#Kai’s made out of metal

[fanficmaniatic]

Oh waoh, now I am thinking about this au a lot.

I imagine that the ninja are so known in Ninjago that they have murals around everywhere. They're walking to their favorite little corner store and peep into an alley, and they see themselves immortalized on the brick wall.

[heroictoonz]

Woah art from me thats rare lately i wont even lie this is the first time in a while that ive felt like something i drew really came out well so yeehaw

So yeah um LLoyd with chronic fatigue be upon yee i think he has issues with standing/walking for too long without aid and it takes a lot out of him especially after a fight or when he uses his powers a lot so he has canes! And kai. Kai is also there :]

AND YES I KNOW EVERYTHING IS SPELT WRONG I CANNOT SPELL FOR THE LIFE OF ME

[muntitled]

Better Than Drugs

Pairings: Namgyu x Fem!Reader | Brief!Thanos x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reconnecting with your shitty ex boyfriend in the games.

Warnings: Language, Substance Abuse, Toxic Relationship, Male Manipulation, Coercion, Smut (+18) mdni, High sex, Dub/con, Choking, Exchange of Bodily Fluids, Unprotected Sex, Unedited (we die like soldiers)

A/n: literally no one will read this but I need him and I wrote this for me!

Being treated like a lamb being led to the proverbial slaughter in a death game sucked ass but seeing your ex boyfriend there sucked even more, somehow. From your vantage point perched on your bed tucked away from all the central conflict, you notice them talking about you again.

Call it past bully traum but you knew when people were talking about you and although you couldn't make out what they were saying, a part of you just knew...

Another vote had ended and Namgyu was still staring at you, his head bowed, chewing his fingernails. He was watching you, while you were forced to watch as democracy crumbled around you.

Your brain made you think Namgyu was perhaps berating you in front of his new friend. Bad-mouthing you to absolutely no end, perhaps saying what a lousy, uptight girlfriend you had been in the outside world. How you kept him from his habit. How you tried to force him into rehab countless times.

And so you shrink into yourself, squeezing yourself further into your bed, hugging your knees.

How were you supposed to know the conversation went nothing like how you thought it was going?

"We need to get her on our team," Thanos had said when the voting concluded and they were watching you pick at your roll of tin-foiled kimbap.

"She's already on our team," Namgyu muttered, more quiet than usual as he watched you through the corner of his eye. He didn't feel like eating. He felt like doing drugs. And fucking, maybe, but eating? It never occurred to him.

Without you to remind him to eat, and to actually take care of his bodily health outside of his substance abuse, he really was a mess.

"Oh yeah," Thanos muttered dumbly before turning back to his own food, "Kay, well, I need to sleep with her."

Namgyu didn't even look up from his food, still leaning against the metal beds as he murmured a quiet, "Nope." Popping his lip, extenuating the 'p'

Thanos himself was rallied into silence as Namgyu casually clicked his tongue before adding, "I called dibs on that bro," he steals another glance. You're searching your chest for a piece of cucumber that's fallen out of the kimbap

This unfortunately, zeroes his gaze in on your ample chest, miraculously squeezed into that tracksuit jacket. Now Namgyu was thinking about your tits while Thanos' head whips to the side, his brow lifted.

Namgyu couldn't take his eyes off you since the games began. Watching you during voting time had stirred up all kinds of lost emotions. The easy and almost thoughtless way you had pressed the blue button before tucking your hands in your pockets, never sparing anyone a second glance. He had to adjust the bulge forming in his sweatpant. If it weren't for him you might have continued to go amongst the games as an anonymous spectre, with that cash prize as your only goal.

"I didn't know we were calling dibs!?" Thanos stomped his feet petulantly, "That's not fair, man. Not. Cool."

"That's the point of dibs," Namgyu said, pushing his hair behind his ears as he continued to stare you down. "Who knows how long we'll be here?" As he watched you, he tilted his head downwards, causing a thick shadow to fall over his eyes as he watched you. He leaned against the railings of the metal beds piled up to the ceiling, watching you tuck your hands deeper into the sleeves of your sweater. Really fucking cute.

"B-But Homies don't call dibs on girls!" Thanos whines.

"Yeah," Namgyu nods, "but, I'm gonna need more than magic pills and a homie to get me through the night," He made a ring with his index and thumb finger, pinching his one eye shut as he spied at you through it, "She can help,”

Thanos was quiet, eerily so. Good things never happened when Thanos was quiet,

"Let's go over to her right now then. Since she's stealing my homie-"

That immediately snapped Namgyu out of his lust-filled gaze, promoting his shoulders to straighten as he tried to stop Thanos from taking another step towards you.

"Senorita-" he said in a singsong voice and you rolled your eyes as you saw them approaching. Namgyu walked behind like the shadow he always tried to be, with his hands tucked in his pocket. Your bed is relatively low to the ground and your heart stammered when both their shadows fell over you.

"Don't have any change," your eyes whipped to your ex-boyfriend before narrowing, "Or drugs. Sorry." you mustered a painfully sarcastic smile as you attempted to turn in another direction, hoping they might take the hint.

Thanos' teeth stretched as Namgyu swallowed thickly, watching you in that distinctly predatory way of his as he propped his forearm against the railing of the bed. You hate how both of them make you feel and your eye scans in vain around the premises, hoping someone might save you from the duo.

"Lemme make this quick," Thanos said with his drug addicted hand gestures. "My bro wants you and whatever bro wants-" he taps Namgyu's chest behind you- "Bro gets."

Silence passed with you staring deep into Namgyu's dark, almost sinister black eyes. You admitted that you were still painfully attracted to him. Knowing that he knows your body. He's already seen what hid under your blue tracksuit, it was dizzyingly sobering.

He still seemed so devastatingly sleezy it bordered on attractive, like he didn't care about what anyone really thought of him. It still brought an uncomfortable amount of attraction that you didn't really know what to do with. "No thanks," you said, bending your head to take a bite of the kimbap.

"Cunt." you heard him mumble under his breath. That caused your head whip up to glare at him.

"I'm a cunt because I'd rather not fuck a drug addict?"

"No," Namgyu shrugged, "You're just a cunt."

Your nostrils flared as something diabolical ignited inside you. Up until this point, fear had been the only emotion you allowed yourself to feel. The fear of dying to keep you alive. But right now, you're being plagued with another emotion and it's setting you alight with interest.

Your dating preferences were never orthodox. You knew you could never truly be satisfied with any other timid nice guy, and that's what drew you to him. You hated admitting to it but Namgyu calling you a cunt did more than irritate you, it ignited you.

"I'm not here to make friends,” You marvel now, in the tense darkness, how confident you had been then.

“How about a boyfriend then?” Namgyu asked and Thanos whistled lowly as he mutters a ‘nice bro,’

“How about choking?” You shot back, “I tried the boyfriend thing and he stole all my savings to buy drugs.” Namgyu’s jaw ticked and you can see his fist fold and unfold. Thanos’ commentary continues. ‘Shit boyfriend-’ he says under his breath.

“Don't be a bitch so early in the morning…” Namgyu says finally before turning his head, somewhat distracted, “Or at least I think it's morning. Hyung do you think it's morning-”

Thanos raised his hands, “Morning is what we make it in here, bro.”

“Leave me alone of I'll fucking scream.” you cut through all their useless chatter, letting a tense silence settle between the three of you. Eventually, Thanos reluctantly pulls Namgyu away. Murmuring a quiet ‘just take a hint bro.'

Soon, you were left in your bed but not without one more backwards glance from Namgyu over his shoulder. He wasn't done with you and that thought sat heavily on your shoulders until the robotic voice from unseen speakers made the countdown to lights out.

The very last thing you remembered, before the overhead lights were snuffed out, was his black, almond eyes still watching you from his bed.

The blue 'O' velcroed to your breast burns a hole through your conscience as your eyes flutter open in the middle of the night, really needing to pee. The prize money acts as the only source of gold light illuminating the hall while everyone else remains soundly asleep.

Life in the games was so much more stomachable during the day, but when the lights went out, you were forced to sit with your thoughts. That piggy bank didn't have money inside it, it held bodies, and the ghosts practically filled this room.

Still, you can't help but whisper to yourself, “I really have to pee.” The only thing stopping you from going to the bathroom is the gaze you knew would somehow find you from three beds over. Your ex boyfriend watches you, even when the lights go out.

Paranoia be damned.

Cursing softly, you maneuvered yourself to the ground. Trying to make the least amount of noise possible as you moved through the row of beds.

If you were being followed you'd never know. Everything was too dark but a part of you sighed as you reached the small arched doorway completely unscathed.

Almost unscathed.

Your heart hammers in its cage when you feel his heavy arm settle over your shoulders. Your mouth falls open but Namgyu is already banging on the arched door with a closed fist. You flinch with every loud, metallic hit.

The little window opens to reveal a triangle-masked soldier. He stands there emotionless.

“My girlfriend's on her period- she's bleeding everywhere. We need the bathroom.”

There is silence from the Guard who is clearly unimpressed. Just before the little window is about to slide shut Namgyu kicks at the door, “Hey! I wanna fuck my girl- if you want, we could do it out here?!”

You try to wrench yourself out of his grip, toilet be damned but your heart absolutely sinks to find the pink soldier opening the metal door.

Namgyu only twirls, pumping his fist before pulling you in his arms, biting back a smile.

“Can't believe that worked,” Namgyu says, with a raised eyebrow and a happy little shrug as he drags you across the threshold. The trip to the women's bathroom is relatively short as you writhe and fight in his hands. There's virtually no reason for the pink guard to think any of this was consensual but they kept their stoicism on their face as you reached the girl's bathroom.

“We'll be quick,” Namgyu assures the guard with a tight sort of smile before pushing you into the bathroom, and closing the door after himself.

You trip on your way running into one of the stalls and he watches you, biting his nail.

“This is the girls bathroom, or are you too high to notice?” You hiss absolute venom as he bites his fingernail.

“Nah, I'm sober right now, which means I need something to take the load off.”

“Cool. Use your hand,” you sigh from within the stalls before dropping your pants to pee. It irked you that he was standing there, on the other side… waiting for you.

You make quick work of it all. Wiping, flushing, and making a beeline for the sinks. He lets you wash your hands but before you make it to the door his arms are wrapped around your waist.

“Uh Uh,” he tsks, “No ‘i miss you’ kiss, huh?” He drags you into his arms, kicking and screaming as he swipes your brains from across your panicked face.

“Only competent boyfriends get kisses,” Despite the fuss, the door doesn't open. Those guards have quite literally abandoned you in here to fend for yourself.

“I can make it up to you,” he said, “I miss you really bad, baby,” Namgyu's pushing your back against the sink, stained with that sickening, pastel colour as he lowers his nose into the crook of your neck. You writhe as he breathes you in deeply, before sighing. His erection pressed against your thigh.

“Someone else could walk in here,” you cry, feeling a dampness seep out of you, wetting your underwear. Your body was being traitorous because it was enjoying feeling anything other than fear. It yearned for it.

“Sto-” you attempt to catch your breath as he gropes at your breasts from over your tracksuit. “Stop touching me-” you say despite your legs getting weaker and weaker.

“You don't get to touch me anymore. You lost that privilege when you stopped being my boyfriend.” He was so much taller than you when he stretched his hand across your cheeks, forcing your neck back to make more space for his lips. A moan nearly spills out of you.

His hands are trembling and his tongue swipes out to lick the length of your neck. To your shock and horror, you melt in his grasp.

“You don't mean that-” he whispers against your skin. “No one's gonna fuck you like I do-”

“No one's going to steal my money like you do either-”

His hand flies down to your throat, choking as he says through clenched teeth, “I told you I had a problem-” he squeezes and for the briefest moment, you see stars. “I needed help and you abandoned me, you bitch-”

“I didn't abandon you-” His lips are on yours, silencing you in one messy kiss that him forcing his tongue into your mouth.

“You gonna be good for me, Huh?’ He says, hoarsely, your eyes glare up at him.

“Leave me alone-”

“You know I love it when you try to fight back,” his mouth breathes against your hair, “You trying to get me riled up babe, huh?”

His fingers find the lining of your own sweatpants and your heart stammers as he turns to push your front against the sink. Your hand grips at the cheap plaster and you avoid your own traitorous reflection in the mirror, lest you find not only fear in your eyes, but lust

“You know how bad I've needed this- fuck,” his voice cracks when fumbles his cock out, grinding against your ass with his eyes closed in ecstasy and his mouth hanging open. Your finger curls around the sink as the first moan slips out of you. It had his eyes flying open to look down at you in amusement and awe.

“I knew you weren't a completely stuck-up bitch,” he says, pulling you up by the base of the throat, “I knew you still wanted me.”

“I don't,” you squeak out as he pulls down your pants.

“No- but your body does,” he swipes your underwear to the side.

Your body spasms as he roughly sinks his digits into you once before pulling out.

“You miss me real bad,” he brings your fingers up in front of your face and your heart drops to find the arousal webbing his index and middle.

He continues to swipe your arousal from from your ass to your puffy clit and the need wracks through your entire body, building as you arched your ass backwards against him.

His mouth is by your ear, breathing heavily as he lines his cock up at your entrance, already leaking precum, “I know I gave you hell when we were out there-”

“Hell doesn't begin to cover- FUCK-” he rams his cock into you. Positively brimming with need as his hips stutter against you.

“Y-ou stole my fucking savings for drugs-” you get the sentence out quickly before moaning into the air, as your boyfriend fucks out all the frustration he's been carrying, all the need and the withdrawal.

“And I ate you out as an apology-” He reaches his hand around to clamp down on the base of your throat. Your mouth falls open when he cranes our neck back, his eyes boring into yours. “Don't you miss it baby, don't miss having me inside of you?”

“Y-Your eyes are diluted-” you begin to say, utterly incredulous. “You're high right now!”

His hips thrusts in shallow, quick strokes. “And your pussy's wet, guess we're both fucked.”

Your pussy tightens around him like a long lost friend, it knocks you out how deeply you've craved him. Needing reprieve from all the fear. “You're squeezing around my cock, you fucking slut-” that nearly has you seeing stars. Your body spasms.

“That it…” he whispers, “Don't think I haven't forgotten the way you abandoned me out there… But in here,” your eyes roll to the back of your head, “You dont so much as fucking breathe without my permission.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as his cock hits that particular pillow of nerves inside you, nearly flipping you off the edge.

“Spit on my hand,” he says, an edge to his voice that let you know he was far too close. You forgot how messy things got when you had sex with him. How much of a mess he made of you.

You do it without thinking about it and his eyes widen as he presses that same hand to your clit.

“F-Fuck!” Your eyes are squeezed shut as he reaches around to rub you to your orgasm. His movements only fumble when his hips start stuttering.

“N-Need you to cum for me-” he breathes out. “I’m jittery- baby. I need it- shit-” you slip into your orgasm right in front of him, milking his cock for all its worth. “F-Fuck this is so much better than drugs,” he murmers, eyes rolled back as a drunken smile ghosts over his face. He's in complete and utter euphoria.

Two rough knocks on the door signal the need for your return but Namgyu's cock is still spilling ropes of his cum inside you and you're doing nothing but taking it.

“I hate you,” you breathe out, because it's true. If it weren't for him you wouldn't be here.

His breath is warm against your neck as he says, “I love you too.

© to @muntitled on tumblr; do not repost

[mekakitsune]

mean!jinx x fem!reader - nsfw - minors dni

request from anon: "Hi love, I would like to request Jinx x Reader. The reader is Jinx's girlfriend and they are at the bar and a guy approaches the reader asking if the reader would like to go out with him and Jinx obviously doesn't like it, can this end with her fucking the reader to show everyone that the reader is hers? Please 😮‍💨"

dates in public really werent jinx's thing, or yours for that matter. she would always say something along the lines of "why go out when we have everything we need here?" by here, she meant her "workshop"– where it was cluttered with mechanical parts and the smell of gunpowder hung heavy in the air constantly. it was more than enough, but sometimes, even you needed a break. had you not been so convincing, jinx would have not let you drag her out to the last drop. she didn't like drinking, nor did she like the usuals at the bar. they were loud, arrogant, and just plain gross.

she sat at the end of the bar, some fruity juice concoction in her cup as she swirled her straw around the glass looking less than interested in what was happening around her.

"i want another drink, ill be right back, kay?" you lean into her, and she nods, watching you hop off the stool and stroll (rather stumble) to the other end of the bar where the bartender stood. she watched as you smiled sweetly at the man, leaning against the bar as you recite your order. he nods and moves to make your drink, leaving you to stand waiting. without notice, a man slinks in beside you, with an unsettling smirk on his lips.

"put the lovely ladies drink on my tab, would ya?" he gruffed at the bartender, sending you a wink as he spoke. you smile politely, shaking your head as you speak up– "hey... im alright but thank yo-"

"nonsense, let me treat a pretty lady to a drink, yeah?" he cut you off. he reeked of booze, and was ultimately too close for comfort.

"okay...its a just a drink, but im a-" he cuts you off again.

"see, knew you'd want it. so hows about we getchu that drink and then ditch this place?" he smirks again, placing a hand on your shoulder, one eye brow cocked like he was waiting for you to agree. before you could utter a word, an arm wraps around your waist, and the mans hand drops from your shoulder immediately.

"sorry to interrupt whatever youre trying to do here, but shes taken."

jinxs sneers at the man, looking like she was ready to pounce any second. the man, stupidly, didnt budge– obviously not seeing your girlfriend as much of a threat. her fingers gripped your hip, hard.

"ohh so its like that? y'know, ive always wanted to see some girl on girl action in real time." the man stands, arrogant and overly confident. the smirk on his lips made your stomach twist. without thinking, per her style, jinx lunges at the man, slamming her fist into his nose.

your eyes go wide as the man stumbles back, hand gripping his now bloody nose. "you little bitch..."

the man moves quickly towards her, but a familiar metallic hand finds his shoulder first.

"you two. out. now."

it was sevika, of course she had been there. she had been watching the two of you since you walked in, knowing trouble was bound to come with you guys around, it seemed like it always did.

"i'll fuckin kill you..." the man spat, trying to remove himself from sevikas grip. she looked at you sternly, and you got the message from the expression on her face.

"pssh, you wish." jinx muttered mockingly, clearly not wanting to leave without finishing what she started, or rather, without killing this guy first. you grab her wrist and speak– "lets just go jinx, cmon.." you pull her towards you, and she follows as you drag her towards the door. shouts from the man can be heard from behind you, and jinx stops in her tracks to flip him off. you bite back a laugh as you tug her along into the cool air outside of the bar.

"what a creep..." she spoke low, eyes ahead of her as she walked, avoiding your gaze completely.

"im sorr–" suddenly she whips around to face you, brows furrowed. "i mean seriously? that perv was all over you, and you were gonna let him buy you a drink!? are you stupid?" she cuts you off to rant, making you shut your mouth.

"he could have done something bad, and you were just gonna let him? the hells wrong with you?" she continued, hands moving dramatically.

"i was just gonna empty his pockets when he wasnt looking, jinx... aren't you the one that always says "if you see an opening, take it?"– you quote her. "its clear he had money..."

this seems to make her head rush, anger and possessiveness rushing through her. before you can process it, shes grabbing your arm and dragging you into the alley on your right. with shocking force, she presses you against the wall, her face dangerously close to yours as her eyes bore into yours.

"that doesn't mean go around and act like some sort of slut." she squints, cocking her head to the side.

"are you kidding? fuck you, jinx. i-" she doesnt let you finish as she smashing her lips into yours, hard enough to bruise, surely. you gasp at her suddenness, and her hands find your hips again, pinning you to the wall behind you.

her tongue wins the easy battle for dominance, completely consuming you as if the two of you werent stood in an alley. the only light was a dingy street lamp, casting a warm glow onto the two of you. the kiss was hot, messy as she took control of every movement, hips pressing into yours. she pulls back from the kiss, chest heaving as her hands find your belt.

"what are you doing?" you pant, watching her as her skilled hands mess with your waistband.

"whats it look like, dollface." her tone is low, and you can tell shes serious about taking you right here in the alley.

"cmon...not here...people could see us." you shift your hips as much as you can, but theres little to no room between you and the wall, so your attempt are deemed useless. ignoring you, her fingers pop the button on your pants, and find their way into your underwear.

her lips are on you again, flush with your neck as she sucks marks into the skin.

"let em'. dont care." her words are muffled against your neck. you gasp quietly as her fingers find your slick folds, a low chuckle coming from her.

"see? slut. all worked up, and from what, hm? some creep sweet talkin you?" she rambles, her words making your skin flush. her fingers circle your clit, making you buck into her as she holds you steady with her other hand. the cool metal of her finger bleeds through the layer of fabric riding up your hips. soon enough, shes moving her fingers and sliding them into your cunt, making you whimper. you feel her smirk against your neck, lips leaving a trail of searing marks with the intention of claiming whats hers.

"or is it that you like the thought of being caught, hm?" her fingers pushed a relentless pace, making your knees shake. "y'like me fuckin you in public baby?" her words are making your head spin, along with her fingers inside of you. her breathing picks up again when she hears you whine, cunt tightening around her fingers.

"m'close, please..." you muttered helplessly, surely dripping down her wrist at this point. she presses a kiss to your lips as she pulls her hand away. you watch in awe, chest moving rapidly as her fingers come to her mouth, sucking them clean.

"what the fuck?" you pant, fingers wrapping around her wrist. she simply smiles, before slipping out of your grasp.

"s'one thing to act like you enjoy being flirted with, but im not about to make you cum where anyone could see." she shrugs, her grin sinister as she turns on her heel.

in disbelief, your shaky hands move to fix your pants and belt. she had it coming once you stepped back into the confines of her workshop, that was one thing for certain.

thank u for the yummy rq i hope u enjoy :3

[sun4r1nnity]

a star that outshines

fem!reader x second year!miya osamu

oneshot, fluff

“Miya twins are amazing, aren’t they?”

“Undeniably, yeah.”

“They are truly monsters on the court.”

An ocean of compliments about the Miya twins drowns the whole atmosphere, the talented and skillful brothers who have made their names in the volleyball industry. You mentally agree with each of the positive comments about the brothers, while your eyes are locked onto the specific grey-haired twin, Miya Osamu.

Yeah, you have a crush on THE Miya Osamu.

You like him so much that you started going to their practice matches almost every day like everyone else, just to see him play. The sound of the ball hitting the court, the squeak of sneakers, and the cheers of the crowd become the soundtrack of your afternoons. The smell and sweat and the sight of his focused expression make your heart race.

You like him so much that you intentionally leave at the same time he leaves his dorm just so you can walk near him. And it works, because you always coincidentally walk behind him and his friends, listening to whatever they are talking about. The scent of his cologne lingers in the air, a subtle reminder of his presence.

You like him so much that you started visiting your best friend, Hikari, in Class 1, just hoping to see him and wishing that he would notice you too. The anticipation of possibly seeing him makes your heart race every time you walk into the classroom.

You like him so much that when you accidentally learned his favorite food, you started liking what he likes too. The taste of his favorite dish becomes a bittersweet experience, a connection to him that he doesn’t even know exists.

You like him so much that you wrote love letters, but they were never sent to him. Because you’re afraid.

Afraid to face the fact that he will most definitely reject you.

Because he’s Miya Osamu, whose fame is at the top of the school alongside his twin Miya Atsumu, and of course, they have a bunch of pretty girls lined up to be their girlfriends.

So one night in your dorm, you asked your best friend.

“Am I being a creep?”

She raised her eyebrows, eyes still glued to her phone with a lollipop in her mouth.

“Not really, why?”

“I think I’m being a creep,” you huffed out a sigh.

“Why would ya think that? 'S not like ya peep him in the bathroom or send him ya unwashed panties—”

“I reeeally don’t like your use of examples.”

“Well, 'kay, listen, it’s totally normal when yer in love! And as long as ya don’t do anything stupidly crazy, yer safe as hell,” she continues as she sits up and stares down at you.

You hum, staring at the ceiling blankly as your friend continues to scroll through her social media. You think, you have no chance with Miya Osamu. Well, it’s just a crush, you’ll get over him eventually. So that’s when you decide, you have to stop chasing someone who is way out of your league.

And you did. You stopped going to his practice matches, you stopped visiting your best friend so often, you even stopped coincidentally walking near him to school. You avoided him every chance you got, until after a few days it became too obvious. So why, when your best friend has her earphones plugged in, while the teacher is unavailable for class, does Miya Osamu walk up to her and say,

“Hey, uh, been meanin’ to ask,”

Your friend looks up at him with a raised eyebrow as she takes off her earphones.

“Why haven’t I seen ya cute friend lately? Y’know, the one that always comes ta’ hang out with ya?”

And it makes her eyes widen.

Not long after that, she immediately bombs your phone with a whole lotta texts.

hikari🤍

hey

holy shit

omfg

yo

MIYA LIKES YOU TOO

answer me dammit!!!!

YOOO

miya fuckinf osamu LIKES U TOO

OPEN YOUR PHONE

You should have made a move earlier, Osamu,” Suna said, his voice slightly muffled by the jelly stick in his mouth. He glanced up from his phone, his eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and curiosity.

Osamu shrugged as he sank into his chair, the cool metal frame pressing against his back. The faint hum of the gym’s fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, mingling with the distant echoes of volleyballs being spiked and sneakers squeaking on the polished floor.

Little did you know, Osamu had always noticed you from the crowd. He noticed how your eyes would light up during matches, how you would nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He noticed the way you always seemed to arrive at school just as he did, your steps quickening when you saw him. He noticed everything about you—your smile that could brighten the dullest day, your infectious laughter, your favorite snacks that you always had in your bag.

But you didn’t know that. You didn’t know that he knew about your big, fat crush on him. You didn’t dare to even strike up a conversation with him, always too shy to make the first move. So when he stopped seeing your presence in the crowd, his heart ached with a longing he couldn’t quite understand. That’s when he finally mustered the courage to ask your friend about you.

“Did you ask for her number?” Suna asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp with interest.

Osamu smiled, a soft, almost shy smile that reached his eyes. He nodded, his fingers tracing the edges of his phone. “(Y/N)⭐️” was saved in his contacts, the star symbol a small but significant detail that made his heart flutter.

Will you be surprised if you received a message?

[arpicityandneed]

Asking for a friend re: dark content Bucky, are we talking Bucky-Bucky, or like, are you also down with some Winter Soldier? Because WOW what a great look. Scared my ovaries so good.

Like, imagine the Soldier gets a bodyguard assignment to the daughter or wife of some SHIELD official. You're annoyed about having this mostly silent, kind of unsettling hottie shadow you constantly. So you get bratty, act out to try and crack that ice wall. "Kay fine, you need to keep an eye on me, I'll leave the door open to shower!" or "hey they said to pretend you're not even here, guess that means I can masturbate!" And you're not really sure what you expected to come of it, but it definitely wasn't getting railed because you managed to wake up half a century of repressed lust.

author's note: I mean all the dark content, Winter Soldier, Bucky-Bucky, dubcon, incest, all the good stuff. please ref my rules and guidelines <3

18+ Dark Content. Winter Soldier!Bucky. brat!reader. dirty talk. creampie. dubcon (mainly 'cause hydra). rough sex.

"Новая миссия Солдат." New mission, Soldat. The HYDRA handler handed the assassin the file, your seductive smirk in your profile photo making his stomach tighten. The sensation was new to him. But his response was the same it always was, a low husky rasp with no intonation.

"готов подчиниться." Ready to comply.

~

You didn't like your new bodyguard.

No matter how hot he was, he never spoke two words to you. All you got was da or net. He followed you everywhere and carried your bags and never seemed to sleep. You knew your dad was important to some big guys, but to think it would mean you'd be stuck with this ghost of a man with no way to sneak off wasn't what you had in mind.

He was just a big, hunking, idiot. With a metal arm. (You may have had a thing for the metal arm.)

He wouldn't let you drink since you were technically only 20, and killed any party just by standing there- not dancing, not moving, just watching you with his icy blue eyes.

It made you want to crack that perfect control he had.

"So you're really not going to leave that spot while I shower." You looked up at him as he stood at the threshold of the large ensuite bathroom in the hotel you were staying at while your father was having a business meeting.

"Da." He didn't smile, didn't frown. His handsome face was just always deadpan.

"Then I guess its not a problem if I leave the door open right?" You grinned, impish and bold as you started stripping. You new you looked good. It was the utter shamelessness of it all that had the Soldat's eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Bending over to drag your panties down your legs, letting him see your bare pussy before unhooking your bra. You sighed with relief as your breasts bounced free.

"Be a good boy and do what daddy paid you for. Watch me." You grinned when you saw him take a step towards you, your pussy gushing as you imagined him grabbing you and fucking you senseless. But he seemed to remember himself and stepped back. Firmly planting both feet and crossing his arms over his chest.

"Coward~." You sang as you stepped into the shower leaving the door open, its glass side walls fogging up as you lathered up your body. Touching every inch of yourself as slowly as possible making damn sure he could follow your hands with his eyes. His pupils were blown wide but it was the only sign he as affected.

You'd have to try harder.

~

"Ah!"

The Soldat was in your room in an instant the next morning even though you never heard the door unlock or open. He was ready for a threat, door locked so there was one less escape route for any intruders.

But all he found was you, on the bed with your legs spread- naked as the day you were born. A pathetic excuse for a plastic cock sliding in and out of your gummy walls as you fucked yourself over and over. One tiny hand was twisting your nipple and you were crying out loudly with every intention of making sure he could hear.

"Fuck!" You moaned as you met his eyes, pure mischief in your gaze. "Shouldn't be a problem, right Soldat? Just, nngh, watch me."

You never even saw him move, but suddenly he was on you. Snatching the dildo and dragging it out of your pussy before throwing it across the room.

"Этого будет недостаточно для такой шлюхи как ты." That won't be enough for a slut like you. He growled as he quickly undid his zipper, you barely had a glimpse of his girthy length before he was lining himself up. He didn't even bother to take off his tactical suit before fucking into your slick hole in one overwhelming thrust. It knocked the air out of your lungs.

"M-more!" You whined as you clawed at his back uselessly, your tiny pussy stretched almost painfully wide as you strangled his cock.

"Заткнись и возьми это." Shut up and take it. He was hissing in your ear with ever balls deep thrust, groaning as he felt pleasure for the first time in over 30 years. Your pussy was heaven he was sure. And he was never letting you go.

Every squelch and slap of his hips on your ass filled the room until it was a symphony of decauhery. You were being used, and somehow the knowledge made your blood burn with desire.

"Use me, fuck, cum in me please-" you begged as you felt your orgasm growing. The blunt head of his cock was dragging against the spot inside you that you'd barely been able to reach with the dildo. Your eyes were crossing every time his fat cock bottomed out inside you, and you knew you were going to cum harder than you ever had before.

"Просто теплое место которое я могу использовать по своему усмотрению." Just a warm place for me to use. He purred the words in your ear, and you cried out when you felt his skilled fingers making quick tight circles over your sensitive clit.

You bit down on his throat, the only skin you could reach to stop yourself from screaming as you gushed around his cock. (It was only later, much later when you were being interrogated about where the Asset had gone, that you realized the bastard had made you squirt.)

His grip on your hip became bruisingly tight but you didn't care, not when his thrusts were getting sloppy.

"Do it, cum in me, get me pregnant I don't care just-" His other hand, still slick with your juices slapped over your mouth as he growled at you.

"Я сделаю тебя матерью. Я сделаю тебя своей." I'll make you a mother. I'll make you mine.

You shivered, not understanding anything but the possessiveness in his tone. Your hole clenching around him and he was done for.

His load was endless. He fucked you through it, stuffing his seed as deep inside as his cock could reach. In your lustful haze you realized you truly wouldn't mind having the child of a man like him. You knew he'd protect you both if it ever came to that.

You must have fallen asleep after that because when you came to the window was open, and there was a pillow under your hips.

He was gone.

(pt 2)

[cheollipop]

✾ — 𝙜𝙤𝙡𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙧

navi | taglist

pairing: husband!park seonghwa x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.0k

genre: smut, fluff, newlyweds on their honeymoon au

song recs: golden hour by jvke, my love mine all mine by mitski, vanilla by kai

with the caribbean breeze ruffling through silky locks, leaving its salty remnants on sunkissed skin, fingers tangled in a lifetime's embrace as you adjusted to the added weight of the metal bands reflecting the gleaming moonlight. tonight, and for decades to come, seonghwa thanked every deity he knew the name of for making you his.

warnings: food/eating is prevalent in the first few paragraphs, lovemaking, soft/service dom!seonghwa, possessive!hwa fingering (f), unprotected sex (👎), creampie, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, nicknames (hwa; pretty girl, darling, love, baby, 'wife'), a lot of kisses, like fr a lot, they're both very desperate and needy and impatient and in love, it's so sappy I'm disgusted with myself.

A/N: bai @hwaightme, thank you for ideating with me all those months ago. I'm happy I finally found the time to write it out, and I really hope I was able to do hwasband (heh) justice. happy reading <3

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

A day of mingling with locals, hopping between souvenir shops and family-owned restaurants, the taste of salt in the air with the ocean breeze ruffling through your hair, hand in hand as you moved under the midday sun. Vivid splashes of colour decorated the markets, clothes and fruit—a ripe mango sitting, half-eaten, on Seonghwa’s palm—laid out on wooden booths while merchants called out to the tourists passing through the narrow pathway. The once overwhelming scent of red roses emanating from the small bouquet in your hand now dissipated under the mouth-watering spices wafting from the street food stalls Seonghwa walked you past, stopping at each one to shovel a variety of fried pastries and desserts into your mouth. 

“You should try this too,” he spoke as he excitedly fed you another bite, pressing the pastry past your lips with two fingers to make space between the rest of the food you struggled to chew. 

“Hwa, wait—mmph!” 

The man standing behind the bar chuckled to himself, golden skin hugged by the Caribbean sun and the corners of his eyes wrinkled with a lifetime of smiles. “You should listen to your husband, Ma'am.” 

You turned towards each other, eyes meeting amidst the bustling crowd surrounding you. Husband. It had a good ring to it. Taking in the pink dusting Seonghwa’s cheeks, the timid curl of his lips while he eyed you with hearts in his eyes, you wondered whether the heat warming your cheeks, the butterflies fluttering in your lower belly, and the overwhelming adoration you felt towards the man before you, were just as obvious. As though nothing and no one else existed, even within the populous market, Seonghwa stared at you with unrivalled infatuation, his hand raising to brush a smear of sauce off the side of your mouth, bringing it to his own for a taste. The fresh wave of heat flushing your face at his antics fuelled his ego, lips stretching further at your bashfulness. You were just too cute. 

Turning his attention back towards the merchant, his next order dying at the tip of his tongue as your free hand locked with his, dragging him out of the market with a quick “thank you” as you continued to chew on what was left of all the bites he’d clogged your throat with. 

You made Seonghwa carry your shoes while you wiped the food off your mouth, glaring at him as he giggled to himself, bare feet leaving imprints over soft, white sand. He guided you closer to the shore, until gentle waves tickled your soles, and rather than remnants of fine dust over tanned skin, you now carried bits of the beach with you every step you took. 

Seonghwa’s fingers found yours, his other hand struggling to hold two pairs of shoes while he pulled you closer to his side, his eyes fixing on yours before moving to scan the rest of your face, as though the shadows sculpting your features were far more entrancing than the scene unfolding to his left. Your face warmed under his unrelenting gaze, and despite your best efforts at redirecting his stare towards the changing sky—the plastic wrapped around red roses colliding with his jaw as you pushed it to the side, only for it to sway back in your direction—his attention remained on you. So you dragged him away from the water, damp feet collecting a sheet of sand as you walked further up on the beach, seating yourself and waiting for the smiley man to join you, pearly teeth reflecting the golden rays.  

The orb of light moved closer to the horizon, a gradient of oranges and pinks encompassing the breadth of the sky, twinkling stars peeking out as it darkened, still hidden behind tufts of cotton candy clouds moving with the gentle breeze. The salt tickled your nostrils, and the chill ruffled through your top, Seonghwa’s arm naturally wrapping around your figure to bring you closer, his warmth spreading through you despite the thin, white button-up covering his torso, swaying with the wind to reveal bits of his tanned chest through the unbuttoned lapel. Your hand rested over his thigh, and without a second thought, his own moved to cover it, looking down to examine the orange hue cast over metal, your wedding rings clanging against one another while the setting sun graced the interlocked fingers with the last of its warmth. Lifting your head back up, you took in the universe’s breathtaking show of love as the sun kissed the horizon goodbye, bidding its farewells as they parted for the night, beginning its decent into the pool of tears it’d left behind, its reflection making it appear whole.  

“Pretty,” you breathed out, watching as pinks shifted to purples, and the stars shone through disappearing clouds.  

Seonghwa hummed, the deep baritone dragging your attention off the collision and to the sincere eyes mooning over your profile. Heat flooded your cheeks once again, and with the cooling breeze, shifting the blame onto the summer’s torridity was no longer possible. Instead, you allowed the tranquillity gracing Seonghwa’s sharp features to drag you away from the bewitching sunset. Dark locks fanned over his forehead, stray strands following the salty gusts before falling back into place, eyelashes casting faint shadows over defined cheekbones, and plump lips forming into an easy smile as he took you in. 

He dragged your locked hands up his thigh, leaning closer to slot his lips against yours, leaving the universe to bear witness to his own show of love, with the golden, dying rays to serve as his backdrop. How many love songs had you heard say, ‘he takes my breath away’? Seonghwa did. In everything he did, even simply under his gentle gaze, you’d often find yourself breathless.  

Drawing back, hot air blew against your mouth, wide, glimmering eyes mooning over your dazed features, and after what felt like an eternity later, Seonghwa’s lips touched yours once again. Sparks flew in every direction, the world slowly disappearing around you, and you wondered how a kiss so innocent could be so intimate and electrifying, how it could light a million fires within you. Like dancers sashaying to a melody, your lips moved together as waves crashed against the sandy shore, and in that moment, it felt as though you were floating in space and everything around you had turned to dust. 

You leaned your body forward, attempting to deepen the kiss that had captured your entire being in a whirlwind of fervour and yearning, but just as you did, Seonghwa moved back. Features softened under the dying rays, he peered at you through his eyelashes for a few moments, taking in the subtle pout on your lips at the sudden parting before averting his gaze towards the locked fingers resting on his thigh. Tilting your head, your eyes wandered over the curved slope of his nose, over the feathered eyelashes and lips you’d just gotten a taste of, sensing the gentle ministrations of his hand as it fiddled with your ring. A ring you were still accustoming to the weight of, the gemstone offering a pleasant reminder of a man you now returned home to every night. A man with a million stars in his eyes, and yet preferred to gaze upon you, to moon over your very existence as though you’d crafted the universe around him with nothing but calloused hands. With scenery as breathtaking as the one before you—a celebration of vibrant fuchsia and coral—Seonghwa’s gaze never left your profile, admiring the sunset through its reflection over your skin, the shadows it carved, the pretty eyes in which it glimmered within. And just as the sun kissed the horizon while it set, and once again as it rose, Seonghwa's lips moved in a whispered prayer: to greet the rest of his days with the caress of your warm breath against his skin, carrying the thought of you as he navigated his hours, and to find you in the gentle embrace of slumber, a steadfast companion by his side. 

Your voice dragged him out of his daydreams, “what are you thinking about?” 

Gentle eyes flitted upwards to meet yours, his response nearly instant, “only you.” The sincerity in his tone, the tenderness in his eyes, the gentle sweep of his thumb over your knuckles, delicate over the twinkling stone decorating your ring finger, Seonghwa continued to ignore the world around him and solely focused on you—the gentle squeeze around his fingers every few seconds, the alluring smile gracing your lips, the slow pace in which you blinked, as though drunk on his voice, his scent, his presence. It was though he was intoxicated by you, an addict who can’t help but want more, even when you’d offered him all you could spare. Leaning towards you once again, he pressed a feathery kiss to your cheekbone, sensing the benign flutter of your eyelashes against his skin before drawing back to meet your eyes once again, hot breath mingling in the small gap between your faces as he muttered the words under his breath, “let’s go back.” 

-- 

One unsteady step at a time, Seonghwa walked you backwards into the hotel room, palm splayed out on your lower back to keep you balanced. White sand dusted off the clothes he pulled off your frame, wandering hands taking in the lingering warmth of a sun long gone. Your fingers feathered over the prominent tan lines painting his chest, faint freckles littered over the reddened skin. Flitting your eyes back to his face, you found Seonghwa’s gaze fixed on your lips. So you gave him what he yearned for, pressing them against the plush of his and inhaling the breath he’d been holding, too immersed in astral daydreams about a lifetime of you to listen to his burning lungs.  

He moved slowly, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before letting it go in favour of pressing your tongues together, contrasting the frantic shuffling of his hands over every inch of skin revealed to him. You held him close, chests flush as you allowed him to take whatever he needed, only pulling away to slide off the bra he’d nimbly unclasped. Gentle fingers glided over your figure, squeezing and tugging at the flesh as though he’d never have the luxury of touching you after tonight, his kisses hungry as he robbed your lungs of the last of their oxygen. 

Soft sheets collided with your back, and you had only a few seconds to revel in the coolness against your heated skin before Seonghwa was back on you, tucking his face into the crook of your neck to press hurried kisses down its length. His lips moved over the slope of your breast, tongue peeking out to circle your perked-up nipple before descending the tender skin to feather kisses along your ribs. You recognized the pattern, his movements familiar as he trailed down the body he’d stripped nearly bare, fingertips ghosting over the lacey waistband hugging your hips. Soon, he’d prop your legs over broad shoulders, salivating as he buried his nose into your clit while he lapped at your dripping arousal like a starved man.  

A sense of urgency flooded your gut as he dug his nose under your bellybutton, your hand flying to his freckled shoulder with a mutter of his name rolling off your tongue. He looked up at you, pupils blown out and a sheen of spit coating his parted lips as he prepared himself for your sweet taste, his appetite growing the closer he got to your core.  

Wrapping your fingers around his bicep, you tugged him upwards, but he resisted, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “baby?” 

“I can’t wait, Hwa, ‘want you now,” you breathed out, feeling his muscles relax under your touch and his hesitant ascend back to face-level.  

You could hear the unspoken complaint forming at the back of his throat, so you moved your hand to his nape and brought him down to slot your lips together. Desperation poured out of you, teeth clashing as you pulled him impossibly closer, drunk on the softness of his lips. You guided his hand to your clothed heat, pushing it past the waistband so soft fingers could slide through the wetness staining the white lace they’d gifted you. A muttered curse vibrated against your lips, Seonghwa’s nose nuzzling against yours for a moment before capturing your mouth in an avid embrace once again, his free hand leading yours down the lean muscle to where he needed you the most, to where his burning want strained against his briefs.  

An airy moan muffled against his frantic lips, the slight part in yours welcoming his tongue in to run over your front teeth, “fuck, ‘want you, please-” 

“Shh,” he pecked the corner of your mouth, “just for a little bit, my love.” You whimpered in protest, but he only smiled at your frustration, pressing more kisses over your eyelids, forcing them shut with the gesture. “I gotta make sure you’re ready for me, darling. I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.” 

You knew he would. From the building pace of his fingers on your clit, drawing perfect circles and sending jolting waves of long-awaited pleasure up your spine, to the trail of kisses he planted down the side of your neck, you knew he would. Forming a ‘v’ around the bud, he slid the digits down to your folds, his middle finger circling your needy hole before slipping inside. He didn’t bother with finding your g-spot before sliding in another, his unconcealed impatience evident in the quick, shallow thrusts.  

Your gaze flitting down to his middle, you pushed past the elastic band to feel his cock twitch in your palm, squeezing around his base to take in the shifts in his expression—eyebrows drawn in, lashes fluttering as he melted under your tender touch before he rested his forehead onto your chest. He used his free hand to make a quick work of sliding off his briefs—rather ungracefully, but you held back your comments—tossing them off the bed before guiding your hand back to his waiting cock. Following the throbbing vein lining his length, you were met with the obscene amount of translucent precum spurting from his cockhead, rolling your wrist and sliding the slick down the hard shaft, then back up to feel him shudder atop of you. 

“Fuck, just like that-” 

His fingers slipped out of you with a groan, and you whined at the loss, your dripping cunt clenching uselessly. But Seonghwa was smearing your own slick over the back of your thigh while pushing it to the side, spreading you apart to slot himself between your legs. You pulled your hand away before he could trap it between your burning cores, his cock sliding deliciously between your soaked folds and nudging your clit with every slippery glide.  

You reached down, placing a palm over his cockhead to trap him against you, “Hwa, hurry,” a faint whisper, you pressed down once he sunk his hips lower, and sighed in relief once the tip breached your fluttering hole.  

The slow drag as he buried himself within your heat left you in a shared trance, eyes locked and lips parted, stunted exhales mingling in the negligible gap separating your faces. Slender fingers tangled with yours, moonlit wedding bands pressing imprints into your skin as he grinded languidly into you, eyelashes fluttering but gaze never faltering off your face, revelling in the luring shifts in your features as you gracefully drowned in the pleasure he so generously gave you. Even in the dim, bluish tone the cosy hotel room swam in, you could see the abstract hearts painting his glimmering irises, Seonghwa's warm body lowering onto yours until a comfortable amount of his weight rested atop you. Despite the tenderness of his touch, the delicate kisses he peppered your face with—barely-there pecks over your eyelids, on your cheeks and down to the corners of your mouth—Seonghwa’s hips had built a steady pace, barely pulling out as he rolled them insistently, the squelch of your cunt harmonizing with the pitched pants echoing between the four walls.  

“My wife,” he muttered suddenly, dragging you away from the hazy pleasure clouding your mind and to wide, glassy eyes peering at you as though you’d parted the sea with a mere whisper. His palm cradled your jaw, curved nose nuzzling into your cheek while his other hand found your waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh as the realization dawned on him for the nth time since he’d slid the polished band onto your trembling finger. “Fuck, you’re my wife.” 

A soft giggle shook your shoulders, your hand sliding over Seonghwa’s at your jaw while the other drew lines onto his lower back. “Mm, my husband.” 

Seonghwa was a man blinded by sudden cognizance—first life or not, the universe had been astonishingly kind to him, granting him a lifetime of nights such as this, emanated by the raw desire to love. To give love, and to receive it, from a woman crafted by the heavens themselves, a woman who presented him with love’s true form. Who painted the world around him brighter, more vivid, until a life without her seemed riddled with dreary grey tones and melancholy.  

“All mine.” 

A fond smile stretched your lips, brushing your fingers through silky, dark locks while admiring his dazed features, “all yours.” 

His body heat encapsulated your form, toned arms wrapped securely around your shoulders and face tucked into your neck as measured rolls of his hips switched to frantic thrusts. Unable to move, you simply laid beneath him and took it, squeezing around him with every shock of pleasure he fucked through you, cock twitching violently between your walls as he barrelled towards his high.  

“My perfect wife,” he mumbled into your damp skin like a crazed man, “gonna give you all I have.” You scrambled to reach for his face, pulling it up to meet lidded eyes, pathetic, airy moans leaving plump lips, and he twitched inside you as you watched him fall apart. “Here—hah—here it comes, darling. Take it all, yeah?”  

Blown out pupils rolled back to reveal the whites of his eyes, lashes violently fluttering before he’d sealed his lids shut, his head tilting backwards as far as it could go as ecstasy rushed through his body in searing shockwaves, pumping his cock into you sloppily until he grew still, a day’s worth of neediness and want pouring out of him in watery ribbons of pearly white. 

You struggled to keep your eyes open, wanting to savour the sight before you: heavily lidded gaze fixed on yours, eyebrows drawn in, and spit-soaked lips hanging open as broken, breathy moans reverberated in the air separating you. You felt so full, and yet Seonghwa’s cock was still feeding weak spurts of cum into your womb, a delicate thumb rubbing soothing circles over your waist. And just when you thought he’d been milked dry, he dragged his cock halfway out of your clenching cunt and back into its inviting warmth, hissing at the sensitivity as he built up his pace until a whimper fell off your lips and you finally succumbed to the pleasure weighing down on your eyelids. 

Soft lips pecked over your eyelashes, honeyed voice ruffling them with warm exhales, “Open your eyes, my love. Let me see you.” 

And how could you refuse him such a soft-spoken request? Stars danced in your vision as you took in Seonghwa’s expression once again—hints of pain masked by overwhelming infatuation and need, as though he could power through the oversensitivity so long as he remained engulfed in your warmth.  

“Hwa.” 

“My pretty girl, my wife—” he spoke as though still in disbelief. His chest heaved, and violent shudders shook his body with the silky glide of his cock over your walls, a ring of cream forming around his base as he fucked your slick and his cum back into the used hole. “Gonna come for me?” 

Nodding frenziedly, you held on to his shoulders, sliding your hands up to his nape and into his hair, wanting to hold onto something but failing to decide on what. But then you were clamping around him, and two pairs of hands desperately clutched the other’s skin, lips meeting in the middle only to expel stunted gasps into each other’s mouths as though you were centuries-old lovers recently reunited. Seonghwa guided you through your orgasm, holding onto your trembling frame even as you tightened around his sensitive cock, two fingers slipping between your sticky bodies to rub circles over your clit.  

“Hwa, fuck—” Back arching, your nipples pressed against his, hips simultaneously seeking more of his touch and jerking away from it. 

“That’s it, baby, ‘being so good for me,” he slipped his cock out of you, a sigh of relief warming your face as his fingers continued their movement over your clit. “Look at you, so full you can’t keep it all in?” 

You followed his gaze down to your core, hips spasming as the stimulation panged at your nerves, but you found yourself transfixed on the thick stream of cum falling out of your pulsating cunt in gallops. Seonghwa’s lust-heavy eyes widened as another wave of your orgasm rushed through you, vivid colours obscuring your blurry vision before fireworks exploded behind your squeezed-shut eyelids. Your fingers grasped desperately at Seonghwa’s wrist, sensing him begrudgingly pull away to grant you some reprieve.   

You weren’t sure how long it took you to come down, to gather the last fragments of energy you had to force your eyes open, to notice the skilled hands ridding you of the knots in the aching muscles of your hips, but you felt at ease knowing Seonghwa was there to welcome you back whenever you were ready. His gaze—ever so gentle—fixed upon your tranquil features, propped up on an elbow while his body laid by your side to give you room to breathe, your chest still heaving from the force of your high. You noticed the subtle, unconscious flick of his stare down to your thighs every few seconds, taking interest in your fruitless battle against the insistent spasms jolting your lower half. 

Huffing out a laugh, you dragged his attention back to your face, and his body slid closer to yours, placing his head on the pillow beside you and watching you shift onto your side. The duvet pulled taut over sweaty bodies, shielded from the chilly ocean breeze, the arms snaked around your waist pulled you into Seonghwa’s chest, any thoughts about leaving the soiled bed dissipating within the man’s secure embrace.  

You inhaled the salty Caribbean scent off his tanned skin, remnants of the luxury perfume he’d sprayed on that morning mixing in with nature’s cologne. Before you could nuzzle closer into his neck, a gentle grip on your nape pulled you back to meet soft eyes, yours fluttering shut once plush lips pressed against your cheekbone, then your forehead, and your nose, until he found your cupid's bow. It was barely a kiss, more so a standstill as you held your lips together, pressing and nipping against the other’s sluggishly as you both fought off sleep’s insistent nagging.  

Beads of sweat slowly dried over your skin, the moonlight filtering through the cracked blinds reflecting through them before dying out. Drunk on one another, you were too occupied to notice the cool-toned shift in hues painting the white walls, missing the sun’s final farewells before it disappeared behind the horizon, and the emergence of glimmering stars to replace the striking gradient of oranges and pinks. You'd missed nature’s tragic goodbye while immersed in your own ardent union. Now, only the moon and its stars bore witness to the lethargic dance of lips hidden under the floral-scented duvet Seonghwa had pulled over your intertwined frame.

Sand still dusted slick skin, and warm breaths mingled in the stuffy space you’d cramped yourselves in, bodies flush against one another as you succumbed to the siren invite of slumber, wishing upon a lifetime emanated by such bliss, tranquillity, and ardour. 

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[obessedwithfictionalmen]

Cool ass party

Miguel Diaz X Female! Reader

!SPOILER WARING FOR COBRA KAI SEASON 6!

Summary: When Miguel goes to the frat party, he's far from thinking he's going to get the girl.

Warning: Use of Y/n/ violence/ swearing/ mention of blood/ alcohol/ kinda heavy makeout/ Google translte spanish/ mention of body parts?/

Word count: 1.2k

To be honest, I didn’t know why I followed Miguel, Demetri and Hawk at the college tour. I didn’t even know which college I wanted to go to, but still, I followed the guys while a random dude walked in front of us. ‘’You really think we got a chance at M.I.T?’’ Demetri asked us. I looked at Miguel with an ‘His he for real?’ look in my eyes. ‘’Dude, you guys are the Binary Brothers, if M.I.T don’t accept you, they’re stupid as fuck’’ I exclaim with a laugh in my throat. Hawk smiled as we looked around. ‘’Y/n, are you considering coming with me here?’’ Miguel shyly asked. I take a deep breath as I look at the ground.

Before I can answer, the tour guide gets tackled on the ground by two familiar faces. ‘’Kyler? Brucks? What the hell?’’ Demetri mumbles as we connect the dots. ‘’Rhea? Lip, Lip’s friend? Weird chick?! What are you guys doing here?’’ Kyler exclaimed.

After catching up with our ‘old friends’ and eating, Kyler decided to bring us to our first frat party. I usually avoid frat house’s parties, but since I was with guys that I trusted, I decided to go. I wasn’t dressed to go to a party, but who cared? As we entered the room, I stick with Miguel, plus he was my crush, so it was another reason to stay with him. Frat boys everywhere, sorority girls glued to them, alcohol, smoke and the smell of sex filled my nostrils and my eyes. ‘’That’s something’’ Hawk exclaimed, making us laugh. ‘’Let’s just, lay low, stick together and keep an eye on your drinks. We’ll be fine’’ I try to convince them.

There was a blur between the time we arrived and now, why Miguel was sticking up to Kyler was confusing. But what was more confusing was the way Miguel’s body and mine moved together. The way his hands traveled my body in a sky but sensual way. When I turned to face him, our mouths were almost on the other. I could feel his breath on my skin. The look in his eyes was almost enough to get me to throw my self control out the window. I kept looking at his eyes and his lips, I needed to kiss him. As I leaned forward, something stopped us. ‘’Where’s my vacuum?!’’ The asshole in ‘charge’ of the frat yelled, referring to Kyler. Miguel and I turned our head to our ex-bully. ‘’Men, I ain’t gonna clean that’’ Kyler tried to stand up for himself. My dance partner and I made our way closer to Kyler, in case something happened. We were joined by Hawk and Demetri, who were as clueless as we were. After Kyler tried to tell the guy off, again, things got heated, and Miguel stepped in. ‘’Enough!’’ he yelled, getting everyone’s attention. Someone stopped the music, making it more dramatic. Kyler got up from the floor, cleaned his mouth from the dirty food he picked up. ‘’Why don’t you tell him the truth?’’ Miguel confronted the frat ‘king’. ‘’The truth about what, man?’’ Kyler asked. ‘’Well, we had a good run, but you’re never getting into this frat’’ the douchebag said.

Kyler took a second to think before he grabbed a girl’s drink before pouring it on the guy’s head. I had to refrain a laugh as Hawk ate popcorn because of how good the entertainement was. The douchebag, who’s ego got hurt, tried to punch Kyler, but he was quicker and blocked it. ‘’Bitch, don’t you know, I know karate!?’’ he exclaimed before pushing the guy on a metal pole.

And there it was, another karate brawl. But this time, it was funnier than the others I’ve been apart of. Demetri, Hawk, Miguel, Kyler and I were all working together, it was amazing. But, at one point, guys started to land punches on me. But with the adrenaline, I didn’t feel any of it. ‘’Let’s go before campus security comes!’’ Kyler exclaims. As we all ran outside, I burst out laughing. ‘’That was a cool ass party" I yell, laughing. Miguel, for some reason, puts his arm around my shoulder as we ran across campus.

‘’Oh, you’re bleeding’’ Miguel said as we walked home, I lived two streets away from him. ‘’Your hair was in the way, that’s why we didn’t notice, and your lip too.’’ He says as he innocently touches my lower lip. Realizing what he’s doing, he quickly moves his hand away. ‘’I’m sorry, I, uh.’’ He stuttered. I smile as we arrived in front of his apartment block. ‘’You’re bleeding too, do you need help cleaning it up?’’ I suggest. Miguel nods and leads the way to his apartment. No one was home.

‘’It was a hell of a Superman punch.’’ Miguel complimented as I put butterfly closures on his wound. I blush and look down. ‘’All done’’ ‘’Good, it’s your turn now’’ Miguel orders. I sit on the bathroom counter as Miguel picks what he needs from the first aid kit. I look at him and smile. ‘’What’s with the smile?’’ he asks, smiling too. He delicately starts to clean the blood of my forehead, next the one on my lip. ‘’I enjoyed myself today. It was nice dancing with you’’ I whispered. Miguel blush and gets back to his task. ‘’I enjoyed dancing with you too.’’ He says back, with a flirty tone. While he works on my forehead, I say nothing, the tension in the small bathroom speaks for itself. The way we maintain eye contact speaks for itself. His brown eyes are deeply into mine and my self control is about to expire.

‘’This might hurt’’ he warns before disinfecting my lip. ‘’Y’a know, if I was a random girl, I’d ask how you know so much about fixing lips. But each time you get into a fight, I’m there’’ I chuckle. Miguel smiles. ‘’Yeah, and each time I think you look good kicking everyone’s ass’’ he flirts back. I almost fold, but I love to flirt with people. ‘’You think I look good, Diaz?’’ I reply. Seeing how red he turned when I called him by his last name, it's something I’m going to do again. ‘’Of course, I don’t think there’s anything hotter than you kicking someone’s ass.’’ he moves a little closer to me. His thumb caresses my lower lip as he uses the triangle method on me, which works. ‘’You wanna kiss me, Diaz?’’ He swallows pretty hard, but still keeps his composure. ‘’Please, you have such pretty lips. I really want to kiss you’’ he whispers, millimetres away from my lips. ‘’Then do it, Diaz’’ I mumbled before I lean in, our lips finally touching.

The kiss got heated pretty fast, Miguel’s hands making his was on my body fast. The only time we pull away from each other is to take our breath. The kiss leaves us breathless, our chest rising up and down as his black curls are getting messier and messier. ‘’I wanted to do that for so long’’ Miguel said with his dry throat. Our lips collapse together again, I wrap my legs around his waist as my hands tugs his hair. One of his hands make his way on my thigh, getting dangerously close to my wet core.

‘’Hola, ¿hay alguien en casa?’’ Miguel’s grandma announces as she enters the house. ‘’Shit, my grandma. I thought she was at the grocery store’’ Miguel babbles as he tries to fix himself. I giggle and fix my hair. ‘’Don’t worry, I’ll sneak off by that window.’’ I smile, looking at the small window. He tries to come up with an apology, but I cut him. I slide off the counter and place a quick kiss to his lips. ‘’You can apologize for your grandma later, I’ll leave my window unlock tonight, Diaz’’

[matchpointfaist]

tis the damn season ; art donaldson

cw; drinking, smut!!, art and reader are really kinda pathetic <3

if i wanted to know who you were hanging with

while i was gone i would have asked you

it's the kind of cold, fogs up windshield glass

but i felt it when i passed you 

there’s an ache in you put there by the ache in me 

but if it’s all the same to you, it’s the same to me

five years ago

“hey, stranger,” you can practically hear art’s smile through the phone, “how was your day?” you roll onto your back, phone clutched in your hand like a vice, “it was alright. just cramming for finals,” you sigh softly, “hows stanford?” “god, it’s incredible,” he laughs, “i wish you were here. you’d love it, baby. it’s like a movie,” you hum in response, ignoring the ache in your chest that had made its home there the day he flew out, “how’s training going? do you have any matches soon?” “oh, it’s great!” there’s that smile again, “i’ve got a match tomorrow, actually, so i should probably go soon. it’s at 7 am,” 

“that’s good,” you smile to yourself, “do you feel good about it?” “yeah, i think so. coach says i’m gearing up to do really well this season,” he says proudly, and your chest aches again at the thought of missing it. “i’m sure you will,” you try to keep your voice even, “well i’ll let you get some sleep, i love you,” “love you more,” he murmurs, “goodnight, baby,” 

art texts you the next morning to inform you he ‘killed’ his match, attaching a poorly taken photo of him grinning ear to ear, gold metal ribbon around his neck. it’s little crumbs like this that keep you sane, keep you feeling close to him, ever since he left. ‘knew you’d win! you’re so cute. call later?’ you reply, your cheeks pink as if you’re texting a crush rather than your boyfriend of two years. ‘course i will’ he replies, and you’re already counting down the minutes until the nighttime routine you’d grown accustomed to. 

at nine oclock, you lay across your dorm bed, eyes practically glued to your phone screen as you wait on art’s nightly call. by nine thirty, you’re mildly annoyed, and by ten, you’re worried. you pick up the phone, pressing call on his contact, biting the inside of your cheek as you listen to the phone ring. he picks up after a moment, the music in the background nearly drowning out his voice, “hello?” 

“hey,” you try your hardest not to let your irritation bleed into your tone, “did you forget to call?” “fuck, baby. i’m so sorry,” you hear shuffling, and the music gets slightly quieter, “patrick invited me to this party since we won this morning, it totally slipped my mind,” “it’s fine,” you tell him slightly too quickly, “just have fun, kay? i’ll talk to you tomorrow,” “wait- are you sure?” he sounds confused, and you wonder if its the alcohol or the change in your tone that’s thrown him off. 

“yeah, of course,” you hope your voice sounds as light as you intend it to, “we can talk tomorrow night, it’s okay. have fun,” “okay, i guess,” he sounds so hesitant you start to think he might just leave the party, “well goodnight then. i love you,” “night. love you too,” you hang up before you can talk yourself into begging him to stay on the phone. the next night, he calls at six oclock sharp, and you can tell the entire phone call that he’s eager not to upset you. 

he’d always been that way. he’d do something, just one tiny mistake, and spend days apologizing or being extra sweet to fix it. you’d lost count over the years of just how many grand gestures he’d made, of how many times he’d professed his love for you for no reason other than to get back in your good graces; not that he’d ever left. 

you and art were cheesily in love, so high school in the way that you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother, couldn’t go a day without speaking. you were practically sewn at the hip from sophomore to senior year, even applying to colleges together. when he got his offer from the stanford athletics department, you didn’t think much of it. he seemed flattered, of course, but you never thought he’d actually go. 

he loved boston, he loved his family, he loved you, so it made no sense when he came over one afternoon, admission letter in hand, and a wide smile on his lips. “i accepted their offer!” he’d told you, ever so proud, “they gave me basically a full ride, as long as i stay on the team and keep my grades up. can you believe that?” 

you could believe it, of course. everyone knew how wildly talented art was, from such a young age. he’d started playing tennis at his parents country club when he was just a kid, and eventually worked his way up to attending a tennis academy not far from your high school. he had promise, drive, ambition, and a naivety just subtle enough to make him an excellent candidate to be pushed too far by coaches. 

you’d known, then, that things would change between you. everyone told you nothing would happen, you two were meant to be, but you could feel it. he’d be across the country, practicing incessantly, playing matches, attending parties thrown by teammates you’d never meet. and you’d be home, working for a degree that might help you make a name for yourself. 

over the course of a few months after that party, the calls grew less and less frequent. by summer, you were lucky to hear from art more than once a week. you knew he was busy, of course, and tried to ignore the way bitterness coated your tongue with every word you said to him on your brief calls. you tried to ignore the way he talked about all the friends he’d made, friends that you didn’t know at all, and tried to ignore the way he barely sent you photos anymore.

the one thing getting you through was the promise of summer break with art. two short months together, to pretend everything was back to normal, that you weren’t living completely separate lives. you woke up at six am sharp the day of his flight home, eagerness keeping you from sleep, and picked up your phone to call and see when he’d be landing. he answered after four rings, his voice raspy from sleep, “hello?” 

“good morning!” you replied cheerily, “when’s your flight?” “oh, hey baby,” you heard some shuffling before he returned to the phone, “uhm, i actually was just gonna call you about that,” “is everything okay?” your cheery tone slipped, dread festering in your stomach before you could even place why. “yeah, of course. i just meant to tell you, coach wants me to do some training over the summer. he thought it would be best if i stayed here, just for this first year, for some extra drills and stuff,” 

you sat silently, tears pricking your eyes, as you listened to his excuse. “so what, then? you’ll be home for a month shorter, or?” “i won’t be able to make it home at all this year, honey. i’m so sorry, but you can come stay with me, yeah? i’ll buy your ticket, it’ll be just like we planned,” your heart broke even further at how optimistic he sounded, as if he hadn’t just shattered your expectations of the summer, of your reunion. “i have work, art,” you said quietly, “you know that. i have to make up for being off through the school year,” 

“you don’t need that job, baby. come on, come see me,” “no, art!” you argued, your brows pinched in frustration, “i do need this job, actually. some of us don’t have trust funds, believe it or not. jesus,” your words came out sharper than you intended, all the hurt and anger from the last several months finally revealing itself. “i’m sorry,” he said after a moment, “this is really important to me. this is my shot, yknow? i can’t mess this up,”

“yeah,” your voice was bitter, but you truly did understand, “i get it. stay there, it’s for the best,” “i’ll come home next summer, okay? it won’t be like this every year,” he sounded like he was pleading with you, and it took all your control not to snap at the irony of it. “art, i think it’s best we don’t keep trying to make this work. you need to focus on your tennis and school and i need to focus on mine, and let’s just call it even, okay? we had a really good run,” 

“a good run?” he repeated incredulously, “are you trying to break up with me?” “i am, yeah,” you hoped you sounded confident in your answer, “i just don’t think it’s a good idea for us to draw this out any longer than we need to,” “what the fuck? where is this coming from? is this about the summer?” he sounded so genuinely confused, so lost, and it only angered you further. “it’s just not working, art. everyone warned us long distance wasn’t a good idea,” 

“baby, please,” he was practically begging, a slight whine in his voice that you knew all too well. “no, i’m sorry, okay? but it’s done,” “you can’t just-” “bye, art,” you hung up before you could talk yourself out of it, letting yourself cry as hard as you’d wanted to for months now. you curled up in bed, sobs wracking your body, and mourned the relationship with a boy you’d once thought you’d marry. 

you thought he’d text or call, tried to prepare yourself to reject him again, but the contact never came. he listened, for once. art donaldson had completely slipped out of your life, without a trace.

three years later, you graduated top of your class, landed your dream job in journalism, and moved to an apartment in the city. you tried your best not to keep up with art’s achievements, but it was difficult when he won nearly ever tournament he stepped foot into. he made all the sports headlines, and you turned your head at each of them, hoping to convince yourself you never even knew him. 

i parked my car right between the methodist 

and the school that used to be ours

the holidays linger like a bad perfume 

you can run, but only so far

i escaped it too, remember how you watched me leave

but if that’s okay with you, it’s okay with me

current

you returned home for the holidays, driving down from the inner city to your parents home on the outskirts of boston. about three miles out, you’re lost in thought, music playing through your speakers and snow dusting your windshield. you’re jolted when you hit a deep pothole, cursing under your breath when your tire pressure light kicks on. 

you pull over into the closest parking lot, grabbing your coat and stepping out of the car to survey the damage. “fuck me,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration when you see the tire’s gone flat. you’re in the middle of trying to pry your spare out of the trunk when headlights illuminate the area around you, and you hear a car crunching over the snow. 

“you alright, miss?” a man calls, his voice sharp in your ears against the quiet of the evening. “just got a flat, i’m taking care of it,” you reply, not bothering to look back over your shoulder as you yank your spare free finally. “it isn’t safe to drive on a spare in this weather,” he tells you, and the slight crack of his tone raises the hair on your arms, the familiarity seeping through you deeper than the cold breeze. 

you turn, finally facing the stranger, your breath in your throat. there he stands, his blonde hair peeking out underneath the hood of his puffer coat, his cheeks tinged pink from the wind. “art?” you exhale, your heart suddenly racing in your chest, “what are you doing here?”

“oh,” he looks as startled as you feel, his blue eyes widening ever so slightly, “i was just passing by on my way to my parent’s, i saw a car and thought you’d need help,” “i’ve got it,” you say too quickly, “i’ll call my dad to pick me up, don’t worry about it. thanks, though,” 

“i can take you,” he offers, gesturing to his car parked just feet away, still running, “it’s on the way, anyway. i don’t mind,” “i think i’ll just call my dad,” you argue, “you can go, okay? i got this-” “please just let me take you home,” his tone sounds like you’d be doing him a favor, not the other way around, “come on, i’ll help you get your stuff, i’ll fix your tire tomorrow,”

you never could say no to his puppy dog eyes, even after all these years. so there you sit, shivering in art’s too nice car, trying not to look at him as he drives you home like he had so many times before. “it’s good to see you,” he says finally, breaking the silence, and you hum in response, unable to muster up any real conversation. 

“i moved back,” he says after a few more minutes as he turns the corner to a main road, “i don’t live here, but it’s not far. i live in the city near the university,” “congratulations,” you mumble, trying to keep your tone dismissive, anything to lessen the nostalgia you’re surely both feeling. 

“hey,” he sounds as if he’s pleading, and you allow yourself one glance to his side of the car, taking in the way he’s biting the inside of his cheek, the sadness in his eyes. “yes?” “i just wanted to say it’s good to see you,” he says softly, “i mean, what’re the odds, yknow? we’re both back home and i just happened to see you. it’s like fate,” 

“yeah,” you agree quietly, “fate, sure,”

so we could call it even

you could call me babe for the weekend

'tis the damn season, write this down

i'm stayin' at my parents' house

and the road not taken looks real good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

he pulls into your parent’s drive, keeping the car running but leaning back in his seat to look over at you. “you look good,” he says after a moment, “not that you looked bad before, obviously, it’s just, you’re beautiful-” “shut up, art,” you cut off his rambling, “it was sweet of you to drive me, but thats all this was, okay? this isn’t fate. it’s just a coincidence,” 

“even if it is just a coincidence, i’m still happy to see you,” he says quietly, “is that not okay? i missed you,” “shut up,” you repeat, “you didn’t miss me, that’s- this whole thing is ridiculous, okay? enjoy your holiday, art,” “wait! can’t we just talk? i mean, even if its not tonight, we could catch up,” he pleads, eyes wide and borderline frantic. you shake your head, opening your door and pausing to glance back at him, “merry christmas, art. please don’t call,” you go inside trying your best to pretend nothing happened, dodging questions about the car in the driveway and greeting your family. the look on art’s face as you closed the car door keeps you from any real christmas spirit. 

you wake the next morning to a text from an unsaved number, your brows furrowed as you open the notification. ‘i know you said you don’t wanna hear from me, but i just wanted to say i’m sorry and it was really nice to see you. wanted to give you a fair warning, your parents invited my family to their christmas party tonight.’

you groan, tossing your phone on the bed and getting in the shower, ignoring the butterflies nerves, in your stomach at the idea of seeing art that night. by six that evening, you’re slightly tipsy off of spiked eggnog, trying your best to ignore him from across the room. he’s there, blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes and a stupid christmas sweater that reminds you far too much of the first holiday you spent together. 

you hate the way he mingles with your family so easily, like nothing ever happened. the way he laughs at your dads jokes, the way he’s sipping wine with class he must’ve learned at stanford. the way he keeps looking your way, smiling tenderly, the way he eventually approaches you with all the hesitation of a high school crush. 

“you look beautiful,” is the first thing he says to you, sounding almost pained by it. “thank you,” you hope you sound cordial, hope he doesn’t pick up on the way your hands shake around your glass, the way your cheeks are already pink. you tell yourself it’s the alcohol and not the scent of the cologne he’d been wearing all those years ago, the last time you’d seen him. 

he looks around, gesturing to the decorations, “good party,” “we don’t have to do this small talk shit,” you say after a moment, “it’s in the past, alright? let’s just get through the party and we’ll all go back to normal,” “don’t you see i don’t just want to get through the party? i’m trying to talk to you here, okay? i missed you, i just wanna catch up,” the pleading is back in his tone, accompanied by his trademark puppy dog eyes, and you find yourself following him onto your parent’s balcony with no hint of the hesitation you’d been full of earlier in the night. 

“i saw you on tv,” he tells you after a few minutes of small talk, sipping his drink and glancing at you, the wind rustling his too perfect hair. “yeah?” you smile ever so slightly, “what for?” “it was a news station, i saw it at the airport. you were reporting on the protests in new york,” he smiles back, and your chest aches at the sight. “i’m not usually on tv, i just write the stories, but it was cool. glad to know it’s getting good airport coverage,” you joke, “i’ve seen you on tv a few times myself. wimbledon and all,” 

“yeah?” his smile widens, “and what’d you think?” you pause, and you’re not sure if its the eggnog, the nostalgia, or his vulnerable expression, but you find yourself being honest. “i thought you were incredible,” you say softly, “the way you play is just amazing, art. always has been,” “thank you,” you choose to ignore the crack in his voice, “you have no idea how much that means, to hear you say that. that you still even think that,” 

“congratulations,” you smile around the rim of your glass, “you’ve won every competition i’ve even heard of. that’s a big deal,” “none of that matters,” he waves a dismissive hand, “i don’t wanna talk about tennis. i wanna hear about you,” “my life is pretty boring,” you shrug, “i write columns and go home and think about work. that’s really all,” “you’re not- are you seeing someone? i figured you’d be married or something,” 

“no,” you laugh like its ridiculous, because truthfully, it is. you’d loved him so much that it made the idea of trying to love someone else seem pointless. in the back of your mind, you’d always thought you needed to let it go, to move on, but you never found the time or the willpower. forgetting him and learning someone else was a move you were never prepared to make. “me neither,” his voice snaps you from your thoughts, “not since-”

“i’m sorry i broke up with you,” you blurt out, “it was shitty of me to do it over the phone like that, and i’m sorry,” “oh,” he blinks, looking slightly caught off guard, “no, i mean, it was my fault. i get it, looking back. i’m sorry i didn’t fight harder,” “you were a really good boyfriend,” you say quietly, blinking away hot tears, “like, the perfect boyfriend. it was just too much, being away from you, and i felt like it was just a matter of time before it ended anyway,”

“i never planned on leaving you,” he says softly, “i hope you know that. i loved you more than anything in the world, and i know we were just kids, but i really, really fucking loved you. more than tennis, more than stanford, more than any of that shit. i didn’t care about my future if you weren’t in it, but then you removed yourself from it and i figured i could at least just keep going,” 

“i know,” you nod, because you genuinely do know. you know he loved you, how much he cared about your relationship. a moment passes, and you can feel his eyes on you, your heart picking up and a fresh flush prickling your skin. “you are so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and before you can think better of your decision, you’ve set your drink down and turned to him, all your logic gone out the window. 

“this is a bad idea,” you tell him, but you’ve already taken a step closer, “and i’m only in town for a bit,” another step, “but i missed you so fucking much, art,” “come show me how much you missed me,” he smiles, his eyes almost as dark as the sky around you, “let’s make up for lost time, yeah?”

you kiss him in an instant, and everything else seems to fall away as you feel his lips on yours for the first time in years. he tastes like sparkling wine and chapstick and everything you love about the holidays, about home. he kisses you with the same desperation he’d always had back then, his hands digging into your hips and pulling you flush against him. 

the reality of the evening starts to sink back in as hands progress lower, and you pull away, panting softly against his lips, “cant fuck you in my parents house,” “aw, come on, it’ll be just like old times,” he murmurs teasingly, trailing his lips down your neck. “art,” you whine, “we can’t,” “they’re all busy with the party,” he murmurs as he nips below your ear gently, “do you want me to stop?” “no,” you answer easily, “let’s just- can we go to my room? someone’s gonna see us out here,”

you end up in your old bedroom, sprawled out on the comforter kissing art with a feverish desperation. “missed you so fucking much,” he groans as you unbutton his pants, slipping your hand into his boxers, “god, thought about you all the time,” “yeah?” you smile against his lips, “thought about me all the way in california?” “fuck- yeah, i did,” he bucks his hips into your hand, his cheeks pink, “everyday, every night,”

you hum, satisfied, trailing your kisses down his chest and sliding down the bed, “where you going?” he asks, his brows furrowed. “you don’t want my mouth?” you ask, gazing up at him as you push his boxers down, “no,” he smiles hazily, “no, baby. missed you too much for that, just c’mere. let me fuck you,”

you nearly cry at that, the warmth flooding your chest at his words despite the overall nature of what the two of you are doing. you kiss him again, leaned over him, and he pulls you up into his lap, scooting up to prop himself up against the headboard. 

“come here,” he mumbles between kisses, positioning your legs to straddle him, “do you wanna do this?” “‘course i wanna do this,” you nod, and he pushes the skirt over your dress up around your hips, running his thumb over the skin, “you’re so beautiful,”

“stop lookin at me like that,” you mumble, feeling entirely too entranced by the expression on his face, “kiss me,” he’s nothing if not obedient, his lips on yours immediately, kissing you with fervor. you reach between the two of you, sitting up briefly to toss your underwear somewhere, wrapping your hand around him once more to line him up. “god,” he groans softly, tipping his head back as you slide down on his cock, your eyes closed in bliss, “fuck, you’re so wet, god,”

you bury your face in his neck, trying your best to be quiet as you adjust to his size, rocking your hips slowly, “art,” you moan breathlessly, and before you know it he’s cradling your head, pulling you in closer and fucking up into you. you bite down on his shoulder gently, hoping to suppress the noises leaving you, “god, not gonna last,” he all but whimpers, “you feel so fucking good,”

you just moan in response as he hits all the right spots, your thighs shaking slightly as he fucks you, “fuck, baby- oh my fucking god,” he groans, pulling you off of him gently, “didn’t wanna finish inside you,” he pants, eyes closed as he steadies his breathing, “let me,” you say softly, taking him in your mouth, moaning around him at the taste of yourself on his skin. 

“oh, fuck me,” he moans, hands tightening in your hair and bucking his hips slightly. he’s filling your mouth soon after, your name falling from his lips like a curse as he cums down your throat, panting and whining hoarsely. you wipe your mouth, sitting up to kiss him again, surprised when he pulls you up closer. “sit on my face,” he mumbles against your lips, “let me make you cum, please,” 

“i’m okay,” you start to argue, but he’s shaking his head, looking at you with the sweetest expression, “just let me make you feel good,” you let him lead you, as he lays back on the bed and pulls you up onto him, your thighs on either side of his head. 

he laps at you desperately, and you have to clutch the headboard to keep from collapsing against him as you rock your hips, borderline grinding against his mouth. “art,” you moan, one hand on the headboard and one in his hair, “fuck, you’re so good,”

this only encourages him, and he slides a hand under you, pushing gently on your hips to make you rock against his face once more. you whimper at that, digging your teeth into your bottom lip as you feel yourself getting closer. “art,” you gasp, “gonna-“ 

your vision is spotty as you come undone, his needy mouth never slowing as he works you through it, sucking at your clit until your legs nearly give out. “too much,” you whine, pulling at his hair to deter him. he hums against you, licking one last, slow stripe against you before helping you down, looking up at you with dilated pupils and a spit-slick mouth. 

you wipe his face gently with your duvet, smiling slightly down at him, “that was-“ “you were so good,” he praises, “can’t believe how much i missed that,” he pulls the blanket over your legs, and your chest aches at the tenderness of the action. “you shouldn’t stay,” you say softly, hoping it doesn’t come across as hurtful, “i don’t want my parents to see, yknow,” 

“yeah,” he nods, but he looks slightly hurt, like he’s taken aback, “yeah, good point. i’ll call you?” “yes, please,” you nod, watching as he pulls his clothes back on, “i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” “yeah,” he nods, fastening his belt, “uh, goodnight, then,” “night, art,” you smile sleepily, and he lets himself out without returning a smile of his own.

time flies, messy as the mud on your truck tires

now i’m missing your smile, hear me out

we could just ride around 

and the road not taken looks really good now

and it always leads to you in my hometown

the next day, you send him a quick text, slightly worried he’d thought you’d just dismissed him. ‘wanna get coffee today? i leave tomorrow’ 

‘sure’ he replies, and you’re sure then that he’s hurt, but you hope to rectify it, ‘great! starbucks on third at eleven?’ ‘okay. see you there’ he sends back, and you pull on a sweater and leggings, going to spend some time with your parents before heading out to the coffee shop. 

he’s sitting in a window seat when you arrive, much more casual than he had been the night before. he’s in a stanford hoodie and joggers, and you think of him away at college, how at home he’d probably been there. you shake the thought away, walking over to his table, “hey,” you smile, sliding into the booth across him. “hey,” he smiles slightly, “so you leave tomorrow?”

“oh, yeah,” you nod, “gotta get back to work. how long are you in town for?” “told you i moved back,” he says, looking slightly irritated, and you feel a pang of guilt, “yeah, sorry, it completely slipped my mind. so you’re just-“ “what is this, exactly?” he cuts you off, brows furrowed, “i mean, im glad last night happened, but is that just it? you’re gonna shoo me away and go home like nothing happened?” 

“what?” you falter, caught off guard, “art, no, i just have to go back home, it’s not like i’m discarding you,” “you sure are acting like it,” he grumbles, “what, then? are we gonna try and make this work?” “make this work?” you repeat, “what, exactly? i figured it was just because we’re both back home, i don’t-“ “what? so what, then, just a one time thing? that’s kinda fucked up to not tell someone,” he snaps, and you hate yourself in the moment, all the memories of the way you’d been so short when you’d broken up with him resurfacing. 

“maybe it’s better if it’s just for the weekend,” you say quietly, “i mean, we’re both busy, and this was just by chance,” “bullshit,” he shakes his head, “if you don’t wanna be with me, that’s fine. alright? genuinely, no hard feelings. but don’t give me that ‘we’re both busy shit. what’s the real reason you won’t try again?” 

“we both are busy,” you say defensively, “i just don’t- i’d hate for either of us to get hurt again, that’s all,” “i get it, i do, but we’ll never know if we don’t try,” he says softly, “i never wanted to hurt you before, okay? i’ve pictured so many routes for my life and you were always in them,” “we’re different people now, art,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone even, “you don’t know if we’re still even compatible, and we never know what could happen,” “will you stop doing that? you don’t have to be so calculated about everything. it’s not gonna kill us to try, right? we’ve changed, sure, and we’re at different places in life, but we’re the same people. we’re still the people we were when we were in love,” 

“that was a long time ago,” you say quietly, tears pricking your eyes, “i just don’t wanna make a mistake and get us both hurt,” “i’m fine with being hurt by you. don’t you see that? i have loved you since we were sixteen years old. we can get to know each other again, we can take it slow, i’m not asking you to marry me here. just give it a chance, please?” the sincerity in his tone breaks you, and you’re nodding before you can talk yourself out of it. “yeah,” you sniffle, “yeah, i’d like that so much. i’m sorry, i’m just scared, and i didn’t think we’d ever get another chance,” you ramble. “i know you’re scared,” he says softly, taking your hand in his over the table, “we’re gonna take it slow, alright? we’ll be alright,” “yeah,” you nod, tracing his knuckles with your thumb, “we’ll be alright,” 

[mrsmnsn]

All my loving

Summary: Eddie got your cold and now you are taking care of him.

wc: 1k

warnings: pure fluff; eddie being horny (control yourself sir); a little overthinking.

Enjoy!

Three weeks ago you were sick. You came walking to your boyfriend’s house to spend the night with him and, on the way back to your place, the rain started to pour. He would have picked you up and dropped you off if it wasn’t for his little problem. His van was on the mechanic and your mom was out of town.

Feeling guilty for it, he offered to take care of you. So he came every day to make you some company, tried to cook for you and to give you back rubs. The only thing was that he didn’t mind you were sick, or he simply just forgot, because he would still kiss you in each five minutes.

“Eddie, stop it! You are going to get sick too!” You’d say to him, trying to be mad at him.

“No, you need all my loving so you can get better!” He’d said giggling and massaging your scalp. “Honestly, i can’t take you serious with you talking like that.”

“Like what?”

Again, he giggled softly at you. “Don’t worry baby, let’s try to sleep a little bit, ‘kay?”

After two weeks, you got better. No more runny nose or non-stop coughing. But then, in a blink of an eye, Eddie started to have the same symptoms you had and got your cold.

He’s been sick for a week, but there was a thing that didn’t happened to you, but it did with Eddie. He was extremely touchy, grumpy and didn’t want to let you help him. You didn’t know what was worse. His mood swings or he pretending that he wasn’t feeling terrible and wanting to do everything by himself.

Now, here you were at his house. It was raining and chilly outside. You made Eddie a tea with some cookies in the afternoon so you could watch a movie. It seemed to be the only way to keep him quiet and calm. He didn’t make it to half of it and slept on your lap.

After the movie was over, you were chopping some potatoes at the kitchen when he surrounded your waist with his arms.

“Hey sleepyhead, did you sleep well?” you said kissing his cheek and going back to chop.

“I was till you left” his voice was raspy with sleep and tiredness. He started to kiss your neck. “Whacha cookin’, hm?”

“I’m making us a soup. I thought it would be good for you.” You put all the vegetables to boil “Also, once you said Wayne liked it too, so i’m doing it”

“You could do something else, huh?” Then you felt the pressure on your lower back. Maybe his voice wasn’t raspy only because of tiredness. “What do you think?”

“I think you are crazy!” You couldn’t help but laugh “Eds, you’re sick baby.”

“But we don’t have to be face to face, you know. There’s some other positions” He said a little upset “Like that, you wouldn’t get sick again.”

“No Eddie. That’s not the point.” You took his hands and led him to his bedroom “Now, why don’t you take your clothes off and… NOT FOR THAT!” you said seeing his mischievous smirk. “I’ll give you a shower and then we can eat some, how’s that?”

He stayed in silence for a while and then he close the space between you two and hugged you tightly. You returned it. He was needy. Begging to all the metal gods so this could be over and he could have all of you again. All of you just for him.

“I know sweetie, this will be over soon, alright?” You knew he needed some loving as well.

“Alright.” You two walked to the bathroom. You started to wash his hair, massaging his hair, and he started to hum quietly.

“I’m sorry baby” he said apologetically with his eyes closed, feeling you wash his hair

“For what Ed?”

“You’re being extremely nice and i’m being grumpy all day.” You looked at him opening his eyes. His big brown eyes shining for you. “You don’t deserve it”

“What’re you saying? You’re sick Eddie! No one is happy to have a cold, you know.” You said talking the soap “When i was sick, you took care of me. Now i’m doing the same for you and, very soon, you’ll be better. Just do me a favor?”

“Anything sweetheart.” His voice was funny. Now you understand why he was always laughing at your voice.

“Stop thinking too much. Finish your shower. Go and put some nice pijamas and come to the living room so we can eat dinner and be together.”

That was exactly what he did. He sat beside you on the couch. He was eating his soup and a grilled cheese you made for him. “Damn, that’s so good. If it means you’re making this every time i get sick, then i wanna be sick everyday.”

“I’m glad you liked it.” The shower seemed to be helpful. He was feeling better.

In two hours Eddie was on the edge of sleep, trying to keep a conversation with you.

“Why don’t we continue this tomorrow?”

“Are you going to sleep here?”

“Do you want me to?”

“I do. Very much.”

“Then i will” He forgot you came here with a bag of clothes for the weekend

“I love you so fucking much”

“I love you too. So fucking much.”

When Wayne came in, Eddie was far gone on your lap. You offered him your soup and tried to take Eddie to his bedroom. You were on Wayne’s bed after all.

“Thank you hun. For taking care of my boy” He said eating the soup. “Damn, that’s so good”

You laughed at his reaction which was the same as Eddie’s. “Glad you liked it. And it’s nothing. You know i love him.”

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Goin’ Somewhere?

-C.S

Synopsis: You go to the airport, to catch a flight back to your hometown. However, you get stopped by airport security, and they have to take you in one of the private rooms, to ‘search you’.

Pairing: Airport Security Guard!Dom!Chris X Sub!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected p in v, degradation kink, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving), tit fucking, pussy slapping, choking, ROUGH sex, spitting, slapping, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, pet names (ma, mamas, baby, darling, sweetheart, ext.), foul language, missing your flight, usage of Y/N (its inevitable im sorry.), small mention of anxiety, i think thats all!

{2ND PERSON POV.}

“Okay, empty your pockets, place everything— including your shoes— in this bin.” A shorter female demands sweetly, letting everyone know that she means business, but wasn’t trying to frighten anyone.

You nod, taking everything, your wallet, phone, headphones, and even your chapstick out of your pockets, placing them in one of the small grey bins beside you. You then bend over to slip your shoes off, but your ass accidentally hits someone behind you.

You immediately throw your shoes in the bin, and turn to apologize to the person you literally just pushed your ass onto, and you came face-to-face with a tall male, who was wearing the same uniform the woman was, indicating that he was also an airport security guy. He was handsome- you wouldn’t deny that. His bright blue eyes, chiseled jawline and cheekbones, perfect nose, his shortish brown hair. This man was fine, and you knew it.

“I’m so sorry,” You apologize. “I didn’t mean to do that-“ You ramble, but the man chuckled, and placed his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, but the action sent butterflies through your stomach.

“You’re all good, sweetheart. I know ya didn’t mean to.” He nods, flashing you a bright smile. Sweetheart. A pet name should not have made your heart flutter as much as it did. “Now, turn around f’me, and walk right on through that.” The boy stated, and you nodded.

You walked through the metal detector, but it beeped. Fuck. You know you don’t have anything on you, though?

“Alright, darlin’. You’re okay, i’m jus’ gonna need ya to follow me, ‘kay?” The man states, placing his hand on your lower back. You feel your chest begin to tighten. You oddly felt safe with the male, although you don’t know him. You don’t even know his name.

He takes you into one of the search rooms. All white, with a door on it. You knew no one ever goes into these rooms unless something was severely wrong. To say you were horrified is an understatement. The man unlocks the room, and leads you inside. It has a cheap plastic table there, and a metal detecting wand, but nothing else. This was where they’d manually search you, and even make you strip if you need to.

“I- I don’t have anything on me, sir! I swear!” You plea worriedly, but the male simply chuckles.

“Call me Chris. Please.” He replies. And before you could say anything else, he walks forwards, pulling something out of your back pocket. His badge.

“Okay.. call me Y/n… But..What..? How-“ You began to question, but then quickly realized. He had placed his badge in your pocket when you bumped your ass into him, so you would have to be in here with him. Smart. “Oh.” You hum, and he smirks.

“You don’t seem too enthusiastic. We don’t have to do this by any means- I don’t want you to feel pressured. At all.” He speaks softly, placing his hand on your shoulder. Before you could even think, your lips were meeting his. He gasped in surprise, but, quickly kissed back.

His hands held your waist softly, his tongue dominating yours. You tugged at the vest he was wearing, signifying you wanted it off. He smirked, and pulled away from the kiss.

“Impatient, are we?” He teased, slipping his vest, and shortly after, his shirt off. Your eyes trailed all over his body, his collarbones, v-line, arms, neck, and even the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Mhm,” You agree, attempting to pull him back into a kiss, but he doesn’t let you, and you let out a small whine in reaction.

“This doesn’t seem very fair to me, mamas. I have to have my shirt off, but you don’t?” He growls, “Be a good girl and strip f’me, yeah?” He demands, running his hand through your hair, forcing your body against his.

His demeanor changing made you squeeze your thighs together and he noticed. Chris seemed to be quite attentive. Must be because of his job. You quickly slip out of your shirt, not sure if he wants you to leave your bra on. He smiles at your obedience, looking down at your body.

“Fuck, ya look so good like this,” He states, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip, dragging it down, before letting it bounce back to its original place. “So, so pretty.. Be a good girl and let me fuck those nice tits of yours, hm?” He asked, his voice rough.

“Yes, please,” You huffed, and he pushed the hair out of your face.

“Atta girl.” The taller male praised, unbuckling his pants. You couldn’t help but stare, directly at the boys’ clothed cock. His pants were quickly discarded, and you could see how big he was through his tight boxers. “Lay down on that table over there, pretty girl.” He demanded, and you quickly made your way to the table.

You quickly sprawl out on the table, laying on your back, spreading your legs enough to where the boy could situate himself between them. He made his way closer to you, his cock now free and in your vision. Your eyes quickly widened at his size, and how pretty his prick was.

“You ready?” He asks, pulling your body closer to him, but waiting for a response before he touched you any more.

“Yes.” You sigh breathlessly, and Chris’ hands find their way to your breasts, pushing them together enough, slipping the tip of his large cock between them. He lets out a breathy moan, as he pushes in further, the tip of his dick poking out of the top of your breasts. He lets out a breathy moan as he began moving his hips back-and-fourth, pulling and pushing his cock between your tits.

You moved your head forwards as his pace quickened, sticking your tongue out where his cock had poked through, allowing your tongue to hit his tip each time he pushed far enough in.

“Oh- fuck, good fucking girl,” Chris moaned, his head falling backwards. “Gon’ cum all over these pretty fuckin’ tits, y-yeah?” He slurs, and you hum in approval. His cum begins to quickly spurt out of his slit, coating your tits and face in the white sticky liquid. “Fuck yeah..” He growls, pulling his cock away.

He quickly rips your pants away from you, tossing them elsewhere in the slightly large room.

“Look at you. Fuckin’ soaked for a stranger. How pathetic.” He smirked, lowering himself to your sopping cunt, taking the view in. He leaned forwards, pressing two fingers against your hole, over your panties, making the cold wetness press against you, making you gasp. He chuckled at your responsiveness. He leaned his head forwards, placing a soft kiss to your clit, before pulling your panties completely off.

He places the discarded panties by his pants, and you knew you weren’t getting those back. He places your legs over his shoulders, and moved two fingers forwards, spreading your folds apart, giving him a full view of your glistening folds.

“So pretty.” The boy smirks, placing another kiss to your clit, which was this time unclothed. You shutter at the touch. He brings the fingers that were spreading your folds out, down to your hole, before abruptly shoving both into you- causing you to let out a loud yelp. “Yeah, lemme hear your pretty sounds. Let everyone in the airport know how good I make you feel on my fingers, hm?” He growled, hus free hand caressing your thigh.

“Fuck, I needa taste you, ma.” Chris growls, and quickly attaches his lips to your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh- Fuck, Chris!” You whine out, arching your back, as the boys fingers continued to move in and out of you at a rapid pace, as his tongue lapped at your clit. “‘M not gonna last long!” You warned him, knowing it was the truth. Chris’ tongue is heavenly.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Cum all over my face, just like the slut you are.” Chris permitted, and you did. You let yourself go all over his face. His tongue, fingers, lips, chin, even dripping down his neck. Chris began cleaning your juices from you, but his tongue wasn’t making usual movements. He was spelling something.

C. H. R. I. S.

The boy spelt his name, as you squirmed against him, wanting to tell him to stop from the sensitivity, but you couldn’t.

“Feel that, ma? Who’s pussy is this?” He growls, pulling away from you finally, your wetness dripping from his chin, his nose glistening.

“Fuck, Chris,” You hummed. “Yours. All yours.” You agreed, and the boy smiled.

“Fuck yeah.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, before harshly slapping your pussy, making you jump at the sudden contact. He lets out a chuckle at the way you responded to his touch. “So sensitive.” He teased.

He abruptly grabs his cock, slipping it in between your folds.

“I’m assuming you weren’t planning on fucking anyone in the airport lime the slut you are, so i’m assuming you don’t have any condoms on you?” Chris asks, not necessarily caring, knowing he’ll fuck you regardless, condom or not.

“N-no, I don’t,” You whine. “I’m on the pill, though.” You state, and Chris lets out a small sigh, as he rubs your stomach gently, his hands reaching behind your back to discard your bra.

“I was kinda hopin’ I could see ya all full of my babies. Don’t worry, though, sweetheart. I’ll still fill ya up.” He licks his lips, moving his attention back down to his cock, which was prodding at your weeping cunt. He slowly pushes his tip inside of you, making you let out a small squeak. “Yeah, thats it. Take my cock, like the whore you are.” He growls, while continuing to push himself into you.

You whine and squirm on his cock, the stretch burning more than any other time you have had sex. Chris was much bigger than the others. He finally bottomed out, but before saying anything, he began thrusting. He kept a slower pace, which you appreciated, so the stretch wouldn’t rip you in half.

“Y’re so tight f’me, baby, aren’t ya?” He growls in your ear, and you shiver in response. His thrusts begin to slowly speed up, and you bite your lip, stiffening your moans. “Yeah, ya like that, don’t ‘cha, ma?”

“Y-yes!” You whine, your back arching as the male sped his pace up, slamming into you. “Fuck, yes! Harder!” You cry out, and something switches in Chris.

His hand snakes up to your tits, before slapping them harshly, making you yelp.

“Fuck yeah, take my cock darling. Take it all.” He pants, his hand moving up to your face. He places a harsh smack to your cheek, before shoving his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on, to forget the pain. Your cheek quickly turned red, and Chris smiled at his ‘damage.’

You whine around his finger, as you begin to clench around his cock, and he knew you were close.

“Cum for me, mamas. All over my dick. Let it go.” He growls, and you loose it. The knot in your lower stomach snaps, and you let loose all over his cock, and he continues thrusting. “Fuck yeah, that’s it. Like the slut you are.” He hummed.

He quickly pulled out, your own cum and his precum coated his thick cock, as he flipped you over. Your eyes widen, and you knew he was going to absolutely ruin you. He grabs the backs of your thighs harshly, yanking you down, so your feet were on the ground, but the upper-half of your body was laying on the table.

Without warning, he slams his cock back into you, causing you to let out a loud scream, arching your back.

“Yeah, good girl. Let me know how good i’m makin’ ya feel.” Chris praises, one of his hands reaching up to your hair, and the other sneaking its’ way to your throat. He yanks your hair back, and squeezes your neck, and you let out a loud moan, shoving yourself back into him. “Yeah, that’s it. Jus’ like that— fuck,” He groans, his head falling backwards, as his grip on your neck occasionally tightens and loosens.

You could tell he was coming undone as his cock throbbed inside of you, and due to you being sensitive from your previous orgasms, you were just as close. His thrusts didn’t slow or halt, instead they became sloppy. If even, harder.

“Shit, ma. Gon’ cum in this tight pussy, hm?” He taunts, his hips snapping against yours, his thrusts now becoming slower, yet more forceful. He yanked you backwards to meet each of his thrusts, before he allowed himself to let loose inside of you, stilling his cock, not allowing any of his cum to seep out. You were so close, but the second he stilled his movements, you couldn’t let go.

After a few seconds, he flipped you back over, avoiding pulling out, and he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing himself a perfect angle. He began his thrusting movements once again, and almost immediately, you let yourself go, your slick cum coating his cock.

“There ya go, ma.. Let’s see how many we can pull outta ya.” He grunts, satisfied at how soon he has already made you cum in this position. The boy looked down at where he was disappearing inside of you, and then sliding back out, and his body shivered at the sight. It’s almost like you were made for him.

He begins quickening the pace, one of his hands slipping from your hip to your swollen clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“O-ow-“ You hiss, your body jolting at the sudden added sensitivity, but you didn’t stop him. You wouldn’t dare to.

“I know, pretty baby. I know.” He whispers, and you feel a new feeling. A feeling you hadn’t felt yet— ever. The feeling caught you off guard, feeling slightly more than the last few orgasms you had.

“F-Feels different-“ You stutter out, as Chris pounds into you.

“One s-second, baby. Hold it. D-don’t let go u-until I say s-so.” He demands, and you let out a loud whine, but chose to obey, not wanting to see the consequences if you didn’t. You clench around him, attempting to hold your orgasm back, as he releases his, stilling his movements on your clit, allowing his thumb to just stay there, pressing down.

This causes you to let go, squirting your juices all over him. Embarrassment floods your face- you didn’t even know you could do that. You look away from him, refusing to look.

He removes his hand from your clit, slowly pulling out. He used two of his fingers, pushing his cum back into you, before using those same two fingers to swipe some of your sticky cum off of himself, bringing it to his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he slipped his now clean fingers out of his mouth.

“You’re hot and you taste so fuckin’ good.” He shutters, placing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes widen. Theres no way you didn’t just miss your flight. You’re fucked. Literally, and metaphorically.

You stand up, wobbling, before Chris rushes over to help you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Goin’ somewhere?” Chris joked, but you glared at him.

“My flight, asshole.” You growled at the sweaty and gross boy, and his eyes widen.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry, ma.” He whines, running a hand through his silky hair. “Look, if I can get ya number, I’ll get ya a new plane ticket, yeah?” Chris proposes. How could you turn down such an offer?

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

Might possibly my filthiest one yet, but yeah..! hope you sluts enjoy <3 and ik this probably isnt how the little search rooms actually look, ive never been inside one. And yes, ik theres cameras and other people in there and they wouldve def been caught, FOR THE SAKE OF THE FUCKING FIC PLEASE IGNORE ALL LOGICAL SITUATIONS😭🙏🏻

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @imwetforyourmom @lovely-calypso @75sturn @junnniiieee07 @tillies33ssss

[entwnii]

it was supposed to be a short trip.

𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐑𝐔 keeps telling himself those eight words as he steps out of his convertible car, making his way towards your shared house’s front porch, arms filled with a bunch of vegetables, fruits and argentinan food.

what is he gonna tell you ?

tooru sighs, ruffling a hand through his chestnut locks, looking over at the large wooden crates sitting on the back seat. he lifts two of the crates, placing them under his left arm and grabbing the last crate with his right hand, making his way to the house’s front door.

the brunet manages to find his keys in the back pocket of his pants, opening the front door and stepping inside of your shared residence. tooru place his keys inside of the light-pink, ceramic, hibiscus-shaped trinket bowl you made at very start of your pregnancy, a few months ago. the chestnut-haired man smiles as he remembers the day you came up to him, a bright smile on your plump lips as you showed off the small object you had just made.

tooru kicks his shoes off, sweeping them somewhere towards the front door, before walking over to the kitchen.

he places the three crates on the soapstone countertop of the kitchen island, the white gold metal of his engagement ring tapping against the counter. he sighs, putting his hand on the side of his neck, cracking his neck, a breath escaping his slightly chapped lips. he places his arms behind his back, cracking the bones of his arms and back.

he grabs a large wooden bowl, placing it next to the sink. he takes the lemons off the fruit crate, rinsing them under the sink’s water and drying them before placing them into the wooden bowl. he does the same with the apples, limes, mangos, passion fruits and the other citrus before onto the vegetables : avocados, carrots, potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomatoes and spinash. he grabs the freshly washed vegetables, opening the fidge to stock them into one the fridge’s drawer.

tooru turns on the water, washing his hands in the kitchen sink when his ears perk up at the sound of bare footsteps against the laminate floor of your shared house, which makes a smile appears on his slightly chapped lips.

“g’morning, princess.” your fiancé greets you when he feels your arms wrap his torso, turning off the water, drying his hands with a towel. you mutter a small ‘morning’, snuggling your head deeper against tooru’s back, which makes him laugh.

he loosens your grip from his muscular torso, earning a whine of protest from you — which makes him chuckle. he turns his body around, now facing you, gently resting his arms on each side of your neck, his hands resting on the back of your shoulders — fingertips drawing random patterns against your skin.

“how did ya sleep ?” he asks you softly, watching as you tilt your head upwards, your eyelashes fluttering open as you look up at him, slightly scrunching your nose as he places a kiss on the tip of it.

“good until i woke up to a cold bed.” you answer your fiancé’s question, a subtle pout on your plump lips, still annoyed with the fact that he left you, his five months pregnant fiancée, all alone in your king-sized bed.

the chestnut-haired man laughs at your words, muttering a small ‘sorry about that’ as he presses a small peck on your forehead. “ya smell s’ nice. . . ” he mutters, closing his eyes as he snuggles his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your sweet scent. “ya took a shower ?”

you nod your head ‘yes’, opening your mouth in order to answer him when you spot the large wooden bowl placed next to the sink, the fruits almost falling on the countertop. “tooru.” your fiancé cringes at the tone of your voice, knowing damn well that he’s in trouble. “what the hell is all this ?”

“just— listen to me, ‘kay ?” he sighs, placing his left hand on the soapstone countertop, watching as you let go of him, taking a red apple in one of your hands. he tubs the back of his neck with his right hand. “i went to the market downtown this morning, y’know the small local market that ya love.” he starts, glancing a you. “the locals were sweet, as always, and kept asking me pictures about ya, how ya were nd all. when i told ‘em that there was only four months left before our little girl comes they shoved a bunch of products in my arms.”

you can’t help but smile as tooru explains the whole story, your heart swelling with deep fondness at the thought of the locals’ sweet actions.

the chestnut-haired man chuckles as he watches a timid smile appearing on your plump lips, noticing how the red apple is still in your hand. “want me to cut it for ya ?” he suggests, moving closer to you. “so that ya can have it for breakfast.”

“i want. . .” you think out loud, glacing downwards at the large apple in your hand. “. . .cheesy apple swaddles.”

a weird silence settles between the two of you right after those words left your lips. a stunned expression appears on tooru’s face, visibly at a loss for words. “cheesy apple swa— baby, the hell is that ?!” he asks, not believing your words, which makes a subtle pout appearing on your lips.

“cheesy apple swaddles.” you repeat, insisting on each syllables of the three words before sighing. “canned croissant dough, apple slice, brie cheese slice, honey. you swaddle it up, like a baby, butter, cinnamon sugar and bake it.”

“bake it ?” tooru repeats, one of his eyebrows raised as he rubs his chin with his right hand, glancing down at you. “then eat it.” you add, nodding your head as you speak.

“sometimes i wonder what’s happening in that silly head of yer.” he says before sighing, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips. “but i’ll make that for ya.”

the subtle pout on your lips disappears as the last words leves his lips, the corner of your lips turning into a bright smile. you place your hands on each side of his face, the white gold metal of your engagement cold against his warm skin, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, muttering a small ‘thanks, you’re the best !’ before moving over to the large couch in the living room.

tooru lets out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck as he glances down at the red apple you placed on the soapstone countertop. He moves over to the fridge, opening it with his free hand. he grabs a can of pre-made croissant dough, a stick of butter along with some brie cheese. he closes the fridge, opening one of the kitchen’s drawers, taking the small jar of cinnamon sugar and the pot of honey.

the chestnut-haired man opens the canned croissant, unfolding the pre-made dough and cutting it in five small triangles. he cuts the red apple in ten slices, along with the brie cheese. he places a slice on apple on one of the dough triangles, followed with one of the cheese slices and a trail of honey before rolling the swaddle up. he does that for more times, putting a bit of butter in the microwave, just enough time for it to melt, before covering the five swaddles in melted butter and cinnamon sugar and placing the in the oven.

while waiting for your craving to bake tooru decides to make the both of your your favorite morning drinks : a lungo for him and a mocha for you. right after adding some whipped cream on top of your drink, the chestnu-haired man walks towards you, placing his drink on the coffee table and handing you the mocha, smiling as he sees the home decor mag on your lap, your new obsession of the moment.

“thanks, tooru.” you say as you grab the mug he’s handing you.

just as your fiancé leans down to sit next to you, the time alarm rings, making him groan in annoyance. you chuckle as you watch tooru make his way to the kitchen, opening the oven and placing the five swaddles on a plate, cutting the rest of the apple for him. he then walks back to you, a plate in each of his hands.

the chestnut-haired man places the two plates on the coffe table, grabbing the television’s remote, turning it on to watch the news. as he leans back into the couch, tooru wraps an arm around your shoulders, watching as you take a small bite out of one of the swaddles, a pleased hum leaving your lips as you nod your head.

“it’s good ?” tooru asks you as he turns his head towards you. “so good !” you exclaim, licking the tip of your fingers. suddenly, he leans down, taking a large bite out of the snack in your hands, to which you shout a protest, hitting his chest with your fist.

“it’s kinda weird but not bad.” your fiancé declares, shrugging his shoulders, unfazed by the light hit on his chest. “guess that‘s cuz i’m the one who made it.”

you slap the back of his head at his cocky words. “shut up.”

[silverzoomies]

Turkish Delight

peter maximoff x reader smut

chapter 1: sweet talkin'

link to chapter 2: here

warnings: shameless smut, porn without plot, phone sex, mutual masturbation, best friends, dirty talk

word count: 6,368

a/n: hiyaaa !! i'm back with more filth !! peter speaks russian in this one. i've seen people use russian in place of sokovian language before. and since i've been learning russian for a while, i thought i'd give it a shot !! if you're familiar with the language and anything seems off, please let know asap !! as usual, apologies if peter seems ooc, or if my writing isn't up to par !!

tag list (if i forgot you, please remind me !!): @dewberryobssesed @violetharmonscupcake @kaismanwich @jellyluvr @taintandviolent @ahoyladiesz @scene-and-dandylover @quickandsilvers @luttic @billielourdslays

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Chillaxing on the sofa in his mom’s basement, Peter drew out a sigh. His hooded eyes gaped at the TV screen. As he channel surfed, his thumb tapped lazily on the remote. Peter stopped to check each channel in abrupt intervals. Afternoon cable was boring as hell today. It failed to grasp his short lived attention span.

Seinfeld reruns? He saw just about all of ‘em. Soap Operas? Those were more his mom’s thing. Huge pass. Nature documentaries? Could be cool. Guess it depended on which one, though.

Oh. It was the one about the polar bear’s great journey across the arctic! Nifty enough. Except, Peter saw that one three or four times already now. Скучный (boring). Так скучно (So boring).

‘Kay, soooo…TV was kind of a no-go. Instead, Peter popped on the PS1 and settled for a game of Metal Gear Solid. The game’s opening intro was a little too slow for his liking, but Peter forced himself to focus. It sucked he was so antsy today, so fidgety and impatient. He needed some kind of distraction. Any distraction. And he needed one fast.

Peter bounced a leg, half invested in the game’s dialogue. His fingers absentmindedly flicked the controller buttons. Not even five minutes into playing, he found himself frustrated and bored again. This time around, he figured some company might ease his ennui.

He darted across the arm of the couch to a side table. Over a stack of comic books and empty cans of soda, he snatched the receiver to a Garfield phone. Peter dialed a number in less than a second. Too fast, at first. The phone didn’t even register his request. Rolling his eyes, he dialed the number again. Slower this time.

Peter kept the vibrant hunk of orange plastic between his cheek and shoulder. Buzzy ringing echoed on the other end of the line, as he waited for the recipient to pick up. The time it took for a voice to finally respond felt like fifty billion years. Your voice. One of Peter’s closest comrades. The pal he shared most, if not all, of his free time with.

There were days when you visited, and you laid back on the sofa with him. With your legs stretched over his lap and a magazine in your hands, you relaxed. Peter would always do his usual, playing whatever game he ‘bought’ from the local K-Mart. Every time he cursed himself for making a misstep, you giggled. You knew how frustrating it was for him, if he wasn't a hundred leaps ahead of everything. And just to get back at you - but also to hear you laugh again - he’d reach over and dig his fingers into your belly.

He loved that it took such minimal effort to make you laugh. You always had an easygoing warmth about you. And maybe you were also pretty cute too. Sometimes, the crook of your smile made him blush. Oh, and you didn't mind duking it out in Mario Kart sometimes. That was also kinda cool. What more could a lonesome guy ask for? Просто друзья. Ничего больше (Just friends. Nothing more). Yeah. He could be content with that. No problem.

Ten minutes into conversation with you, Peter breathed a yawn into the receiver.

“You know, I’m surprised you have the patience for talking on the phone.” You joked.

The speakers roared with a soft buzz in his ear. Peter didn’t register your words at first. Blinking lazily, he tapped the PS1 controller buttons at rapid speed. In the game, Snake fought off an onslaught of bad guys. Peter faked his offense with a scoff.

“Seriously? Man, what’s up with that? It’s like everyone thinks I can’t do stuff at normal speed without goin’ berserk.” He said, cursing under his breath as Snake got gunned down again.

A small part of him wished you were there, with your legs over his lap, cracking jokes at his expense. Over the phone, you emitted a gentle laugh.

“Because you have? Multiple times, dude!” You said.

Surely you could hear Peter’s eyes roll in his skull.

“Oh, yeah? Name five.” he pressed.

The fast paced clicking of the buttons echoed like a trill in the basement. He overheard the sound of rustling as you shifted in place. If Peter had to guess, he’d bet his left foot you were still lazing around in bed. It was a Saturday, after all. With the hour tipping on the edge of late afternoon. You always moved at the slowest of speeds on your off days.

“I’m just saying! I totally get it. Even I don’t have the patience for chats on the phone sometimes.” You said, and a squeaky yawn followed.

More rustles scuffed from your end, as if you moved to stretch. Keeping his gaze fixed on the flickering, CRT screen; Peter followed flashes of light from each grunt’s gun. His reaction time proved effortless as always. His methods, not so much.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Peter mumbled after a beat, “Doesn’t bother me much if I’m talkin’ to you.  You’re not boring, first of all. And on the off chance I do get bored, I can just say - hey, babe, I’m gonna hang up. And you won’t get-uhhh…” He lingered on his next thought, distracted with gunning down more masked baddies, “You won’t get, like, butt hurt over it."

“Why would I?” You laughed, “Did someone seriously get offended by that?”

“My aunt did once. She got mad pissed ‘cuz I told her I was ‘kinda bored’ on the phone. She made me pass it to my mom, so she could rat me out. Said I showed a ‘lack of consideration'; ‘er whatever.” Peter paused, brows furrowed. In Metal Gear, Snake perished yet again. Peter rolled his eyes once more, “She’s kinda mental, though. это возмутительно (it’s outrageous).”

Your only response was a quiet hum of acknowledgement. Peter broke the silence that followed.

“Hey, you’re not busy today, are you? Wanna do somethin’ later?” He asked, knowing full well you had jack shit to do.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling soooooo lazy today.” You playfully teased.

The soft pattern of your breathing sent electric tingles down Peter’s neck. Shuddering, he shook off those unexpected chills. Another beat, and Peter groaned, as Snake perished over a low poly landscape. You gotta take it slow and stealthy, man - Peter reminded himself.

“Хорошо (okay)? So? Come be lazy over here then.” He replied, “Tell you what. If you do, I’ll go ‘n snag some of those Turkish delights you like. The same ones my mom gotcha for your birthday. Remember? From Sokovia?”

Your voice perked up instantly, bringing a cheesy smile to his face. Homely fondness simmered in his chest, and Peter felt himself blush. He pulled his lip between his teeth, pausing his game to focus more on conversation. Leaving Snake stranded in the middle of the snow.

“Oh my gosh!! No way?? I haven’t had those in forever! Seriously, the ones from Sokovia?” You chimed.

“Hell yeah! But you gotta get outta bed first, dingus. C’monnnn.” Peter whined, “I’m so bored here, babe. Oh! I totally forgot. I finally got my hands on a Gameboy Color too. Swear on my life I paid for it this time. You could come over ‘n try it ouuuuuut.” He teased in a sing-song voice, wiggling his brows.

“Gameboys and Turkish delights? You’re spoiling me today, Peter! What’s the occasion?” You joked over the line.

He shrugged, forgetting you couldn’t see him, “Bored outta my friggin’ skull. That’s what.” After a beat, he awkwardly added, “And maybe I like hangin’ with you? Do I even need a reason?”

“Well, I gotta admit…you had me at Turkish delights.” You feigned a dreamy tone.

Peter chuckled again. Under his breath, he muttered softly, “ Это все, что тебе нужно, да (That’s all you need, huh)?”

“Huh?” You asked, oblivious to his comment, “What’d you say? I didn’t catch that last part.”

Peter ran a hand through his silver locks, leaving his hair loose and messy. Cradling the phone in his other hand, he knitted his lips to one side.

“Nothin’. Don’t worry about it. You want me to come get you? ‘Cuz I can.” He checked his digital watch, decked out in a Star Wars theme, “I can right now, if you-”

“It’s fine. I love going out with you, but I really don’t wanna deal with motion sickness today. I just had lunch too. No offense!” Another yawn rang over the phone, hitching into a squeal at the end. Peter didn’t realize he was smiling so big until his cheeks started to hurt, “I’ll just drive over. Sound good?”

Peter rolled his eyes, sarcastically groaning. He threw his head back into the sofa cushions, playing up his fake frustrations.

“Auuuuuuugh! But that’ll take years.” He dragged a hand down his face, pulling his cheeks under his fingertips, “Is this ‘cuz you blew chunks last time?? You know that doesn’t bother me, right? Everyone does it, babe.”

You made a noise of disgust. Something like an eugh , “Please, don’t remind me. That sucked so much. Yeah, no, I’d rather not. I really need a break from it.” You sighed again. Kind of a bummer, but he could deal.

“It’s whatever you want, I guess. So, when are you gonna head out?” Peter asked, sitting up on the sofa and putting the controller aside.

He bounced a leg at rapid speed, his knee moving in a flesh tone blur of motion. Less from agitation, more due to anticipation.

“I’ll leave soon. Just give me a few minutes. Think you can wait?” You chuckled in that sweet, quirky way again. The melody gave Peter butterflies. Ignoring the fluttering in his belly, he pushed himself off the couch. Grabbing the base of the Garfield phone, Peter cradled the lil guy in an arm. He figured he may as well get dressed, and freshen up before you arrived, “It’s so cold today. I haven’t even gotten out of bed yet! I’m still bundled up in my undies. Got your jacket on too. You left a Game n Watch in the pocket, by the way. I didn’t even know they still made those!”

“Yeah. I totally called that one. Get up already, ya slacker.” Peter joked trapping the phone between his cheek and shoulder again. He scratched his bare chest. His fingertips grazed the sparse covering of white hairs there. Yawning, he nodded, “Okay. Okay. Okay. Sure, just-”

Something about your last statement finally clicked in Peter’s brain. He rapidly blinked, shaking his head fast enough to give himself whiplash. Peter did a quadruple take.

“Подожди (wait)! Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, waiiiiiit …hold on a sec.” He narrowed his eyes, “Say that again?”

“Say what again? The part about the Game n Watch?” You asked, and Peter’s brows furrowed.

“N-Nah. The…did you just…have you been lyin’ around in your underwear this whole time?”

“Uh, yeah? Why? Is this revolutionary information?” You chuckled.

“In my jacket? Like, I didn’t hear that wrong? What’d you like…sleep in it ‘er somethin’?” Peter arched a silver brow, pressing the phone handset closer to his cheek. As if doing so might somehow help him hear you more clearly.

It really wasn’t that big of a deal either way. You borrowed his jackets all the time. Peter never thought anything of it before this conversation. Aside from the fact that - when you did return them, he loved the sweet scent you left behind. The smell of your perfume, with the added bonus of your natural pheromones…

Ебать (Fuck)! Why was he even thinking about this? The two of you had such a casual thing goin’ on. But now, Peter thought of you in a different light. Something friskier. Not that he meant to. Maybe killer boredom + cute friend = horny speedster. Or perhaps the planets aligned in some totally off-the-wall way.

Whatever the case, Peter’s mind raced on autopilot. He pictured the way you might look right now. In your room, spread across your bed in nothing but your underwear and - Ебена мать (Holy shit) - his jacket. With your long legs bare, your knees bumping together as you squeezed your thighs shut. Tummy exposed. And your tits-

Woooooooah there! Slow down, casanova! Peter shouldn’t be…nah, he really shouldn’t be wondering what your breasts looked like. Ppfffbbbbt …’kay, so, maybe in the past he thought about it once or twice. But what dude wouldn't contemplate the hidden mystery of a pal's titties sometimes, ah?

“Well, so what if I did? That doesn’t weird you out, does it?” You asked, a careful waver in your voice.

“Uhhhh…nahhh, babe. Just…” Peter shifted in place, rerouting his thoughts, “Just…got one hell of an image in my head. Might’ve pictured you like that for no particular reason at all.”

Lucky for him, you didn’t seem to think anything of his confession.

“Not much to imagine…” You replied. Сомнительно (Doubtful).

“I mean…pffbbbttt…sure, yeah. Maybe not.” Peter awkwardly laughed, scratching the back of his neck. His voice dropped, a little more hushed, “Unless…you’re wearin’ some really cute panties over there.” Again, he laughed, rushing out a quick, “I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m kiddin’. I’m totally messin’. Just bustin’ your balls, babe.”

Except…he sorta wasn’t. Peter found himself oh-so curious. Twisting the phone's orange wire around his finger, he anticipated your reaction. Anxious you might think him weird for pushing things too far. Never had the two of you charted this kind of territory. It was a minefield, with a 95% chance neither one would make it out unscathed.

“I guess? I think they’re kind of cute.” You added, innocent as ever. Awesome. You weren’t peeved at him, at least. Peter brought the phone to his chest, exhaling an anxious breath to calm his racing heart. When he put the phone to his ear again, he figured you’d moved on. But your cadence shifted. To test the boundaries of your friendship, you teased, “They’re pretty small on me, though.”

Ah. Ah. Интересно. Очень интересно (Interesting. Very interesting). What an unexpected but totally wicked development. Peter lowered himself slowly onto the couch, setting the phone's base on the side table. He eased backwards into the cushions, and tightened his twisting of the phone wire. Swallowing hard, Peter found he had difficulty focusing. Especially with his imagination running so goddamn wild.

“Yeah? …How small is pretty small?” He dared to ask.

Long seconds of silence ticked by at the pace of a narcoleptic sloth. If Peter weren’t so eager to hear what you had to say, he may have torn his hair out. Over the line, you laughed.

“Small enough they barely cover my ass? Why are you so curious all of a sudden?” You cooed.

Peter fluttered his inky eyes, nibbling chapped skin on his lip. Fuzzy pink swarmed the rest of his face, as his mind conjured images of you so effortlessly. Clear as day. Heat stirred to life in his groin, and Peter pictured the way your plush cheeks might hold in tight painties. His breath hitched.

“I-uh…” Peter felt the heat in his cheeks creep down his neck, flustered at lightspeed, “Just thinkin’...maybe you should do somethin’ about that?” He gritted his teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose. What a lame response, “Черт возьми (damn it)!” He huffed under his breath, too quiet for you to hear.

Toying with this newly discovered sexual tension, Peter humorously asked-

“Sooooooo…what color?”

You giggled into the receiver, airy and light. His body registered the noise somewhere , down south of his belly. He wondered if you were as flustered as him. And the visual of your bashful face and shy smile had his heartbeat ramping up to mach 10.

“What? A-Are you for real asking me…oh my god, dude!” Your giggles turned into goofy snorts. Which he found so endearing. Once you composed yourself, you spoke again. Though, your tone came off as more flirtatious, “If you really wanna know so bad…then fine. They’re black. Lacy. With a little bow on the front.”

Дерьмо (Shit)...

His silver brows soared high, disappearing under his bangs. Paying little attention to his instinctive actions, Peter guided his free hand between his thighs. Inwardly, he told himself he was only adjusting his uncomfortable hard-on. ‘Cuz it’d be totally weird if he did anything else…right? Best to ignore the movement of his thumb, as it absentmindedly circled his bulge.

“Huh…that’s so…” Peter blinked, clearing his throat and masking his nerves with a chuckle, “‘Kay, I’ll be up front with you, babe. That sounds cute as hell. Very nice.”

“Really? Oh, please, Peter. They’d be cute on anybody.” You scoffed.

“Uh huh…” He smirked, dropping his tone even lower, “‘Cept, now that I’m really thinkin’ about it? I’m bettin’ they look criminally cute on you.” Peter lazily smirked.

You laughed, breathless like you ran a thousand miles, “Wh-...what are we even doing right now? Seriously, why am I talking to you about my-” The uneasiness in your voice bled through the line.

Your concern was for good reason. Nevertheless, Peter interrupted you mid-sentence.

“Easy there, chuckles. We’re just chatting. Nothin’ too unusual, right? We’ve had some seriously raunchy conversations before. Remember? That time I got laid on a golf course? You told me about that time some dude shot a load in your eye. What’s the difference, anyway?” Peter grimaced, as he recalled your story from eons ago.

You giggled yet again, “Peter, you know damn well what the difference is!” You clarified with a sigh, still playful. The phone wire went slack around his finger, as Peter second guessed himself. He parted his lips, on the cusp of apologizing. Bringing one hand up to the phone, he held it loosely. Your sugary voice chimed again, “I’m kinda wondering, though…what would you think if I told you I’m topless right now?”

His grip compressed around the handset.

“Topless, huh?” Peter cast a quick glance at his hard-on, twitching painfully under his boxers. His mind jumped straight to sinful places again. Peter thought about what your tits probably look like, embraced in his jacket. Nipples hard, grazing the inner-lining. He swallowed, “What’re you tryna tell me? You gonna drive over here in nothin’ but that?” Peter quipped.

A more sultry laugh melted through the receiver. Peter trembled, as your smooth voice coaxed him like a tempting song. His free palm squeezed his bulge, putting pressure to his length over fabric. Peter’s brows turned inward, and he fluttered his eyes shut.

“I guess that wouldn’t be so bad, if it wasn’t so cold outside. It’s freezing today. I don’t know how you can run as fast as you do when the weather’s like this.” Your tone disguised itself with lighthearted innocence again, “It’s not any warmer in my room either. My nipples could cut glass. They’re, like, soooo hard.”

Peter adjusted himself on the sofa, giving the swell of his bulge another teasing squeeze.

“ Ты маленькая соблазнительница (you little temptress)...”  His hot breath fanned the phone.

“I love it when you talk like that…” You replied, “Even if I have no idea what you’re saying. It sounds really hot, to be totally honest.”

“Oh, yeah?” Peter teased his lip with his teeth, speaking in a more flirtatious voice; buttery smooth, “ Я забыл вынести мусор (I forgot to take out the trash)...” For added effect - just to embarrass you more - he tacked on a husky moan.

Peter made himself blush, as the sound came out far more pornagraphic than he intended. The rasp of his voice scraped through the line in a hushed, “ Oh, yeah, baby. ”

The erotic tension you felt from his teasing was palpable, even over the phone. Peter could sense the shift in the way you gasped. So faint, so shy, so cute.

“Oh…oh, wow...uhm…” You tried concealing your bashfulness with more of those candy coated giggles. But Peter could practically hear the blood racing to your cheeks, “What’s that mean? Something good, I hope.”

Peter bit his tongue, lips turning in a cheeky grin.

“It means you’re really turnin’ me on…”

Another hesitant pause fell between the two of you, before you scoffed.

“Oh my god, no it doesn’t! I can hear you laughing!” You griped, snickering along with Peter. A few more tension heavy beats pulsed over the line. You spoke again, “Hey…I’m sorry. Can I put things on pause for a sec? I just wanted to ask…are you okay with this?”

“Are you?” Peter gently asked, giving you ample time to think about it.

“I don’t know…maybe…” You whispered, “Isn’t this, like, super weird for you?”

“I mean…suuuuuuure. It’s totally weird. If you kept goin', I wouldn't be into it...at all...” He bullied you with a playful edge, hoping you could read the flirtatious undertone in his voice.

“Ohhhhh…you wouldn't be?” Judging by the saucy lilt in your voice, you most definitely caught on, “You know what would be even weirder?”

Peter adjusted on the sofa again. Getting comfortable, he laid on his back. His taut legs stretched across the cushions, and Peter propped his head on the couch’s arm.

“Whazzat? Enlighten me, babe. I’m listenin’. You got my full attention.” He teased.

“Your full attention, huh? I must be doing something right.” You snickered, “So…you know how I said I love it when you talk…like that?” Your voice wavered, “What I really meant was-uhm…when you do that on the phone…it makes me kind of horny.”

His brown hues burst open, wider than ever. Peter’s pupils dilated, expanding as far as the universe itself. He swallowed again, his mouth falling open. Your filthy confession set his arousal ablaze, making his dick twitch. As heated desire took over, Peter couldn’t restrain himself. He snuck his fingers under the waistband of his boxers, fingertips gliding over silver hairs. A small piece of him almost felt guilty for doing so.

“It does, huh? Хорошо знать (Good to know).” Peter whispered, tenderly grasping his shaft.

You made a naughty squeak of a noise in response, “Y-Yeah, Peter, I’m serious. You really have to stop doing that.”

“Почему (Why)? Are you soakin’ yourself over it? Gettin’ a lil wet? It’s cool. You can tell me…” Peter heckled, expelling a breath as he gave his dick a single tug.

“Oh, I bet you wanna know all about that, huh? You’re so bad, Quickie...” You teased, clicking your tongue.

Peter’s ears burned, turning pink as he took in the coquettish nature of your voice. Scoffing, he feigned his indignance.

“What?! Hey, nah nah nah! You started this! Это несправедливо, черт возьми (it’s not fair. Dammit)!” Peter laughed, carefree with you as always, “You can’t seriously drop a bombshell like that and expect me not to-”

“Not to come running?” You hummed, sweet tempered, “I’m just messing with you, baby. But since we’re on the topic…I made such a mess of these little panties. Just from listening to your voice.”

Peter couldn’t even pretend he didn’t like the sound of ‘baby’ on your tongue.

“Oh, man…anything but the panties…” He joked, “You should-uh…you should save yourself some trouble. Y’know…take ‘em off, maybe? Might be more comfortable.” Peter hinted, playing nonchalant, “Just tryna be a good friend. Give you some advice. You should for sure take it.”

“But I’m already so cold…” You whimpered, “Your jacket’s so warm. Smells good too. Really good. But it’s not enough to keep me covered.” You spoke with flirtatious innocence, and Peter played along.

“No harm done, принцесса (princess). I’ll warm you up if you need me to.” He reassured, sweet talking you over the phone, “Ты думаешь, что я не позабочусь о тебе? (Do you think I won't take care of you)?" Peter mumbled again. He listened to your sickly sweet laughs, before asking, “So…do you get like this every time we talk on the phone?”

“Mmmm…maybe.” You hummed, “What if I said yes?” You shuffled around again, and Peter’s mind jumped elsewhere. He imagined you shed yourself of damp, black lace. Leaving you wanton and needy in nothing but his jacket, “You know…we’ve been talking about me a lot this whole time. You wanna tell me what you’re wearing? I don’t really have a visual.”

“Oh…me?” Your request caught Peter off guard.

“Yeah, you. Who else, blockhead?” You playfully quipped, smoothing your voice to say, “You don’t have to be shy. I just wanna know, so I can think about taking it off of you.”

Peter didn’t know he could blush this much. Puffing a bashful laugh, he looked down at his body. Mostly nude and toned enough. He had his x-gene to thank for his pecs and hard abs. A fluffy bouquet of silver hairs peeked out from his boxers. Underneath, his dick throbbed, pressing eagerly into fabric.

“Uhm…I’m not wearin’ a lot? Nothin’ special. Just some black, boxer briefs, I guess. Wait, no-” Peter lifted a foot, his lips curling in a goofy smile, “Got my Star Wars socks on too.”

A sensual moan graced his ears, “That’s so hot.” You softly whined, “Star Wars socks? Peter, just take me now.”

Despite the fact you were totally messing with him, that playful comment made his chest tight. 

“Nothing else though?” You pressed.

“Nnnnnnnnnnope.” He drew out the word, popping the P, “Just the-uh…yeah. Boxers ‘n sexy socks. Not much to take off.”

“And you’re pretty fit, aren’t you? You always looked really jacked to me, so-” You said.

Peter cocked a brow, snickering to cover his embarrassment.

“Wooooahhh…you been checkin’ me out, babe?” He asked, darting his dark hues across his athletic bod. Peter flexed an arm, “Sure, I guess I’m in decent shape.” He found he couldn’t dismiss your compliments. Peter looked good, and he knew it. But he preferred hearing it from you, “Hey, you wanna know somethin’, like, way crazy?”

“This? What we’re doing right now is so crazy, right?” You laughed, sounding as bashful as him.

Peter snickered, “True. Truuuue. But, uh…” He shrank in his spot on the couch, pressing the vibrant handset closer into his cheek. Pre-cum seeped through his boxers, as Peter tugged his dick steady and slow. Careful not to stimulate himself too much yet. He dropped his voice to a hushed rasp, “I’m kinda in the same spot you are right now. If you-uh…if you catch my drift.”

The two of you knew each other for a long time. Several years, in fact. But never once did Peter think he’d hear his closest pal say-

“Ohhhh. Are you hard right now, baby?”

Oh. Yeah, this buddy-buddy friendship was in major trouble. Doomed to crash and burn. As soon as the words fell from your lips, spoken in your honeyed voice; Peter’s breath hitched in his throat. He sank his teeth so hard into his lip, he almost broke skin.

“Y-Yeah. Since you-uh…started talkin’ about your panties. I’m sorry, babe. Just been kinda bored and worked up all day.” He sheepishly chuckled.

“You poor baby…” You coddled him over the phone. And while he should’ve been embarrassed, Peter had no problem with you talking like that, “Can I ask how big you are?”

Peter stalled for a moment, before pulling the front of his boxers down. His hardness flopped against his belly, pulsating and ruddy from his teasing. Taking his aching length in his hand, he rubbed the underside with his thumb.

“You mean my dick? It’s-uhhhh…like six, maybe seven inches almost?” He squeezed his cock, milking beads of pre-cum, “But size doesn’t matter, yeah? It’s the motion of the ocean, babe.”

“Noooooo, baby. You’re so perfect. Wish I could see how good you look like that…” You cooed over the phone.

Your kindly words and airy tone made the veins in his dick throb with electric heat. Peter clutched his cock tight, pumping the velvet skin a touch faster. Giving himself just a simple taste of relief. His stomach clenched, hardening his abs.

“Не так идеально, как ты выглядишь (Not as perfect as you look)...” Peter muttered, drawing in a shallow breath, “Babe, I gotta tell ya, I’m really feelin’ this. I’m so into you right now. W-Want you to keep talkin’ like-uh...”

His imagination took his depravity to the next level. Now, Peter thought about joining you in your room. He wondered how soft and smooth your skin would feel. Supple and hot under his fingertips. What might you look like writhing under him, whimpering as he played with you? As he teased you? Man, you were both so screwed.

“Never thought dirty talking with me would turn you on so much…” You giggled.

Peter secured the handset between his cheek and shoulder. With both hands free, he raised his palm to his lips. He drew a long stripe with his tongue, bringing his damp hand to his cock. The slick lubrication pulled a gentle moan from his throat.

“M-Maybe a little bit. Ебать (Fuck), maybe a lot.” Peter groaned, labored in his breathing, “Can you - Ебать (fuck) - you wanna do somethin’ for me? Just a little favor between friends? S’all I’m askin’, baby.”

“Anything you want, Peter.” You mewled.

“Can you- mmmmohgod -” Peter choked up. He almost chickened out, but pushed himself to ask, “Can you touch yourself for me? Please? Пожалуйста, моя маленькая принцесса (Please, my little princess)...” His foreign whispers weaved pretty whimpers from your lips.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that, if you want me to. But you have to do the same for me too. It’s only fair, right? Equal exchange?” You whispered, acting playful again.

Peter breathed a guilty chuckle, “Uhm…yeahhhhh…about that…”

You softly gasped, “Have you been-”

“Playin’ with my dick this whole time? Maybe.” Peter admitted. His thumb caught another pearl of pre, spreading the slickness over his sensitive head, “But I’m not, like, totally jerkin’ it yet…” He lied, pressing you to encourage him.

“Oh, you’re not, huh? What are you doing then?” You asked, “Are you being a bad boy, Pietro?” The abrupt drop of his given name shocked him into silence.

Peter felt his groin tighten, and an exhilarating rush electrified his nerves. For the thousandth time, you giggled. And for the thousandth time, Peter’s heart leapt. Dumbfounded, he gathered his composure and played along again.

“Y-Yeah. So bad. You gotta help me, babe. I’m just-...I’m so hard. Don’t think I can stop myself if you keep talkin’ like that.”

Through the receiver, Peter’s ears caught wind of a needy mewl. He gripped his cock hard, guiding his fist in firmer strokes. His legs quivered, and the heels of his Star Wars socks slid across the couch.

“Does it feel good when you touch your pretty cock like that, sweetheart?” You cooed.

Peter almost went straight into cardiac arrest. He jolted in place, feeling his cock stiffen in his grasp.

“Святой трах (Holy fuck)..." Peter suffocated on his own groans. For an instant, his words failed him, “Uhmmm…hah…wow-uh…Ебать (fuck). Feels good, yeah. Don’t think it’s enough. I need-...uhm…I want-uh…”

“Yeah? What do you want, baby. It’s okay.” You spoke so sugary sweet again.

“I-...Я просто хочу увидеть тебя (I just want to see you)...” Peter’s veins tingled under his touch, as he tugged his dick with more urgency, “Shit! I-...how come I never knew you could be like this-” And to Peter’s ultimate humiliation, he whimpered your name. Along with another whiny, “ Ебать (Fuck). ”

“Like what?” Your coy voice teased him over the line.

“I dunno…so-uh…so damn nasty.” He joked, and even through the phone; he knew he had you flustered again.

“I guess we all have our secrets, hmm? Tell me more, Pietro. When you touch yourself like that. With those big, strong hands…how’s it feel?” You asked, driving him to keep going.

Peter snorted a laugh, “Strong hands? What??” His endearing playfulness took a backseat, as he grunted into the receiver, “God…feels like my strong hand’s not enough. Мне реально тебе нужно прямо сейчас. Нужна так сильно (I really need you right now. I need you so much).” His voice fell to a whisper. Pumping his slick, crimson cock through his fist, he breathlessly pleaded, “Talk to me, baby. Please. Tell me-ohhh…tell me what you’re doin’ over there.”

You squealed a sultry giggle, further igniting Peter’s pleasured frenzy. He squirmed in his spot on the sofa, forcing himself to stay put. Battling the forces of the universe, it was all Peter could do not to race to your room. Just to spread your legs and hump you like a speedy bunny.

“Mmmm…I’m just doing what you asked me to…I’m being so good for you right now.” You whimpered.

“Oh. Okay…uhm…far out. Uh…wanna gimme the steamy details?” He heckled again, fumbling his words in his nervousness, “Please, don’t hold off on me, baby.”

“I’m…” Your precious voice wavered, teeming with awkwardness as your confidence dwindled, “I’m playing with my little pussy. Just for you. And I’m so wet. I can’t stop thinking about your hands…so big…”

“Боже мой (my god).” Peter muttered. Combating impatience brought upon by his genes, he willed himself to take things slow. His strokes became steady and teasing, as he edged his aching cock, “Holy shit, babe. Yeah? Keep goin’...”

You moaned soft squeals into the receiver, “I want you so bad, Quickie. Please, baby, don’t make me beg. Can you touch this little pussy for me? Please? Your fingers are so big. I don’t think they’d fit all at once. It’s been a while, and I’m so tight.” Your naughty voice pleaded.

“God, I wanna touch you so bad. Я хочу прикоснуться к этой сладкой киске (I want to touch that sweet pussy).” Peter’s impatience got the better of him, and he quickly gave in. He grasped his cock hard, wringing himself fast enough to make his balls bounce. Creasing his brows, he groaned, “Ohhh..What’re you tryna to do to me, babe? Talkin’ about how tight you are…Ебать…”

“But I ammmm.” You whined again, “I’m squeezing my tiny fingers so tight. It’s so soft and hot for you. Bet it’d feel really good if you stretched me. With your fingers, with your cock - fuck, Pietro. I just need you, baby.”

“Please, baby, oh, please? Wanna be inside you. Wanna feel you. I promise I won’t go too fast. Я обещаю (I promise).” Peter whimpered. But as you mewled again, another forceful wave of carnal heat crashed over Peter. In a quieter tone, he choked, “Нет, я могу. Я пойду так быстро (No, I can. I’ll go so fast).”

“Pietro, you can go as fast as you want, baby. I won’t stop you.” You pleaded, your broken voice so kittenish and wanton, “F-Fuck. I’m rubbing my clit. So sensitive. Thinking about you. Thinking about your mouth on me.”

“Ебать!!” Peter moaned through clenched teeth. His self control rapidly abandoned him. Speedily rutting his sore cock through the squeeze of his fist, his body refused to slow down, “Говоря о скорости (Speaking of speed)...” Peter craned his neck back, raising a hand to keep the handset to his ear, “You gotta stop makin’ all those cute noises, baby. Please…I can’t-”

As surges of horny pleasure circulated through his body, Peter thought of you again. He imagined you on your bed, caged under him between his arms. In his daydreams, he kissed you intimately, touching your pretty, naked body. Peter wanted to feel how wet you were for himself. And hell, the danger of pushing your friendship past its limits made you more tempting. Such a lewd, risky thought pushed him closer to the edge of something righteous.

“Baby, I wanna see you. Can I? Can I see you stroke that thick cock? Would you let me? Ohh, fuck, Pietro.” You whimpered. And your noises were so shamelessly lecherous, you could’ve made a pornstar blush, “Can I kiss it, please? Can I kiss your big cock?” You whimpered.

“О боже мой, пожалуйста (Oh my god, please)!” Peter choked, every word hitching in his throat, “Baby…babe, you can’t do this. Ya really can’t be-” He laughed lazily, his dark eyes falling half lidded. His cock throbbed, bright red and turning purple at the tip. He rutted in a speedy blur, “Stop. Stop. Stop. I’m gonna…babe, I’m gonna bust-” He slurred.

You squealed his name as loudly as your hushed voice would allow. And Peter swore he could hear the slick sound of your fingers. As they played with your pretty, little cunt.

“I’m gonna cum, baby. Please cum with me. Please? Pietro, OH~!”

“я кончаю, я кончаю (I’m cumming, I’m cumming)! ‘M Gonna-” Peter’s moans seeped through the receiver, his wet lips parting and mouth hanging open.

His swollen cock erupted in white-hot jets, coating his pecs and belly. With all his muscles tensed, Peter’s legs trembled. He rode out those lusty waves in tandem with you. The pleasure of orgasm sounded leagues more intense on your side. You took longer to cruise through it, whimpering and moaning Peter’s name. As you did, Peter basked in his momentary afterglow. Keeping the phone pressed to his ear, his head resting on the arm of the sofa; he listened to you with a smirk on his lips. At the end of your journey in ecstasy, your moans turned into flustered giggles.

Peter's thoughts reeled him in again. Imagining you, looking so sheepish and fine in his jacket. Now, he desperately wanted the real deal. To see you in all your post-nut glory. Mere seconds later, his sore cock pulsed to life again. As his hardness squirmed on his belly, Peter breathed another sigh.

On his end, you heard nothing but silence. You kept calling his name, your tired voice infused with anxiety.

“Uhm…Peter? Hey…are you there?” You asked.

And he didn't say a single word more.

[myhappylittlesideblog]

Breathe It In

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Daryl takes you out on his bike for the first time.

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

“Y’ever rode one before?” Daryl asked. 

You shook your head, attention running over the hot, glinting chrome and black metal. Every inch of the motorcycle was covered in dust but you knew it was an impressive piece of machinery, especially in Daryl’s eyes. And it was big. Longer and taller than you ever really noticed, now that you were the one about to climb on top of it. 

“No,” you said to Daryl. “Never even seen one up close before you got this.” 

“Ya don’ haf’ta come with me. Once we git another car, we can-“

“No, it’s fine. I’ve done scarier, right?” you said, thinking just of the past week and all you’d faced. 

He gave a curt nod. Then he swung his leg over the motorcycle, the toe of his big boot finding the kickstarter immediately. His jeans hugged his body as he hiked his knee up unnaturally high before putting all his weight on the lever, slamming his leg down and starting the bike on the first try. He twisted one of the handles as the engine revved to life as he settled in the seat. 

He looked at you, gaze cutting over his bare arm, thick with muscle. “I’ll hold it steady. Foot rests are there,” he said, pointing low on the bike to the small pegs you would use. “That’s the engine-“

“That’s the engine? The whole thing is just… right there?” 

“Where else would it be?”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t know. Enclosed somewhere maybe.”

He huffed a laugh. It made his hair fall in his face, but you could see his blue eyes studying you as he continued his explanation. 

“The exhaust pipes are down there too- careful a’ those. They get hot.” 

“Okay, so butt goes there,” you said pointing, “feet go there and don’t touch anything else.”

“‘Cept me.”

You straightened, shooting your attention back to him. “Hm?”

“Gotta hold onta somethin’. Come on, let’s go.”

You wondered if you had flushed as red as he did at his words. He was looking at his fingers wrapped around the handlebars, knuckles turning white, but you saw the pink wave crawling up his neck from his vest and landing around his ears. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” you said, sidling up to the bike. You tried to sound teasing, but you just sounded nervous. And it wasn’t just the heavy machinery making adrenaline rush through you.

He held his hand out flat for you to grab and support yourself as you flung your leg over the side of the bike. The moment your bottom landed on the back of the seat, you felt Daryl’s wide hand around your calf, moving one of your feet into place on the pegs. It was only then you realized there were only two foot pedestals for four feet. You’d have to share. 

Once he’d moved you into place, he tapped your knee, signaling you to stay put. A cold rush of air kissed the spot his hand had just kept warm. 

Your legs pressed against the back of his body as you sat behind him, your feet on the outside of the pegs, while his thick boots stuck to the inside. Nearest to the hot exhaust pipes, you noticed. He was keeping you away from them. 

“Good?” he asked. 

“Yeah, I’m good.”

The motorcycle growled loudly at the will of his hand. Just a twist of his wrist and the bike was primed to speed off. 

He turned his head, not quite looking at you, though even then you could see his smirk. “Better hold on,” he said. 

You took the back of his jacket in your hands, balling up the leather around his hips into your fingers. “Kay,” you said, bracing yourself a bit. 

His foot rocked and his fingers squeezed, releasing the clutch and picking the gear. He twisted the handlebars, revving the engine and making the bike shake under you. To you, it was just a lot of noise and practically unnoticeable movement. To someone with motorcycling experience, it was a warning of oncoming power and swiftness. But you had no idea.

Without warning, the bike jolted forward and sped off so quickly it almost left you alone in the dirt, your grip slipping from Daryl’s jacket. 

Before you could fall off though, you hugged close to Daryl, palms open and sprawled over his chest and belly in panic. After the initial shock, however, the bike was a smooth ride as it kicked up dry Georgia dust behind its tires. That’s when you realized Daryl’s shaking and trembling wasn’t from the rattling of the bike, but from his chuckles. 

You heard his laugh even over the buzzing bike and rushing wind. It was a rare sound. Low, but free, like the rumble of an engine on a long, twisting summer road. In half mock, half true indignation, you lowered your hands to rest around his waist, meeting in the middle around his belt. Leaning up to his ear, you called to him. 

“You’re a real dick sometimes, Dixon!”

“Told’ya ta hold on,” he answered, giving your clasped hands a pat. 

“No kidding.”

He shook again. Though this time you couldn’t hear the soft chuckles that emanated from him, you knew they were there. You felt it. Just like you felt the affection radiating from him as he twisted his fingers in yours until they were interlinked. 

Before the outbreak, you never would have ridden a motorcycle. They were too dangerous. In fact, the thought of even looking at a contraption like this one, something Daryl had practically made with his own hands, without a safety helmet would never have crossed your mind. 

These days, things were different. Every day was a threat. But this, being with Daryl and sharing his pride and joy felt like the safest thing you could ever do. He was holding your hand and your arms circled him tight as you rode safely past anything questionable. 

You laid your head on the back of his shoulder and breathed it in- the freedom, the safety, the gas smell on his jacket and the smoke in his hair and you closed your eyes. And you felt his hand squeeze yours as if he was doing the exact same.

[delcakoo]

i wish i was a baller ₊✩˚⊹ c.yj

ty @yenqa bae for the idea <3

SUMMARY ! being his longtime crush, when yeonjun and his pesky friends’ catch you walking past the court, he’s quick to try an impress you with one (un)lucky shot on hoop in exchange for your number.

PAIRING ! yeonjun x f!reader

WC ! 1.3k

GENRE ! cavity inducing fluff

a/n: c’mon now u have to listen to i wish after readin that title c:

“shit, look who it is yeonjun!”

the male in question was much too busy shouldering soobin to the ground, dribbling past his now groaning friend before slam-dunking his favorite orange ball through the hoop to listen to lame, old, beomgyu.

“let’s go!” yeonjun punches the air, running by his teammates to offer them high fives that they halfheartedly return. “another point for the yeonjunniez!”

“horrible fuckin’ team name,” taehyun murmurs, while kai only nods in tired agreement.

before yeonjun could force the group into another scrimmage, a strong hand grips his shoulder, redirecting him to face a barely visible figure that’s only steps away from reaching the basketball court’s end. beomgyu squeezes tighter, shaking him back and forth slightly. “don’t ignore me! you recognise who that is, right man?” squinting his eyes, yeonjun gasps as he takes in the familiar sight of your signature hairstyle and white headphones.

oh, he knew it was you alright. even if it was pitch black out — only street lamps illuminating the shady pathways — and you were clearly wearing all dark shades to blend in more, he knew.

“‘course, what kind of boyfriend would i be if i didn’t know my girl when i see her?”

soobin, who’s still brushing off pebbles after his dramatic fall, rolls his eyes at the straight fibs coming out of his friend’s lips. “she barely knows you exist.”

“not for long.” before anyone could stop him or make him think at the very least, yeonjun has himself pressed against the chained wall of the court, fingers noisily locking through the metal in an attempt to grasp your attention. “y/n, is that you?”

when you swiftly turn at the sound of your name, looking adorably like a deer caught in headlights, yeonjun is reminded of just how head over heels he is.

“yeonjun..?” he’s never been so thankful to mr. sim assigning partners for projects, or else you still wouldn’t know your future boyfriend’s name! you look past him to take in the other boys who send you awkward waves, and yeonjun glares in annoyance at each and every one of them. what shitty wingmen.

“uh, yeah.. so, what’re you doing out here alone?”

with one more glance around the empty park, yeonjun nearly squeals as you begin walking closer, shoving your phone into your hoodie pocket smoothly. “j-just clearing my head i guess. what about you guys?” your stuttering gives him hope that perhaps you’re just as nervous as he is right now — leading a small smirk to etch across the boy’s lips.

“practising extra late since tryouts open soon,” he replies, gesturing to his friend group in the background. “they all kinda suck though.”

“thanks!” beomgyu spits back, but yeonjun could care less about his sarcastic comeback when it resulted in you letting out a soft chuckle. that was him by the way — he made you laugh!

in an attempt to give yeonjun more one on one time with you, the others had attempted to go back to playing (while still eavesdropping of course), but it was clear that their friend needed a little shove in the right direction.

taehyun moves closer, adjusting his black muscle top while offering you a mischievous grin. “say, y/n. if yeonjun here gets a three pointer, would you consider giving him your number?”

besides kai’s howling laughter in the distance, the court is frozen in tension, more specifically yeonjun — who’s jaw has practically dropped to his ass. this was not part of the plan, taehyun! attempting to bandage the wound, the raven haired boy smacks his friend, hoping the expression on your poor, confused face would falter at least a bit.

his ears burn bright red, and he can only pray the hood of his grey coat is deep enough to hide it. “i uh- sorry about that, you don’t— you don’t have to do anything—“

too busy manifesting some way to travel back in time and tape taehyun’s mouth shut, yeonjun fails to notice the amused smile creeping its way to your lips. “no, it’s okay. you can try if you want.”

soobin and beomgyu share a horrified glance, just how is this working?

yeonjun blinks, holding a bewildered yet determined look in his pupils. “i— you mean like, to shoot?” he blabbers in disbelief.

you shrug. “why not?” and before he knows it, the ball is forced into his grip by a snickering soobin, who attempts to relieve his friend’s shoulders that are tenser than he’s ever seen them with a swift massage.

little did he know that you found it almost as endearing as the way yeonjun’s teeth nibble onto his bottom lip as he gets into position, crouching with precision before jumping, releasing the basketball with a flick of his wrists.

the orange ball flies for a bit before landing right on the hoop’s ring, bouncing across it loudly, spinning around for a bit before—

“shit..” beomgyu murmurs in horror, watching how the ball flops pathetically off the side of the ring along with the other five pairs of eyes.

yeonjun refuses to believe this.

sinking down to his knees, nails frustratingly glide through his bangs while a pained groan leaves his lips. “i didn’t miss a single fucking shot earlier,” he winces, “but of course when it actually matters i fuck up.”

god, he was so cute — it was all you could think to yourself as you paced closer, squatting next to the boy’s destressed form all while lightly patting his shoulder. when yeonjun lifts his head, his eyes widen at the closeness of your face being mere centimetres from his. for a second, he thinks he might just pass out on the spot, up until you pull out a pen from your pocket, grinning cutely as usual.

when you open up your palm, it takes him a minute to realize you were asking for his hand.

ever so carefully, yeonjun places his hand in your grasp, breath stuttering at the feeling of his crush’s fingers wrapping comfortingly around his wrist. “what- what are you..” he gulps when you bend a bit closer to begin scribbling something right across the softness of his pale skin, glancing up at his friend’s with a face of utter disbelief who only give him an equally gobsmacked look in return.

suddenly, you’re releasing him and standing back to full height, pen being shoved casually into the embrace of your black hoodie as if you hadn’t just narrowly avoided giving the poor boy a heart attack moments prior. “yeonjun, i was gonna give it to you either way,” you snort.

wait, what? did he just go through the five stages of grief for nothing?

all he can do is watch with eyes gaped as you slowly march back towards the entrance, only snapping out of it when beomgyu pulls his arm up to investigate the nine numbers inked across his hand. “bro.. you did it.” he states it as if yeonjun had just solved world hunger, shaking his friend frantically.

“i.. i did it?” he repeats dumbly.

it seems as though he can’t get a break; now soobin’s the one pushing him towards the entrance. “go on, dipshit!” he exclaims, “it’s pitch black out there, walk her home!”

this has yeonjun’s expression changing from dumbstruck to full on panic, nearly tripping on his own shoelaces as he sprints out to catch up to your now-far-away form, grey hood falling off and finally revealing his bright red ears in the process.

there was no doubt that he looked insane — lighting or not. “she has him wrapped around her finger, huh?” kai can’t help but cackle once more.

soobin takes a shot, easily making a dunk with the help of his height before sighing in agreement. “oh, absolutely.”

if you enjoyed, reblogs and feedback’s always appreciated <3

© delcakoo on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not rewrite, cross-post, translate, copy, etc.

perm taglist: @duolingofanaccount @strawberry-sunset-skies @scented-morker @koshinene @boowoowho @sultrybaby @yunjinlvrr @kynrki @yujiecho @monstaxdirtywonk @dekusgirl @taejays @luvhyun3 @yjjungwon @miou45 @rosie-is-everywhere @yenqa @rosenatorfirst @millsielovesgyu @syrxiee2 @ily-cuz-i @soobin-chois @wtfhyuck @hoonvrs @gyuuberryy @bucketofhiros @xtra-cheese @vmprshlvr

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 5 - Greedy

Plans to dock at Sabaody are made, and Kid shows his true colours.

WC: 3.6k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

“You sure about this?” Killer asked, sitting at the round table in the navigation room, along with Heat, the two of them supervising you as you sat at a writing desk in the corner, scribing your list of what was to occur at Sabaody to prove your story. “It's not too late to tell the truth. Maybe Kid will go easy on you, chain you in the brig for a little longer for everyone to fuck before we sell you off.”

“This is the truth,” you huffed, struggling with the style of pen you'd been given, a feather tipped fountain pen like you'd often see in the anime. It was certainly a learning curve to use, leaving messy black ink stains over the page where you'd pressed too hard. “You'll see, once this day happens. I don't know if it'll be the first day we're docked though, it wasn't clear how long the Kid Pirates had been at Sabaody before the Straw Hats arrived, but I'm gonna guess it wasn't long.”

“Kid is eager to figure out how to get to the next island and get moving promptly,” Killer noted, “you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, I actually do!” You replied enthusiastically, happy to have a way to prove yourself useful while you waited for the Straw Hats to arrive.

“You know how to get us to the next island?” Killer raised a brow under his mask.

“Yeah,” you replied confidently, “I do.” Killer and Heat exchanged knowing looks before Heat stood.

“I'll get Kid and Wire,” he explained, leaving Killer to babysit you while you mumbled your curses at the fountain pen, groaning as you realised you'd stained the clothes you were borrowing.

It wasn't long before you heard the telltale stomps of the captain cutting through the infirmary on the other side of the wall, before the door slammed open and the man himself entered, huffing in annoyance as he sat at the table. “Heat said the mouse has info, spit it out, I'm busy,” Kid growled.

“One second captain,” you hurried to write the last few points on your page before giving a relieved sigh, “kay, done! Who am I giving this to?”

“I'll take it,” Kid grumbled, holding out his hand for the page. You gave the ink a careful touch to check it was dry before folding it carefully, standing to cross the room and placing it in Kid's hand. He slid it into his belt for safekeeping, with the intention of putting it in his safe later. Unless you suddenly had the ability to manipulate metal, you wouldn't be able to get the note back to change it. “Sit, mouse. Intel, now.”

“Right, of course,” you mumbled, moving to sit in a empty chair before Kid made a tsk and pointed at his lap. You took the hint, sitting on his thick thigh and wriggling a little to get comfortable before his arms stabilised you. He didn't seem to be interested in fucking you right now, it more seemed like he just wanted you as an accessory, or perhaps to remind you of your place here. “How much do you all know about the next location? I'm guessing your log pose is pointing down, correct?”

Wire, who acted as navigator, gave Kid a questioning look, asking for permission, before Kid gave him an affirmative nod. “Yeah, it's pointing down,” Wire supplied, “towards the Redline, in line with Mariejois. Once we realised it was pointing down we set out for Sabaody instead, since it seems to be the closest island to what the pose wants, but I haven't figured out the next island yet.”

“The next island is Fishman Island,” you explained, “located ten thousand metres under sea level. If you can't get legal permission to pass over the Redline through Mariejois, which would require ditching the ship anyway, then you have to go under. There's a gap in the Redline near Fishman Island, that'll allow you to pass through to the New World.”

“News alert, mouse, this ain't no submarine,” Kid growled, pinching your waist and making you yelp.

“I know!” You defended with a pout, “you didn't let me finish!”

“I can assure you I always let pretty girls finish,” Kid purred, making you squeak as he suddenly licked a long stripe up your neck, tugging on your earlobe with his teeth. You smacked the arm wrapped around you, scolding him with a growl that made him laugh.

“You tryna fuck or do you want to hear what I have to say, captain?” You huffed.

“Alright, alright,” Kid conceded, “intel first, then maybe I'll fuck ya, get one last go with that tight cunt before your story falls apart on Sabaody.”

“It won't fall apart,” you mumbled, “anyway, the Victoria can make it down there, but you need to have her coated in resin. You'll see when we get close enough that Sabaody has giant bubbles coming from the ground. It isn't actually an island, it's an archipelago of giant mangroves that produce a special resin. The whole place is covered in it, but it can be used for all sorts of things. One of which is coating ships to protect the ship and crew so you can travel underwater. It's not an easy journey even with the resin, only thirty percent of ships make it through to the New World, but your crew will make it. It is expensive though, the resin coating process.”

“So how do we go about getting this resin?” Killer asked.

“You gotta find someone who specialises in coating ships, if they do it wrong the ship could be crushed under the water pressure,” you explained, “I know where you can find a good coater, but I believe you'll need to wait till after the events of my letter take place or it may come as an inconvenience. I won't spoil things too much, but you're gonna want to retain the ability to get off shore quickly until the events of my letter have passed. If you're not ready to leave when the events happen, or the ship is only half coated, then it'd be a waste of your money.”

“And how fuckin’ long is that gonna be,” Kid grumbled.

“Until the Straw Hats arrive,” you sighed, knowing he was going to hate that answer. As expected he made an annoyed tsk behind you, grumbling quiet grievances. “In the meantime, how much do you know about Sabaody?” The question was mostly directed at Wire, since you wanted to ensure the crew docked in the right place.

“Not much,” Wire admitted, “tourist destination, lawless areas, some sort of amusement park, a marine base.”

You went on to explain the way that the archipelago was split up by numbered groves, explaining what you could remember of what groves held what things. It was a good thing you had an exceptional visual memory, thinking hard about the numbered map that was shown in the anime, and the few times places had been shown with grove numbers. Most importantly you told them where the lawless areas were, so they could make plans on where to make port.

“You should avoid docking at grove twenty-seven, if possible,” you finished, “a marine admiral will be causing issues there, so perhaps it'd be best to see if there's any other docks in that area. The Straw Hats will be docking at grove fourty-one, if you want to send a lookout so you know when they're here. Be aware though, there is a group running around impersonating the Straw Hats. Actually, fun fact, one day the same group will impersonate your crew.”

“Ha!” Kid barked, “Like anyone could look as impressive as me!”

“You're not wrong,” you laughed, “they do a fucking awful job. They don't even give Killer a real mask, just a shitty hat and stripes painted on their face. It's awful. Don't even get me started on the monstrosity that was their impression of Wire.”

“I'm guessing then that this fake Straw Hat will be easy to recognize?” Wire asked.

“Just tell your lookout not to mistake him for a fat man having a midlife crisis and they'll be good,” you offered, “the real luffy is practically a child.”

“A child that took down two Warlords…” Heat mumbled.

“Hey, I didn't say he was a weak child,” you replied, “he's not at his full strength yet though, doesn't even know what haki is. Speaking of which, is there anyone here who can teach me to control mine?”

“Aye, Kil can teach you,” Kid replied, to which Killer groaned and rolled his eyes under his mask.

“Why do I have to be the one to teach her?” Killer complained. “Does she even need to know how to use it?”

“If her story proves to be true, she's more useful if she can fight,” Wire replied, “and I for one am not going to be babysitting her every battle so she doesn't get her ass served to her.”

“We'll see whether she's full of shit first though,” Kid added, “she's probably lying so she can get some dick, so you don't have to worry about it.”

“Can you all stop talking about me like I'm not here!” You shouted, “and I'm not full of shit! I may be a fangirl but that doesn't mean I'm here for just dick, I genuinely want to help this crew. You're all gonna have to be way nicer to me after all this if you want me to give you information on your future cos right now you're all acting like dickheads, maybe Trafalgar would prefer me on his crew.”

“Like Trafalgar could make you cum like we do,” Kid growled, grabbing you by the cunt and making you squeak. “Why don't ya take your clothes off and I'll remind you why you're a Kid Pirates girlie?”

“I politely decline getting fucked against a table again,” you huffed, “my tailbone still fucking hurts.”

“I'll fuck ya wherever I like, mouse,” Kid hissed.

“Then you'll be fucking your hand, you brute,” you spat, wiggling your way out of his lap, “take me to your bed or don't take me at all, I'm fragile, you ass.”

“So the mouse has a voice,” Kid laughed, “alright then, just this once little mouse, I'll give ya what ya want.”

You squeaked in surprise as Kid charged at you, grabbing you and flinging you over his shoulder. Your face was buried in his feathery coat as he smacked your ass, all of the commanders in the room openly laughing at you. “The mouse sure does like to squeak,” Wire laughed.

“I'll have her screaming in no time,” Kid smiled, “Wire, go ahead and navigate the ship to Sabaody, dock wherever the fuck it was she said to. When do you think we'll arrive?”

“Weather permitting, should make land tomorrow around noon,” Wire replied, “the others have their restock lists all ready to go.”

“Good, I have a mouse to play with then,” Kid barked, opening the door that went straight to the deck, “any trouble, tell Killer first, I'm fuckin’ busy.”

With that Kid left the room, yanking down your pants and borrowed underwear and exposing your ass to anyone who might be on the deck. You expected snickers from the crew but instead received only amused, hungry glances, or eyerolls directed at the captain. It seemed Kid debauching women in plain sight was a common occurrence here, and you wondered how long it'd be until one of the commanders fucked you on deck in full sight of everyone. The thought made your pussy clench more than you thought it would. Kid shamelessly pushed his thumb between your folds as he walked, sliding it inside you for a moment to collect your slick before using it as lubrication to rub your clit.

“Kid!” You protested, trying to squirm, but he was far stronger than you.

“Don't act like you don't like it, mouse,” he laughed, pushing two fingers inside you and making obscene squelching sounds for all to hear, “you're fucking soaked, you like seeing everyone watch you get finger fucked huh? Bet you'd love it if I tied you to the mast and let everyone have a go.” Your pussy betrayed your thoughts as you tightened around him, biting your lip to hold back a moan as you made eye contact with one of the crew, Reck you remembered his name was, and he gave you a shit eating grin that told you he wouldn't be against that idea. “Fuck, you really tightened when I said that. Be a good girl on Sabaody and maybe we'll make it happen, aye?”

“Yes please captain,” you moaned as he slid in a third finger and continued finger fucking you as he walked. The idea of being strapped to the mast and used was making you drip an embarrassing amount. You didn't think you were into exhibitionism but the last few days had certainly awoken something in you. You were sure it was Wire's shit eating grin while Kid fucked you that had done it, that one look had somehow irreversibly altered your braincells and now all you wanted was to be used and humiliated by the Kid Pirates.

“You like pussy too, mouse?” Kid asked as he made his way up the stairs, “we got a few girls here who like pussy, maybe you could show them a good time too.”

“I do, captain,” you admitted, whining as he removed his fingers to open the door to the stern castle. Your mind was spinning, which ladies aboard would take a turn with you? Oh you so hoped Quincy and Hop were interested.

“Aye, calm down mouse,” Kid laughed, giving your ass a spank, “so fuckin’ needy, I'll have ya filled up in a minute.”

Kid hurried up the last set of stairs to his room, stomping across the expanse of the dining section and throwing you on his bed. Your body bounced a few times against the mattress as he started to remove his clothes, and you quickly followed suit, your pants already gone somewhere on the deck, your used underwear now stolen by another crewmate to be used for their own pleasure later. Kid was careful to put your letter somewhere safe until you were out of the room for him to put it in his safe properly. He loomed over you as he shuffled onto the bed, pushing you onto your back. An accidental giggle escaped you in anticipation as Kid's thick cock brushed against your stomach.

“Something funny, mouse?” Kid barked, closing his hand around your neck, pushing you flush against the bed.

“N-no captain,” you moaned, Kid's other hand finding your entrance again and sliding three fingers in with ease, “fuck, sorry captain, just, excited for you to fill me.”

“Always so eager,” Kid chuffed, “I hope your story turns out to be true, such an obedient little thing, we could have so much fun with you.”

“You will, captain,” you whined as he pulled out his fingers and pushed the fat head of his cock against your entrance, “I'll be so good for you captain. You'll see.”

You both groaned as his cock slid inside you, stretching your hole wide. He filled you so well, you were ashamed to admit how much you'd missed his cock since he'd fucked you in front of the others. It felt just as good as you'd anticipated, perhaps even more so now that your tailbone wasn't being ground into a hard tabletop.

“Greedy little mouse,” Kid grunted as he thrust into you, “you prove you're not full of shit and we'll make you our permanent whore, Heat's certainly been in a better mood since you appeared. We'll keep your cunt good and full, and I'm sure my girls would enjoy riding that pretty face of yours. You like that huh? Fuck your pussy got so tight, you want my girls riding that pretty face? Squirtin’ on it? Greedy, greedy little mouse.”

“W-which girls,” you whined, you were getting hot on the idea of being squirted on but needed to know who if that thought was going to get you there.

“That keen are ya? I'm here pounding your cunt and you're thinkin’ bout pussy,” Kid laughed, giving you a particularly hard thrust that knocked the air out of you, “Quincy, Hip and Hop, sometimes Emma but she's a lil shy. You like that huh? Want my girl Quincy cumming on your face? She's a real screamer too.”

As though on cue the thought of having the tall ginger grinding on your face had you seeing stars, gushing on Kid's cock with a breathy moan. “Yer showing your true colours now, mouse,” Kid laughed, pulling his cock out and admiring the mess you'd made on his blankets, “flip over and I'll show you mine, ey?”

You eagerly rolled onto your front and shuffled to be in front of him, and he quickly resheathed himself, before grabbing at your tits and using them as grapple points to pull your torso towards him. You were essentially in his lap as he held your hips and used yours like a cocksleeve, forcing you up and down on his cock. His fangs brushed against your neck, his cock throbbing inside you as he imagined how sweet your blood would be. Pure humans, the rarity that they were, were always so very sweet. Only a faerie was better, in his opinion, though faerie blood also came along with intoxication.

Kid nipped at you neck, testing the waters, but the way you moaned and squeezed around him with each pinch of pain spurred him on further. Finally his fangs broke through your soft flesh, zeroing in on the thick vein in your neck where he could feel your pulse pounding. Your breath stopped as you felt the sharp bite and your body began to register it as an attack, before something began to warm your veins and make you feel giddy. Your body shuddered as his venom ran through you and made you pliable, his cock still pistoning in and out of you as he drank from you. He'd been holding back from feeding from you, not knowing what you were made your blood dangerous. If you had been a witch or a siren your blood would have been poison to him, but he couldn't hold himself back any longer, he was feeling too greedy, and as the sweet taste that was uniquely human flooded his tongue he knew he was right to take the risk.

He wouldn't last long like this, but then again neither would you. Your blood being human only further confirmed your claims, and if you truly weren't lying to him then he couldn't afford to accidentally drain you, you would be far more useful alive. Not to mention how wonderful it would be to have a willing feeder human aboard his ship, every vampire aimed to acquire such a familiar in their home, and with your willingness to serve his cock too you would be quite the treasure. His venom had done its job and you were now more than out of it, off in your own little world as he used your body for his own pleasure. You came, more than once, but you didn't even register it, too busy seeing stars and giggling between moans. You didn't understand why you felt high, but you were too dazed to think about it. You were too dazed to even realise he was drinking from you, another purposeful effect of the venom. You vaguely registered Kid's praises, the slide of his tongue over your neck as he closed the bite wound, the dribble of warm blood down your front before Kid swiped it with his finger and licked the digit clean.

At some point Kid finished, roaring as he unloaded inside you before leaving your twitching form laying on his bed. He wiped his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand as he watched you claw at the blankets, still shivering from aftershocks from your orgasms and his venom. “Look at you, mouse,” Kid laughed, “you're a fucking mess.”

Your head was dizzy, you thought from whatever you'd been drugged with but in reality it was from the lack of blood in your body. You should have been mad that you'd been drugged, but you felt so euphoric that you knew already you'd ask for whatever it was again in future. Your whole body felt sensitive, every little brush of the blankets against your skin made you feel like you were about to cum again, and Kid running a finger up your bare backside wasn't making it any better. He took advantage of your sensitivity, pushing your ass up so he could bury his face between your thighs. He'd barely even touched his tongue to your clit before you were gushing on it, making Kid moan as he drank from you there too. He was already imagining how sweet you'd be on your cycle, he hoped you'd be around long enough to find out. None of the other women on board menstruated, they weren't any of the species that had that sort of cycle, which was a real damn shame.

“Yer sweet down here too, Mouse,” he ran his tongue through your folds one more time before you went limp against the bedding, “sweet little mouse, such a good girl for me.”

All you could give him was a tired “mmm,” before you were lulled to sleep, still laying sideways across Kid's bed, naked, Kid's seed leaking from your cunt and your head spinning from his venom.

A/N: If you're reading this on release day I'd super appreciate if you voted on this poll so I can have your input on future chapters! Thanks 😊

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