunikuzushi.

“You're so wet,” you murmur, entirely awed at the slick glide of your fingers, able to slide a third in oh-so easily. While he had three of his own stuffed up to his third knuckle, your fingers are broader, wider—the knobs of each knuckle is prominent still, nudging each sweet spot in his cunt easy as anything. “God, pretty boy, what were you thinkin’ about to make you this messy?”

Kuni whines again, the sound airy and high, pleading n’ begging.

“Heard you keep saying my name,” you continue, curling your fingers and forcing the bumps at your fingertips against his g-spot in a way his own hands failed to. Asking, “What about me, hm?” makes him tremble, and you think his brain is too pleasure-mushed to process it.

But then he’s reaching for the hand you've got snug on his hip, and he murmurs, “Your hands.”

“My hands?” He nods, closing his eyes tight. You kiss the flutter of eyelashes. “What about them?”

“They're so—” a moan cuts up his words, your thumb working tight against him.

“They're so...?”

He groans. “They're so—so big, ‘nd they're always so warm, so hot in me, s-stretch me so—so good.”

“Yeah?” You pull apart your fingers at his words—only slightly, enough to feel the slight resistance of his cunt. “Like it when I open you up all nice n’ pretty for me?”

“Yes, yes, I l-love it.” Kuni’s so unabashed, now, so close to his orgasm. The clench of his cunt is uncontrolled, pulsing against your fingers and urging you to rub his chubby cock faster, harder, stretching him out and making his mind melt from his pretty, perfect lil’ pussy.

As his back unconsciously arches, his thighs jerking with the spasms of his muscle, he begins to plead you to let him cum. Soft begs fall from his lips as he clutches right at your free hand, both of his smaller ones holding yours tight when you lean down and kiss him, soft n’ sound right against his swollen lips.

You can't even finish your sentence, a gentle, “Cum for me, sweetheart,” before Kuni’s creaming around your fingers, the thick cum left dribbling in your palm and being smeared into his twitching cock.

By the time he’s dropped your hand to grab at your other wrist, he's left a whimperin’, whinin’ mess. You lie next to him and roll his body on top of yours, holding him close around his middle and letting him nuzzle into your throat.

His breathing eventually steadies, matching the gentle rhythm of your chest against his. “Thank you,” he mutters.

“For what?”

He sighs. “Makin’ me cum.” The tone of his voice makes you chuckle, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nuthin',” you say, laughing. You kiss his forehead in apology, and you continue with, “I should be thanking you, anyway, for surprising me with something like that.”

“Shut up, you perv.”

You’re appalled! “Says the guy fingering himself on our—”

Kuni growls, jumping up and covering your mouth with his hands. “Shut up!” But those pretty indigo eyes soften, crinkling at the edges, and he leans down to kiss your forehead in turn.

“Missed you,” he says, a whisper against your skin—one you return to his sternum, pressing a kiss and your love so close to his heart.

Maybe, if this is death, like this, Kuni wouldn't quite mind being a dead man.

kuni's so real for this: hands r UNREASONABLY attractive. i hope this somewhat like u imagined, sweet anon 🦭🦭

6 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[thecapricunt1616]

Peonies - c.b. oneshot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): Carm let out a soft whimper, much more relaxed and carefree then he’d be when he was awake. That is why you loved when you’d brought up your fantasy of Carmy using you while you slept, and he was all for it immediately. When you asked him if you could wake him up as well - he thought about it for a moment but after a short few questions about what he was comfortable with - he decided he was for it 100%

♡ Chapter Inspo: Peonies are most commonly associated with romance, prosperity, and bashfulness. Some even believe they're a good luck charm of sorts, bringing good fortune to whoever receives them. Peonies also have some roots in Greek mythology. As one myth states, Apollo used to turn beautiful nymphs into peonies if Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, knew he was flirting with them.

♡ Summary: Carmy has his nights past favor gratefully returned.

♡ W/C: 1,267

♡ Posted Date: 04/21/2024

♡ A/N: OMG hello all! We are churning out these one shots while TB&HH is sorted out, THANK YOU oh dear lovely anon for your request that can be found here ♡ requests are still open, comments are encouraged, as are reblogs ! I hope you enjoy :) This is a follow up to Patchouli but of course both can be read as stand alone!! ♡ Warnings for BTC: Pre-discussed consensual somnophilia, m oral receiving, swearing, alluding to f receiving, fem reader referred to as girl - not fully edited **no use of y/n**

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

You woke up with a sleepy smile on your face, the first thought on your mind being it’s the weekend. Ah, the weekend. The cherished Saturday and Sunday you got to spend with your beloved Bear. 

Since the restaurant did so well for itself - he was able to take the weekends off, so long as he made sure everything was done Friday which he always did, he’d never jeopardize the sacred time you two had together. It was his reprieve from the hectic kitchen, he didn’t know what ‘refreshed’ meant until he started spending weekends and evenings with his special girl. 

You felt his muscular chest pressed flush to your back, his strong nose nuzzled in the crook of your neck. There were soft hot puffs of air hitting your shoulder as he breathed, and you felt his lips touching the top of your shoulder blade with a sweet pressure, almost like a prolonged kiss. 

While his left arm was curled under your ribs, and his left hand had found its way underneath your (his) white shirt, and was cupping your breast, holding it lightly as he slept. His right arm was curled over your waist, and your hands were laced together sweetly. 

Not wanting to wake him too soon, you carefully arched your ass back to feel his morning wood standing tall and at attention. You smile to yourself, wondering if he’d fallen asleep last night remembering what you’d promised this morning, or if he was just having one of his wet dreams. 

You gently unfurled your fingers from his one at a time before carefully putting his muscular arm over his own side  and he grunted in his sleep, laying flat on his back and splaying his hand over his stomach. He’d been trained even while sleeping to subconsciously respond to you. 

Ever so carefully you detangle your legs from his sleeping ones, carefully sitting up and crawling beneath the covers of your shared California king. You settled on your knees between his legs, lightly rubbing his thighs. 

It was a failed attempt to not nuzzle your nose in the crook of his clothed thigh and his cock, taking a deep breath and nearly getting drunk off his heady musky scent, mixed with the delicious scent of dove soap from his shower last night and the laundry detergent you had picked out from the store. 

With light open mouth kisses, you kissed over his tented length, taking your right hand and rubbing over his thick yummy sex. You had to swallow extra saliva, he was quite nearly making you drool already. His cock jumped in your palm, causing you to smile proudly. 

Carm let out a soft whimper, much more relaxed and carefree then he’d be when he was awake. That is why you loved when you’d brought up your fantasy of Carmy using you while you slept, and he was all for it immediately. When you asked him if you could wake him up as well - he thought about it for a moment but after a short few questions about what he was comfortable with - he decided he was for it 100%

While he was sleeping, his noises were so pretty. They were soft and less reserved, it was easy to tell when he’d woken because instead of light airy whimpers and sweet gasps - it was hot grunts and sexy moans. You gently pushed his boxers out of the way, taking the seeping pink member to your lips, and planting sweet kisses over the head. 

He gasped softly in his sleep, his abs tightening for a moment and his hips shivering at the contact. You bit back a giggle at his sweet innocent reactions he’d otherwise be too anxious or embarrassed to show, but one of love and wonder for why he was so nervous to let you see this of him while he was awake. 

“So pretty” you whispered to yourself, pushing down his foreskin and watching in awe as a little dribble of pre bubbles from the tip and leaks down over the sensitive head. You licked your lips, looking up at him to see he was still fast asleep- but you could see his heartbeat in his neck. 

He was absolutely having a dream 

You stuck out your tongue most of the way, holding your tongue over the tip of his already weeping cock. He didn’t need it- but you knew how much he loved having his head sloppy and nasty. A thick hot drop of saliva dripped from your drooling tongue onto his sensitive tip, dripping down his shaft and over your fingers.

It was irresistible to blow on the wet trail it left and he whimpered cutely, his balls twitching since his cock was trapped in your hand. Leaning down slightly, you took the tip between your lips, kissing it lovingly before gently suckling on it, flicking your tongue over his leaking slit, moaning quietly at the taste of his salty sticky precum.   

Carm’s hips bucked up, a hot whine tearing from his throat and his stomach clenching. His cock felt hot and heavy on your tongue, the tip was an aggravated pink begging to be played with. You began stroking the bottom of his shaft after spitting into your hand, and sticking out your tongue as you take him into your  mouth, finding a steady rhythm with bobbing your head and jerking him with your hand. 

He moaned out, his back arching slightly “please-please please” he whimpered in his sleep, reaching down and feeling your head and then he was up. 

“Oh fuck” he said hotly, his voice husky and deep from sleep. He lifted his head and looked down at you with sleepy hooded eyes, a small smirk coming to his lips.  

“Jesus, babe. Thought I was dreamin’- what I do to deserve such a good girl mm?” He gently pets your hair, his thigh twitching when you gently massage his balls. 

“Oh- wow” he hummed, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back to the pillow comfortably. “Wow. I’m gonna cum like -baby I’m-ah- where did you learn that- what the fffff-“ he shot long hot ropes of seed down your throat, fisting the sheets and his hips shaking lightly. You smiled proudly, realizing that the porn video you’d seen on twitter had been true. You had seen someone massage the fleshy spot just beneath the balls and the guy came nearly on the spot, and a lot. 

His stomach and abs contracted in overstimulation as you worked him through it and he hissed as you flick your tongue over his head, milking the last few dribbles of cum out of his twitching softening cock. You kiss the tip gently, before trailing gentle kisses all down the base and to his thigh, over his hips and stomach. Gently releasing his cock over his stomach as he came down and you trailed kisses over his abs. 

“I think I fuckin blacked out for a second babe. Jesus fuck how did you learn that and why are you holdin’ out on me?” He asked and you giggled, tonguing over his nipple and he bit his lip, moaning softly. 

“Saw a video.” You replied, sucking gently on the small sensitive bud while you massage the other between your forefinger and thumb. He groaned softly, patting your bum 

“Done. Done. If I cum again I think you’ll literally break my balls get off me you succubus it’s your turn. On your back” he teased.  Goes without saying but you two didn't eat real food until the afternoon rolled around.

[letmesniffurdaddysfeet]

Weekend Lessons with daddy John PART 1

John, my mysterious neighbor, was a man shrouded in age and secrets. Though I never dared to inquire about his past, I estimated him to be around 65 years old. From the moment I moved in next door, he welcomed me with open arms and a warm smile. Despite our significant age difference - I was only 21 at the time - I found myself eagerly seeking out his company. John was a skilled handyman, passing on his knowledge of electricity, plumbing, and DIY projects to me with infinite patience. It may seem odd for a young adult like myself, but each week I looked forward more to spending an evening with John than going out for after-work drinks with my colleagues.

There was something about John that fascinated me - he wasn't particularly muscular or physically imposing, but there was a ruggedness to him that exuded masculinity. He embodied the classic image of a man's man - simple yet capable, full of practical knowledge that I had never learned before. But what captivated me most were his feet. Every Friday night, as we sat together watching a replay of a baseball game and sipping on cold beers, John would kick off his slippers and rest his large, mature feet on the coffee table in front of us.

It started innocently enough - just admiring the feet of a strong, masculine man. But as the weeks went by, my fascination turned into something else entirely. With each passing Friday night, it became harder and harder for me to resist the forbidden desires stirring inside of me. I tried to push them away, telling myself that it was wrong and dirty to feel this way towards someone much older than me.

But one fateful night, as I lay in bed alone with my thoughts, I gave in to my sinful desires and indulged in a forbidden act of self-pleasure while thinking about John's feet. The pleasure that consumed me was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, a heady mix of taboo and desire that left me both intoxicated and guilty.

From that night on, John's feet became an obsession for me. I couldn't resist stealing glances at them whenever we were together, imagining the feel of them against my lips and tongue. And each time I succumbed to these thoughts, the intensity of pleasure only grew stronger, driving me towards a dangerous edge that I could not escape from.

Despite my attempts to distance myself from these thoughts, they consumed me. I tried to distract myself with work, hobbies, and even dating other people, but nothing seemed to quell the burning desire I had for John's feet.

But one evening, I couldn't resist my insatiable desire… As we sat on the sofa, John's relaxed form radiating a familiar comfort, I chugged back another beer to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, his shoes were off and his toes were wriggling in front of me as he talked about the game. I couldn't help but feign interest in a coin that supposedly fell on the other side of the table. My hand brushed against his foot and I knelt down, pretending to search for the nonexistent coin in the thick carpet fibers as my face stealthily drew closer to his feet. The overpowering scent of masculinity hit me like a wave and my body reacted immediately, my pants stretching with the growing hardness between my legs. Every touch from his toes sent shivers through my body, pushing me deeper into a forbidden pleasure that consumed me completely.

My mind raced with a torrent of emotions and desires as I lingered there, my breath hot against John's coarse, calloused skin. I had never felt anything like this before - a mixture of exhilaration, shame, and unbridled lust coursing through my veins. I knew I was playing with fire, but I couldn't help myself.

A surge of shame and self-loathing washes over me as I realize the gravity of my actions. I pray that my arousal is not too obvious , ready to feign ignorance and confess to not finding the coin. But when I meet John's gaze, a new expression crosses his face - an excited smile, his hand resting on his visibly erect penis. Did he understand the true intention behind my gesture? And did the sight of my face so close to his feet elicit the same response in him as it did in me? My mind spins with confusion and desire, rendering me speechless and creating a tense silence that begs to be broken… I struggle to find the right words, while secretly yearning to ask him if he desires to see me throw myself at his feet as well…

It was finally John who broke the silence, saying these words: ''Are you sure you looked carefully? It would be a shame not to reject a glance." He looked me straight in the eyes, without leaving his mischievous smile, wiggling his toes… my eyes rested on those feet and the spark of excitement in the John's eyes twinkled brighter. It was at that moment that I realized that this was a formal invitation, and I was not going to wait another second to respond.

John's voice cut through the tense silence like a knife, his words dripping with challenge and mischievous thrill ''Did you even bother to look closely? Don't tell me you missed it." His gaze locked onto mine, a sly grin playing on his lips as he wiggled his toes in anticipation…my eyes couldn't help but trail down to those feet, and I saw the unmistakable glimmer of mischief in John's eyes. It hit me like a bolt of lightning - this wasn't just an invitation, it was a dare. And I refused to waste another second before responding, the fire of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

[morallyinept]

Respect - A Dave York x Wheelchair User/MS F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: Your husband Dave takes you on a weekend away so you can spend some quality time together as a married couple in love.

Pairing: Dave York x Wheelchair User/MS F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair. Reader is a mother to two young girls, hers and Dave's. Reader uses a wheelchair, but is not confined to it, and Reader has MS (Multiple Sclerosis.)

Word Count: 5.1k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️ “It's the emergence, of."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Mentions and descriptions of the symptoms of MS, mostly fatigue and aches/pains. Reader uses a wheelchair on occasion, but is not confined to it/Unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/oral F receiving/some very light spanking/soft Dave in love with his wife.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | DAVE YORK MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As the first light of dawn paints the sky in hues of pink and gold, you’re sitting out on the balcony of the cabin, resting easy in your wheelchair; the crisp mountain air filling your lungs with its invigorating scent.

The world around you is alive with the orchestral sounds of nature - the gentle rustle of leaves, the melodious chirping of birds, the soft murmur of the nearby stream.

The air on the balcony carries with it the invigorating scent of the lush forest - a heady blend of pine and cedar, mingled with the earthy aroma of damp moss and fallen leaves. With each breath, you inhale deeply the purifying air and birth a smile.

As the morning sun filters through the trees, it releases the sweet perfume of wildflowers and fresh grasses. The scent is delicate and ephemeral, lingering on the breeze for just a moment before dissipating into the ether.

Despite the heavy ache in your bones, the tiredness that threatens to swarm you on a near constant basis, you defy it and soak in the atmosphere of a place that you’ll never tire of. 

There’s something so healing about nature, a deep connection to something greater than yourself - a sense of oneness with the world around you. The worries and fears that have consumed your thoughts are pushed aside, replaced by a profound sense of gratitude for the beauty of the natural world and the love that surrounds you. 

It’s as if it’s all forgotten, washed away temporarily and that you’re remembering that you’re not defined by the daily battle and onslaught of your body turning against you. 

You feel strong, like the blue mountains casting their sapphire shadows on the horizon, your spirit lifted. You close your eyes, breathing in deep and enjoy these moments when they come, when you tune it all out and remember what life was like before. 

It had been a silent intruder, stealthily weaving its threads into your life, slowly unravelling your strength and mobility at a pace that wasn’t too noticeable at first, often brushed off as just feeling tired or exhausted from the girls and their daily routine.

It was something unexpected for everyone.  

When you were first diagnosed, waves of fear and uncertainty threatened to engulf you. But as time passed, you found a reservoir of strength within yourself that you never knew existed.

Coping with MS became a daily ritual, a delicate dance between acceptance and defiance. You embraced the array of treatments and therapies recommended by your doctors, determined to wrestle back control over your depleting body.

Medications helped alleviate the relentless fatigue and pain, while physical therapy became your lifeline, offering a glimmer of hope for improved mobility. 

You embarked on a quest for self-awareness and acceptance, coming to terms with the limitations imposed by your condition while refusing to be defined by them. It was a journey marked by small victories and occasional setbacks, but through it all, you remained steadfast in your resolve to live life on your own terms.

Central to your coping strategy was the unwavering support of your loved ones. Dave, your husband, stood by your side with unbreakable devotion, and together, you navigated the challenges of MS as a team. A pillar of strength, Dave had shouldered the burden of caregiving with grace and devotion.

From dawn till dusk, he juggled the demands of work, household chores, and the tender care of his family, his own exhaustion masked by a smile that never waned during your inevitable hindrances and moments of frustration.

Your battle with Multiple Sclerosis brought with it a relentless companion: fatigue.

It was an ever-present weight, dragging at your limbs and clouding your thoughts in a nearly constant fog. Some days, it felt like an insurmountable mountain, leaving you drained and worn before the day had even begun.

The fatigue of MS was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. There was tiredness and then there was just… this. It wasn't just physical exhaustion; it seeped into every crevice of your being, sapping your energy and dampening your spirits.

Sometimes, it was too tiring to even smile.

Tasks that were once second nature now felt like Herculean feats, each step heavier than the last. Despite your best efforts to push through the fatigue, the simplest of things - making breakfast, getting dressed - became monumental challenges, leaving you feeling frustrated and overwhelmed.

It was a constant battle against an invisible foe, one that seemed to grow stronger with each passing day. 

Yet, it was in the quiet moments of family life that the true impact of your MS was most felt.

As you watched your daughters grow and thrive, you couldn't shake the nagging fear that your condition would rob you of the precious moments that made life worth living.

The disappointment etched on their faces when they wanted you to come play with them, their laughter echoing like music in the air, and you had to explain that you couldn’t, mommy’s real tired right now, baby… but you would next time, felt utterly wretched.

You longed to join them in their exuberance. But as you attempted to rise from your seat, a wave of weakness would often wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and unsteady. 

Intimacy with Dave was an intricate dance for you, woven with threads of love, desire, and the lingering shadow of your MS symptoms. As your bodies would entwine in the quiet sanctuary of your bedroom, you found yourself grappling with a myriad of emotions, from longing and vulnerability, to frustration and guilt. 

There was a time when you and Dave would embark on the spicier aspect of love-making. But the physical symptoms of your condition soon casted a shadow over it, leaving you feeling self-conscious and insecure.

And as the stiffness and muscle spasms of MS tightened their grip, the simple act of being close to Dave in any form became a painful reminder of your body's betrayal. Sometimes, you couldn’t bear for him to touch you, the pain in your nerves feeling like fire raging throughout your body. 

And with it brought the insolent paranoia, worried that he would grow tired of his own needs not being fulfilled and would ultimately look elsewhere. And whilst it was a heinous thought that would break you completely if he strayed, part of you wouldn’t blame him.

However, he was sure to put those nagging demons to rest more often than not, not only telling you how much he loved you and wanted you, but in acts of showing you.

From the little things, like running you a hot bath when the aches were bad, to making the girls’ packed lunches for the next day at school. To doing the laundry and filing the taxes when your brain was too foggy to concentrate. To bringing home coffee and flowers and pastries, to arranging a weekend getaway for you both so you could rest and relax in the cabin that you loved so much.

Dave was the perfect mix of attentive husband and teammate. 

The love of nature runs deep within your veins, an intrinsic part of who you are. From a young age, you found solace and joy in the great outdoors - exploring forest trails, wading through babbling brooks, discovering new species of bug or plant, and basking in the warmth of the sun's rays.

Nature was your sanctuary, your refuge from the stresses and strains of everyday life - a place where you felt truly alive, truly yourself. But as your MS symptoms began to manifest, you found yourself increasingly frustrated by the limitations they imposed on your ability to enjoy the outdoors so freely.

The simple act of hiking through the woods or taking a leisurely stroll through a park became fraught with steep challenges, each step a reminder of the toll that your condition had taken on your body. It was a bitter pill to swallow, watching from the sidelines as your family frolicked in the embrace of nature, while you remained tethered to the confines of your wheelchair on really bad days, or the support of your husband's arm to stay upright.

But there are good days too; on those rare and precious days, when your symptoms relent and your body feels lighter, you seize the opportunity to immerse yourself fully in the beauty of nature and the connections found around you. 

You smile when you hear the balcony door creak open and footsteps pad against the wooden beams. Glancing over your shoulder, Dave’s mussed brown hair and sleepy deep eyes greet you. 

He’s just stunning like this, even after all these years together, he still takes your breath away when wearing a simple, faded sleep t-shirt and tight black boxers hugging his thighs as he makes his way towards you and takes you in his strong arms. 

Arms that have never wavered, despite the load he carries. You can’t help but marvel daily at the depth of Dave's devotion, his willingness to go above and beyond to ensure your comfort and well-being.

When you got your diagnosis, Dave immediately went into adapting mode. Switching up the spare room downstairs into a bedroom for the days when you couldn’t make it up the stairs. He spent more time working at home to support you with chores and the task of running a household.

But it's not just you who benefits from Dave's dedication. Your daughters, too, are the recipients of his tireless efforts, as he juggles the demands of work and family with grace and patience. Whether it's attending Molly’s soccer games and school recitals, or helping with Alice’s homework and the complexities of her maturing into puberty, Dave is always there, a steady presence in their lives.

And you couldn’t be more proud or grateful to have him by your side, especially when he does this, all this, for you. 

You think back to when he said he was taking you away for the weekend to the cabin, just the two of you. Your eyes had widened in surprise, a smile spreading across your face. "Really? That's amazing! But what about the girls?"

"They'll be staying with my parents for the weekend," Dave explained. "It'll just be you and me, baby."

And although you were excited at the prospect, you couldn’t help but worry about your condition incapacitating you from enjoying some much needed time with your husband. 

And sensing your concern, Dave added, "we'll take things slow, at your pace. It's not about what we do, it's about being together. We can just relax.” 

As the familiar scenery blurred past the windows of the car, you’d settled into your seat with a sense of anticipation tempered by apprehension. The journey to your cherished cabin - one that you and Dave had purchased as a family home-away-from-home, where the vast majority of your vacations were taken - was a ritual you’d embarked on countless times before, but the worry always lingered that your condition would put a damper on things.

With each passing mile, you felt the telltale signs of discomfort creeping into your body - the stiffness in your limbs, the ache in your muscles, the relentless fatigue that began to crush on your shoulders.

But Dave had adequately prepared for it. He had adjusted the temperature controls to your liking, ensuring that the car was neither too hot nor too cold and a blanket was rolled up on the seat ready for you. He had packed a selection of your favourite snacks and beverages, knowing that keeping your energy levels up was crucial during long journeys. Made regular stops so you could stretch and ease your muscle cramps.

He offered his muscular arm as you navigated the uneven terrain, a steady presence by your side to lean on when needed. He’d packed the wheelchair, folding it around the suitcase and cooler like a skilled master at Tetris.

Then you finally arrived at the cabin, nestled amidst the towering pines, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. The journey had been long and challenging, but you’d made it to the rustic retreat tucked away from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Its weathered exterior bore the marks of years gone by.

The front porch, adorned with a simple wooden bench and a hanging lantern, welcomed you with open arms, offering a quiet sanctuary to unwind. Weathered planks creaked beneath your feet as you stepped slowly up onto the porch, the sound a familiar echo of memories past.

Inside, the cabin exuded warmth and cosiness, its walls adorned with knick-knacks and family photos and mementos collected over the years. A stone fireplace dominated one corner of the room, later its crackling flames would cast a soft glow across the space as you and Dave would cuddle up together nestled under fluffy throws and watch some old film.

Its sloping ceilings and cosy nooks offer a refuge from the world below. A plush bed dominates the master bedroom with its soft linens scented with the outdoors from the extended balcony.

And outside, the world now lays waiting, a vast expanse of wilderness stretching as far as the eye can see and you know you’d rather not be anywhere else right at this moment as Dave’s arms snake down over your belly giving it an affectionate squeeze, and you feel his chin rest on your shoulder. 

“You’re up early,” he murmurs. A soft kiss is pressed into the skin just behind your ear.

“Was a bit stiff,” you say.

"Am I okay to touch you? Is it the nerve pain?" He asks.

"No, no pain today." You smile up at him.

"Good," and he immediately runs his hands over your shoulders, massaging them gently. “You want me to run you a bath, baby?” He asks, and you shake your head, sighing and melting under his touch.

“That feels so good…” You practically whine, eyes closed and your senses running amok as he presses tentatively, but firmly, over your aching muscles. 

You hear him murmur in agreement, and more gentle kisses are peppered across the back of your neck. 

“You feel up to taking a walk today? A short one, maybe down to the stream and back?” He queries. “If not, I can push you in the chair. It’s not too far...”

Despite the stiffness that lingers in you from the journey down to the cabin, your body feels surprisingly good today. The fresh mountain air has worked its magic, infusing you with a renewed sense of vitality and energy. And a walk does sound appealing, hand in hand with your handsome husband, taking in the sights and sounds of nature. 

But Dave’s hands on your skin feels too good to ignore. 

"Actually," you say, turning up to face him with a mischievous twinkle in your eye, "I have a different idea."

Curious, Dave raises an eyebrow in question, his expression a mixture of intrigue and amusement. "Oh? And what might that be, Mrs York?"

“Help me up?”

You hold out your hands and he pulls you gently upright towards him, arms around your back as you feel the warmth of him seep into your skin.

You run your fingers down his chest, towards his belly and only stop when you cup his cock inside your palm.

He’s half hard already, a mixture of fleeting morning wood and the feel of you pressed against him, rousing him to full attention again.

You stoke and grope gently, feeling the thickness of him, running your thumb over the fabric of his boxers where his head swells under your touch.

“I thought maybe we could stay here for a little bit.” 

“Here? Right here?” Dave's eyes widen in surprise, a grin spreading across his face as he catches on to your enthusiasm. 

“Yeah, right here.” You confirm as you feel him fully harden against you. 

"Mmm, I like the sound of that," he replies, his voice tinged with a heady excitement.

His hands find your hips, turning you and you squeal as you grip onto the balcony edge as he guides you backwards a little bit.

Back arched and ass pushed out at him, he pushes up the hem of your sleep shirt, which is really just one of his old, blue cotton shirts that you wear just to tease him he swears, to reveal your delicate lacy panties. 

“Is this what you want, hmm?” He murmurs into your ear as you feel his fingers glide down your skin making you shudder. His whole palm massages your ass cheek before giving it a gentle spank. 

It makes you gasp and bite your lip in wonderment. 

“Mmm, Dave,” you groan. 

“Just a little tap… nothing too hard.” He reassures, knowing your body and tolerances well.

You miss those days when you could both go hard, fully unleashed, and your tastes more often than not leant into the more BDSM side of things. Letting Dave take full control of your body and mind and testing limits.

But since your condition took over, the kinkier aspect of your sex life took a harsh back seat, but Dave senses those tendrils are still alive in you. Still alive in him too, and you both navigate it differently, taking more of a softer approach when able to have the strength to play and indulge together with him.

He’s tuned into your body fully and knows exactly what you’ll be able to handle and when your exhaustion will rear its ugly head. Positions are adapted, lots of cushions to support, and Dave takes his sweet time with you, checking in regularly and ensuring you’re not appeasing him at the cost of your own comfort. 

You never tire of his sweeping touch, the way he gazes at you and tells you how good you feel and how beautiful you are. The way he tends to you and holds you after. The way foreplay has become an integral part of your lovemaking, sometimes replacing penetration altogether, and Dave enjoys it just as much, if not more, especially on the days where he too is exhausted, but still wants to feel close to you and wanted. 

He brings his palm down gently on your cheek again as you gasp, gripping onto the edge of the balcony tighter. 

“Feel good, baby?” He asks with a subtle hiss. 

“More,” you nod and keen. 

"More, what?"

"More... please." You smirk coyly.

“Just one more…” He says, and you groan as he spanks you again.

The subtle burn on your skin floods through your body leaving you heated and amped. 

His hand soothes the sting, rubbing over the meat of your cheek and fingers slipping in between the crack, sliding down the seam of your panties.

“Someone’s wet…” Dave teases, his fingers prodding at the damp, sticky lace moulded around your lips.  

You push back seeking his fingers desperately, feeling your body tighten and coil and anticipating release, but instead he withdraws them, pulling your panties off completely and helping you step out of them. 

“You good, baby?” Dave asks as you wobble, rising up and hands steady on your hips. 

“Yeah,” you breathe, a momentary dizzy spell clouding your eyes. You hate this, you hate that your body wants to interrupt this. 

You turn, finding his lips and grab at his t-shirt. “I want you, Dave.” You whine. 

“Want you too, baby…” he grunts as he tastes your tongue. “But let’s get you off your feet.” 

Before you have time to protest, he sweeps you up, lifting you into his strong arms as you giggle, and carries you into the bedroom. You stroke the hair at the nape of his neck, nuzzling into him as your toes tingle and throb.

He lays you on the bed, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose, followed by your lips. He kisses at your neck, sucking the skin there into his mouth as his fingers unbutton the shirt. 

“Take your t-shirt off,” you sway with a wanton giggle.

“Oh, you want me naked, hmm?” He smirks, pulling the t-shirt over his head and messing up his hair further. 

You fail to suppress a groan, he’s fucking beautiful. Tan, sculpted arms and a strong chest. The inklings of a little belly held back by muscle. 

“Like what you see, Mrs York?” He grins. You watch as he shucks his boxers off and his cock, thick and heavy, protrudes between his thighs. 

You reach for it, stroking it gently in your grip as he resumes his undressing of you. Leaking into your palm, he grunts as you pump him slowly.

"Oh, fuck, baby..." he breathes.

"I love this cock," you say, looking up at him.

He smirks crookedly, licking his plush lips.

Soft breasts and hard nipples greet him as he kisses down your clavicle, over the valley of your cleavage and licks around your areola, teasing you.

Dave spends copious amounts of time teasing you, worshipping your body. Eliciting all the octaves of moans that flow from your mouth as your body communicates with him.

He takes his time, stroking, lavishing and admiring. Appreciating every inch of you and how the morning sunlight makes your skin glow. 

“God, you’re so beautiful, baby.” Dave breathes, his breath warm before sucking your nipple into his mouth. 

“Dave,” you whine, fingers scritching into the messy tufts of his chocolaty hair. His head continues south, his tongue leaving wet, cooling streams over the heat of your stomach. 

He nestles himself between your thighs, kissing the insides of them as he looks up at you. 

You watch his tongue glide down your thigh. It tickles and you chuckle making him grin, so he does it again until you push his head away, laughing too much. 

“Stop!” You practically snort and he laughs too.  

“How are you feeling? Check in with me…” He asks, the dominant in him grounding you, as he goes back to soft, explorative kissing. 

“Good, really good,” you say. And you do, relaxing into the softness of the sheets, your limbs feeling fuzzy and loose. 

He runs his fingers along the slit of you and smirks. “We haven’t gotten this sopping wet in a while.” The tip of his thumb pushes in through your folds and it's drenched, the stickiness you can hear as he slips around your folds. “I like to get you sopping wet,” Dave husks. 

“Mmm, just feels so nice to feel you rubbing… and touching me like this.”

“I love touching you like this, baby.”

“This feels so good, you and me together like this.”

“It really does. Fuck, look at you…” he nips onto the inside of your thigh gently, those eyes penetrating you deeply. “Tell me what you want, you want my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Can’t I have both?” You smirk down at him.

He grins again. “So greedy.” He shuffles, his feet hanging off the bed as he spreads your legs and rests one over his shoulder. 

“Tell me to stop if it becomes too much,” he reminds you and you nod, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world right now. 

You gasp as he kisses, plants a little smooch here and there across your pussy. Then licks up the seam with a flat tongue. Thumbs pry you open gently so he can lick your clit, the tip of his tongue fluttering back and forth.

“Oh, that feels so good…” You whine, and he grunts in agreement. 

His tongue delves down into your hole, his thumb stroking pressurised circles over your clit as you squirm and writhe. His tongue penetrates you, fucks you gently as your clit buzzes under the slick rings his thumb makes around and over it. 

“Mmm, can you put your finger in?” You pant. 

“Just one?” He asks.

“Maybe two?”

“Maybe two, hmm?” He smirks. 

You watch as he sucks his middle finger and you gasp as it slips in with ease. He strokes you with the one for a little while whilst sucking on your clit before adding the other, both his middle fingers stroking inside you now. 

“Mmm, Dave! Don’t stop!” You keen, your body tensing and pulling rigid. You can feel the cusp of your orgasm twinkling over you. 

Dave can feel you buck into his mouth, your thighs shaking against his cheeks as he fingers and sucks you to your heady peak. You fist the sheets as you twist and your back arches as you spill into his mouth.

For a few, slow seconds you can’t hear or see anything, lost in the dreamy opaque void.  

“You taste so good, baby,” he says hungrily, as he pulls back a little from your lips. “Can never get enough of this gorgeous pussy.”

“Dave, I need you.” You smile down at him blissfully, and beckon him up as he crawls up your body. 

“Need my cock?”

“Need your cock.” You clarify. 

“Wrap your legs round me baby, that’s it, just like that. Comfy?”

“Yeah,” you smile, your hands sliding up his broad shoulders. 

He guides himself in, the tip pushing through gently and you groan. He licks over your mouth, tasting yourself as you kiss him, his cock sliding in deep and filling you full. 

You whine as Dave flexes his hips, his cock shiny with your slick as it withdraws each time. 

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” he groans. 

You can only gasp in agreement when you feel the swell of his balls pushing up against you as he plunges slow and deep. His hand strokes over your breast, palm smooth and warm as he squeezes; your nipple pinched between his fingers. 

“Fuck!” You moan, enjoying the sensation of it as he pinches harder. 

“Good?” 

“So good.”

He watches you, head nestled into the pillows, a dreamy smile over your features as you moan and pant. 

“Mmm, just nice and gentle and deep like this.” He breathes, plush lips parted as he watches you. 

“Yeah…”

“You like it deep, don’t you?” Dave says, pistoning his hips slowly. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

“So good,” you gasp. “Oh god, fuck that’s so good. That feels so good!” You cry. “Dave, I’m gonna-”

“I know, baby. You’re so close. I can feel it.” 

“Please, please-”

“You're begging me? Good girl...” He smirks. “You want to come?”

“Yes, please, please, Dave… Oh fuck, I can’t-”

“You can. Come for me, let it go.” 

“DAVE!”

“You’re so good for me, baby. Yeah, soak my cock... mmm, fuck. Look at you."

It's intense, so intense. Your body wants to fight it, to keep it on the outer reaches but you want it, that release that will flood your veins with a caramel warmth.

A few more strokes and you’re falling to pieces, thread by thread as he pushes in and holds it; motionless and just feeling your cunt contract and pulse around his throbbing, hard cock as you tremble and let go.

“That’s it, baby. Right there, fuck, you’re so beautiful when you come for me.”

Tears flood behind your eyes, your vision blurring as you give way to the light flooding and rejuvenating you.  

“Fuck, I love making you come so much…” Dave groans. 

It’s better than the meds, it cures everything. For a moment you’re white-washed in pure bliss. No pain, no tiredness, just Dave and the way he’s pulling you apart. Catching each piece of you and sewing you back together with silken ribbons.

You claw at him pulling him closer, your mewls of desperation absorbing into his skin.

"Dave! Oh my God!"

“I’m gonna come, baby…. Fuck!” He growls, his last few thrusts a bit harder and frantic. 

You grip onto him, fingers digging into clammy flesh as he grits his teeth and his eyes hold yours.

“Come inside me, Dave.” You pelt and he groans out, loudly, as he bursts. 

Foreheads pressed together and eyelashes fluttering in unison, he smiles and kisses your nose. You card through his hair and taste his warm sighs. 

“Feels really wet down there,” you giggle as he pulls out, soaked and pearly come dripping from his cock.

“It is, look what you do to me,” he smirks. 

He taps his cock against your flooded pussy, and you chuckle at the lewd sounds as it seeps from you. “Love coming inside you.”

“Me too.” You giggle. 

You groan as he scoops it up on the end of his cock and slips it back inside your still fluttering cunt. Staying there until he’s fully softened.

“Are you feeling okay?” Dave asks.

“Mmm, feel really good.” You say with heavy lids. 

“Did that make you hungry?”

“Well, I was hungry before, but for breakfast? Yeah.” 

He chuckles as he nuzzles your neck with his nose. “What are you hungry for?”

“What do we have?”

“Bacon… some eggs. About ten pounds of Costco Mexican cheese. I think some pancake mix, too.” Dave yawns.

“Store bought pancake mix? You are not the man I married.” You scoff, and he laughs and slips out of you. 

He scooches off the bed and you watch as he pads over to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth. Tall and naked and just perfect, as you feel your bodyweight sink further into the mattress. 

The washcloth is warm and soft as he cleans you up and tosses it into the hamper before settling in with you. 

“How about you relax here and I’ll see what I can throw together?” Dave suggests. 

“Sounds good, but just lay with me, for a little bit?” You sway and he can’t resist. 

Dave gets comfy behind you, pulling your back close to his chest. You take his hand in yours, bringing in up to your mouth and running your lips over his knuckles. 

There’s something so sexy about his wedding band, you think. That he’s yours. That it’s wrapped around a thick finger that still smells of your slick as you kiss over them as he snuggles in behind you. That he loves you and still desires you, despite your fatigue and pain.

“You okay, baby?” Dave asks again, lips grazing softly against the ball of your shoulder.

“Mmm, never better.” You murmur softly. 

“Legs doing okay? Back?”

You smile at how attentive he is and he runs his hand down your thigh, giving it a gentle, massaging squeeze.

“I’m good,” you reassure, feeling the hazy balm of sleep settling in. “Are you good?”

“Oh, I feel so good right now. Here, with my stunning wife who just milked my balls dry, and no kids!” He chuckles. 

“Mmm, heaven.” You agree, grinning into his plush mouth as he kisses you. “Thank you for this weekend.” You say, feeling all twinkly. 

The sensations that have become all too familiar in your daily life - tingling in your fingertips, the heaviness in your limbs - seem to have receded, replaced by a welcome sense of lightness and vitality. You give in to the sleepy blissfulness enveloping you like a soft, snug blanket, soothing your senses and calming you. 

“Anything for you, baby. I love you.” Dave muffles against your skin. “Sleep, if you need to.”

“I love you, too.” You smile, your lids closing and succumbing to a post-coital nap in your loving husband’s arms.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Dave, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

DAVE YORK MASTERLIST

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice - New Perceptions

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: This kinda a filler chapter, some cute fluffy moments between Bucky and Doodle happen.

This might a 2 or 3 parter (it's gonna be more because cannot help myself). College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that trope and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Bucky is a playboy. Flirting. Mentions of not eating or drinking for a hours (ADHD Brain)

Word Court: 3539

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

Catch up here: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

It wasn’t a surprise that your college finished out the regular season on top. Your college was known across the country for its sports programs. 

It didn’t surprise you when Bucky showed up with a bright cocky smile the day after the last away game. “Ooooh Doodle!” He said in a sing-song voice. 

You looked over your shoulder setting the paint brush down, raising an eyebrow at him, “yeeees Bucky?” You matched his tone perfectly. With all the away games you haven’t seen him since the weekend, you have made some decent progress on the painting of him. You were giddy to show him what you completed in his absence. 

“Guess who scored a date with Mandy, the head cheerleader?” He was beaming. Your heart sank momentarily, your facial expression dropping slightly before you composed yourself and gave him your best dazzling smile. 

“I’m not sure Buck, I’ve always been terrible at guessing games,” you murmured, trying to hide the discontent in your voice as you looked back at the canvas to compose yourself. He didn’t seem to pick up on your change in mood. 

“Ah come on Doodle, I’ll give you a hint. He’s charming, on the hockey team and incredibly sexy,” he sounded so cock sure. 

You turned to face him and tapped the end of the brush on your lip, feigning that you were deep in thought and then a bright smile split across your face. 

“Oh! I know who it is,” you said excitedly. “Sam!” You faked enthusiasm before turning back to the painting but not before catching his face drop for a moment. 

“Pfft, he’s about as charming as an out of tune piano,” Bucky deflected. “Come on Doodle, it’s easy.” 

“They’re easy huh?” You mused. “So must be you then,” you said flatly without missing a beat. He laughed awkwardly behind you. 

“Uh, yeah it’s me,” his cocksure attitude was gone and he sounded a little deflated. 

“That’s nice Buck, have fun,” you said quietly. 

“It’s not until tomorrow night,” he said, “I wanted to come hang out with you tonight,” your heart clenched and you bit your knuckle to stop the pang of hurt that threatened to crush you, you didn’t trust your voice at the moment so you just nodded. 

“How much of the painting have you done?” He asked quickly, changing the topic. You were grateful. “Last time I saw it you just had some base colours on.” 

You had the puck almost done, you were painting as if the puck was being shot at the person viewing it. Slightly different from your original idea, but you liked how it was turning out. Bucky was now standing next to you and you could smell the deep woody and amber tones of his cologne. He always smelled good, even after playing a game or practice. It was something you appreciated about him, Thor would smell like a locker room after practice. It was awful. 

You quickly focused back on the canvas and not how much you wanted to stick your nose into the crook of Bucky’s throat and inhale the heady scent he wore. This little crush was getting out of hand, you needed to squash it quickly. 

“That looks amazing, Doodle,” Bucky said in awe as he looked at the painting. “How do you make it seem so real?” 

“Practice, and a little luck,” you said with a shrug. Bucky moved out of the way when you picked the brush up and started to work on it again. “The inspiration was also a big help,” you looked over your shoulder at him and winked. He gave you a dazzling smile back. “What are you doing today?” He had pulled some books and notes out on the table and was staring down at them. 

“I’m studying for my astronomy final,” he said, his tongue caught between his teeth. His arm crossed over his chest and the other hand held his chin as he looked down at his notes. 

“Mind if I put some music on?” He hummed and you clicked the play button and let the music wash over you. You got to work, getting lost in the music and the brush strokes. 

The soft notes of Work Song by Hozier played soothingly over the speaker and you hummed softly along to the song and swayed gently back and forth. You jumped when you felt Bucky’s hand cup your shoulder and slide down your arm clasping your hand in his. 

“Can’t have a pretty thing like you dancing by herself,” he said softly. He pulled you to him and started to sway you two gently to the beat. Your heart was racing a million miles a minute, your cheeks were a bright shade of red as you hid your face against his firm chest. 

He moved you two effortlessly, he guided you in a small sway. He was smiling down at the top of your head as you leaned your cheek to his chest. His hand held the small of your back gently to him. 

You couldn’t believe this was happening, he was dancing with you randomly. It was completely out of the blue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to complain. He was firm and warm under your touch. He held like you were as fragile as blown glass, his touch feather light and respectful. You usually hated dancing but something about this moment felt right. 

As the song came to close and Bucky took a step back from you, you started to miss the contact as quickly as you lost it. He was smiling down at you and kissed you knuckles of the hand he had been holding at the time. “Thank you for the dance m’lady,” he tipped his chin and gave you a devilish smile. You couldn’t find words to express who you felt at the moment. 

“Thank you kind sir,” you stuttered back. He laughed his beautiful rich as chocolate laugh and made his way back to his studying and you went back to your painting feeling lighter than before. The pit in your stomach growing deeper, you could still feel his warm hand on your waist and the way he held you so carefully.

“Loki I don’t know what I’m going to do,” you whined as you draped over his lap dramatically. You had texted him “code red” before you left the art studio, Bucky had offered to drop you off at your apartment but you declined like you usually did. Code red meaning ‘I need you please come get me.’ Which he did without hesitation. 

“Darling you’re being a little dramatic,” he ran his fingers through your hair trying to sooth your nerves. 

“Loki, I’m not being dramatic. We had this whole conversation about just being friends and spending time together without him waiting to get me in bed,” you exclaimed. 

“Which he probably still does,” Loki added, you glared at him. 

“Not the point, how can that conversation mean anything if I can’t even hold myself to it,” you said in an exasperated tone. “Loki, he danced with me, out of the blue. Just took my hand and danced with me,” you peaked up at Loki who was running his long fingers through your hair, he had an unreadable expression. “Who does that nowadays, it’s something my grandpa would do with nana.” 

“Little brother,” Hela’s sing-song voice called as she poked her head into the room. “Oh hello sweetling! I didn’t know you were visiting,” she smiled at you. You had always liked Helena, she was always nice to you. She gave Loki and Thor shit when we were teens and they were acting like typical teenage boys, insensitive and immature. She looked you over, draped over Loki’s lap, your arm thrown over your eyes. You looked miserable, she entered the room further and sat down on the edge of Loki’s bed and gently touched your shoulder. 

“What’s the matter sweetling,” she asked soothingly. 

“Nothing Hela, stupid feelings and a crush a stupid boy,” you whined. She laughed at that. 

“Men tend to be like that, this is why I like women,” she chuckled. “Seriously sweetling, it can’t be that bad, who is it?” She asked softly. Her eyes drifted to Loki for a moment and he made a face. 

“Bucky Barnes,” you groaned. Hela’s eyes widened and she groaned. 

“You’re telling me you’re upset over that overgrown toddler on skates?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, you looked at her, god she was so pretty. You nodded and sighed heavily. 

“I know, I know. He’s just so.... Ugh.” Loki chuckled and Hela glared at him. She grabbed your hand and rubbed her thumb over your knuckles soothingly. 

“You know a couple years back he tried asking me out. I rejected him. He called me a stuck up bitch,” she said, you raised your arm off your eyes and looked at her. “He wouldn’t even let me tell him I had no interest in men, especially younger men.” You nodded and that was what Loki meant when he was rude to Hela. “He later saw me with Val on a date. He felt like an idiot and apologised for how he acted.” 

“He did?” Loki asked, he sounded surprised. Hela nodded. 

“He learned his lesson. Learned a few things too. From my understanding he’s not as pushy as he used to be,” Hela added. “Shame what happened with his girlfriend and her sudden departure to Alaska. He was apparently a lot different when she was here. She broke his heart. It doesn’t excuse his behaviour but it definitely gives perspective.” 

“You know Nat mentioned that he had a long term relationship that suddenly ended,” you said back, thinking back. 

“Val knew her better than I ever did, she apparently just packed up and left. No explanation, not warning. She was just gone. Barnes was devastated,” Hela said thoughtfully. 

“Huh, well that definitely adds perspective,” you agreed. 

“It doesn’t excuse his behaviour though,” Loki reiterated. You and Hela nodded in agreement. 

“What should I do?” You asked Loki after Hela left. He sighed and looked down at you, eyes swimming with uncertainty. 

“I’m not sure darling, if you told him what do you think would happen?” Loki asked softly. 

“He would probably pick up on trying to sleep with me again,” you groaned. 

You ended up spending the night at Loki’s house with him, falling asleep on his bed. 

“You know, it's a good thing you don’t share a bed with anyone,” Loki shoved you away from the centre of the bed. “You’re a fucking bed hog,” you couldn’t help but laugh at his groggy disgruntled voice. 

“Apologies Loki,” you laughed as he huffed. 

“Bull shit,” he exclaimed while standing up and going into his ensuite bathroom. You stood and leaned against the door frame while Loki pulled a brush through his hair and did his skin care routine. “Do you want me to bring you home so you can change and stuff? 

“I would appreciate it,” you smiled at him. 

“Morning Wands,” you called as you came through the front door, Loki right behind you, he grabbed your coat and hung it up as you pulled it off. 

“In here,” she called out as the toaster popped. You and Loki walked into the kitchen together. “Morning Loki,” she gave him a dazzling smile, which he returned. 

“I’m making cinnamon toast and eggs, hungry?” She asked. 

“I’d love some, I’m going to grab a quick shower and change.” 

“Princessa!” Peitro wrapped you in a hug tightly as he walked behind you and snagged a piece of toast off your plate. 

“Get your own,” you batted his hand away. 

“But I want yours,” he teased. You heard Wanda and Loki chuckle at you both. 

“I have a plate for you too, stop stealing hers,” Wanda ushered him over. 

“What plans do you have today?” Wanda asked as she sat down next to you. You looked to Loki, it was his turn to plan the Saturday plans. 

“The new book I’ve been waiting on is finally here so we have to stop by the bookstore in town,” Loki said, “then I think we’ll drive up the coast, we need pictures for our photography class.” You smiled at him, so thoughtful. “Then maybe some dinner and a stroll through the park,” he finished. 

“God Loki you’re making me look like a terrible boyfriend,” Pietro whined, you snorted into your juice and leaned back laughing loudly. 

“Maybe you should take notes,” Loki teased. You and Wanda were laughing together. Loki was an incredibly thoughtful friend. That’s why you adored him so much. But that’s where it ended. You two were the best of friends and that was where the line was drawn  and there was never a need to cross it. It took time for people to understand your friendship and the boundaries you two had in place. 

“Sounds like a fun day,” Wanda said thoughtfully. 

“What about you Wands? Vis is still abroad isn’t he?” She nodded at your question. 

“I’m going to practise with Pietro, it’s a nice day to be out in the sun,” she answered. “Vis gets back next week.” 

“I had fun today,” you said softly as you and Loki walked through the park after having supper at a sweet little Mexican restaurant. Loki had his hand on the small of your back guiding you and keeping you close. 

“I did too,” he hummed. You two walked around a little more, taking a seat on a bench to watch the setting sun. You looked out over the green space and saw some couples sitting in the grass relaxing. One couple caught your attention. 

“Is that bucky?” You said quietly, tipping your head in his direction. Loki squinted and nodded. 

Bucky was sitting a little ways away leaning back on his hands. Mandy sat next to him completely ignoring him. Something twisted in your heart as you looked at him looking up at the sky and she was scrolling her phone. Loki rubbed your shoulder soothingly. Drawn back to him you gave Loki a sad smile. 

“She probably just wants to sleep with him,” Loki whispered. You nodded in agreement. 

“He likes space a lot. He’s talking to her and she is not even pretending to listen,” it broke your heart. Soon his date leaned over and they got up from their spot. He trailed behind her as they waltzed across the green space toward Bucky’s truck. You watched him follow after her like some love sick puppy. 

But then for a brief moment his eyes connected with yours. His eyes narrowed in on you and he paused for the briefest moment as he looked at you across the field. You couldn’t place the look in his eyes, but it was something akin to longing, maybe you couldn’t be sure. As soon as it started it ended and Bucky was gone with Mandy into his truck. 

“Darling,” Loki’s smooth voice filled your ears and you looked at him. “You okay?” You nodded and sighed. 

“I think so,” you mumbled while shaking your head to clear it. 

You didn’t see much of Bucky over the next few days, practice and studying seemed to completely take over his days. He would text you little updates, ask how your day was going, remind you to drink and eat snacks. Your phone going off startled you out of the trance you were in. 

It was a FaceTime request from Bucky. You slide the answer button and gaze at him with a quizzical look. “Hello,” you chuckled, propping the phone on the easel. 

“Hey doodle,” his hair was wet and he was shirtless, you tried to not look at his shoulders. “Miss me?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you. 

“Like a toothache Bucky,” you mused. Your shirt rode up as you stretched your arm to reach up on the canvas. Your phone left you a perfect anglee for Bucky’s eyes to follow the now revealed skin. You didn’t catch him licking his lips at you. 

“I’m hurt doodle,” he feigned hurt and clutched his hand over his heart being dramatic which made you laugh. There was a sudden knock on the art studio door, you looked over your shoulder and then back at the phone. Bucky was trying really hard to not look suspicious. 

“What did you do?” You asked as you grabbed the phone and opened the door, you looked down and he shrugged. Opening the door you were greeted by a delivery driver. You raised an eyebrow and squinted at him. 

“Delivery for Doodle?” The driver said, he looked completely over the day and didn’t bat an eye at the nickname. 

“I didn’t order,” you looked down at your phone and were met with Bucky’s shit eating grin. “You cheeky bastard,” you accused him. “Thank you,” you took the food and sat down at the table in the art room. 

“Thanks Bucky,” you were touched. He had ordered your favourite, everything completely how you liked it. You had only ever ordered this once in his presence, weeks ago. He remembered. “You even remember the extra sauce,” you could feel tears well up in your eyes from how sweet of a gesture it was. You quickly rubbed the tears away and smiled at him. 

Everyone in your life had been so busy you barely spoke to them, Bucky had been the most consistent person by far. You didn’t blame the others, you had barely kept in touch being swapped with final projects and finals. Everyone was just busy. The fact he took the time to send you food, made your heart soar. 

“I figured we could eat together,” Bucky said as he sat up and positioned the phone so his hands were free and you could see his full torso and face. You almost choked on air seeing him. He was fucking hot, you stoped the that train of thought immediately and looked at his face and not his peaks or squishy tummy. He was a big dude, firm but soft looking. You wanted to run your fingers over his torso. 

“I’d like that,” you were impressed with how composed you sounded in that moment. 

“How’s the projects going?” He asked. You shrugged and sighed. 

“They're going. I’m almost done with three of them and I finished the last one this afternoon,” he nodded. Silence fell over you two again but it wasn’t uncomfortable. That was something you noticed shortly after his visits to art studios became more frequent, silence with him was comfortable and you never felt the innate urge to fill it. “How’s studying?” 

“Good, the practicals will be easy. I hate written exams,” Bucky was a kinesiology major, doing astrology classes for electives. What surprised you early on was that he was actually doing well in classes. It made you question those Reddit comments you read saying he cared little for academics. He wasn’t a valedictorian or anything but he was passing with 3.1 GPA overall. You weren’t surprised when he mentioned he wasn't interested in the arts, and that he only did the two mandatory English classes. 

“You got this,” you said to him with a smile. 

“So do you,” he gave you a dazzling smile back. “I'm sorry I haven’t been coming to visit,” he said quietly. 

“It’s okay, we’re all busy right now. I haven’t seen Nat in 4 days, she was hauled up in the dance studio getting ready for her practicals and the final performance,” you shrugged, the performance arts program did a big show at the end of exams the whole campus was invited to purchase tickets for. The funds raised went toward funding future projects. You had your ticket, and an extra because Loki had bought his and forgot to tell you. 

“She hasn’t been at practice either, Barton has been insufferable,” Bucky said with a mock exasperated sigh. 

“I’m not surprised,” you chuckled and smiled at Bucky, he admired the way the corner of your eyes crinkle when you smile like that. 

“You’re still coming Friday?” Bucky asked. 

“Of course,” you nodded. “Actually I have a question to ask you,” he looked at you attentively and waited. “I have an extra ticket to the performing arts final show after exams, did you want to come with me?” You didn’t build your hopes so high that he would say yes. “If you don…”

“Yeah, love too Doodle,” he cut you off. Your face lights up with a bright smile. 

“Awesome,” you cheered excitedly, you wouldn’t soon forget the beautiful smile that graced his face, you both looked into each other for a moment, smiles morning one another. You didn’t want to look away from him, his eyes snapped from yours at the sound of a crash from another room and some yelling. 

“Dammit Scott,” Bucky groaned and looked at you apologetically. “Gotta go Doodle, I’m going to try and swing by the art room tomorrow.” 

“Bye Bucky,” you waved at him as he waved the call ended. You saT back in the chair for a moment before giving up for the night and packing up to go home.

AN: Thank you all so much for reading! I've have been really enjoying writing this series!

Taglist: @vicmc624, @calwitch, @learisa, @aaqua-tofana, @charmedbysarge, @blackbirdwitch22

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list!

[mamani-bento]

weight (satoru gojo)

gojo x reader, 1.4k, gender not mentioned

established relationship, fluff + comfort

the poorest little meow meow

mamani-bento's masterlist!

there’s something about tiredness in gojo’s life. something about how the exhaustion of carrying a weight and a future, neither just his own, has followed him around for years, like a dutifully grotesque pet dog.

he uncomplainingly lets it pad at his heels for the longest time, twisting his sense of self-preservation into a similarly dark thing. he masks his loneliness with a wide grin and his weariness with a silly joke, but every day, his back breaks from carrying his heavy heart. gojo has always been a powerful man, but to bear this weight alone has left his emotional spine feeling perpetually hunched.

it fluctuates in effort and attention demanded from him. lighter in the early mornings, as he wakes up in your arms, blinking blearily at your sleepy but fond grin at his uncharacteristic sluggishness. lighter too on the weekends he gets off - slow sunday mornings that he spends putting together elaborate brunches that you pretend to help with (you chop a tomato and decide to shift to moral support after that); or the saturday nights outside with friends, your heated gaze catching his from across the bar, the promise of your body flush against his once you reach home curling low in his belly.

sometimes, he experiences flashes of time when he doesn't register the weight at all, leaving him reeling. brushing his teeth with you, reflections side-by-side as you pull funny faces at each other in the mirror. the fiery glow of the setting sun catching your smiling, upturned face at the beach, like calling to like. waking up to you, always waking up to you. these moments when his breath catches in his throat like a lump of something too-sweet that he's trying too hard to not choke on to register the ephemerally absent burden.

but there are other times - dark, terrible times - that the heaviness threatens to swallow him whole.

the last few hours have been a blur of activity. lingering adrenaline from the heady mission leaves gojo's body in a constantly draining, ugly streak, his energy dipping lower with every step he takes. he had waved away nanami's offer to drop him home, tired of being so on and looking forward to the quiet and solitary walk. now, as his legs trudge along on muscle memory alone and the strain in his eyes starts to feel like too much, he's wondering if he should have just accepted.

he finally reaches the front door, wondering if you're back home from work, every part of his being praying that you're on the other side of the wood. his keys click in the lock and he steps into the one place he can lay down the baggage.

he registers the sound of the television at the same time as you call out, "gojo? is that you?"

he doesn't bother with a verbal response, unceremoniously kicking his shoes off and entering the living room. he rounds the corner of the foyer and pauses, heart briefly unclenching in one of those stark instants.

your hair is a mess, half-dry from a shower and curling near the tops of your ears. you've been complaining that it's getting too long these days, difficult to manage. you're dressed for bed, soft and fraying cotton t-shirt and shorts with strawberries printed on them. the realisation that you had waited up for him has his insides feeling raw, all scraped and tender with your love.

at his entrance, your expression changes from curiosity to one of sympathetic understanding. he's never been able to hide his exhaustion around you. he's given up trying to long ago. you peel away the layers with the slightest glance and he's fully exposed before he ever realises what's happening.

without another word, he lets his bag slip off his shoulders and drop to the floor, and takes one, two, three steps to the couch where you're sat. it's a bit of a squeeze, and he has to keep his knees bent, but with some shifting on both of your parts and your amused huff, gojo manages to lie down on the three-seater with his head on your lap.

he burrows his face in the fabric of your t-shirt as a hand comes up to soothingly card through his hair. humming as your nails lightly scratch his scalp, he lets out a deep sigh, weight dropping with the smell of your shampoo, the comfort of your presence. neither of you say anything as he takes his time to come up for air, once he's fitted out with enough ammunition to face the outside again. the television maffles in the background.

when he turns back to face the ceiling, head securely cushioned by your thigh, you're looking down at him with a practiced discernment that leaves him feeling naked to himself. another slight puff of air leaves his lips as he lets his eyelids flutter closed.

"do you want to talk about it?" you softly ask, your soothing ministrations on his hair not slowing down.

gojo cracks a single eye open. thinks about it. decides that it's too much and gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head. imperceptible to anybody but you, that is. "tired," he mumbles before resting his eyes again.

one of your palms comes to cup the back of his head, gently lifting as the other hand deftly undoes the knot on the blindfold. another weight that you effortlessly dismantle. the strip of cloth is placed on the arm of the couch next to you.

once his head is comfortable on your lap again, you easily slip your hand into his, resting interlocked fingers on his stomach. "have you eaten?" you ask next, thumb rubbing slowly across his skin, tracing love that simultaneously keeps him in one piece and shatters him into a thousand.

he nods. they had gotten sandwiches a few hours ago at a gas station on the way back.

"have you eaten enough?" you pointedly ask, as if reading his mind. you might as well be.

gojo remains silent. gives a small shake of his head.

thankfully, you don't go to remove him from his cozy position. he's quite content where he is now, cocooned in this bubble of affection you've created. instead, you lift his hand that's ensconced in your smaller one, his long fingers curling in your grip as you brush your lips across his knuckles.

the tenderness in your touch leaves him breathless, and he marvels, not for the first time, how he had survived for so many years without this. he's never known this sort of peace before - somebody to come home to, their lap to lay his head on, room in their heart for him to set up messy shop.

sometimes, he doesn't know what to do with it, honestly. can't quite figure out where to put his hands when you show such kindness, like he's somehow worthy of your love. he had a hard time letting you beat at the fog that he's lived with forever, but patiently, you kept bringing bigger sticks, just by being around him. he's better at it now. better at convincing himself in moments like these that this peace isn't a borrowed thing that'll disappear in the morning.

"is there any dinner left?" he asks softly. he'll let you take care of him. he deserves it. you think he deserves it, and he'll trust your judgment.

"mm-hmm. i'll heat it up when you're ready to eat."

he feels the drain of energy, yes, but also a load slowly getting lighter somewhere inside him. the dim yellow lighting of the room, the cushioned couch under his limp body, the sounds of the television regaled to the background, and you.

always, you.

he has a laundry list of things to do tomorrow - classes, mission report, demonstrations, debriefing, all the people he has to be loud for - but, he'll wake up in your arms. and you will give him that look as the sun streams into the quiet room, that fond grin as he works to get his brain up and running. and he will feel the weight similarly start to ease away, like a pavlovian condition he doesn't want to fight.

the thought is enough to give him the strength to lift his head from your lap. you cup his cheek with your free palm, looking at him like he isn't the strongest sorcerer, like he isn't contact person number one for the jujutsu world, like he's just a man who's tired, and it feels like stepping into a beam of sunlight that warms his frigid skin. not letting go of his hand, you rise, and he follows. for now, to the kitchen so he can get some food. but really, he'll always follow to the next morning, and the next and the next, where he gets to wake up to you.

[dee-writes-smut]

PREVERNAL (Extra)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY it's been two years, you want sex with your mate, but it seems Azriel is hesitant. Good thing bestie LuLu is here to help ;)

CONTENT WARNINGS sex! (there will be a note before if you wish to skip), MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap, y'all), Lucien being a nosy horndog (?)

AUTHORS NOTE c'mon, you didn't think I was just going to leave you without a smut scene! What do you make me for, a monster?!

As the world awakens from its winter slumber, a symphony of sensations fills the prevernal air, weaving a tapestry of seduction that tantalizes the senses and stirs the soul. The earth, still moist from the thawing frost, exhales a heady fragrance of rebirth, a delicate mingling of damp soil and budding life that beckons with whispered promises of renewal. Each step upon the awakening land is a dance with temptation, as the soft, yielding earth caresses the feet with a sensuous touch that ignites a primal longing deep within.

Above, the sun emerges from its hibernation, casting its golden rays upon the landscape like a lover's embrace. Its warmth, once forgotten, now envelopes the skin in a tender caress, coaxing the slumbering earth to awaken from its wintry dreams. And awaken it does, with a flourish of color and life that ignites the senses with an intoxicating fervor. Delicate blossoms unfurl their petals in a symphony of hues, their fragrant perfumes mingling with the crispness of the air in a sensual ballet of scent.

Everywhere, the world pulses with the rhythm of desire, from the gentle rustle of awakening leaves to the melodious trill of amorous birdsong. Each breeze carries with it a whisper of passion, stirring dormant desires and kindling flames of longing that smolder just beneath the surface. In the prelude to spring, every sensation is heightened, every moment pregnant with possibility, as the allure of new beginnings hangs heavy in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

In this season of rebirth, nature herself becomes the ultimate seductress, her beauty a bewitching spell that enraptures all who dare to surrender to her charms. And so, beneath the canopy of prevernal skies, amidst the vibrant tapestry of blossoms and verdant greenery, the world becomes a playground of desire, where every touch, every scent, every sight ignites the flames of passion and invites the soul to embrace the sensual delights of the season.

It had been a little over two years since I lost my wings to Lyris, since I found out Azriel is my mate, and the last two years have been good. Sure, there have been moments where I fell back into that dark space, but Azriel was always there, ready to pull me back into the light when I was done reflecting.

During that time, our lives have undergone significant changes. Azriel and I were gifted a townhouse by Feyre and Rhys, providing us with our own space to build a life together. Additionally, my friendship with Lucien had deepened. Though we had only met briefly before the incident with my wings, our connection had grown, and now he joined me every weekend for a night out in the Night Court.

Despite the progress in our lives, there remained an unspoken tension between Azriel and me. While he was attentive and affectionate, there was a notable absence of intimacy. Though he'd shower with me, share kisses, and embrace me, our relationship had not progressed beyond that point. I'd attempted to initiate intimacy, but each time Azriel seemed to retreat, offering excuses that left me feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

As Lucien and I entered the bustling tavern, the familiar sights and sounds of Velaris washed over me, momentarily distracting me from my tangled thoughts. The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter that filled every corner of the room.

I glanced around, searching for a quiet corner where we could sit and talk. The tavern was packed with patrons, each one lost in their own conversations and revelries.

Lucien followed my lead, his eyes scanning the room as he sought out the perfect spot. "How about over there?" he suggested, nodding towards a cozy corner booth bathed in soft candlelight.

I nodded in agreement, grateful for his intuition. Together, we made our way over to the booth and settled in, the comfortable silence between us speaking volumes.

"So," Lucien began, breaking the silence with a curious glint in his eye, "what's been on your mind lately, songbird?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject. But then, with a deep breath, I decided to lay it all out on the table. "Azriel," I confessed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking with mine in a silent exchange of understanding. He knew exactly what I was talking about, without me having to say another word.

"He's been… distant," I continued, my voice tinged with frustration. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Lucien. I've tried everything I can think of, but he always pulls away."

Lucien's expression softened, his hand reaching out to cover mine in a comforting gesture. "I'm sure it's not you," he reassured me, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Azriel's been through a lot, as have you. Maybe he just needs some more time."

I nodded, taking solace in his words. "I hope you're right," I replied, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into my voice. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that there was a distance between Azriel and me that I couldn't bridge no matter how hard I tried. Then, an idea sparked in my mind, and I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What if I tried… something different?" I suggested, a mischievous glint in my eye.

He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Different how?" he asked, leaning in even closer to hear my suggestion. "Songbird, are you suggesting I help you to seduce your mate?” Lucien chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye to match the slight blush across his cheeks.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking for my wonderful Lord of Foxes” I smirked, listening to his joyous laugh dancing through the tavern like silk in the wind. It made me smile, to hear him distracted from his own mate related sorrows.

“Trying to butter me up, are we?” He grinned, shaking his head at my answering snicker. “What if you were to seduce him?" Lucien suggested, his tone playful yet suggestive. "Show him just how much you desire him, and maybe he won't be able to resist."

I considered the suggestion, a thrill of excitement coursing through me at the thought of finally crossing that line with Azriel. "How would I do that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien grinned, clearly enjoying our clandestine conversation. "You could start by wearing something… provocative," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Show him what he's been missing out on."

I blushed at the suggestion, the idea of dressing up to seduce Azriel both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "That could work," I admitted, feeling a surge of determination building within me.

Lucien nodded in approval. "And what about… teasing him?" he suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Give him little hints of what's to come, and let his imagination do the rest."

I swallowed hard at the suggestion, the thought of teasing Azriel sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "That could definitely get his attention," I agreed, my mind already racing with possibilities, but as we continued to brainstorm, I couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement building within me. Maybe this was exactly what Azriel and I needed to finally take that next step, to bridge the gap that had been growing between us.

“But,” Lucien interjected, raising a finger and pointing it at me, “you could also try talking to him.” I raised a brow at this, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a physical reminder of the weight of his sorrows, “I know that it’s not working with Elain, but you an-”

“Luce,” I say softly, interrupting him with a soothing hand on his warm arm, “I would never use that against you, not even in a stupid disagreement, c’mon.” I watch as his cheeks redden, his head falling, long, golden-red hair hiding his expression.

Tonight was going to be a late night.

It had been weeks, and this evening had been meticulously planned, every detail carefully orchestrated in my attempt to seduce Azriel. I had adorned myself in my most alluring attire, a dress that clung to every curve, and had spent hours perfecting my makeup and hair.

As Azriel stepped through the door of our townhouse, I greeted him with a coy smile, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Tonight was the night I would finally make my move, the night I would show him just how much I desired him.

"Hey, Az," I purred, sauntering over to him with what I hoped was a seductive sway in my hips. "Did you have a good day?"

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he took in my appearance. "It was fine," he replied, his voice low and husky. "What about you?"

I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence at his response. "Oh, you know," I said, my voice laced with playful flirtation. "Just counting down the minutes until you got home."

But as I began to put my plan into action, things quickly took an unexpected turn. My attempts at seduction came off as clumsy and awkward, each gesture more embarrassing than the last.

I tried to flirt, to tease him with suggestive remarks, but my words came out jumbled and incoherent. "You must be tired," I blurted out, cringing at my own lack of finesse. "Maybe I could help you relax?"

Azriel watched me with a bemused expression, clearly unsure of how to respond to my awkward advances. "Um, sure," he said, his tone cautious as he took a step back, clearly sensing my nervous energy.

I attempted to initiate physical contact, to seduce him with a touch, but my hands fumbled clumsily and fell short of their mark. I reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face, but ended up poking him in the eye instead.

"Ow!" Azriel exclaimed, blinking rapidly as he recoiled from my touch. "Are you okay?"

I winced, mortified by my own clumsiness. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to…"

But it wasn't until I saw the disappointment in Azriel's eyes that the full weight of my humiliation hit me. I had wanted so desperately to seduce him, to show him just how much he meant to me, but instead, I had only succeeded in making a fool of myself.

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I turned away from him, unable to bear the thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state. I had wanted tonight to be perfect, but instead, it had been a disaster of epic proportions.

"Hey," Azriel's voice was gentle, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unable to speak past the lump forming in my throat. How could I explain to him the depths of my humiliation, the sheer magnitude of my disappointment? Azriel wasn't one to give up easily. With infinite patience, he wrapped me in his arms, holding me close as I sobbed against his chest.

After I took a few moments to collect myself while Azriel held me close, his warmth enveloping me, I was able to take a deep breath and steady my emotions before speaking up. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible against the fabric of his shirt. "I just wanted tonight to be special."

Azriel's arms tightened around me, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of my emotions. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "We can try again another time."

I sniffled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me at his understanding. "But why?" I blurted out, the question tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. "Why won't you… why won't you make love to me?"

Azriel pulled back slightly, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. "It's not that I don't want to," he spluttered, “believe me, honey, I’ve wanted nothing more these last couple years,” he encouraged with a low growl, his eyes darkening for a moment. “But,” Azriel continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "It's just… complicated."

My heart sank at his words, a knot of worry forming in the pit of my stomach. "Complicated how?" I pressed, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. "I don't want you to feel… obligated," he admitted, his gaze filled with concern. "After everything you've been through, I don't want you to feel like you have to… do this with me."

I blinked in surprise at his confession, the weight of his words sinking in. "But I want to," I insisted, my voice firm with determination. "I want to be with you, Az. I want this."

Azriel's expression softened at my words, his eyes meeting mine in a silent exchange of understanding. "I know," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But I don't want you to rush into anything because you feel like you have to."

Tears welled up in my eyes at his concern, the depth of his love washing over me like a wave. "I'm not rushing," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "I'm ready."

Azriel's gaze softened at my words, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Okay," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "Okay."

The weight of Azriel's concern lingered in the air between us, casting a shadow over our tender moment. I bit my lip, gathering my courage before speaking again. "Az," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "can we try tonight?"

His brows furrowed in concern, his gaze searching mine as if trying to gauge my sincerity. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone gentle yet cautious.

I nodded, a determined glint in my eyes. "Yes," I replied, my voice stronger this time. "I want this, Az. I want to be with you."

Azriel studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he weighed my words. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if he had come to a decision. "Okay," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and resolve. "But only if you're absolutely sure."

I nodded, a sense of gratitude swelling within me at his understanding. "I am," I assured him, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. "I trust you, Az. I always have."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with warmth and affection. "I love you," he said, his voice a gentle caress that soothed the ache in my heart.

"I love you too," I whispered, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I nestled into his embrace.

The air between us crackled with tension as we made our way to our bedroom, our footsteps echoing in the quiet of the townhouse. Despite our earlier conversation, a nervous energy hung heavy in the air, making each moment feel strained and uncertain.

I stole a glance at Azriel out of the corner of my eye, finding him watching me with a mixture of apprehension and longing. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, the weight of his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.

As we reached the door to our bedroom, I paused, my hand hovering uncertainly over the handle. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Azriel nodded, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the nerves that flickered in his eyes. "I want to be with you, more than anything, as long as you're ready."

I swallowed hard, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside me, not immune to the irony of the question. With a shaky breath, I pushed open the door, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, as if unsure of what to do next. But then, with a shared glance, we moved as one, closing the distance between us with hesitant steps.

I reached out to touch him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. "I love you," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

Azriel's eyes softened at my words, his hand coming up to cradle my face in a gentle caress. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

And then, with a shared smile, we began to undress, each movement slow and deliberate as we shed the layers that separated us. It was awkward at first, our hands fumbling and uncertain as we navigated the unfamiliar terrain of each other's bodies.

But as we moved together, our laughter mingling with the soft sounds of the night, something shifted between us. The tension that had once hung heavy in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease and familiarity that washed over us like a warm embrace.

(MDNI SMUT AFTER THE CUT)

Azriel's touch is a symphony of sensations, each brush of his fingertips sending sparks of desire dancing along my skin. He starts with feather-light caresses, tracing invisible patterns across the curve of my jaw, down the length of my neck, and along the swell of my collarbones. Each touch is a promise of things to come, a tantalizing tease that leaves me yearning for more.

His lips follow the path his fingers have traced, pressing soft, lingering kisses against my skin. He explores every inch of me with a reverence that takes my breath away, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I gasp as his lips find the hollow of my throat, his tongue tracing delicate circles against my pulse point.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and husky with desire. I shiver at his words, a rush of heat pooling between my thighs.

As he continues to explore, his hands roam freely over my body, mapping every curve and contour with a hunger that mirrors my own. He cups the weight of my breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing lightly over my hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me.

"Azriel," I whisper, my voice trembling with longing as I arch into his touch, a low moan escaping my lips as he takes one swollen nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with a fervor that leaves me dizzy with desire. His other hand travels lower, skimming across the sensitive skin of my abdomen before dipping between my thighs.

I gasp as his fingers find the heat between my legs, teasing me with maddening slowness. He circles my clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm.

"You drive me wild," he confesses, his breath hot against my skin as he slides a single finger inside me, testing my readiness. I'm already slick with desire, my body eager for more of him. I rock my hips against his hand, wordlessly urging him to continue. With a low growl of approval, Azriel adds a second finger, stretching me in the most exquisite way possible.

I moan his name, my fingers tangling in his dark locks as I pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch. "I want you," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“All good things come to those who wait,” he smirks against my breast, his tongue swiping at my hardened nipple.

“Please,” I whine, my hips meeting his gentle thrusts, the soft squelching noises between my thighs steadily growing louder and more frequent. He complies eagerly, increasing the pace and pressure of his ministrations until I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion, every nerve in my body singing with pleasure.

And just when I think I can't take any more, he withdraws his fingers, leaving me gasping and aching for release. With a wicked smile, he leans up to capture my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a dance as old as time.

I lose myself in the kiss, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips against mine, the taste of him on my tongue. We part with fierce huffs of breaths as he reaches down to ready himself, using the slick he collected between my thighs to lather his thick length. I whimper at the sight of it, his long, intimidating length, prettily flushed and already dripping precum.

Azriel shushes me softly as he lines himself up, slowly sliding himself against my clit for a moment before notching at my entrance. With a deep breath, he slowly starts to slide in.

I let out a long gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders as he hovers above me, his face pinched so beautifully in both pleasure and concentration.

“Gods,” he whimpers as his thighs meet mine, my heart flipping at the sound and before soon Azriel and I meld together in a dance of desire, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The heat between us ignites, consuming us in a blaze of passion as we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of our union.

Azriel's movements are primal and unrestrained, each thrust driving me closer to the edge of oblivion. I cling to him, my nails digging into his skin as I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies colliding with a force that borders on violence.

Slick with sweat, our bodies slide against each other, creating a symphony of sounds that fills the room. The scent of our arousal hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of candles burning low.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. "Mine to claim."

I moan in response, the sound a guttural cry of need as pleasure courses through my veins. "Yes," I gasp, my voice barely more than a desperate plea.

The intensity of our connection is overwhelming, a tidal wave of desire crashing over us with each passing moment. I lose myself in the sensation, the world narrowing down to the feel of Azriel's skin against mine, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with my own.

He leans down to capture my lips in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth with a hunger that borders on feral. I bite back, matching his intensity with a ferocity of my own as we devour each other with a raw, primal need.

Every touch, every kiss, every thrust is a testament to our shared desire, a silent declaration of the love that binds us together. We are lost in each other, consumed by the fire that burns between us, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pleasure mounts, I feel myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my entire being consumed by the overwhelming tide of sensation. Azriel senses my impending release and adjusts his rhythm, driving me over the edge with a final, desperate thrust.

I scream his name as ecstasy washes over me in a blinding burst of light, my body convulsing with pleasure as I tumble into the abyss of sensation. "Azriel!" I cry out, my voice a plea for more as I surrender to the depths of bliss.

He growls in response, panting in my ear, “let me put a baby in you, my mate. Let me-” he lets out a grunt as his movements become more erratic, “let me show the world how good i give it to you, to this pretty little pussy.”

I whimper at the words, my sex addled mind going blank for a moment as he suspends my pleasure, “yes, please, Az, put a baby in me,” I moan loudly, gently scratching the delicate membrane of his right wing.

Azriel lets out a roar of pleasure as he lets himself go, shoving in as far as he can and staying there as he fills me with his warm seed. “I love you,” he pants softly in my ear, his entire body laying sticky and limp on top of mine.

“I love you too,” I breathe, my hands moving to rake through his soft curls.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subside, Azriel turns us to hold me close, his touch gentle yet possessive. There's an unspoken understanding between us, a connection that goes deeper, a thread that sparkles in pure gold with contentment and satisfaction. His arms around me feel like home, like a sanctuary where I can be truly myself.

His whispered words of love and reassurance wash over me like a soothing balm, each syllable a tender caress against my skin. He speaks of our bond, of the love that binds us together, and I listen, my heart swelling with gratitude for the man who has become my everything.

I nestle against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. It's a comforting rhythm, a reminder that I am safe in his embrace, cocooned in the warmth of our shared intimacy.

"Stay," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against my skin. "I know you have to get cleaned up… but, just a little longer."

I smile, my heart swelling with affection for this man who has become so much more than just a lover. "Of course," I reply, my voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

Azriel presses a tender kiss to my forehead, his touch a gentle caress along the curve of my spine. With each stroke of his fingers, I feel the tension leaving my body, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

We lie together in silence, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. There's no need for words; our connection speaks volumes in the quiet of the room. I trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips, a comforting reminder of the love that binds us together.

And as sleep finally claims us both, I drift off with the comforting knowledge that in Azriel's arms, I have found a kind of love that transcends mere physical desire, a love that will sustain us through whatever challenges lie ahead.

[violetbranwen]

Safe Harbour | Frankie Morales x F!AFAB!Reader | Fluff

Summary:Frankie finally takes a bath for his bad back. You can't help but join him. Warnings: No explicit smut, but it's not "clean" either.         Bathing/Washing; Mild Sexual Content; No Smut; mentions of genitalia; Fluff; Domestic Fluff; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Romantic Fluff; Valentine's Day Fluff; Bubble Bath/Bathtubs; Food mentions; alcohol mention; Frankie Morales has a bad back; But even that won't stop him from wanting to bone. Reader has no physical description but is "Mrs Morales", and has a vagina. Just a little fluffy fun with Frankie and you, his wife. Fluffbruary Prompt: Phone | Bubble bath | Doll [Day 14 prompts of @astromechs #rebelcaptain Fluffbruary!] Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @merz-8 for taking a look at this before I posted! Wordcount: 1920 Read on AO3

“I’m almost home guapo,” you coo down the speakerphone, the traffic around you finally beginning to move. You’re sweaty and irritable and if it weren’t for the promise of Frankie and a long weekend together, you’d be miserable right now.

“Drop-off go ok?” Frankie asks and you shiver at the way his voice sounds, deep, rich, relaxed. You’re about to answer when you hear a strange swooshing noise in the background of the call, but you carry on regardless.

“Yeah, Gabi was fine, far more interested in the empanadas Diego and Maria were making than saying goodbye to me,” you chuckle as you recall the apologetic look Maria’s new husband had given you when Gabi had run off without so much as a second glance at you.

“Don’t take it to heart mi cielo, she’s five, and takes after her dad in being painfully food motivated,” Frankie tries to soothe you over the phone, but you shake your head, even if he can’t see you.

“I know,” you say before another swooshing noise distracts you in the background of the call, “Frankie, are you in the bath right now?”

There’s a heavy pause and you feel the bubble of triumphant energy pooling in your belly. You’ve been trying to get Frankie to take a bath for weeks. It’s not that the man doesn’t wash – Frankie is a clean freak even by your standards – no, it’s the back and shoulder pain you’re more concerned about.

“I might be,” he says, the smirk on his face clear in his tone.

“Did you use that bath bomb I got for you?” You ask with a bigger grin on your face as you prepare to ditch the slow-moving traffic for your exit of the freeway.

“I did.”

“How does it feel?” You ask as you finally break free of the traffic, you’re only a few minutes out now and the idea of Frankie in the bath is making you impatient.

“So good mi amor, I should have listened to you months ago,” he admits, and you bite your lip as you grin.

“I’m just glad you’re enjoying it,” you say as you turn in to your street.

“Come join me when you get in yeah?” Frankie asks sleepily and you can already imagine his blissed-out face and damp curls.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

~*~

You knock on the bathroom door with your free hand, the fingers of the other wrapped around two bottles of pilsner. Your black silk robe hangs open, exposing the lacy red set of lingerie you have on.

“Come in muñeca, the water’s just fine,” Frankie says with a heady sigh, “What took you so-,”

Frankie’s voice cuts out with a strangled gasp as you nudge the door open with your hip. His jaw goes slack as he looks you up and down, his dark brown eyes swimming with hazy desire. He’s stretched out in your large corner tub; you can hear the soft rumble of the jets that line the sides of the bath.

“You’re too good to me,” Frankie says with a groan as he takes the beers from your hand so you can shimmy out of your robe. You see the way his chest is red and flushed from the hot water, colour creeps up his neck, and dapples across his cheeks. His soft curls stick to his temples and forehead as sweat and water droplets bead at his brow.

You take it slow, shrugging it off your shoulders so it bunches around your elbows, exposing the skin of your chest. Frankie’s tongue darts across his lower lip as he watches you inch the flowing material down over your curves. His eyes follow with rapt attention as you feel the heat simmer under your skin.

“So beautiful mi amor,” Frankie breathes as he sinks a little lower in the bath. The fragrant waters slosh around him as he not-so-subtly places the beers on the tiled floor before slipping a hand below the surface.

“Thank you,” you coo as you unhook your bra and toss it to the floor. Your nipples are hard despite the steamy room, pebbling with arousal at the way Frankie is devouring you with his eyes. You turn slowly on the spot, baring your ass to him as you roll your thong down your legs. You hear the sharp intake of breath when you bend forward, giving him the smallest glimpse of your cunt. You slip the garment off your feet and kick them into the pile of discarded clothes.

“C’mere,” Frankie rasps as you hear the bathwater churn a little, you turn to see him sitting upright on the small shelf built into the bath, arms outstretched.

“How could I say no to that?” You ask as you saunter over to the tub. Frankie holds out a hand to steady you as you step into the tub, you grip it firmly as he guides you down onto his lap.

The hot water rushes up to meet you and you moan softly as your skin burns a little at the high temperature. It’s a pleasantly exhilarating feeling as you settle in the steamy bath, thighs straddling Frankie’s lap as his hands settle on your body. One hand cups your cheek as the other rests on the curve of your hip. You don’t miss Frankie’s thick, hard length bobbing between you.

“Missed you baby,” Frankie murmurs as he tilts his head up to look at you, his facial hair is coated in droplets of moisture that shake from his moustache as he speaks.

“I wasn’t gone that long,” you chastise him gently as you thread your fingertips through the curls at the nape of his neck. You rest your forearms on his shoulders as you roll your hips forward to press your mound against his cock, trapping it between you. Frankie’s body shudders beneath you as he lets out a soft hiss.

“Long enough for me to draw a bath and soak a while before you got back,” he pouts a little as you press a soft kiss to his jaw, right where the hair refuses to grow.

“Poor Frankie,” you tease as you leave a kiss at the corner of his mouth, the bristles of his moustache taking delightfully over your skin, “Such a needy boy.”

That sends shivers down his spine as he turns his head to capture your lips with his own. He takes your bottom lip between his and sucks on it slowly, pulling on it before letting it go with an audible pop. His dark eyes glisten as he looks up at you, a silent question behind them.

“You need to rest your back baby,” you scold him as his dick twitches against your stomach, “Ten more minutes and then we can have some fun.”

“You’re cruel,” he whines but he doesn’t press further, instead he lays back, sinking you both deeper into the hot, heady waters.

You lean forward and press your face into his damp locks and nestle your nose against his ear. You trace irregular patterns along the slopes of his shoulders as he runs his hands up and down your back.

You stay there for some time, steam curling around you as the water ripples with a soft hum, the rhythm soothing. The air jets blow bubbles over your legs, a gentle caress that has you curling your body forward, enveloping Frankie with your naked form.

“Thank you for dropping Gabi off,” Frankie’s voice is no more than a whisper as his lips ghost the damp skin of your collarbone. You can feel the press of his strong nose and the brush of his soft facial hair as he nuzzles into you.

It’s like you’re both desperate to get closer, although there is naught but skin on skin, souls bared and bodies entwined. It’s hot and clammy, and you know you’ll need a full shower after, but it’s worth it. Intimate moments with Frankie like this are priceless.

“Thank you for looking after yourself, you’ve been pushing it too hard lately,” you say with a sigh as you toy with hair behind Frankie’s ear, twisting the curls around your fingertips.

“I know, but I do it for you, for Gabi, for us,” Frankie wraps his arms around you, one snaking around your waist, the other gripping your neck from behind. You’re anchored to him, unmoving amongst the turbulent waters.

“And I love that,” you hum softly as you pull back a little, pressing your cheek into Frankie’s as you savour the contact, “Just want you to look after yourself too sometimes.”

“You’re so good to me,” he says, weariness clear in his tone, “I love you.”

“I give as good as I get, guapo, I love you too,” you respond with a smile on your lips as you lean back to look him in the eye, “How ‘bout we shower off and order some takeout?”

“Then bed?” Frankie smirks up at you, bottom lip between his teeth as he raises his eyebrows suggestively at you.

“We could eat the takeout in bed,” you counter with an equally salacious grin on your face.

“You’re incorrigible Mrs Morales,” Frankie teases and you yelp as he stands abruptly, you scramble to wrap your legs around him. You engage your core, and support yourself with your arms on his shoulders as you glare down at him.

“That’s not good for your back,” you scold him but he simply grins up at you before teasing his teeth along your jaw.

“Sorry Mrs Morales, maybe you need to teach me how to behave.”

“I really do, put me down,” you growl as you leer at him and he rolls his eyes and relents. He puts you down gently and you cross your arms over your chest. You can’t stay angry at Frankie for long, you know it, he knows it, but it’s worth labouring the point.

“Fine, besides, the bath did wonders,” he says with a shrug as he bends and flexes for you, as if to prove a point of his own.

“Yeah, yeah,” you scowl as you point to the shower, “Hit the showers Morales, we’ll see how limber you are once you cool down.”

“I don’t plan on cooling down for a few hours, muñeca,” Frankie clicks his tongue as he cups your chin, brushing the pad of his thumb across your moist bottom lip.

“Don’t come crying to me when you can’t move in the morning,” you say without any real bite to your tone.

“Noted, now, what are we ordering in? I’m starving,” Frankie says with a grin before slipping into the shower.

You shake your head, incredulous as you join him under the hot water. You wash each other slowly, savouring the rough drag of the washcloth over your skin. He massages your scalp as the water washes over you, you repeat the action for him. It’s a delicate dance peppered throughout with affectionate touches and open-mouthed kisses.

Eventually you’re swaying together without purpose, a slow, sleepy waltz of sheer bliss as the hot water cascades over your joint bodies. One of you needs to make the first move to get out of the shower and call the local takeout place, it takes almost an hour before you do.

Never have you felt so content, but Frankie Morales is your home, your refuge and safe harbour. You know for certain he feels the same way.

Never before had you known love, then Frankie Morales came along.

[f0point5]

With all the posts about Max’s first win I can’t stop thinking about how Y/N was feeling because it was still their feud era 🥺

do you have any headcanons about it?

I always had a rough idea of what happened after he won, I think it’s mentioned in the smau but I actually had some more detailed thoughts when I saw the reel on Max’s insta so…

Enjoy 🧡

Ps. Please ignore slight inaccuracies, I didn’t check the layout of the track’s parc fermé before writing this lol

**************************

It’s your dad who drags you to yet another race under the guise of actually seeing you for more than thirty minutes at an airport. You hardly bother being upset. The kid he wishes was his is entering his first race for Red Bull Racing, you weren’t expect him to spend the whole weekend with you while that was happening.

Of course Max goes and wins it.

The moment he takes the chequered flag and the garage erupts into noise that can’t even be softened by your headphones, you want to roll your eyes, but you can’t. You’re not sure why your heart is thundering in your chest and you’re lightheaded, but you can’t think straight to figure it out. You don’t even like the guy.

Later, you’ll realise it’s because for all the dislike, awkwardness, and misunderstanding, there’s one thing you know about Max Verstappen, and it’s that he deserves this. He’s deserved it since he was racing around on his stupid little quad bike right over your foot. He deserved it after every win and every rare loss. Every time you watched him load his kart into that battered van when his dad wouldn’t let anyone help him, every time he turned away from anyone who might notice he was crying after Jos spoke to him, every time he stood on that top step looking not happy, just relieved.

You don’t even realise you’re crying until Geri Horner hands you a tissue with a soft smile before she runs off to join her husband. You follow her out to parc fermé where Max is already out of the car, mobbed by people. Barriers aren’t keeping anyone away from F1’s story of the decade.

You’re making your way through the throngs of people without any clear idea of why. You’re not even sure you’re breathing. Your brain certainly feels short of oxygen. Max has his back to you as he talks to one of his pit crew, gesticulating wildly as the guy shakes him by the shoulder.

It takes pretty much all the courage you’ve ever had to tap him on the shoulder. Something in you is surprised he turns to look at you.

“Congratulations,” you say, past a lump in your throat.

He doesn’t say anything. His smile doesn’t fall, but his eyebrows raise, like in this sea of people congratulating him he’s surprised that you did.

“Uh, thanks,” he says squeezing the back of his flushed neck. Even with a grin he can’t dull, he manages to look so damn awkward, and he can’t meet your eyes. “It was a good race, huh?” He snorts out a chuckle like he’s just one a 100 metre dash at a school sports day.

“Oh, fucking hell, Max,” you scoff as you take hold of his wrist and pull him into a hug, one he returns so quickly it makes you laugh, shaking against him.

You squeeze him tighter and he responds in kind. You laugh again, and this time you feel him laughing, too. Maybe something in his sweat transmits his adrenaline, or the heady atmosphere of success just takes over and you lose your mind, because you find yourself wondering what would happen if you just never let him go.

It’s Jos who pulls you apart, giving his son one more hug before pushing him off to where the team is waiting to celebrate with him again. He even turns to you and gives a squeeze around the shoulder and a kiss to the crown of your head, which feels a little like being kissed by the pope.

You shrink back into the crowd of people as photographers move past you to get closer for more pictures. Max doesn’t even seem to notice them, talking to Helmut Marko and his dad, looking like he’s walking on air. You imagine he must feel weightless. You know that for some reason, you do.

“He’s phenomenal,” your dad says beside you. It’s a dig at you, but you don’t even care.

“Yeah,” you agree, watching Max hugging his race engineer, “he is.”

He may be an arrogant dick, but his talent is something you see once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and today you feel lucky. Your dad may never forgive you for not having talent like that but right then you promise to stop hating Max just because he does.

You’ll never be friends. You’ll never have more in common than a childhood that shattered you and made him invincible. You’ll probably never stop wondering what it’s like to be him.

But when you see him stand on that top step for what you know won’t be the last time, you cheer.

[avastrasposts]

Six and a half minutes - Frankie's version

In honour of Frankie Friday, I've repurposed a short little smutty thing I wrote back in January (I think) and changed it around a bit. So some of you may already have read it, but I think it's probably new to most of you. Please enjoy Frankie interrupting you in the kitchen.

Buen provecho!

The holidays were just around the corner so you’d decided to get a head start on making your favourite Christmas cookies and pies, reserving an entire weekend for the project. You'd been at it since Friday afternoon and today, Sunday, you’d started to regret your decision to cram it all into one weekend. You're tired, warm and sweaty in your hot kitchen, shedding your sweatpants and opting for just knickers and a t-shirt under the apron. But you’re finally down to your last bake; saffron rolls. Delicious and soft, golden in colour, and filled with almond paste, butter and sugar. The smell that wafted through your kitchen was heady and rich as you pulled the first batch from the oven and slid the second tray in. 

You’d placed the hot ones on a cooling rack and just gone back to the dough, when you heard the key in the front door, glancing over your shoulder. Frankie stepped over the threshold and shrugged out of his coat, pushing the door closed behind him. You saw him lift his head at the smell of saffron and butter and sniff loudly, looking into the kitchen. 

“You’re looking very sexy, bebita,” he said, and you could hear the grin in his voice, “kneading that dough, cute butt on display for me.” 

He stepped up behind you and his arms went around your waist, pulling you into his body, his nose grazing across the back of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“You smell very sexy too, saffron, sugar and butter, good enough to eat, hermosa” he growled, his hand coming up and cupping your breast through the apron. 

“Hands off, Frankie,” you ordered, “the next batch of rolls are coming out in,” you looked over at the timer on the oven, “six and a half minutes and you’re not making me burn them.” 

“Six and a half minutes?” Frankie grinned into your neck. “That sounds like a challenge.”

He sunk his mouth to the soft skin on your shoulder, kissing it and moving his tongue across as he worked his way up towards your ear. 

“Seriously, Frankie, do not make me burn the rolls!” you exclaimed as you felt his teeth nip at your earlobe, sending a little jolt down to your core. 

“I promise, I’ve got six and half minutes to make you scream my name, cariño,” he mumbled as his hand left your breast and grabbed your jaw, pulling your face round to his mouth. You felt his tongue, licking your lips and making you open them with a moan. 

His other hand had left your waist and trailed down the back of your naked thighs, his big hand warm against your skin. You shivered as he moved it in between your legs, his rough fingertips caressing up along the smooth skin of your inner thigh and you felt a familiar heat build up inside you. Frankie’s hands and mouth always made you wet when he wanted it and he knew the effect he had on you. Now he grumbled into your mouth. 

“Are you wet for me already, bebita? Want me to check?” 

You moaned and moved to pull your hands out of the dough as his words made you ache to touch him, pull him closer. 

“No, no,” he grinned, pulling away from your mouth. “Keep them there, I’m gonna make you come right here, no need to clean your hands, no need to touch me.” He gave you a wicked grin and pushed his open mouth on yours again. 

You felt his hand cup the fabric of your pussy from behind, his fingers sitting right over your clit, it had already started to ache for more. He pressed a finger against it, soaking the fabric with the slick already building up inside. 

“Hermosa…dripping wet for me already, I knew it, such a needy girl,” he breathed against your mouth as he felt the wetness stick to his fingers. 

He pushed the fabric aside and his finger moved through the wet folds, edging up towards your clit and he started to circle it. Ordinarily he would tease you, just edge around the clit, moving back and let his fingers play around your entrance before he went fully to work, but now he was on the clock. 

The sensation of his fingers made you gasp into his mouth, stifling a moan as he gently rubbed the calloused pad of his finger over your clit, creating friction that sent jolts of electricity into your core. 

“Fuck…cariño…if I knew baking made you this wet I’d come back earlier,” Frankie mumbled, he’d pulled away from your mouth and was watching you gasp as he pushed you further toward the edge. One hand was kneading your breast, fingers pinching your nipple when the fingers on his other hand pushed down on your clit, it made your nerves scream every time. Through half open eyes you saw him watch you intently, turned on by the ecstasy visible on your face as he caressed your pussy. 

“Frankie, “ you moaned, “how much longer?” You're panting out the words and he chuckles, amused by the effect of his fingers on your clit. 

He glanced over at the oven, “Four minutes, hermosa, I best get to work.”  

With swift hands he hooked his fingers into your knickers and pulled them down before he grabbed your hips and pulled your butt towards him. Your hands were still in the dough and when he pulled you back, you stretched out and rested your chest on the flour covered surface, back arching and opening you up for him. 

Frankie’s hands left you for a few seconds and you heard him undo his trousers and push them down.

“Bebita…if only you could see what I’m seeing,” he groaned, “this dripping wet pussy of yours looks more delicious than anything you can bake,” his voice low and dark as he ran his hands over your behind, kneading the flesh before running the tip of his cock along the edge of your pussy, making you spasm and shiver, pushing up against him.

“Please, Frankie, please fuck me, the time,” you whimpered as you felt the tip of his hard cock drag over your clit. 

“Are you worried about the rolls or do you just really need my cock in you?” He was chuckling but you heard the strain in his voice, the need in him to sink himself into you and feel your pussy clench around him. 

“Frankie, please,” you moaned again, your pussy aching to feel him inside you, that thick cock filling you all the way up and straining your cunt wide. 

With a groan, he did as you begged, and pushed himself inside, grabbing your hips and pulling you on to him, his cock sinking deep. You gasped, the force of his thrust pushing you forward, making you sink your fingers into the dough, grabbing on to it for any kind of support as the heat inside you started to build. 

“Fuck, bebita, always so tight for me, like your cunt is trying to choke me,” Frankie moaned as he pulled out to the tip. You looked over your shoulder and saw him looking down between you with lust blown eyes, seeing the way his cock was coated in your juice. “So fucking wet for me, hermosa,” he groaned and with a tight grip on your hips he pushed himself in again, slamming against the back of your legs, and you felt him bottom out inside you, making you cry out as he hit every nerve ending inside, making you spasm and convulse around him. 

Frankie set a fast pace, no time for gentle love making as he’s chased both your release and his own. His thick hard cock filled you up, the hard ridges and veins of it created friction deep inside you, making you moan every time he pulled out and slammed back in. He was breathing hard, his fingers sure to make bruises on your skin from how tight he was holding on to you. 

He bent down, circled his arm around your waist as his hand settled between your legs, never missing a beat thrusting into you. Rough fingers started to roll over the centre of nerves between your legs and your breaths stuttered and became ragged. Moaning his name you clenched the dough and pushed hard back against his cock as it slammed into you. 

“Bebita, I need you come for me, I’m not gonna last,” Frankie panted, “I need your tight little pussy to come on my cock,” he groaned, a deep rumble in his chest, “squeeze me real hard, and then I’ll fill you up with my cum.” 

He slammed his cock into you, your pussy started to convulse around him as his fingers rolled across your clit. “Gonna fill you up,” he pulled out and thrust back in, “and then watch my cum drip from your pussy as you knead that dough.” 

His cock bottomed out and hit new spots deep inside as his words pushed you over the edge. With a strangled cry you felt your pussy cramp around his hard cock buried deep inside and Frankie growled loudly behind you as his rhythm faltered. The climax hit you hard, making you arch your back into him, trying to push him even deeper in as you moaned his name and his fingers dug into your hips. He thrust himself onto you, collapsing over your back, his hips moving slower, milking every drop of himself into your pussy as he groaned into your hair. 

You leaned your head on the kitchen table, the dough sticking to your hands, as Frankie’s hot breath flowed over your neck. From the oven you heard the timer start to beep and he chuckled. 

“Right on time, cariño.”  

[powderblueblood]

omg can we see lacys dad being arrested? or maybe her first day back at school since it happened and everyone knows it was eddies dad that took him down?

CAN YOU FUCKING EVER!!!!!!!! i accidentally wrote 2k words on this because i cannot be normal about lacy, ever. should also mention that her father's name is mentioned in this. also, thank you for sending this in! it makes me real happy to know that people are interested in the background of the verse!!! *part of the hellfire & ice universe, obviously

You learned about guilty omniscience from your father.

The night that red and blue lights descended over your house in Loch Nora–a cage of relative opulence–your father was sitting in his favorite chair, drinking the aged scotch that he only brought out around his birthday. His suit was pressed. His hair shined, the salt-streaks of gray that ran like lightning shocks across his skull sharpened up against the light. His class ring from Hawkins High, which you always told him was tacky, tapped against the crystalline glass. Ting. Ting. Ting. Waiting.

Your father is the kind of man that carries himself impeccably, every single detail forethought. 

Even this one. He knew when they were coming. 

Like a fucking white collar soothsayer.

That always made your blood run cold. 

Then again, from the minutiae that you were able to squeeze out of your mother throughout the course of his trial, this charge was a while in the making. He could have heard that they were closing in on a capture, so he made sure to wear his best three-piece. 

At first, you thought the police car was for you. You had spent the entire weekend out with Carol and Cass– cruising around on a cloud of heady adolescent nonchalance, which also could have been the weed that Munson kid sold you. The three of you had approached him, slinking around the abandoned starcourt mall like a trio of vipers. 

Some rum and Coke in a Big Gulp had helped soften out the sleaziness of the parking lot. You were all moving a little slower than usual. 

Munson had looked at you–you especially–with some potent mixture of fear and resignation. 

“Half ounce for thirty?” he’d said, and you’d heard the grit in his teeth. Ooh. He had some kind of principles when it came to selling to people he didn’t like. 

“That’s an upcharge,” you’d rasped back, leaning out of the back seat of Cass’s convertible. 

Cass, who was oddly fidgety, looked back and shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Munson clicked his tongue. “That’s inflation. Cost of livin’s crawling up.”

“For you, maybe,” you muttered and the girls snickered. 

You turned back to him again, finding him glowering, brow all set and heavy. You understood why people thought he was frightening– the rumors of cult activity, animal sacrifices, ties to biker gangs, plus the garden variety he’s just a pervert! type of shit. But nothing scared you. Not then. 

You were bulletproof.

“You can do better than that.”

His stare met yours. Heavy, like a door that wouldn’t nudge open. “No can do.”

People rarely said no to you, either. Not then. It made you drop back into your seat like the spoiled brat you were, unimpressed. 

“What if we said you could come smoke with us?” Carol chirped from beside you in the back, just mockingly enough to go somewhat undetected. “You’d give us a discount then, right?”

Cass spun around in the passenger seat and smacked Carol on the arm, hissing, “Shut the fuck up!”

Carol was all, ow, what’s your problem?! I was kidding… but your head lolled against the leather headrest. You peered at him over your shades. His jaw tensed and winched, an active attempt at biting his tongue. You could see that he was begging for this humiliation to end. 

Despite all the hearsay, he was just some pathetic kid. And he clearly needed the money, or he’d have told you all to fuck off by now. 

“I don’t smoke with trailer trash,” you’d drawled. Pulling the tension, just because you could. 

“Thirty,” he said again, tone hard. “Take it or leave it.”

You shrugged at the other girls, reaching for your purse. “Well, we know he doesn’t take Mastercard, so…”

You had spent the following forty-eight hours attempting to drag yourself down from the paranoia that set in after your first joint. God, you were fucking horrendous at smoking weed. Still are. Everything was a threat; every sidelong glance from Cass, every hyena-like laugh from Tommy. You tried to stick it out and be cool and be normal for as long as you could, but the next thing you knew, it was Sunday night and you were sneaking back home through the backyard.

Your feet had just gotten a hold on the trellis you usually snuck down from when you saw the glimmer of red and blue flashes from out front. Shit. Your mother, your vengeful mother must have followed through on that missing person threat, because she knew that the only way to get to you was through a display of public embarrassment. 

This maelstrom of irony is what we call karma. 

At the head of the stairs, you prepared to edge your way down to the white-hot rage of your parents and the eye-rolling of whatever beat cops were unfortunate enough to have responded to the call. But police chief Jim Hopper's gravelly, monotonous voice carried remarkably well from your foyer. You heard your father’s name and your throat went dry. 

“... you are under arrest for embezzlement, fraud, conspiracy to distribute illegal narcotics–”

“This is ridiculous! You have no idea what you’re doing–Jim, can’t you do something!”

A starchy, federal-sounding tone cut right through your mother as you raced down the stairs, panic tightening your windpipe. “Ma’am, we would really appreciate your cooperation–!”

“Cooperation with what?!”

“Mom?”

“These charges are bullshit!” 

“Mom!”

She looked right through you, right to your father, as she always does–did. And your father, with his expression a kind of bemused smile despite the cuffs binding his hands behind his back, looked at you. He usually wore some kind of sheen for you; of pride, mostly. But now, his eyes were empty and deep and bore through you like a blade. 

Tears trickled past your waterline though you didn’t even feel them building. On instinct, your hand dashed to wipe them away– despite your confusion, you knew he didn't like that kind of pitiful display. 

“Daddy, what is going on?” you asked, and your voice was embarrassingly thick. Two of Hawkins PD’s finest slowly muscled him to the door, one dark-suited agent taking up the rear; he wasn’t putting up a fight in the slightest. Confident in this being a big misunderstanding, you were sure.

“Game face, Lacy. for god’s sake.” 

As he passed Chief Hopper, who stood in your doorway and exuded a puzzling kind of aura, he stopped. Looked right into the cop’s face, with a kind of seething glare you’d never even imagined he could muster. 

“To whom do I owe this pleasure, chief?”

“Don’t start this, Ray,” Hopper says, voice echoing tones of disappointment. 

Your father’s voice dropped, dangerous and personal. 

“Now, Jim–you really think that’s a fair thing to say to a man in handcuffs? Because it looks like somebody already got the jump on me.” 

“This doesn’t end well for either of you, you know that.”

“Well, you be sure to pass that along to Al Munson next time you see him.”

Munson. Your blood chilled and you instinctively grabbed for your mother’s arm, before she could start after them. 

“This is insane! This is in-sane– my husband is a beloved member of this community and–”

“Mom,” you said, rounding on her with a vice grip. Tears sparkled on the very precipice of your lashes but you willed them not to drop. “Keep that up and you’ll be in that squad car with him. You want that?” 

She exhaled, and you loosened your hand to stroke her arm– attempting to approximate something like comfort. Not like either of you were any good at it. Snapping back around to where Hopper was just vacating your porch, you followed him and called, “When can we see him?”

“After questioning,” Hopper grumbled back, looking over his shoulder to size you up. He paused. Pulled out a cigarette. “Calm your mother down. But bring a lawyer.”

“Surely we don’t–” you started, but he steamrolled you. 

“Bring. A lawyer.”

Eyes followed your father to the squad car, with its offending flashing lights making a mardi gras mockery of this moment of shock. Something wasn’t right– something really wasn’t right, but you couldn’t yet put your finger on it. Your mom wasn’t wrong; your father was an upstanding member of the community. A real estate mogul (as much as one can be in small town Indiana), a philanthropist, a generous investor… 

Yours weren’t the only eyes watching from a porch. The surrounding neighbors had likely caught the reflections of the lights in their evening glasses of cabernet and come out for a peep– police cars were a rare sight in Loch Nora. So rare, it begot rubbernecking. 

Your stomach leadened. In your minds eye, you saw the Hawkins’ phone tree light up like Christmas. News of this would have reached your homeroom by morning. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck– and that haunting of a name ringing in your ears. You be sure to pass that along to Al Munson next time you see him. 

It keeps on fucking ringing as you screech into an empty spot in the parking lot, leaving your car skewed over two spaces. You didn’t care, you hadn’t slept, you couldn’t think about anything else other than your poor father in that questioning room and your poor mother crying her eyes out over a bottle of beaujolais no matter how much you told her to lay off and that sinking feeling that something was terribly, awfully wrong.

It’s not that you believed what the police had said. You didn’t, of course you didn’t! You’d stake your life, your future, which you were so painstakingly building, on the fact your father was innocent. That he was a good man– but what had Eddie Munson’s shitheel father got to do with any of this? what could this Al Munson possibly get out of slinging false accusations?

Took exactly twenty four hours after that first pitiful day at school for the Al Munson factor to come to light. At first, you friends didn’t really know what to say– they handled it by kind of avoiding it, not entirely sure whether they should bring it up, even though you knew that they knew. And that they were frothing at the mouth to know more.

But after Munson Senior was a confirmed player in the scene (“Probably running his mouth about it in every shithole watering hole this hole of a town has to offer!” your mother had tearfully exclaimed), interest was piqued. 

"Like, what was your dad doing messing with a Munson? How does he even know him?"

And the fact that you shut down almost every question with an, “I don’t know yet, we have to wait and see,” meant that rumors started to spread about what your dad had done. Nasty rumors. Violent ones. 

Worst of all were the ones that painted Al Munson like some bad guy turned good, a victim of some thuggish mafioso taking advantage of underprivileged people in your poor, fair town! 

It made you sick. literally. You puked many times, and regained your composure, and went back out to listen to the rumor mill churn again. 

Motherfuckers. Pitiful motherfuckers. Something your father would mumble on the rare occasions you’d seen him really get angry. They have no idea what it takes to build something in a world like this. 

Once, completely lost in this thought, you ran headfirst into the person whose two cents you wanted the least– but who seemed to know exactly how he was implicated in this situation. 

Munson Junior jumped back in the hallway, as if you’d zapped him. If you had, you would have aimed to kill. 

“Listen, I–”

“Don’t,” you warned, stalking around him. You never had words for this fucking loser; you weren't about to start then.

“I just want–”

“No.”

“–to say,” and something turned in his tone as he started to follow you down the hallway; something foul sprouted out of it, twisted and jagged and angry, “that I know times are real tough right now– and money’s probably tight! I heard the IRS are on their way? Anyway, those court appointed lawyers really ain’t the worst things in the world… my dad only got sentenced, like, four out of five times! I'm sure your pops will be fine.”

A beat shuddered between you. You stopped in your tracks. 

“They love pretty boys like him in prison,” Munson finished, a self-satisfied smile dripping around his words.

It took everything, and I mean everything, not to turn around and use your manicured nails to rip clean through Eddie Munson’s jugular. 

“All the money in the world won’t save him from getting fucked like he deserves.”

A shallow breath drawn in, shuddering some. You tossed your head over your shoulder and let your narrowed eyes drill into him until discomfort started pressing on the moment, like a boot to the neck. That same hollow-eyed stare. You inherited a lot of things from your father. 

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Who are you?”