#The way you kiss him harder touch him longer as if trying to burn yourself into him before it’s too late.

[pinecavity]

Thinking about the pain of watching Caleb start to forget you… it’s the beginning of the end, and it’s not sudden, no. It’s slow. He knows it’s happening,, and so do you.

It starts subtly.

He hesitates before saying your name, just for half a second.

He forgets where he put something, a detail so unlike him.

He zones out longer than usual, like there’s something missing in his head that he’s trying to grasp.

But he doesn’t tell you. He won’t tell you.

He pretends everything’s fine. Gives you that dorky, boyish grin like always. Throws an arm around your shoulder like it’s effortless.

But he’s memorizing you. Letting his gaze linger just a second too long.

And when you kiss him goodnight, he doesn’t let go until you do.

You know.

You see the little shifts in him—the way he grips his coffee like it’ll slip through his fingers, like he’s trying to hold onto something.

The way he pauses before answering questions, like he’s flipping through pages in his mind that are missing ink.

And so you love him harder.

Like it’ll change something.

You kiss him a little longer before bed, like you’re writing yourself into him, like if you press your lips to his just right, you’ll sink into his bones and never leave.

He notices. Of course, he notices.

“Getting clingy, huh?” he teases, voice light, solid hands tracing your waist, memorizing, remembering.

You don’t answer. Just kiss him again. Just tangle your fingers into his chestnut hair, like it’ll keep him tethered.

He doesn’t stop you.

It’s small.

Your favorite drink.

A movie you watched together a hundred times.

A shared inside joke he used to say so naturally, and now, now it’s blank.

He laughs it off. “Guess I’m getting old.”

But his hands, his hands are shaking.

And when you ask him, “You okay?” he kisses you instead of answering. Hard. Almost desperate.

Like he’s trying to remind himself. Like he’s trying to make you unforgettable.

It’s raining. A warm summer storm, soft against the window. You’re curled into him, half asleep.

It’s in the quiet of the moonlit dark when he realizes,, he can’t remember the first time you met.

He knows he knows it. Knows it mattered. Knows you were small and stubborn and his.

But the details are gone.

And suddenly, it’s real. Suddenly, it’s not just a few bad days.

You wake up to him gripping your hand like a lifeline.

His face is buried in your hair. His breath is uneven. Shallow. A frightened plea against the nape of your neck.

He doesn’t tell you. He won’t tell you.

He’s been avoiding saying it for days. You’ve noticed.

And then one morning, as you’re lacing up your boots, he just—stares.

He’s trying. He’s trying so hard.

But your name is right there—right on the tip of his tongue, but it won’t come.

You see it in his eyes. The fear. The shame. The way his hands curl into fists like he hates himself for this.

And you don’t let him spiral.

You walk over, take his face in your hands, press your forehead to his.

“Caleb.”

And when you kiss him, it’s not soft this time. It’s full, desperate, like you’re trying to press your love straight into his bloodstream.

And he finally, finally, whispers your name back.

Like it’s sacred.

Like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to say it.

let me know if you guys want me to turn this into a fic! and feel free to poke at me in my inbox/dms! would love to talk to you guys and make friends here :D

[snowballseal]

How they react to you feeling insecure (LaDS)

Summary: How the Love and Deepspace boys react to you feeling insecure about various things. Includes Rafayel, Sylus, Zayne, and Xavier. Lots of fluff.

Word Count: they're all around 1000 roughly

Note: Warnings of different kinds of insecurity, ranging from physical to mental. I'm not sure of how well the Xavier one turned out, he's harder for me to write, but I couldn't leave him out!!! Anyways, hope yall enjoy!

Rafayel

His ended up being a lot longer, so it's posted separately.

here

--

Sylus

Being partners with Sylus is a…daunting position to be in.

You always considered yourself a fairly average person, more focused on who you are than what you look like. It’s not that you don’t like the way you look - you do - and you don’t like comparing yourself to anyone, but you don’t plan on being a model anytime soon. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Then you met Sylus, a man who looks like he was carved from the marble of ancient architecture. He could stand in a room of masterpieces and people would still look at him instead of the art. And since you’re by his side now, that means they’re also looking at you.

Being stared down by wanderers in one thing. Being stared down by the most powerful and prevalent members of the N109 Zone? You hate to admit that it gets to you. In fact, it gets so under your skin, that even when you’re dressed in the most extravagant dresses and decadent jewelry, you can’t help but feel…insecure.

Twisting in front of the mirror, you eye every detail of the dress Sylus bought you. It’s perfect, of course. The man has an annoying knack for getting you the most beautiful things and knowing exactly what fits you. The color compliments your hair and it’s comfortable to boot.

Still. You can’t help but feel like a kid trying to fit in at the adults table, wearing your mother’s heels even though they don’t fit. A bit ridiculous.

“Do you not like it?” Sylus appears behind you, dressed in a matching, lavish suit. 

You jump a little, eyes flicking up to meet his in the mirror. His eyes burn into you, reading the hesitation on your face as you curl your arms around your stomach. There’s no fiery retort or witty comment like usual. You just look back at your dress, the tips of your ears tinging pink.

A frown pulls at Sylus’ lips, his voice softening, “What’s wrong?”

“...Do you really think people believe us? That we’re together?” You ask quietly, shuffling your weight back and forth. “That I’m a good match for you?”

You’re keenly aware that you’ve never had a conversation like this with Sylus. For the most part your relationship has been filled with teasing and playful bickering. It’s always light. Or about work. This is new, and while you trust him more than anything, you hate not knowing how he will react.

Sylus hums, low and thoughtful, as he curls his arms around you, “Does it matter to you what others think?”

You let out a sigh, leaning back into his touch thankfully. You want to say no. You want to keep up the air of confidence, but that quiet voice of doubt keeps worming its way through your thoughts.

“I just…I feel like I’m not what people expect. And…” you try to explain, hesitating. Sylus presses a kiss to your shoulder, offering a hum of encouragement. Taking a deep breath, you add, “It bothers me. It feels like I’m being forced into the spotlight but I’m not meant to be there. Like I don’t fit.”

“Hmm, so you feel like an odd duckling.” You give him a small jab, and Sylus chuckles. “My apologies. I think you misunderstand the attention though.” He pulls you closer. You shiver as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder, pressing delicate kisses up the side of your neck, until he can murmur lowly into your ear, “You’re too humble, kitten. When you walk into a room, all eyes turn to you, not out of judgment, but out of jealousy. Afterall, you’ve tamed the leader of Onychinus. Even if you walked in with your uniform, they’d look at you the same. And I get the pleasure of walking around with the most powerful-” He presses his lips to your jaw. “-beautiful-” His lips trace against your cheek. “-woman of Linkon City. Don’t let the attention of those lesser than you make you doubt, otherwise I might have to find another way to show them just how well we fit together.”

Sylus’ eyes catch yours in the mirror again. They’re dark, like coals surrounded by flickering cinders. So intense you can almost feel the flames licking along your skin. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he’s being genuine. And that sets your heart racing. Along with the way he holds you so close, equal parts possessive and reverent. Like worship.

“Your devotion might scare some people, Sylus,” you whisper, glancing sideways at him.

He flashes a dangerous smile, “Does it scare you?”

You cast one final glance at your reflections before turning around in his hold and curling your arms around his neck. Sylus raises a challenging brow.

“I’m not. I like how you stand up for me, even when it’s against my own insecurities.” You draw him down, pressing a kiss to that carnal smile. Sylus softens immediately, cupping your jaw to draw you into a deeper kiss. The warmth that simmers in each and every touch leaves you a little breathless when you pull away. Pressing against his chest before he can drag you in again, you make sure to say one last thing, “Thank you, Sylus. I’ll make sure to remember all of that…especially the part about you being wrapped around my finger.”

“Hmm, such a cruel mistress, indeed.”

“And you love me.”

A chuckle rumbles through his chest, “Yes, I do. So, will you accompany me to this auction now?”

---

Zayne

“Are you sure it’s okay that I’m going?” You ask, voice wavering with nerves as you straighten Zayne’s tie for him.

“Isn’t it natural to bring one’s partner to these kinds of events?” He tilts his head, brow perked ever so slightly.

You nod, but can’t seem to erase the frown on your lips.

A week ago, Zayne had asked if you would accompany him to his medical school’s class reunion banquet. He had been asked to give a special word, given the reputation he had developed in his time at Akso Hospital, not to mention winning the Starcatcher Award for his work.

At first, you were ecstatic to have an opportunity to learn more about his old life. He has such a thing about living in the present, you hardly get to hear any stories about his time in med school, or when he was doing rotations at the hospital. You were eager to meet the people who he used to spend time with and hopefully catch a few stories you could tease him with later.

But as the night drew closer, you started actually thinking about all the people you would be around, all of whom graduated from the same medical program Zayne did. You can only imagine how smart they all are. And how you’ll get lost the moment any medical jargon comes up. 

The more you think about it, the more nerves you feel buzzing under your skin. You know you’re not the smartest, not compared to Zayne at least. He’s a genius, after all, and could probably outsmart most anyone. You’ve always been better at the physical stuff. That’s what makes you such a good pair. 

It’s not like you can impress everyone by whipping your gun out and fighting, though. All you’ll have are your words, and you’re not particularly good with those…

You blink when a large hand suddenly circles your wrist. Glancing up, you find Zayne looking down at you, brows furrowed ever so slightly.

“While I appreciate your attention to detail, I believe you’ve been straightening my tie for five minutes now.” Heat creeps up your neck. You hadn’t even realized you had been lost in thought. Zayne’s eyes narrow inquisitively.  “What are you thinking about that has your mind so preoccupied?” 

His thumb brushes casually along the inside of your wrist, not so subtly checking your pulse. A strangely endearing habit of his when he’s worried about you. You let out a long sigh and hide your face against his chest, feeling the heat bleed across your cheeks.

How are you supposed to tell him that you’re insecure about how smart all his friends must be?

Zayne doesn’t push right away. He knows you’ll explain when you want to, and if you don’t, then he knows you’re not ready to. It was an unspoken rule between you, something you started with him because you noticed he likes to think his words out. It felt natural to offer you the same when you struggle to express yourself. Like now.

Ultimately, you figure it’s better to just be straightforward. That’s how he would do it, and it’s better than dancing around the subject.

“I guess I’m nervous because I feel like I’m going to be the dumbest person in the room tonight,” you mutter against his coat. Your fingers tap out an anxious beat against his abdomen. “It’s silly and I know it shouldn’t matter, but I just don’t want to make you look bad.”

Zayne remains quiet for a long minute. Your fingers move a little quicker, matching the stuttering rhythm of your heart. His hand slides up, gently trapping them against his body.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“Physical tics are a common result of anxiety,” he hums dismissively, thumb smoothing over your knuckles. “As is your rapid heart rate. This truly bothers you.”

“Of course it does,” you sigh, a bit exasperated, ”You’ve worked hard to get where you are, Zayne. I love you so much, and I respect your work more than anything. I don’t, I don’t want to say something stupid and have it reflect on you badly.”

The doctor clicks his tongue, “First, I would prefer if you stop using that language to describe yourself.”

Your heart falters when his cool fingers touch your cheek, drawing your face up to his. He looks upset, but not exactly at you, the sharp line of his jaw contrasting with the softness of his eyes. Like it pains him that you think this way. Which it does.

“Those words don’t suit you. I wouldn’t allow another to call you them, so why would I allow you to?” He asserts, the corner of his lips twitching with distaste. “I don’t want to hear them again, do you understand?”

“Okay.” A thread of warmth curls around your heart when Zayne nods approvingly. His protectiveness really knows no bounds.

“Second, I do not agree with your diagnosis.” 

Your brow furrows a little. What? What does he mean, he disagrees? He’s literally surrounded by geniuses, you can’t match up to any of them if they’re anything like him. 

Seeing you start to overthink, Zayne shakes his head and gently pinches your cheek. You jolt back a little. The corners of his eyes crinkle, making you pout.

“Meanie,” you grumble, “Fine, explain your reasoning, Doctor Zayne.”

“It’s simple. Intelligence is made up of more than just academic knowledge, which, I assume, is what you are thinking of when you make such comments.” You nod. He’s not wrong about that, you guess. “Intelligence also includes the knowledge of how to use one’s strengths to achieve the best outcome. It is true that for some, this means using academic reasoning. However, it also includes those who develop the skills and discipline to maintain their bodies and fight for those who can’t, like…”

He pauses and gives you an expectant look.

“...me,” you finish slowly.

“Yes,” he hums, stroking the redness of your cheek, “I believe, under these standards, you are far more intelligent than most of the people you will meet tonight, darling. Though there is no comparison in the first place.”

His words sink in slowly but surely, filling in the cracks of your doubt. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he probably has some kind of healing magic, because you can already feel the burden of your insecurities melting away.

Leave it to Zayne to know exactly what to say, but in the most complex sounding way.

“You always know how to make me feel better, huh?” You ask, finally cracking that smile he loves.

“I am simply telling you the truth.” Zayne leans down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “There is not a lifetime in which my reputation will be more important than you. I would gladly throw it all away if it meant reminding you of that.”

You snort, “Don’t do that, please. I can only imagine the fit Doctor Greyson would throw. He’d be so mad at me.”

“I can handle Doctor Greyson, in the same way I can handle everyone tonight.” He slips his fingers between yours, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles. You wiggle your fingers  happily and Zayne can’t help but grin to himself. “If at any point you find yourself uncomfortable, just stay by my side and I will act as your distraction. Though, I’m sure they will all love you, just as I do.”

“...Thank you, Zayne.”

“Of course, my jasmine.”

---

Xavier

Working with Xavier is a blessing, as much as it is a curse. You couldn’t ask for a better partner. Someone who you know will always have your back, who can handle himself completely, who is probably the most talented hunter you’ve ever met in your entire life. He’s undeniably amazing.

On the flip side of that, though, you often fall into the trap of thinking about how he deserves better. Wondering if, maybe, the only reason he chose to stay with you was because of the aether core in your heart. If that’s also the reason you’re in a relationship now…

And some days, these thoughts win out over the rest. Like today.

“What’s wrong?”

You blink, eyes flickering up from the bowl of ramen in front of you. Early on, you had started a tradition of eating a meal together after a successful mission, to just enjoy the peace of your home and each other. But today, you weren’t feeling that hungry, just…tired.

Xavier tilts his head, concern furrowing his brow - he noticed your mood start to shift days before, but didn’t want to push since you didn’t seem to notice it yourself. Now, though, it’s too obvious for him to ignore.

“I’m fine,” you sigh, flicking your chopsticks back and forth to watch the noodles swirl around in the broth, a small frown capturing your lips. It’s a horribly obvious lie.

“Is it something I did?” His voice isn’t accusatory or upset. It’s just a rational question to help him figure out what’s wrong. Still, you feel guilt tug at your chest, and you set the chopsticks down with another sigh.

You don’t want him to think that. You’d never blame Xavier for something like this. That would be like asking him to be a worse person, which is stupid. It’s just you. Your problem. Dragging him into it will only make you feel worse.

“No, Xavier, you didn’t do anything, promise. I’m not upset…with you.” 

“But you are upset.”

Chancing a glance up at him proves a bad idea, making it all that more difficult to keep your thoughts quiet. Behind his normal sleepy expression, worry gleams in the deep blue of his eyes, unyielding and undeniably calm, like waves lapping gently at the beach. 

The sight makes your heart ache and the words are tumbling out of your mouth before you can stop them, “Do you think I’m actually a suitable partner for you?”

Surprise flickers across the hunter’s face. Of all the things he was expecting you to say, that wasn’t even on the list. He doesn’t laugh though, or take your question lightly.

“Do you mean, as a hunting partner? Or as a romantic partner?”

You shift uncomfortably, eyes falling back to your ramen, “I don’t know. Both, I guess?”

He hums softly. You try to ignore the nerves fluttering in your chest as Xavier gets up, watching him out of the corner of your eye as he circles the table to stand next to you. The hunter drips his head, catching your gaze.

“May I see your hand?”

A small frown pulls at your lips, not exactly sure where he’s going with this, but you offer him your hand anyways. Xavier takes your wrist, touch featherlight, and moves it so your hand is held up flat, facing him. Your brow furrows.

“Xav-”

“Look.” 

Pursing your lips, you let out a little huff. He really hates giving direct answers, doesn’t he? Still, you’re in no place to really judge him, or expect anything for that matter. He’s always been a bit of a mystery to you.

You watch as Xavier places his hand against yours. His palm is warm and you can feel the calluses from who knows how many years of hunting. Your hand looks tiny in comparison, his pale, delicate fingers long enough to curl over your own a little. The sight makes your heart squeeze, fondness competing with the feeling of being so…small.

“They’re pretty different,” Xavier hums, voice still calm, his own eyes fixed on your hands. “Your fingers are always cold, and your hands are small. You have a scar here.” His free hand grazes the side of your palm, along your pinky. “And here” He traces another along your knuckle. Your breath falters at the tenderness behind his touch, like you’re delicate porcelain. “Mine are in different places. Yours are skilled at weaving silk balls and mine can��open jars.”

You snort. Xavier’s eyes dart up to yours, sparkling with humor, a brow raised. You try to smother your laughter, rather ineffectively, and motion for him to continue.

“They’re different, but-” His fingers spread apart, and you mimic him instinctually, only for his fingers to slot between yours in one fluid motion. You inhale softly, laughter dying in your throat. It’s like two puzzle pieces fitting together, a perfect embrace that washes over you with a comforting warmth.

Xavier watches you, keenly aware of the way you squeeze his hand tightly, desperately, like you’re worried it might disappear. He gives yours a tender squeeze in return, thumb brushing over your knuckle.

“I think they’re a suitable match. Don’t you?”

God, how could you go without this man? The worries that have been pricking at the back of your mind all week seem to melt away. It leaves you with that warmth, the kind that only comes from Xavier, that he offers you over and over again.

You give his hand another squeeze, finally smiling, “Yah. I do…Thanks, Xavier.”

The hunter leans down, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. You can feel his lips brush against your skin as he murmurs, “Let me know if you ever feel this way again, angel. I’ll be more than glad to remind you.”

“I will.”

---

This was really fun to write!!! I really hope you guys like it! There are so many freaking tags on this puppy.

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Ino who has such a big cock but doesn’t know how to use it. But it’s okay!! Because he now has you to help him out.

“You like that don’t you pretty boy…?”

Your words like soft silk flood his sensitive ears as you press soft, sensuous kisses all over his perfect face. The way you have him straddled, grinding yourself against his painfully hard cock holds him in awe. He feels his mind drift into a haze, no longer able to form any words. All he can do is nod his head as he allows you to have your way with him.

He closes his eyes, savoring the sweet sensation of your lips on his skin. You could tell he was nervous, it was like this everytime. He never knew where to put his hands, or if he should try kissing you back or even try to initiate something more… he left it all up to you.

He liked when you touched him. The way your hands slipped under his black crew neck always got his muscles to tense up. He loved it when they tread lower and you graze over his v-line. Biting his lip so he doesn’t embarrass himself with the sounds he makes. But he can’t help but turn into a whiny mess when you tug down on his sweats, revealing what you both wanted most.

“Sorry…” He stumbles over his words. “If it’s not… what you expected.” His face rapidly flushes red.

Your eyes widen at the image in front of you. “I think it’s… more than I expected.” Your words only fluster him more, using his hand to hide his face. It’s a good thing you already knew how to calm him down because you only planned to ruin him even more.

He spreads his legs further as an invitation, his thick cock already covered in pre-cum bobs up slightly. Finally gaining the confidence to touch you, his hands shoot up to your hips as you ease yourself on his cock. Slowly you sink down onto him, his eyes rolling back in pleasure as a low groan escaping his lips. “Fuck…me..”

He looks back up at you with dewy eyes, almost on the verge of crying because of how good you felt around him. His hips buck up, wanting you to move. He gasps as you begin to ride him, his head falling back against the pillow. He couldn’t help but watch the way your body moved against him, especially your tits, that just so happened to be right in front of his face.

His eyes now fixed on yours, almost asking you for permission to touch you more. The moment you give him a reassuring nod, his hands reach up to cup your chest, his thumb flicking over your delicate nipples, still watching you take control over him. The stretch of his cock inside you felt wonderful, you were sure you weren’t going to last long. But given the way Ino was like right now, you were definitely lasting more than him.

His hands fall back down your hips, gripping your hot skin tightly, as he tries to keep up with your frantic pace. His eyes are fixed on you, with a burning intensity, babbling complete and utter nonsense to you. His cock pulses inside you, threatening to spill over at any moment.

“Do you think you could last a little longer for me baby?” you ask him almost out of breath, using his shoulders to keep you stable, as you continue moving against him.

“Y-yes ma’am,” he whines. He’s telling you yes but shakes his head no, looking up at you with those big brown eyes again. He was so close, he could barely handle it anymore. His hips continue to meet your movements, struggling to hold back his release.

“Just a little longer baby..” you hold on to him tighter, squeezing on to his biceps as you feel yourself getting closer and closer. “M-m trying..” he responds to you with urgency in his voice. Eyes still pleading with you to let him cum deep inside you. His fingers dig into your ass, pulling you down harder onto him with every thrust.

His cock twitches and throbs inside you, the urge to fill you up now more than he can resist. He looks at you one more time, eager for your permission. Before you could even whisper yes, hot spurts of thick cum shoot inside you as you both orgasm in sync. He empties himself completely inside you before collapsing onto you. Strong hands still envelope you as his head buries itself into your chest. And all he can do is thank you as he tries to catch his breath.

Masterlist

Discord

[mattybsgroupie]

— matt’s first punishment

★ requested by anon ★

tw: matt’s extremely sub + PISS kink — don’t read it if you don’t like it! this a fetish, a kink, and none of this is real. it’s fanfiction, purely for entertainment purposes.

“no! ‘m sorry” matt whines as you tap on your own thighs, silently commanding him to bend over. you don’t say a word, waiting for him to understand there was no way you’d let that kind of behavior go unnoticed. “can i at least go to the bathroom first? please?” he pleads, placing both hands next to his crotch.

“you think i’m gonna let you out of my sight? just so you can do that again? touch yourself without permission?” you spit out, the harsh tone in your voice making matt shiver. he denies with his head, lazily dragging his feet towards you. “‘m not gon’ do that again, i promise” he tries to convince you one last time. you click your tongue, reaching for his wrist and forcing matt’s body down.

a few minutes later, your hand smacks matt’s soft skin, leaving a huge mark. it soon starts to tingle, the sudden slap causing his blood to rush, stinginess taking over his bottom. with the second one, matt starts whining. “mommy!” he complains, tilting his head back to take a look at you. his cheeks are completely flushed, a pink tint taking over his paleness along with the pout on his lips.

you didn’t go easy on him. he took eight slaps perfectly, moaning each time your palm met his ass. you give matt a small break, fondling his flesh and massaging his sore bum. tears spilled from the corners of his eyes, his face showing a mix of pain and pleasure.

harder than holding his tears, however, it would be to hold his bladder. he could lazily rub his cock across your thighs, receiving a small relief from the overwhelming, burning sensations taking over his body. “mama, p-please” he cries, “i c-can’t hold it” the precum oozing from his tip spreads on your legs and his own cock, each spank causing him to leak a bit more. “should’ve thought about that before jerking off like a little virgin boy who can’t control his own dick” you spit out, the degradation causing matt to groan.

the sticky liquid was replaced by a sudden warmth on your lap. matt’s body twitches as his whines turn to small whimpers and he brings his hands to his face, trying to cover his embarrassment. your thigh grip softens, one of your hands caresses his lower back as matt continues to pee himself over you, the loud hiss of his release taking over the now quiet room.

matt couldn’t look at you. he felt humiliated, it was all too much. your harsh words, his burning skin, the hardness of his cock still rubbing against you, the pressure on his bladder — he just couldn’t hold it. “it’s okay baby, it’s all good” you coo, reaching for his waist and fixing his position on your lap. matt now was hiding on the crook of your neck, his legs resting around yours, sniffing as he tried to stop the tears.

“baby, it’s okay” you repeated, gently holding him. “mommy’s not mad” you assured matt, who soon relaxed at your words. “mama was a meanie hm?” you continued, and he finally looked at you. he nodded, the biggest pout on his lips, cheeks completely dampened. “but you were such a good boy, and you took your punishment so well” matt held back a smile at the praise, uncomfortably shifting on his spot.

“good boy?” he needed reassurance. the poor boy had pissed himself from a few spanks — all he wanted now was to be taken care of. “my good good boy” you affirmed, placing a kiss on his exposed collarbone. “did you get all worked up from some spanks?” you teased, feeling his cock poking against you. he nodded again, no longer embarrassed.

“since you were such a good boy” you continued, wrapping your knuckles around his shaft and slowly pumping his dick. “you deserve to cum” matt’s wet, swollen cock twitched inside your palm, moans escaping from the back of his throat.

“cum! need’a cum p-please” he begged, thrusting himself inside your fist. you gave matt permission, his release covering your hand in thick, white spurts of cum as his body trembled and his orgasm washed over him. you continued to stroke his cock, making sure to take every spurt from him before he started crying again. “good boy” you said, sealing your lips together. “now let’s get rid of this mess, shall we?”

i got carried away with this one might deactivate goodbye

[delilahsturniolo]

— ୨୧ signs . . . c.s

in which . . . you and chris’s relationship is hanging on it’s last thread, you struggle to find a sign of love and sincerity within your relationship with chris.

warnings . . . angst, relationship tension, kissing scene and description, straddling, emotional conflict, slightlyyyy suggestive.

written by @delilahsturniolo. do not copy, steal, or modify my works. if you are taking any inspiration from this, please ask me first before posting and credit me in your description. happy reading! :)

SO CLOSE TO WHAT WRITING MARATHON . . . fic #8

the city hums around you, neon lights bleeding into the wet pavement as rain taps against the windshield. the car is warm, but there’s a chill between you and chris—one that’s been lingering for weeks, maybe even longer. you sit in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around yourself, staring at the red light ahead even though you’re not moving. chris is gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles pale, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

“you’re shutting me out again,” chris says, voice quieter than you expected. you swallow, eyes still fixed ahead. “i’m not.” he exhales, a rough, tired sound. “you do this every time. the second something feels too real, you pull away.” that makes you turn to him. his jaw is tight, brows furrowed, eyes dark with something that looks too much like pain. you hate that you put it there. “it’s not that simple,” you whisper.

“it is.” he looks at you then, really looks at you. “i love you.” your stomach clenches, because you want to believe him. you do. but there’s something inside you that keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. for him to wake up one day and realize you’re too much. “then why,” you whisper, voice shaking, “does it feel like i’m constantly waiting for a sign?” chris’s fingers flex against the wheel. “a sign for what?”

“a sign that this is real. that you won’t leave.”

the air in the car shifts, heavier now, thicker with words left unsaid. he reaches for your hand, thumb brushing over your knuckles. warmth floods through you at the touch, familiar yet still electric. “you don’t need a sign,” he murmurs. “i’m right here. i’ve always been here.”

your eyes burn, but you blink hard. “for how long?”

his breath stutters, his grip on your hand tightening. “i don’t know what else to do,” chris admits, and there’s something so raw in his voice it nearly undoes you. “i tell you i love you. i show up. i choose you every single day. what more do you need?” your heart is a chaotic mess inside your chest, because he’s right. he’s always been right. it’s not him you’re afraid of. it’s yourself.

“i need to believe it, chris.” you whisper. chris cups your face then, tilting your chin so you have no choice but to meet his eyes. “then believe it, y/n.” and just like that, something inside you breaks. not in a painful way, but in the way a storm finally breaks after days of tension in the air.

you surge forward, closing the space between you, crashing your lips against his. chris inhales sharply, surprised, but only for a second before he’s kissing you back, like he’s been waiting for this, like he’s been waiting for you, yearning for you. chris’s hands tangle in your hair, fingers threading through the strands as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer. your seatbelt is still on, a frustrating barrier, but his hands fumble for it, unbuckling it in one swift motion before pulling you effortlessly onto his lap, as if he’s done this before.

you straddle chris, your hands finding his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw as his lips move with yours—urgent, desperate, like he’s trying to kiss away every doubt you’ve ever had. his tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you part for him, letting him in, melting against him as his hands slide down your back, gripping your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

the rain pounds harder against the car, but neither of you care. the windows fog up, the air thick with heat and want. your fingers trail down his neck, his chest, feeling the way his heart races beneath your touch. chris groans softly into your mouth, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine, pooling heat low in your stomach.

his hands explore your body desperately, sliding under your sweater, fingertips grazing your bare skin, setting fire to every nerve they touch. you gasp against his lips, and he takes the opportunity to tilt your head, kissing you deeper, slower, making you feel every second of it.

time blurs, minutes slipping away as you get lost in him, in the way he holds you, kisses you, worships you with his hands and lips. it’s only when you both pull away, breathless, foreheads pressed together, that reality settles back in. chris’s thumb traces your bottom lip, swollen from kissing, and his eyes search yours, dark and full of something you can’t quite name. “don’t run from this,” he murmurs. “don’t run from me, from us. please.”

you exhale shakily, resting your forehead against his, running your hands along his chest. and for the first time, you don’t think you will. maybe, just maybe, this was the sign you’d been waiting for all along.

© delilahsturniolo do not copy, re use, or modify any of my works.

taglist

💌: if this flops i might just cry

[lazysoulwriter]

Between the Lenses and the Track -Charles Leclerc.

hes so....

The first time you met Charles Leclerc, it wasn’t exactly glamorous. You were adjusting your camera settings in the Ferrari garage, focused on the telemetry screens reflecting off your lens, when a hand suddenly appeared in your frame, waving dramatically. You lowered your camera just in time to see Charles grinning at you.

“Got the shot?” he asked, playful as ever.

“Ruined it, actually,” you deadpanned, tilting your head. “You owe me a better one.”

From that day on, Charles made it his mission to provide you with ‘better’ shots—though most of them consisted of him making faces, posing ridiculously, or sending you exaggerated winks through your lens. It became a running joke between you two, a small part of your routine in the fast-paced world of Formula 1.

But somewhere along the way, your dynamic began to make headlines.

'Charles Leclerc’s Mystery Woman—Just a Photographer or Something More?’

'Flirty Glances in the Paddock—What’s Going On Between Ferrari’s Golden Boy and F1’s Shutter Queen?’

It was ridiculous. You were just friends, but neither of you ever bothered correcting the assumptions. If anything, Charles found it hilarious.

“Should we address the rumors?” you asked once, scrolling through yet another speculative article.

“I think we should fuel them,” he smirked. “Keep them on their toes.”

So, the flirting turned into an unspoken game. Post-race interviews? Charles would sneak in a comment about how he only pushes for pole position because he knows you get the best shots from there. Press conferences? If you were nearby, he’d find a way to mention your name. Once, he even called you his ‘good luck charm’ on live television, winking directly at your camera.

The fans ate it up.

It was harmless, right?

Until it wasn’t.

—

It happened in the backstage area of a Grand Prix weekend. The session had ended, and most of the paddock was clearing out. You were sorting through the hundreds of pictures on your camera when you heard footsteps approaching.

“Busy as always,” Charles teased, leaning against the table beside you.

“Unlike some people, I actually work,” you quipped without looking up.

“Ouch,” he placed a hand over his chest, mock-offended. “And here I was about to invite you to dinner as a thank-you for all the flattering angles.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “Flattering? You make my job harder with all those stupid faces.”

“I give you personality,” he defended.

You turned to him, shaking your head with amusement. It was always like this—effortless teasing, easy chemistry. But then his gaze lingered just a little too long, his smirk fading into something softer, something more intent.

Your breath caught.

It was just Charles. Your Charles. The same guy who made dumb jokes and dramatically posed every time he saw your camera pointed his way. But suddenly, standing here in the quiet, the air between you had shifted. It felt heavier. Loaded.

His fingers brushed against yours, barely a touch, but enough to make your skin burn.

“Careful,” you murmured, trying to keep the teasing tone, but your voice came out weaker than intended. “The media’s watching even when they’re not.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Let them watch.”

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t playful, wasn’t a joke or another inside reference to keep up the act. It was slow, deliberate, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t.

You let yourself melt into it, into the warmth of his lips, the way his hand came up to cup the side of your face like he’d wanted to do it for longer than he’d ever admit.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was hammering. Charles, however, just grinned.

“So,” he said, voice still low. “Should we fuel the rumors some more?”

You laughed, breathless. “I think we just did.”

[harmshake]

Featuring: Damian Priest x Fem Reader Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, el campeón having his way with you just a little. 🥹 Word Count: 1.3k

Happy reading! Read my other Damian stories here, if you'd like. ✨

After a long flight, a long day, a long event, a long night, and even longer press conference following the Clash at the Castle, you and your boyfriend, Damian, couldn't wait to check into your hotel, fall into bed together, and get some sleep. The sheets were fresh, soft, and now warm because you both cuddled up beneath them. Your bodies were bare, no need for pajamas as after you both showered, you were too tired to put them on. You wrapped yourselves up in each other instead, his nose nestled to the back of your head with his lips pressing soft kisses to your nape as he said good night and held you to his hulking chest in his strong arms.

You were half-asleep but only half as the rest of you was tingling and still awake with the delicate closeness of your bodies huddled together, his warm breath on your skin, and his warmer and bare flesh growing hard nudged up against your backside. That you couldn't not notice in your sleepy daze, especially when he let out the sweetest, softest breath of a moan when you backed up onto him a bit more as you tried to get even more comfortable, your bottom caressing him and making him even harder for you. That was enough for you to get wet, just feeling him, the ease of it surprising you as a small yawn escaped you before a tiny moan did when he gently rolled you onto your back with his arm underneath your head like a pillow, his other arm around your hip as his hand slipped between your thighs. His breath was soft like his touch, pulling a little gasp from you as he delicately teased and coaxed more and more of your wetness to stick to the pads of his thick fingertips until he could fit his middle one inside of you.

“Damian…” you purred quietly with your eyes still half-closed, stirring out of that sleepy little haze now that it was clear he wasn't sleepy. The slight shock in your tone made him smile, you could feel it as his lips pressed to the side of your face with a little kiss to your cheek.

“Hm, baby? You want me to stop?” he asked in a voice barely above a whisper, the bass of it dwelling in you as did his finger that was oh, so steady to work in deeper, work in little circles until you felt his knuckle pressing against you. Your moan did the talking for you and he smirked again, another kiss to your jaw and then on your lips to lap at your next sweet sound as his tongue met yours, as he began to pump just so gently on your spot. He listened to your moans, your sweet, little sounds, as they grew hitched and pitched, following your body when your hips tilted up to press yourself to his palm, your hands slipping on the sheets for something to cling to as you started to lose yourself. 

“No…don’t…” It happened so quickly, the slow burn of that good feeling hitting you like rapid fire and making you finally cling to your boyfriend as your thighs tried to close around his wrist. Yet Damian knew what you wanted, knew what you could take…his touch a messy yet fluid stroke where you wanted it as he inhaled every moan you whimpered for him with a smoldering kiss. 

“Mm, open up for me, baby…just feel me. Doesn’t that feel nice?” That was Damian's favorite thing to do no matter the weariness of the night because how could he resist you like this after resisting you the entire day? Making you moan and kissing your lips to shut you up playfully as he knew you couldn't hold back, knew you didn't want him to hold back, either. He pulled you onto his lap to straddle him then, his back resting up against the headboard as you rested against him, your lips moving together as your hips did, too. Because even though he was trying to make you go crazy at nearly two a.m., you still wanted a little more…you could take a little more. 

Bodies seamed together with your chest flushed against him, his hands swallowing your waist, helping you to ride him, take him, until you felt a little delicious, a little delirious, slipping back into that madness as your head fell back and gave him room to plant kisses on the length of your throat and along your collarbone. The soft glow of streetlights through curtains shrouding the hotel room absorbed your softer sounds that turned into desperate whines as Damian made it so, so good with his big hands all over you, unable to get enough of you, holding you down on him, massaging your breasts, rubbing your back, and cupping your bottom in his firm grasp. You gripped the muscle of his broad shoulders as he carefully bounced you up and down on it with his own short, grinding thrusts beneath you, watching how it made your eyes roll a little, because he knew you could take more…wanted to see what you looked liked when you gave him everything, until you buried your face in his neck and cried his name. 

“Please…Damian…”

"Mi linda conejita…you sound so pretty."

And when you couldn't think straight from your body tingling anew with pleasure that had you more exhausted than when you laid down, he scooped you up into his arms to lay you on your back, your hair falling over the foot of the bed, his hands on the sheets on both sides of your body, his thrusts still grinding slowly, grinding back into you and driving deep and driving you mad as he took his time picking up the pace. You squeezed your thighs around his waist, tried to squeeze your hands on his chest, and you whined that it was too much, that he was too much, feeling him pounding now, that your voice cracked each time you moaned to him. 

“I can't...mm, papi. I can't take it.”

But Damian knew your moans were greedy, knew you could, and would, give yourself to him. The long day and night at work and the cameras and the professionalism and the abstaining from touching you all melted away so he could give himself to you, too. Just a bit feral for you...his lips on your face, kissing you, moaning with you. His arms around you now, holding you there, keeping you still, pinning you down by your thighs spread on the sheets as you trembled in bliss below him. And his strokes hitting that spot, loving on that spot, loving on you as your bodies melted together.

“Yes, you can, baby. Papi loves you...please, baby. Cum for me.”

His voice rasped and cracked now with his own pleasure as you surrendered and fell apart around him, his thrusts slowing if only to feel it, feel you, as you filled his ears with your angelic moans that made him harder, made him start to dive deeper. Damian couldn't stop himself if he tried, not when you were so beautiful like this, driving him wild now. 

“Where do you want Papi to cum?” he groaned roughly on your mouth that neither of you could barely hold together for a kiss as sweet exhaustion from ecstasy took you both over.

“Inside...” You could barely breathe the word, your lungs only good for moaning for him, crying for him.

“That’s what my baby wants?” He was no better as every sound that escaped him was from you, for you as he filled you with heavy strokes you felt in your soul, each one ending with a moan that whispered your name like he was casting a spell on you.

But you knew he already had...he and his love were hypnotic. Damian was yours, all yours, and you were his, all his, his soft grunts in your ear telling you so as he kissed your neck and held your wrists to the bed. It was just one of those nights where it took him longer than he wanted to show it, and he couldn’t let you go to bed without the reminder…

“You're mine, conejita. Por siempre, mi amor.”

. . .

Wake Up Love

Revamped this fic from a previous one I'd written, posted, and deleted, but I like this version much better. 🥰

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[semisasseater]

STUPID MOVE

pretty girl.

SUMMARY ‘ trying to escape was a stupid move.

𓊆 黑星 𓊇 x gn!reader 㞫⠀⠀ ִ ⠀ 2,008 obsession stalking kidnapping abuse forced captivity threats emotional manipulation violence yandere themes — 类型 dark romance psychological thriller horror yandere

✴︎ LIBRARY ✴︎ part 1 part 2

‧˚⠀⠀ 🤍⠀⠀ ɞ 作者注 : posting another fic then leaving again.

Two Weeks Later

The air outside the basement felt suffocating.

For the first time in what felt like forever, you were no longer trapped underground, no longer bound by ropes in a damp, dark room. Heeseung had finally deemed you “ready” to leave the basement. But only under his watchful eyes.

You thought it would feel like freedom.

It didn’t.

Your body felt dirty, your skin sticky, your hair tangled from weeks of being confined in that cold, miserable space. You wanted nothing more than to scrub yourself clean, to feel human again.

“…Can I take a shower?” Your voice was hoarse, quiet, barely masking the disgust curling in your stomach as Heeseung gazed at you with those infatuated eyes.

His entire face lit up at your request, as if you’d just told him you loved him. “Of course, darling!” He practically beamed, rushing to guide you to the bathroom. “I bought you some clothes that I think would look beautiful on you.”

You swallowed the bile in your throat as he handed you a neatly folded outfit. The way he looked at you made your skin crawl—so lovesick, so hopeful.

You forced a nod, biting down your revulsion. “Thanks…”

The second you shut the bathroom door, you exhaled shakily.

The mirror reflected a hollowed-out version of yourself—pale, tired, a ghost of the person you once were. You ignored your reflection, stripped down, and stepped into the steaming shower.

Water cascaded down your skin, washing away weeks of filth, but not the sickening feeling of Heeseung’s eyes on you. You scrubbed harder, rubbing your skin raw, as if you could erase his touch from your soul.

And then you saw it.

The window.

Open.

Your heart pounded violently against your ribs as you turned off the water, wrapping the towel around you. You had no plan, no idea where you were, but it didn’t matter. This was your chance.

You climbed onto the sink, reaching up to hoist yourself through the window. Just a little more—just a little higher—

The bathroom door swung open.

“Love, are you—”

Silence.

Dread flooded your veins as you turned, meeting Heeseung’s darkening eyes. His entire body stiffened, his expression unreadable.

You moved faster, scrambling to push yourself through, but before you could, a pair of hands grabbed your ankles and yanked you down.

You crashed onto the cold, hard floor with a sickening thud.

“N-No…” you whimpered, crawling backward as Heeseung loomed over you.

His expression twisted into something monstrous. His jaw clenched, his hands trembled—but not in sadness. In fury.

“What. The. Fuck. Were. You. Thinking?” His voice was eerily calm, his head tilted slightly.

Your lips trembled. “H-Heeseung please—”

The first blow struck your face before you could finish. Then another. Then another.

Pain exploded across your body—punches, kicks, hair yanked so hard your scalp burned. You screamed, sobbed, pleaded, but it didn’t stop. The world blurred, your mind slipping in and out of consciousness.

Then, finally, it stopped.

Your body felt weightless, your ears ringing. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Heeseung’s heaving chest, his wide, trembling eyes staring down at your battered form. His hands shook—blood on his knuckles. Your blood.

“…Shit” he whispered.

Then, gently—so, so gently—he cradled your broken body in his arms.

“I’m sorry” he murmured, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your bruised cheek. “I didn’t mean to hurt you so much… I just… I just got scared baby. You can’t do that. You can’t leave me.”

His voice wavered, desperate, trembling with something between guilt and obsession. His fingers brushed your blood-matted hair away from your face as if he hadn’t just beaten you unconscious.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry, to claw at him, to do anything—but your body wouldn’t move. Everything ached.

Heeseung lifted you carefully, carrying you like something fragile. His breath was shaky, his heartbeat erratic against your skin.

“I’ll fix this” he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You faded in and out of consciousness, barely registering the feeling of soft sheets beneath you. The scent of Heeseung’s cologne clung to them, suffocating you.

You weren’t in the basement anymore.

You were in his bed.

—

When you woke again, everything hurt. Your arms, your ribs, your face—every part of you screamed in pain. Bandages covered your skin, the faint smell of antiseptic in the air.

And then you felt it.

The weight of an arm draped over your waist. A body pressed against yours. Warm breath against your neck.

You stiffened.

Slowly, you turned your head, your pulse hammering violently in your chest.

Heeseung.

Asleep, curled around you like a child clinging to his favorite stuffed animal. His grip was loose but firm enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere.

Your stomach twisted. You wanted to shove him away, to rip yourself from his grasp. But you were weak, exhausted, and the fresh bruises decorating your skin told you what would happen if you tried again.

Tears welled in your eyes. What were you going to do?

Then—movement.

A soft hum vibrated against your shoulder. Heeseung stirred, his grip tightening, his nose nuzzling into your neck as he let out a content sigh.

“You’re awake” he murmured sleepily. His voice was thick with drowsiness, but when he opened his eyes, they glowed with something far more alert—something possessive.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to stay still. “Y-Yeah…”

A smile stretched across his lips, and for a second, he looked normal. Just a boy waking up next to the love of his life.

But this wasn’t love.

Love wasn’t this.

“I was so worried” he whispered, his fingers brushing against the bruises he had left. His smile faltered, something dark flickering in his gaze. “I got angry… I didn’t mean to hurt you so much, love. But you scared me.”

You stayed silent, your fingers trembling against the sheets.

Heeseung’s expression softened. “You understand, don’t you? I had to do it. You made me do it.”

A lump formed in your throat.

He shifted, hovering over you, his face inches from yours. “You won’t do that again right?”

It wasn’t a question. It was a threat.

You forced yourself to nod. “I… I won’t.”

His face lit up, a wide, lovesick grin spreading across his lips. “That’s my good girl.” He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Your stomach churned.

He pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you like chains. “I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll make everything perfect for us. You’ll see.”

His voice was dreamy, filled with devotion.

You stared at the ceiling, your heart pounding with one single thought.

You had to get out.

Before it was too late.

@semisasseater

[itsnesss]

Could you do an Axel fan fick were the reader is Sam up until the kiss but she kisses him back and they go toger to his room .if you want or you could do some soft fluff after the kiss

𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐬 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | the request

warnings | smut, slow burn, explicit content, p in v, protected sex, oral sex

word count | 1.6 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me, thanks ᡣ𐭩

You had gone for a walk on the beach, looking for a moment to breathe after everything that had happened during the day. The sea breeze was cool, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore had an almost hypnotic effect. As you walked, you stopped, noticing a familiar figure in the distance. It was Axel, moving with precision and focus as he practiced a kata.

You exchanged a few words about the tournament before he asked to join you on your walk back to the hotel.

"Has anything stood out to you so far?" he asked after a while, breaking the comfortable silence between the two of you.

You smiled, this time with more enthusiasm.

"La Sagrada Familia left me speechless. And the tapas… I think I’ve eaten more these days than in my entire life," you said.

Axel chuckled softly, his laughter so natural that it made you feel lighter.

"Yeah, the food here is dangerous. It makes you forget you need to stay in shape for the tournament."

"Definitely. Though I think walking through all those narrow streets and climbing stairs has balanced it out a bit."

The conversation flowed effortlessly between the two of you, but as you crossed a narrow alley, a pair of familiar figures blocked your way. Kwon and Yoon stood there, their expressions full of mockery and challenge.

"How interesting—spending time with someone from the rival team," Kwon said, crossing his arms and stepping forward.

You sighed deeply, feeling the weight of the day pressing harder on your shoulders.

"Move aside, Kwon."

"How do you say it?" he teased.

"Move."

"I’ll ask one more time—how do you say it?"

"Move," you repeated firmly.

What followed happened quickly: the tension rose, Yoon attempted to attack Axel, and you had to step in to stop the fight. The sound of distant sirens ended the confrontation, and Kwon and Yoon disappeared with promises that this wasn’t over.

Axel grabbed your arm, concerned, and the two of you left the scene before the police arrived.

When you finally reached the beach again, you both collapsed onto the sand, trying to catch your breath.

"Thanks for defending me," you said after a moment. There was sincerity in your voice, but also a hint of guilt.

Axel, lying back with his hands behind his head, turned to look at you. His eyes reflected a mix of worry and something deeper you couldn’t quite define.

"No one should talk to you like that. I don’t care who they are."

That intensity in his gaze left you speechless. When you gently touched his arm to thank him again, Axel didn’t hesitate. He leaned toward you, and his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft at first, almost hesitant, but soon filled with emotion and longing.

When you pulled away, both of you were breathing heavily, as if the moment had stolen all the air around you.

"Well… that was unexpected," you said, trying to hide the blush spreading across your cheeks.

Axel smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I guess it was. But I don’t regret it."

You lowered your gaze, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

"Me neither," you admitted.

Axel looked at you for a moment longer, and before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, this time with more urgency, as if he wanted to make sure you understood how he felt.

"We should get back to the hotel," he murmured against your lips, but he didn’t make any effort to move, and neither did you.

When you crossed the hotel lobby, you barely exchanged a glance with the receptionist. Everything seemed like a blur until you finally stood in front of his room. Axel quickly unlocked the door, not letting go of your hand, and once inside, he shut the door behind him.

"I can’t help myself," he muttered, his voice low as his hands cupped your face, and his lips found yours with urgency.

The kiss was intense, a mix of everything you had both been holding back. It left you breathless, but you didn’t want it to stop. His hands moved down your arms, finding your waist and pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, and your heart was racing so fast you wondered if he could hear it too.

"Axel…" you managed to say between kisses, your voice barely a whisper.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he said, pausing just enough to look into your eyes. His gaze was intense but filled with tenderness.

You shook your head, taking his face in your hands.

"I don’t want you to stop," you said softly.

It was honest, and Axel seemed to feel it. He kissed you again, this time with even more passion.

His hands moved to the lower part of your back, pressing you against his body. You felt his erection pressing against your pelvis, and a delicious fear coursed through your entire body.

"Axel" you said again, trying to control yourself, but it was difficult, especially when his fingers found the hem of your blouse and began to rise.

He moved just enough for you to take off your top, and then he took off his shirt himself. The sight of his strong muscles took your breath away. With his dark eyes shining with desire, he was even more attractive.

"Damn," you whispered when his hands found your breasts.

Axel kissed your neck, the curve of your shoulder, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You let out a soft moan, surprised, but your body seemed to know what to do. Your fingers buried themselves in his dark hair as Axel licked your nipple, giving you a pleasure you didn't know existed.

"Ah" you let out a scream when he moved to the other breast. You could feel your legs weak, and you knew you wouldn't be able to hold on much longer.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked, releasing the nipple to look at you with concern. He was adorable, that mix of tenderness and lust.

You nodded your head. "Yes. Much better than I've been in a long time".

Axel smiled against your skin before moving down to your ribs, kissing every curve and every indentation. He reached your waistband and, after a few seconds of hesitation, he took them off.

Your body tensed with surprise, but Axel seemed to understand that it was just that: surprise. He stopped, caressing you gently.

"If you don't want to continue, I can stop" he whispered against your thighs.

But you didn't want it to stop. You wanted to know what it felt like to be with him like that, with his skin against yours, his fingers exploring you, and his lips kissing every part of you.

"Don't stop" you asked, and your words seemed to be enough.

Axel moved upwards, kissing your belly button, your sides, climbing back up to your breasts. His fingers moved to your underwear, and he removed it gently, kissing the parts he uncovered along the way.

"Axel" you whispered, when his lips found your sex.

"What's going on?" he asked without stepping back, his eyes shining with lust and curiosity.

"Nothing. It's just that I feel so..."

"Sexy?"

You laughed a little.

"I think that word doesn't come close enough".

Axel moved down, kissing your thighs, and then his tongue found your sex. Your body arched in surprise, the pleasure more intense than you had ever felt.

"Oh..."

The pressure inside you grew rapidly, your breathing became irregular, and before you knew it, you were screaming with pleasure.

Axel didn't stop, his mouth continued to lick you gently as you relaxed. Then, he moved up and gently kissed your lips.

"How do you feel?" he asked. His breath smelled like you.

"Incredible" you smiled.

Axel nodded, before kissing you again. His erection pressed against your leg, and you knew he still hadn't found pleasure. "What can I do for you?" you asked, not knowing what to expect.

"Just let me kiss you" he said, his voice still deep. And that's what he did, kissing your neck, your shoulders, your breasts. He caressed you gently until you felt relaxed again.

"Say it," he murmured after a while.

"What to say?"

Axel kissed your lips softly before responding.

"Let me do it".

You understood and felt your face burning. "It's fine" you said.

"Are you sure?"

You nodded your head.

"I am".

Axel moved to take off his clothes and settled between your legs. "Tell me if anything makes you uncomfortable".

You needed a moment to talk.

"It's fine".

Axel said it, kissing your neck softly as he moved against you. His erection brushed against your sex, but it didn't enter yet. I was waiting, and when he started to move, it was slow, as if he wasn't sure what would happen.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Mmmh" he replied.

"Do you want more?"

The question seemed to confuse him, but then, understanding shone in his eyes.

"Yes".

You caressed his shoulders gently, and Axel moved faster, his hips pushing against yours. His breathing became rapid, and you felt his erection harden even more inside him.

"Axel!" you shouted, feeling the pleasure grow inside you.

And then, it was him who screamed, his body shaking as he reached orgasm. He collapsed onto you, kissing your cheek.

"Oh, gods..." he said, his breathing irregular.

"Mmm" you smiled. Your whole body was a delicious pain, and you knew it would hurt the next day, but it was worth it.

After a while, Axel got up and returned with a towel and some water. He helped you clean up, and then lay down beside you.

"Do you know what I loved most about this?" he asked while hugging you.

"What?"

"That you said my name".

You laughed a little.

"Why?"

"Because ever since I saw you, I've wanted to hear you say it while I was fucking you".

[insidekatmind]

More than best friends~Miguel Diaz

You’ve always considered yourself the closest person to Miguel Diaz. Ever since you met, there’s been a special connection between you, something indefinable but undeniable. You’re his best friend, but anyone who watches you for even a few seconds knows that your bond goes far beyond simple friendship.

Your day never really begins until you hear his voice. Whether it’s a voicemail full of jokes to cheer you up or an impromptu phone call to tell you about Johnny’s latest disaster, Miguel is as much a part of your routine as the air you breathe. You often find yourself smiling for no reason when you think of him, replaying the things he’s said to you in your mind, seeking his gaze when you’re in the same room.

You spend practically every free moment together. From grueling training sessions in the dojo to afternoons spent watching movies while lying on the couch, everything seems easier, lighter with him. And yet, there’s a silent tension that hovers between you. A game of glances that lasts a few seconds longer than necessary, a touch that lasts just a moment too long. Sometimes, your bodies accidentally touch, and your heart seems to forget how his jokes work.

One night, you’re on the roof of his house, a secret place that only the two of you share. The air is fresh, the city sparkles below you, and the silence between you has never been so deafening. Miguel looks at you, his dark eyes scrutinizing your every reaction. “You know you’ve always been there for me, right?” he asks, his voice lower than usual. You nod, but the lump in your throat prevents you from answering.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and then, with a faint smile, leans closer. “Sometimes I think that… you and I… are more than we say we are.” Your heart stops for a moment. Then it starts beating again, harder, faster. You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. Miguel doesn’t wait. He raises a hand, brushing his fingertips against your cheek. It’s a gentle, almost fearful touch, but it’s loaded with something you’ve both been avoiding naming until now.

You breathe deeply, meeting his gaze. “Maybe we always have been,” you murmur. Miguel smiles, and in that smile there’s a promise. Something you both know you can no longer ignore.

Miguel comes closer and kisses you. Your mind goes blank the moment his lips touch yours. It’s a simple kiss, soft and tentative, but it sets fire to something inside you. You can’t help tilting your head, seeking more. Miguel’s hand moves from your cheek to the back of your neck, applying the slightest pressure. You inhale his scent, a subtle mix of sweat and soap and something uniquely his. It’s like time has stopped, your surroundings blurred in a fog. Your body molds against his.

Miguel breaks the kiss, looking into your eyes. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he confesses.

The admission hangs in the air, heavy with implications. You swallow, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. “Why didn’t you?” you manage to ask.

Miguel huffs a laugh, the sound low and filled with a mixture of nervousness and desire. “I guess I was scared.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice steady. “Of what?”

He lets out a sigh, the hand on your neck moving to your chin, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. “Of this,” he confesses. “Of how it would change everything.”Your breath catches in your throat. You know he’s right. Once this line is crossed, there’s no going back. The friendship you’ve built, the trust you’ve earned, it all might change. But you can’t deny the desire burning inside you, the one that’s always been there but never voiced.

“And now?” you breathe.His gaze darkened, his fingers tracing a path from your chin to your collarbone. “Now…” he begins, lowering his head until his lips brush the sensitive skin of your neck. “Now I can’t get enough.”

A shiver runs through you, your body responding to his touch on pure instinct. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping tight as he leaves a trail of kisses on your skin. It’s like every nerve ending is on fire, your thoughts a jumble of sensations and long-buried want. His voice, when he speaks again, is rough with restraint. “Is this okay?”You manage to nod, words stuck in your throat. His touch is intoxicating, every brush of his lips fanning the flames of need within you. Yet there’s an undercurrent of vulnerability in his question, a silent plea for confirmation that this isn’t just a product of your imagination.

You move closer to him and kiss him again. Your kiss is your answer, more insistent this time. Miguel responds immediately, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you closer. There’s a new intensity in his touch, a hunger that matches your own. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging gently as your bodies press against each other.

Miguel groans, his mouth leaving yours to trail down your jaw, to your neck, to the spot where your pulse beats a frantic rhythm. His words, whispered against your skin, are barely audible. “You have no idea how long I’ve thought about this.”

“Me too Migue” you whispered softly. Miguel lifts his head, his dark eyes finding yours. There’s a raw honesty in his gaze, a mix of desire and something deeper. His hand comes up, cupping your face. “I’ve been an idiot,” he murmurs, his usual easy smile replaced with a different kind of vulnerability. “All these years…”

You shake your head, your heart clenching at the hint of regret in his voice. “It doesn’t matter now,” you say softly, your fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw. “We’re here now.”

He nods, understanding the truth in your words. Then, his expression shifts, a gleam of determination taking over. “No more waiting,” he says, his voice firm. His hands move to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt as if to keep himself grounded. “I want… need… all of you.” And with those words, he kisses you again. It’s a kiss filled with both passion and a kind of desperation, as if he’s trying to make up for lost time. You respond in kind, your body molding against his, your fingers gripping his shirt with equal fervor.The kiss lasts, deep and urgent, until you’re both left gasping for air. Miguel holds you close, his forehead resting against yours. You can feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the same quickened beat of his heart that matches yours. “Come here,” he murmurs, pulling you towards a corner of the roof where the city lights are just dots in the distance.

He sits down, pulling you onto his lap, your back against his chest. His arms wrap around you, securing you in place, and you lean into him, finding comfort and satisfaction in the familiar yet newly thrilling touch. His breath is warm against your ear, the words he whispers sending another shiver down your spine. “This… Us… I should have done this ages ago.” There’s a note of penitence in his voice, his hand sliding under your shirt to draw lazy circles on your abdomen.“Better late than never,” you whispered softly, leaning into him.

Miguel chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest and into your own. “Wise words, cariño.” His fingers continue their gentle tracing on your skin, moving higher up your torso, sending tingles through your whole body. He nuzzles your neck, his lips trailing kisses just below your ear. “I’m done trying to deny myself this. Us.”You close your eyes, surrendering to the sensations he’s stirring within you. His touch is both soothing and electrifying, his body a warm, solid presence grounding you in the moment. Your pulse races, a combination of desire and anticipation coursing through you. You turn your head to look at him, finding his gaze hooded but burning with a familiar intensity. You reach up, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb tracing his lips. “Neither am I.”

His eyes darken as he leans into your touch, his hand on your stomach stilling for a moment. “Good,” he rasps, his voice dropping a notch. His fingers skim over the sensitive skin beneath your ribcage, drawing a shaky breath from you. “Because I plan on showing you just how badly I want you.”His words spark a fire in you that threatens to consume all thought. A slow, torturous heat spreads through your body, pooling in your core. You turn around, straddling him, and press your body against his. His hands move to your hips, gripping tight as his eyes roam over your face, taking in the silent plea in your gaze. “I want you too,” you whisper, barely recognizing your own voice.

Miguel’s response is more action than words. He pulls you even closer, his hands roaming over your back, his lips finding your neck. His touch is no longer tentative, no longer cautious. This is a man on a mission, and you’re all too willing to be the object of his desire. You tilt your head back as he kisses a trail down your throat, his teeth grazing over your pulse point. The sensations are overwhelming, a heady mix of pleasure and need.

His hands pull you flush against him, a low growl escaping him. “You’re driving me crazy,” he mutters, his head tilting back as he breathes in sharply. One of his hands moves up your back, his fingertips dragging lightly over your spine. “I want every inch of you,” he continues, his words making your skin tingle. “Every touch, every sigh, every damn sound you make.”

You gently stroke his hair and kiss his jaw. “Let’s go to your room.” You whispered in his ear.

His grip tightens, his body reacting instantly to your proposition. “You’re full of good ideas today, cariño,” he murmurs in response, his voice slightly breathless. Without another word, he stands up, lifting you with him as if you weigh nothing.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #05

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭: @kithtaehyung

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.9k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

"Kook, you're drunk." you choke out, shivering when you feel him peppering kisses to your neck.

You have no idea how the hell this happened. One minute, he's calling a cab since everyone has called it a night, and then the next, his hands are all over you while shameless gasps and moans escape past your lips. It feels so fucking good. What started with innocent touches in a cab led to the two of you kissing in the elevator, until you got inside of Jungkook's apartment and now he's ready to devour you.

"I'm not drunk," he pulls away, frowning a little bit at your statement. "I'm slightly buzzed." he corrects, grinning at his amazing joke that makes you roll your eyes.

Okay, maybe he's not completely wasted and was totally fine with walking to his place, but still. His eyes are slightly hooded, a taste of alcohol lingering on his tongue and lips, and his words come out more lazily and slurred. You're definitely more sober than he is, but you can still feel the basic symptoms of having alcohol flowing in your system.

It's safe to say that it left you and Jungkook hot and craving for some touch from one another.

He dives in, lips catching yours once again as he starts kissing you with so much eagerness that makes you moan into his mouth. Your cheeks are flushed, half from alcohol and half from the fact you just freaking moaned into his mouth – again. Luckily, he doesn't point it out, too busy trying to devour your lips.

It feels so fucking good, enough to leave your panties to stick to your core and you kind of hate yourself for that. This is your best friend. You haven't been this aroused because of anyone. The fact that it's Jungkook himself, should make you feel uncomfortable but all you can focus on are your fingers tugging his longer hair. He groans, pulling you onto his lap and it makes you squeal, before he's catching your lips once again. His hands rummage over your back, slowly gripping your hips before he lightly touches your lower back. He's testing the waters again, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable and cross any boundaries. You still have a lot to talk about, setting a basic rules on how this whole thing is going to work.

But you could care less about rules right now, especially when Jungkook's lips are irresistible. The whole thing is out anyway, Kiko knows, and Jimin and Taehyung as well. Their reaction is still clear in your mind.

"Actually, we're dating."

For a solid minute, they just stare at the both of you, eyeing you both with even more shock written on their faces. Jimin's eyes fall onto Jungkook's arm around your shoulders while Taehyung keeps glancing between you two.

"You--what--the two of you--you guys are--you are dating?" Taehyung stutters, trying to break the awkward silence. 

Poor Taehyung looks like he's about to lose his mind, trying to put the pieces together as he slowly reaches for his drink, sipping on it. 

Well, you both were always super clear about your friendship and how it is important for you, too important to ruin it by trying to date. Plus, you were clear about not seeing each other as a partner and sharing the same love life. It makes this lie way more harder and you begin to panic.

"How did this happen? I mean... you guys were pretty persistent where both of you stand." Jimin frowns, still not believing you as he carefully eyes you and if it weren't for Jungkook next to you, you'd shrink in your seat. 

"We've decided to try it out. Y/N has always been there for me and I think she's what's best for me," 

You're not being subtle when you whip your head in his direction, staring at him with confused gaze, hiding your real shock behind it. You search his eyes, but he's making it hard for you to see through them when he just stares back at you, smiling down at you. You're not sure whether the smile is fake or real, but you go along with it and smile back.

Damn, he's a really good actor.

"Anyway, this is still new for us. Can you guys not make it weird for us?" he asks, looking at your  friends as they quickly nod, apologizing for their blunt reaction.

"Oh, fuck." you curse, head leaning backwards when Jungkook sucks at your neck. Jimin and Taehyung out of your thoughts as soon as you feel his lips on the new spot.

He licks the skin of your neck before he goes back to sucking, skilfully twirling his tongue making you gasp into the air. You've never felt something like this. Your ex boyfriend was never this touchy and straightforward, and Jungkook is showing you what you were missing out on. He's so damn good with his mouth, it makes you think what else does he know and why the fuck Kiko left such a man.

His hardness is poking you, it's hard to tell if he's fully hard but you can still feel it, even though it's hidden underneath his black jeans. The ache between your legs is strong, needy for any touch that makes you see stars and your body reacts naturally, shifting on his lap that makes him gasp in surprise. He feels you grinding on him, hands grabbing your ass for the first time and he even checks your reaction, only to find your eyes closed and teeth biting your lower lip.

Your lipstick is smeared, almost none of it left and your make up isn't fresh, but you don't care about your appearance. All you can focus on is Jungkook – and only him.

When he squeezes your ass, encouraging you to keep grinding onto his clothed length, your hand outstretched on his chest as you pull away just a little bit. "Stop." you tell him breathlessly, trying to calm down your beating heart.

You can feel his own heart beat against your palm, the rhythm identical to yours, while he stares at you with those doe eyes that are glistening from the alcohol.

"You wanna stop?"

The disappointment behind his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you don't dwell on it too much, wanting to get things out of your chest. Your friendship is still the most important thing here.

"We're both drunk, Kook. I don't want us to regret it when we wake up tomorrow." you tell him honestly, because the thought and different scenarios of tomorrow morning makes your stomach uncomfortable scrunch.

"We don't have to have sex," he tells you, leaning his head back as he slows down his breathing. "But if you wanna stop, I'm fine with whatever you want."

This causes you to smile, appreciating the honesty in his voice and even the look on his drunken face. But you don't want to stop. Maybe it's not the right thing to have sex with him, tonight or even, but you just want to keep kissing him and see where it brings you. You don't want to plan anything and the way your whole make out happened in the elevator, continuing in his small living room is exactly what you want. Rather than you wanting things to happen spontaneously, you want them to happen naturally.

And it's that one look at his neck, a faint vein poking out of his honey skin and disappearing underneath his black dress shirt that reveals some of his collarbones, drives you crazy. You've got only one month to experience anything you and Jungkook want. And now you want him.

Shaking your head, you cup his face as you shift on his lap to make yourself comfortable, smirking when he groans and glares at you. "I want to continue." you assure him, giving him a green light and before you can properly look at him from this close proximity, he's already chasing your lips again.

The kissing is heated, his hands all over your ass again but this time he makes sure he squeezes your ass cheeks and gives them a proper attention, while you grip the back of his head and starts to grind on his clothed jeans.

"I--fuck, I don't think I can cum like this," he tells you, the mention of anyone cumming tonight makes you all giddy inside. "Let me take my jeans off." he says, but still searches your face for permission.

He must be uncomfortable in those tight jeans and quick 'sure, take it off' leaves your mouth right away, shifting off his lap before he quickly takes them off. You're not surprised by his usual Calvin Klein boxers, this time in white color, but your mouth hangs open as you see the visible outline of his length.

It looks massive and you're not even sure if he's fully hard. He pats his lap, inviting you in again and you don't waste a second, already scurrying to sit down on his muscular thighs.

You go back straight to kissing, your dress hiking up and he carefully slides his hands underneath it, feeling your lacy panties with his fingertips. And you grind on him, moaning at the way he visibly starts to visibly hardening after a few strokes, your underwear rubbing against each other. Your clit is aching, greedy for his cock and you're close to pull off his boxers, just to see and feel what's hiding underneath it.

Jungkook's firm hands are helping you to set up a fast pace, pushing your ass against his hardened length that feels massive and you almost salivate just from the feeling of it. Your face is buried in his face, inhaling his musky scent while you keep gasping into his skin. It feels so fucking good, it's something you've never tried before. You're needy, almost pathetically humping him like a bitch in heat but your body reacts on its own. Your mind feels clear, not filled with overthinking or any thoughts.

"That's it, baby. Grind on me, make yourself cum." he suddenly speaks, voice breathless but raspy at the same time. Baby.

It makes you whimper, not ready for any dirty talk but it's just another step to get you closer.

You knew he's great with his mouth.

"Jungkook," you whimper, feeling yourself getting close and clenching around nothing. You wish you could feel him inside of you and it makes you so flustered, but you know you can't stop. This is what you wanted.

"You're doing great, that's it. Fuck, baby. Keep rubbing your pussy over my cock."

Fuck, is this the same man that drinks banana milk?

It all seems to fast. But the feeling of Jungkook's cock brushing against your clit and filthy words leaving his mouth, you're gasping and clutching onto him tightly, before you let go. You're cumming, his name leaving your mouth as a chant, while your whole body grows even more hot.

Before you know it, Jungkook groans and his whole body tenses, his head throwing back as he suddenly relaxes.

"Fuck," he rasps out, caressing your ass as your whole body is thrown over him. "I've never thought I could cum in my pants."

You pull away, shakily glancing at him before you look down. There's a stain wetting the white material, his cum drenching his boxers. You wait for him to grow embarrassed or shy, but he grins cockily and amusingly at the same time, staring at his softening clothed cock.

Your panties feel sticky, but you don't move away. It felt incredible, yet you still crave for more. You know you could experience much more intense orgasm with Jungkook.

And rather than thinking that you've just made each other orgasm into your underwear, you just think about one thing only.

You can't wait for more.

[biblical-chronicles]

Desperation

_________________________________________

where the reader and Liam celebrate him going solo (and she really wants to be taken for a ride but he's in a rather teasing mood).

[18+] (!!)

_________________________________________

The flat was a proper state by now as the two of you celebrated As You Were finally being out in the world. You were both a bit too drunk, sprawled out on the couch, laughing at each other over nonsense only the two of you would find funny.

Liam was lounging, his legs stretched out on the coffee table, head tilted lazily against the couch. His hair was a mess, and his t-shirt was rumpled, but he looked so damn good. You’d been sneaking glances at him all night, your chest swelling with pride over everything he’d accomplished.

You sighed, a bit louder than you intended. He turned his head to look at you, a knowing smirk already on his lips.

“What’s that for, then?” he asked.

You hesitated, the alcohol in your system making your tongue a bit too loose. “Just… proud of you, that’s all.”

His smirk softened into a grin, and he tipped his beer bottle toward you. “Cheers, love. Couldn’t have done it without ya, you know.”

You hummed, not trusting yourself to say more. But the longer you sat there, watching him take another swig of his drink, the harder it became to ignore the thoughts swirling in your head. He wasn’t just talented, determined, and sharp-witted—he was beautiful. Absolutely bloody beautiful.

And the alcohol wasn’t helping your restraint.

Before you could overthink it, you set your drink down and shuffled over to him on the couch, clumsily straddling his lap. His eyebrows shot up as he let out a startled laugh.

“Oi! What’s this about, then?”

You grabbed his face, leaning in close enough that your noses almost touched. “You’re too fit for your own good, Gallagher.”

He grinned, his hands instinctively going to your hips to steady you. “Yeah? Took you this long to notice?”

You rolled your eyes, your fingers brushing through his hair. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

You leaned in to kiss him, but he turned his head at the last second, your lips landing on his cheek instead. You pulled back, glaring at him as he laughed, his shoulders shaking beneath you.

“Liam,” you whined, grabbing the front of his t-shirt. “Stop being an idiot.”

“Can’t help it, love,” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re makin’ it too fun.”

You huffed, trying to kiss him again, but he dodged you, leaning back against the couch with a cocky grin. “Not so fast. You’ve got to work for it.”

“Work for it?” you sputtered, your cheeks flushing. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And yet,” he said, smirking, “here you are, throwin’ yourself at me.”

Your frustration boiled over, and in your drunken determination, you shoved his shoulders back, making him topple slightly against the armrest of the couch. He let out an exaggerated oof, laughing as you finally managed to capture his lips in a kiss.

It was messy and uncoordinated, your teeth grazing his bottom lip at one point. You could feel his smirk against your mouth as he finally started kissing you back, his hands tightening on your hips.

“‘Bout time,” he muttered against your lips, his voice still teasing.

“Oh, give over,” you mumbled, trying to keep up with his relentless teasing, but the way his hands slid up your back had your words trailing off into a sigh.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling back just enough to catch his breath. “All worked up. Proper desperate for me, aren’t ya?”

You glared at him, your cheeks burning as you tried to retort, but he leaned in, nipping playfully at your jawline, effectively cutting you off.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “You can’t resist me.”

“You’re such a tosser,” you managed, but your voice lacked conviction as his lips trailed down to your neck.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, chuckling. “But you love it.”

You couldn’t argue with that, not when his hands were sliding under the hem of your shirt.

Your fingers fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt, the alcohol making your coordination less than stellar. You tugged at the fabric clumsily, desperate to feel more of him, your frustration bubbling up when he only chuckled at your attempts.

“Christ, love,” he teased, tilting his head to look at you, his grin infuriatingly smug. “In a bit of a rush, are we?”

“Liam,” you whined, your voice thick with want and exasperation. “You’re impossible.”

“Am I?” he said, arching a brow, his hands still lazily brushing along your sides as if he had all the time in the world.

You groaned, giving up on his shirt for the moment and instead pressing yourself closer to him. His thigh was firm beneath you, and the sudden friction sent a shiver through your body. You bit your lip, your cheeks heating up as you instinctively started to move, rolling your hips clumsily against him in an attempt to find some relief.

Liam’s hands froze for a moment, and you caught the slight hitch in his breath before he smirked again, his grip on your hips tightening.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly tone. “You’re not messin’ about, are ya?”

“No, I’m not,” you shot back, the alcohol giving you just enough courage to glare at him. “And if you don’t stop taking the piss, I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” he interrupted, his grin widening as he tilted his head, his eyes practically glowing with amusement.

You didn’t answer, too focused on the sensation of his thigh beneath you, the way his hands guided your movements even as he teased you mercilessly. You felt clumsy and desperate, but you didn’t care. The heat pooling in your stomach was impossible to ignore, and Liam’s refusal to just give in was driving you mad.

“Liam,” you groaned, your voice coming out more like a plea than you intended.

“Yeah?” he replied.

“Please,” you murmured, your forehead dropping to his shoulder as you continued your movements, your breath hitching with every pass.

He hummed, the low sound vibrating through you, and you felt his lips brush against your temple. “What’s the matter, love? Thought you were in charge here.”

You pulled back, glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

“Why do you have to be such a pain?” you shot back, your voice a little shaky, though whether it was from the alcohol or the way his hands gripped your waist, you couldn’t tell.

“Me? A pain?” He tilted his head, mock innocence dripping from his tone. “You’re the one grindin’ on me like it’s your last night on Earth.”

You swatted his arm, your cheeks flushing hotter than they already were. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” He clicked his tongue, shifting slightly beneath you just to watch your breath hitch. “Not what you were sayin’ a minute ago, was it?”

You groaned, throwing your head back dramatically. “Why do I even put up with you?”

Liam leaned closer, his lips brushing just below your ear. “’Cause you can’t resist me, and you know it.”

“Ugh,” you huffed, your frustration spilling over as you tugged at his shirt again. This time, it was less clumsy, more determined, but he still didn’t budge, his hands catching yours mid-motion.

“Easy, tiger,” he teased, holding your wrists gently but firmly. “What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.”

“Liam Gallagher, if you don’t—”

But he cut you off with a laugh, leaning back into the couch as if this was all a game to him. “Go on, then. What’re you gonna do?”

Your reply caught in your throat, your brain too foggy to come up with a decent retort. Instead, you let out a frustrated growl, your movements against him becoming a little more frantic, desperate for any semblance of control.

Liam’s grip on your waist tightened, his teasing smirk faltering just slightly as his breathing grew heavier. “Careful, love,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “You’re gonna wear yourself out.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d stop being such a—”

“Such a what?” he interrupted, his lips brushing against yours, so close but not nearly enough. “Go on, say it.”

“Such a bastard,” you finished, your voice shaky as you met his gaze.

He chuckled again, his forehead resting against yours. “Maybe,” he admitted, his hands sliding down to your hips to guide your movements just enough to make you gasp.

Liam's hands on your hips were steady now as you rocked against his thigh. You could feel it building, that tight coil in your stomach, your body responding to the rhythm you’d created. The alcohol coursing through you only made it more intense.

You let out a shaky breath, your forehead dropping to his as you whispered his name, your voice trembling with need. “Liam...”

He was watching you closely now, his eyes dark and focused, the smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth. He shifted his thigh just slightly, enough to make your head fall back with a small, helpless moan.

“Christ, look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with amusement. “You’re so close, aren’t ya?”

You nodded, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt for support as you kept moving, your breaths growing shorter.

But just as the edge started to blur, just as you felt yourself tipping over, Liam’s hands tightened on your waist and he pulled you down from his thigh.

“Liam!” you gasped, blinking up at him in disbelief, your cheeks burning as small tears prickled in the corners of your eyes.

He laughed softly, clearly pleased with himself. “Bloody hell, look at you,” he said, brushing a thumb under your eye to catch a stray tear that had escaped. “Worked up over nearly nothin’, eh?”

You glared at him, your frustration boiling over. “It wasn’t nothin’, and you know it,” you snapped, though your voice wavered.

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I know, love. Believe me, I know. But you’re actin’ like I’ve denied you oxygen or summat.”

“Because you have!” you shot back, your hands pushing at his chest weakly before falling back to your sides.

“Have I now?” he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “Didn’t realize I had that much power over ya.”

“You’re infuriating,” you hissed, your frustration palpable as you squirmed in his hold.

“And you’re bloody gorgeous when you’re like this,” he countered, leaning in close enough that his breath fanned across your lips. “Proper addictive, you are.”

You let out a shaky breath, your tears now more from pent-up tension than frustration, as you whispered, “Then stop messing with me, Liam.”

His grin softened just slightly “Oh, love,” he said, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I’ll stop when you’re beggin’ me for it.”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

Liam’s teasing smirk lingered, but his resolve seemed to falter when you went on to straddle him again, your head falling against his shoulder.

“Oh, alright, love,” he murmured, his tone still playful. “Can’t have you cryin’ over me, can I?”

Before you could process his words, his hands moved, firm and deliberate, pulling you flush against him. His lips crashed into yours with urgency, the kiss messy and uncoordinated thanks to the alcohol.

You let out a muffled moan against his mouth, your hands tangling in his hair as you melted into him, the earlier frustration dissolving into pure want. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, and you gasped, the sound swallowed by his kiss as his hands slid under your shirt, rough fingertips brushing the bare skin of your back.

“Thought you were gonna make me beg,” you managed to mumble breathlessly between kisses, your voice trembling with equal parts need and triumph.

He chuckled against your lips. “You already did, darlin’,” he teased, his hands gripping your waist as he shifted you closer. “Didn’t even know it.”

You groaned, your nails digging lightly into his scalp in retaliation, earning a sharp inhale from him. “You’re insufferable,” you whispered, though the way your lips chased his told an entirely different story.

“And you’re drunk,” he shot back, his grin breaking the kiss for a moment, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “Clumsy as hell, too.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to reclaim his mouth, but he tilted his head just out of reach, his smirk maddening.

“Alright, alright,” he teased, his voice thick with amusement. “No need to get violent, love.”

You groaned, half out of exasperation, half out of desperation, your hands gripping the collar of his shirt as you yanked him closer. “Liam,” you hissed, your tone a warning now.

His smirk faltered as he let you close the gap this time, his lips crashing into yours with a force that sent your head spinning. You moaned into his mouth, your fingers fumbling at his shirt, tugging it up but not managing to get it off entirely.

“Christ, yer keen,” he muttered, his voice muffled against your lips as his hands slid under your top, rough palms skimming up your sides.

“Don’t you dare start again,” you shot back, your words muffled. You shifted in his lap, your thighs clenching around him, which was enough to draw a sharp inhale from him.

“Bloody hell,” he rasped, his grip tightening on your hips as his lips left yours to trail down your jaw, to your neck, biting and kissing with a hunger that matched your own.

Your top was shoved up but not off, and neither of you cared. His hands found every inch of exposed skin they could, and you were just as desperate, tugging his shirt further up his chest, though it remained caught around his shoulders.

“You’re impossible,” you panted, your head falling back as his teeth grazed the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Yeah look who’s talking.” he shot back, the smirk audible in his voice even as his mouth continued its way down your neck.

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead grinding down against him, the friction sending a bolt of electricity through you both. His head fell back against the couch, a low groan escaping him as his hands gripped your waist tightly.

“God, Liam,” you breathed, your fingers tangling in his hair as you kissed him again, your lips colliding with his in a mess of teeth and desperation.

“Slow down, love,” he murmured against your mouth, though his hands betrayed him, sliding up your thighs to grip at the curve of your hips. “We’ve got time.”

“Not enough,” you countered, your voice trembling, your fingers digging into his shoulders for balance.

His laugh was rough and low, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. “You’re mad, y’know that?”

“Shut up and touch me,” you demanded, your hands sliding down his chest, taking in the warmth of his skin through the gaps where his shirt hung open.

His response was immediate, his hands finding the hem of your shorts and tugging just enough to make you gasp.

His hands fumbled with the button of your shorts, his fingers clumsy from the alcohol but determined, his frustration evident in the quiet curses that escaped his lips. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his struggle, your own hands moving to help him, though it only seemed to tangle you both up further.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice rough as he finally managed to undo the button, pushing the fabric down just enough to make room for his wandering hands.

Your laugh turned into a breathy moan as his fingers brushed against your skin. You leaned forward, your lips capturing his again in a kiss that was all teeth and urgency, your hands tugging at his shirt in a futile attempt to get it off completely.

“Leave it,” he rasped against your mouth, his hands gripping your hips as he shifted beneath you, trying to maneuver you into a better position as he kissed you again.

“Liam,” you whined, your voice barely above a whisper as you broke the kiss, your forehead resting against his. “Please, just—”

“Impatient, aren’t ya?” he cut you off, his smirk returning as he leaned back slightly, his hands still firmly on your hips, holding you just where he wanted.

You didn’t bother answering instead your fingers quickly found their way to the waistband of his joggers, clumsily tugging them down as Liam shifted beneath you to help, his grin still there. “In a hurry, are we?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, focusing on your task as best as you could, though the alcohol made your movements less than graceful. The material bunched awkwardly, and you cursed under your breath, making him laugh.

“Need a hand, love?” he asked, one brow quirked.

“I’ve got it,” you snapped, though your laugh betrayed your frustration. You finally managed to slide his joggers down enough to reveal the hard line of him pressing against the fabric of his boxers. The sight made your breath hitch, and Liam caught the look in your eyes, his smirk softening lightly.

“Go on, then,” he murmured, his hands settling on your hips, encouraging but still letting you take the lead.

You swallowed hard, the warmth of his hands grounding you as you slid the last barrier away, your fingers brushing against his skin and making him suck in a sharp breath.

Liam’s hands tightened on your hips, his touch searing as you shifted to position yourself over him. His eyes locked on yours, dark and brimming with a hunger that made your chest tighten.

“You sure about this, love?” he asked, his voice rough but sincere.

You nodded, your lips parting as you whispered, “Absolutely.”

“Good.” he muttered, his hands guiding you as you slowly sank down onto him, the stretch stealing your breath. His head fell back against the couch, a sharp exhale escaping him as you both adjusted, the connection overwhelming.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air filled just with your shared breaths. His hands roamed up and down your thighs, grounding you as you slowly began to rock your hips. The immediate sensation was dizzying, each movement sending sparks through your body.

“Bloody hell,” Liam groaned, his hands gripping your hips to steady you. “You feel… fuckin’ perfect, you do.”

The praise made your cheeks flush, your hands bracing against his chest as you picked up the pace, your movements clumsy but eager. Liam’s fingers dug into your skin, guiding your rhythm as he met you halfway, his low groans and whispered curses spurring you on.

The couch creaked beneath you, the sound mingling with your gasps and moans as the tension built between you. His lips found your neck again, his teeth grazing your skin before he kissed and sucked at the spot, messy and wet, leaving a trail of spit behind before finally getting to your lips again.

The kiss was all tongues and teeth, his spit mixing with yours as you clung to him. He licked into your mouth, his grip on your hips tightening as you whimpered against his lips, completely undone by how fervent he was.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your spit-slicked lips. “So desperate, yeah? Can’t get enough, can ya?”

“Shut up,” you panted, your voice trembling, though your words carried no weight. Your movements grew more frantic, the slick slide of your bodies driving you closer and closer to the edge.

He laughed as his lips caught yours again, the kiss even messier this time. Your spit dripped down your chin but Liam didn’t seem to care, his hands gripping you like he couldn’t bear to let go. His tongue swept over yours, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as you gasped into his mouth.

You whimpered, your nails raking down his chest as you clung to him, unable to keep up with the pace he was setting. His cock filled you perfectly, each thrust sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core, and you couldn’t stop the broken sounds spilling from your lips.

“God, Liam,” you cried, your voice trembling as you pressed your forehead against his, your hips grinding against him desperately.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, his teeth catching your jawline before dragging his tongue over the damp skin. “So good for me, love. So fuckin’ good.”

Your body trembled as the tension built higher, your legs shaking from the effort, your breaths coming out in sharp gasps. The wet sounds of your bodies moving together were borderline obscene, your slick coating him and making each thrust even filthier.

“You’re close, aren’t ya?” he muttered, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I can feel it—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight.”

You could only nod, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation. “Please” you whimpered, not even sure what you were begging for anymore, your body trembling as you chased the edge.

“Go on, then,” he urged, his voice soft but insistent. “Let me feel you.”

The words were your undoing. The tension snapped, pleasure crashing over you in a wave that left you crying out, your nails digging into his shoulders. Your body shook as you came, your movements faltering as he held you steady, riding you through it.

“That’s it, love,” he murmured, his voice low and wrecked, his lips brushing against your temple as he chased his own release. A few more rough thrusts and he groaned, his body tensing beneath you as he spilled into you, his grip on your hips slackening as the last of his strength left him.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breaths, the scent of sweat hanging in the air as you both came down from the high. Liam’s hands moved to your back, his touch surprisingly tender as he stroked your damp skin.

“Reckon we’ve done in the couch,” he said, his grin wide and teasing despite the flush on his cheeks.

You laughed, your head still resting on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve wrecked a piece of furniture, would it?”

“Oi, cheeky,” he shot back, though his arms tightened around you, holding you close.

As the haze of alcohol and adrenaline began to fade, you couldn’t help but smile against his skin, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Liam,” you murmured softly, “I’m so proud of you.”

He went quiet for a moment, his lips brushing against your hair. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, lifting your head to meet his gaze. “You deserve this—everything.”

His grin softened, and for a moment, he looked at you like you’d just handed him the world. “Guess I’ve got everything I need right here.”

_________________________________________

really hope the slight wait for this was worth it ya lot, tried steppin’ me game up a bit, can’t wait for the feedback xx

need more dilf Liam appreciation on here, also hope the pair of ya whose requests I mashed together here are happy with this, love ya!

[dee-writes-angst]

Her Love is a Bomb with the Potential to Annihilate the Whole World (Eris Week Day Seven)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x Reader

SUMMARY Falling in love with someone means exposing the softest, most fragile parts of yourself to them and then praying they don’t destroy you. Being touched sends you spiraling into delirium. The slightest brush of their nails on your skin can shred you. And if they want to hurt you, it’s fatal.

CONTENT WARNINGS smut, p in v, unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, fingering, passionate sex, reader goes from being a mess for him to wanting to make him a mess ;)

AUTHORS NOTE this is a sad, but joyous occasion as today marks the last day of @erisweekofficial 2024. As relieved as I am to no longer have to stress over editing and posting every day for a week, I am also devastated. I had lots of fun this Eris week and I hope to do it again in the future. With all that said, I hope you enjoy this smutty free day <3

Falling in love with Eris had felt like walking a tightrope stretched over an endless chasm, the balance precarious and the fall inevitable. From the moment your eyes had met across the dimly lit room of that conference, something unspoken had tethered you to him. He had been a storm, all fire and edge, and yet, despite every warning you gave yourself, you leaned into it.

The weight of the room pressed in around you, but all you could feel was Eris—his warmth, his breath mingling with yours, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your trembling hands. You had no control, not anymore, and the last of your defenses crumbled the moment he touched you. Every fiber of your being screamed for him, needed him in a way that defied logic, defied reason.

You kissed him like you were starved, like years of unresolved tension and unsaid words finally broke free in a rush of hunger that neither of you could contain. His lips were soft but insistent, his hands tightening in your hair as though anchoring you, grounding you to this moment. Each touch was a promise—one of unspoken desire, of the fire that had always burned between you.

But it wasn’t enough. You needed more, more of him, more of this.

You clawed at his shirt, fingers trembling as you yanked it over his head. The sudden cool air of the room kissed his skin, but neither of you felt it, too consumed by the pull, the gravity that dragged you toward each other. Eris’s body was a canvas of strength and elegance, his chest rising and falling in time with yours, and you pressed your hands against him, memorizing the feel of his heartbeat beneath your palms.

Eris’s own movements were slow, deliberate, a contrast to your frantic desperation. He undid the buttons of your blouse with practiced ease, his hands brushing your bare skin with a reverence that sent a shiver through you. "You’re shaking," he murmured again, his voice rich and smooth, like a promise whispered in the dark.

You bit your lip, trying to contain the flood of emotions rising in your throat, but it was useless. "I—I need this," you whispered, your voice broken, breathless. "I need you."

His eyes darkened with something primal, something that flickered with both understanding and an unquenchable hunger. "I’m right here," he replied, his tone steady, reassuring. He leaned down, kissing the side of your neck, trailing his lips across your collarbone in a slow, torturous path that sent sparks through your body.

But it wasn’t enough. You were unraveling, every second without him tearing at the fragile thread of control you clung to. You shoved him back with more force than you intended, your body fueled by the need to feel every inch of him. The table behind him creaked as his back hit the edge, and before he could recover, you were on him, your legs straddling his waist, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him again, harder this time.

Eris groaned against your mouth, his fingers gripping your hips, pulling you closer. The kiss was a battle—teeth clashing, tongues tangling, every touch laced with years of pent-up frustration. You rocked against him, feeling the hard press of his arousal beneath you, and a moan escaped your lips at the delicious friction.

"Is this what you wanted?" he growled, breaking the kiss, his breath hot against your skin. His hands roamed your body, sliding up your back, tracing the curve of your spine before coming to rest on your hips. He held you firmly, his control unwavering despite the heat simmering between you. "To take what you want, to finally have me like this?"

You gasped as he pulled you tighter against him, his words igniting a fire inside you. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with both desire and defiance. "I want all of you."

Eris’s lips curled into a dangerous smile, his hands gripping your thighs as he shifted, flipping you onto your back on the table in one swift, practiced motion. You let out a startled gasp, but the sound was cut off as his mouth found yours again, silencing any protests with a searing kiss that left you breathless.

His hands were everywhere—on your hips, your waist, your breasts—exploring every inch of your body like he was memorizing you, savoring the feel of your skin beneath his fingers. You arched into him, your body moving on instinct, driven by a need that consumed you whole.

But Eris took his time, his movements slow and deliberate, his touch both gentle and commanding. His fingers trailed down your body, brushing over the curve of your stomach before sliding lower, slipping between your thighs with a skill that left you trembling.

He drew a low moan from you as his fingers found the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, circling it slowly, teasingly. "Is this what you need?" he asked, his voice low and rough, his breath hot against your ear. "To be taken apart piece by piece?"

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t think beyond the feeling of his touch, the way he made you unravel with each slow, deliberate stroke. You were lost in him, in the heat and the hunger, in the fire that burned between you. "Yes," you whispered, your voice shaky, breathless. "Please."

Eris’s smile was wicked as he dipped his head, his lips ghosting over your skin, trailing down your body until he reached the apex of your thighs. You tensed, anticipation thrumming through you as his mouth replaced his fingers, his tongue tracing slow, lazy circles over your sensitive flesh. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and torment that had you writhing beneath him, your hands fisting in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing more.

He hummed against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your body as he worked you with an expert precision, alternating between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks of his tongue. Your breath hitched, your body arching off the table as the pleasure built, every nerve alight with the sensation of him.

"Eris," you gasped, your voice barely a whisper, your hands clutching at him as you felt yourself teetering on the edge. "Please…"

But Eris didn’t give in to your desperation, not yet. He slowed his movements, drawing out the pleasure, pushing you higher and higher but never letting you fall. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for him as he devoured you, his tongue moving in perfect rhythm, driving you mad with need.

You were close, so close, your body trembling with the effort to hold on, to resist the inevitable release. But when Eris looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of heat, his lips wet with your arousal, the sight alone was enough to push you over the edge.

Your climax hit you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the pleasure ripped through you. You cried out, your hands fisting in Eris’s hair as you rode the wave of your release, every nerve alight with sensation.

But even as your body shuddered with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Eris didn’t stop. He kept his mouth on you, his tongue lapping at you, drawing out every last drop of pleasure until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled away, you were panting, your body limp and trembling. But the fire between you hadn’t dimmed—it had only just begun.

Eris stood, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you to the edge of the table, positioning himself between your legs. His eyes met yours, dark and full of desire as he leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Now," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "Let’s see if you can handle what comes next."

Eris's voice was dark, laced with that unshakable confidence that had always driven you insane, the same confidence that had made you hate him, but now—now it only made you burn hotter. His body hovered over yours, the heat radiating from him like the embers of a wildfire, ready to consume everything in its path. His fingers trailed down your thighs, sending shivers up your spine, and his grip tightened on your hips as he positioned himself at your entrance.

Your breath caught in your throat as he pushed inside you, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked on yours, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was both agonizing and blissful, and you bit your lip, stifling the moan that threatened to escape.

Eris leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You're quiet. I thought you were desperate for me."

That snapped something in you. All the tension, the frustration, the need—it burst free, raw and untamed. You grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as you bared your teeth. "Shut up, Vanserra," you hissed, and with a quick surge of power, you flipped him onto his back. His eyes widened in surprise as you straddled him, taking control, the edge of the table groaning beneath you both.

The satisfaction of seeing him beneath you, for once at your mercy, sent a thrill through you. You sank down on him, fully, a moan escaping your lips this time, unable to be contained as he stretched you to your limit. His groan followed, low and guttural, his hands immediately flying to your hips, but you were faster, slapping them away, pinning his wrists to the table.

"Now who's in control?" you growled, your voice shaking with both triumph and desire. You rode him with all the aggression you’d been holding back for years, each movement purposeful, relentless, making sure he felt every bit of what you’d been withholding from him.

Eris’s eyes darkened, a wicked smile curling at the edges of his mouth despite the rough pace you set. He strained beneath your grip, his muscles coiling with the effort to keep himself in check, but you knew you were driving him insane. "You think you can take what you want from me and still win?" he rasped, his voice rough, strained. His breath hitched as you quickened your pace, the table beneath you both creaking louder with each movement.

"You underestimate me, Eris," you panted, the fire between you burning hotter, fueled by the biting words, the clash of dominance, the need to prove yourself just as capable of breaking him as he was of you. You watched as his jaw tightened, the tendons in his neck straining as he fought for control, his hips lifting to meet yours, driving deeper into you with every thrust.

"You're desperate," he hissed through clenched teeth, his voice a rough growl. "I feel it—how much you need me." His hips snapped up harder, matching your rhythm, and you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

You leaned down, your face inches from his, breathless, teeth bared. "I don't need you," you spat, though your body told another story, the slick heat between your thighs betraying the lie. You tried to maintain control, tried to keep the edge, but the sensation of him inside you, the way he filled you so completely, so perfectly—it was driving you mad.

Eris’s eyes blazed with challenge, and suddenly his wrists broke free of your grip. In one swift, fluid motion, he sat up, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. The sudden shift had you gasping, and before you could protest, he kissed you—hard, deep, his teeth grazing your lower lip, claiming you with a ferocity that left no room for argument.

"I can feel you falling apart," he growled against your lips, his voice thick with lust. "Don’t fight it. Don’t pretend you don’t want this."

You hated him for being right. You hated the way he could read you so easily, how he knew exactly how to break through your defenses. But in that moment, you couldn’t fight anymore. The need, the desire, the fury—it was all too much. You let go.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as you rode him harder, the friction between your bodies intoxicating, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure through your core. His hands gripped your hips, guiding you, holding you tight as his movements became rougher, more desperate, matching your aggression with his own. The air between you crackled with tension, with the raw, unfiltered need that neither of you could contain.

"Say it," he commanded, his voice thick with dominance, his breath hot against your neck as he thrust up into you, hitting that spot that made you see stars. "Admit that you need me."

You bit back a scream, your body trembling as the pressure built inside you, your walls tightening around him as you edged closer to release. "Fuck you," you managed to choke out, your voice ragged, but the words had no bite. They were hollow, empty, because you were already his—had been from the moment this began.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding the sensitive spot between your legs, and you shattered. Your orgasm tore through you like wildfire, your body convulsing, your mind going blank as waves of pleasure crashed over you. You screamed his name, your nails raking down his back, clinging to him as if he were the only thing keeping you anchored to reality.

Eris groaned, his body tensing beneath you as he followed you over the edge. His release was just as powerful, his hips slamming up into you one final time as he came, filling you completely, his breath ragged and uneven against your skin. The sensation of him pulsing inside you, of his hands gripping you so tightly, of his body moving in sync with yours—it was enough to make you lose yourself completely.

You collapsed against his chest, both of you panting, trembling, your bodies spent. The silence that followed was heavy, thick with the weight of everything unsaid. For a moment, neither of you moved, too caught up in the aftermath of what had just happened.

ERIS WEEK TAGLIST

@littlest-w01f @mp-littlebit

[bonnibuckets]

— unspoken | leon kennedy

pairings: leon x gn reader

warnings: fluff, makeout, idiots lowkey in love

synopsis: patching up leon with unspoken feelings

wc: 400+ (v short)

note: I originally wrote a smut for this but I wanted to just keep it fluffy bc homeboy needs a break

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

“Fuck!” slipped out of Leon’s lips as you pressed the cloth to his injured hand. “Sorry,” you flinched and apologized as you applied pressure causing him to wince even more.

“Hurry up christ” he gruffed as his jaw tightened, “Maybe if you weren’t busy bossing me around you would’ve seen the ladies with a chainsaw,” you said pressing harder and Leon jolted and groaned in pain “Are you trying to fucking kill me?!”

“Unfortunately no— I saved your life, and now I’m helping you so a thank you would be nice,” you said, staring at him as you got some alcohol. “Whatever,” Leon said looking away as his heart fluttered at your hard glare— afraid if he looked any longer something would blossom.

There was a moment of silence and you both could hear the ambiance of the harsh wind, floorboards creaking, and one another’s breathing. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you saw Leon's side profile— he was staring out the window. You took notice of every feature and how the light made his face look heavenly— the way his lips were parted slightly and plush, looking so kissable—

You shook yourself out of thought as you cleared your throat, “This will hurt so grab onto something” you warned. “Look who’s bossy now hypocrite,” he chuckled but it was cut short as you poured directly onto his open wound. Leon cringed in pain and his hand flew to his mouth as he let out a loud muffled groan.

You silently laughed as Leon uncovered his mouth and grabbed you with his good hand, he pulled you by the collar of your shirt making you drop the alcohol. “What. the. fuck.” Leon spat out as he stared into your eyes. Your foreheads were touching and you were at a loss for words, your heart was beating out of your chest and your face was flushed.

You scrambled to find the words— they were on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t say anything. Your breath hitched as his grip got even tighter and he pulled you in even closer, lips almost touching. Anticipation was eating you alive as you let out a shaky breath as Leon’s gaze softened and he slowly let go of your shirt. You both couldn’t take your eyes off one another— there was some unspoken tension, feelings, and words.

There also was an unspoken understanding between the looks— you both could practically hear one another’s thoughts, and without exchanging any words Leon then completely let go and grabbed the back of your neck kissing your lips. You felt a burn in your stomach as you grabbed his shirt and kissed him back with even more passion.

You moaned as he bit your bottom lip and you opened your mouth as his tongue met yours. You felt yourself becoming lost in his lips as you entangled your fingers into his hair and held onto him like your life depended on it— afraid that if you let go that he wouldn’t be there. “Leon” you mumbled against him, as you pulled away to breathe. You looked at him adoringly as his face was flushed, his hair was disheveled, and his lips were glossy.

“You’re so handsome,” you say without thinking and he chuckles, “Shut up and keep kissing me idiot”.

taglist 🏷️: @d34ng3l @ghostkennedy @adaelines @nvoirs @konigbabe @rat-typewriter @meowsiee @dilucstruelover @antidesire

[tetsutits]

ᰔ cw – fem!reader, weddings, ran is such a wife guy its insane, unprotected ptv, mdni (0.9k words)

most people will agree that weddings are events that are pure, sacred, an act that signifies love and devotion to ones lover. and though they aren't wrong -- a part of you thinks otherwise.

fate sealed and deal done, you now are a married woman with a beautiful rock on your finger -- the very best, of course. ran haitani demands only the best for his beloved, he won't settle for any less than perfect.

fitted in a pretty, white, flowy gown, dolled up so that you could almost be mistaken for a princess, you look like the definition of beauty.

what do they say about brides wearing white on weddings again? oh, right, they were to show pureness, virtue, and innocence.

you disagree.

-- because the way your husband is fucking you right now is nowhere near innocent or pure.

"fuck! fuck--! ran, oh, yes-!"

"fucking hell, baby," your husband groans into your ear, lips grazing over the sensitive skin of your jaw, "'driving me insane."

his wandering hands touch and grope all over you, shamelessly squeezing at your tits through the fabric of your wedding dress that's been hiked up over your hips.

"you're, you're being too loud, ran," you gasp, mouth forming a silent 'o' at the way the tip of his cock repeatedly rubs deliciously against that one spongey spot inside you over and over.

what can you say? your husband knows you too well. body and soul.

he laughs breathily, "this pussy's g'nna kill me one day, i swear,"

impatient as he can be, ran could not wait any longer after your vows and ring exchange. he whisked you away with a hand interlocked with yours, pulling you down hallways and rooms to escape family and guests at the wedding -- just too damn impatient and needing to be alone with you.

impatient, and horny.

now bent over a table in some random cramped room, your husband fucks into your tight pussy like he's never going to get a chance to fuck you ever again. he didn't even bother dropping his slacks all the way, just needing to whip his dick out as soon as he could.

with your gown and veil flipped over your hips, the front of his thighs slap against the back of yours, the skin burning pink and red, drowning out the dirty squelches of your sloppy pussy.

"oh, ran! fuck, fuck, keep doing that, right there--!"

pain blooms satisfyingly, and the way his heavy balls slap against your clit every time he thrusts deep into you has you rolling your eyes and throwing your head back.

he groans, way too loud and not thinking of how anyone passing by can hear everything going on inside this room, "yeah? right there? don' need to tell me, baby, i know."

his breath sends shivers down your spine, little tingles lighting up nerve endings and adding to the ever-growing stimulation. his husky voice makes you squeeze uncontrollably around his dick, pulsing and spasming.

"what? you like that?" he teases, voice low as he thrusts up even harder, gripping your hips tighter so he can force them down to his own, "y'like when i'm fucking you like this, hard and fast?"

"yes, yes! so good, so good," you whine.

the fact that anyone could walk in on the two of you anytime pumps adrenaline all through your body, it makes everything ten times more intense than it is. you could drown in the way ran fucks you so good, perfectly even -- and you relish in the way every thrust brings both pain and pleasure.

"ahh, fuck, if you keep squeezin' me like this, you'll make me cum, princess."

your hands scramble behind you for any stability, trying your best to grab him for any support, but his hips thrust too hard, too harsh, you can barely keep yourself up on your toes at this point.

"ran, ran, ran--!" you babble and squeal as soon as you feel two of his fingers slide over your swollen bud, flicking it and rubbing directly over it.

"c'mon, cum all over this fuckin' dick," he groans, pressing wet kisses all over your jaw and neck, licking away the drops of sweat that gather there. "soak my cock."

and, oh, you do.

ran feels you drench him in slick, pussy so wet he thinks he could drown in it. you tighten impossibly around him, and for a slight second he thinks you might push him right out of you.

all this time, he never stops fucking back into you, determined to prolong your high, to hear you whine and cry even more than you are right now.

you'd be one lucky bride if your makeup isn't melting down your face.

"ahh, yeah, shit, shit," he croaks, eyes tight and face screwed up in pleasure.

ran pulls out abruptly as soon as you come down from your high, slipping out of your wet cunt only so he can blow his entire load all over your veil. coating the lacy material in spurts of his hot cum.

"r-ran! what the fuck!" you squeal, face turned to look back at him in shock.

he groans shamelessly, hand working over his dick to make sure every last drop is out, only then does he slump over you with a stupid smile on his face.

"jus' needed to mark my territory." he says, face tucked into your neck. "what?"

you furrow your brows. "what do you mean 'what?' are you serious right now?!"

he doesn't even look sorry. "hell yeah. 'so hot knowing my cum is on my wife's veil."

"you're disgusting."

"i know."

"you're getting me a new one." you demand.

"anything my wife wants, she gets."

---

IM SO SORRY FOR THE LAST PART ASJDBAKBD thank you for reading!!1

[uzurimisery]

this time. / shoei baro x reader

Very rare BLLK piece from me

w.c: 0.8k

Written for the @pixelcafe-network Friday Challenge #5

It’s strangely easy to pack your bags. It should be harder you reckon- you can still remember moving into his apartment. Putting your stuff away, tucking in pieces of yourself into pieces of him. The mixing of yours and his becoming ours.

A sort of languid sadness has been settled in your bones for the past three days but has contorted, and hardened into anger. Or maybe it has sucked up any other emotion you might have felt towards him, chewed it up, and left you void of feeling. Apathy. That’s what you’re feeling. 

The sweaters take up the most room so you pull them out and put them into one of those vacuum bags to shrink them down. Some things are too big in the compress cubes, so vacuum bags. Stuff them full, zip them up, suck the air out, and hope you haven’t shoved too much down that it doesn’t burst at the seams. 

That’s the point you were at. Too much shoving things down, down, down, that they melted under pressure and now you felt like a volcano about to burst when you first saw the lipstick on the collar of his shirt. It erupted out of you in a screaming match with him that resulted in him leaving the apartment, telling you to “cool off.” 

But again it’s no longer anger, that burned out after the first night. Now it was just apathy. 

Apathy to how easy it was for him to continually lie to you. Apathy to how he always promised change. Apathy to how you’d take one step forward and five steps back with him. Apathy to how everyone looked at you with pity. Apathy for how much you’ve struggled to try and change yourself to better fit his tastes again.

Apathy. 

Apathy. 

Apathy. 

You supposed it’s better this way, stops the cutting edge of the knife of failure from stabbing too deeply. 

“You actually leaving?” Shoei has just come into the apartment, still wearing his coat with a dozen roses bunched up in his arm. His version of an apology you suppose. You don’t even like roses. 

“Yes. I am.” 

He leans against the door frame and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. “That’s what you said last time.” 

“This time I mean it.”

“Sure you do.” It's careless, light, dismissive, the same way he’s always brushes it off. It's impressive how he always does that. It’s depressing that he treats you like this. 

You slam the suitcase shut. “I do.”

Shoei comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. Surprising, just how much has changed in the past six months. You never thought that him touching you would make you feel disgusted when it used to feel like home. “Let me make it up to you.” He punctuates each word with a kiss on your neck and it makes you squirm. 

How many other women has he kissed the same way?

“Don’t touch me.”  You slide out of his arms and yank the suitcase from the bed. 

“C’mon, doll, why are you acting like this? Let me make it up to you.” He scoffs as you shrug him off again. The mask slips just a bit and you can see his complete disregard, how he really isn’t sorry for what he’s done. “Jesus okay I’m sorry, it was an honest mistake. I was drunk and she looked like you. Tell me what I need to do to make it up to you?”

“No Sho, there’s not making it up to me. I’m done this time. For real.” It sounds like it doesn’t come from your body.  Like it’s an outside source talking. So final. 

“You said that last time. And the time before that.” There's anger brewing in him with the sharp draw of his brown and how his voice picks up in volume, how it gets sharper. “Reality is you’ll come back here crawling, crying, telling me you’re sorry, I’ll forgive you, and then we fuck and were good for a couple of months. Why don’t we just skip the drama, get to fucking, and then go to breakfast? I’ll even buy you those new earrings you’ve been eyeing.”

You don’t move but your shoulders tense. How many times have you done this dance with him to where he thinks it's okay to talk to you like this now? Where is your self-respect? But he’s not wrong. Every time you did come back on your knees and beg for him to love you again.

“Hate me all you want. You know I’m right.” He’s behind you again, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your head like he always has. 

“No,” You pull forward, unlock the door and open it. “Not this time.”

It slams shut behind you.

©️ uzuzrimisery