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nadvs · 2 months ago

Text

　 —⊹　♡　︵　∘　 pretty lies ⟢

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you thought you could manage meaninglessly hooking up with your ex-boyfriend. you were sure that if you lied to yourself enough that you’re not still in love with him, you’d eventually believe it. it takes one bad night to see that you’re both still very much attached.

on loop “breakup tutorial” by laraw

content warnings toxic relationship, alcohol, smut

continuation of this blurb, inspired by this ask! started as a blurb but got very long! not necessary to read the previous works. takes place between s2-3. div credit.

You sit on your bed, the lump in your throat refusing to go away. You’ve been on the verge of crying since your friends left almost half an hour ago.

It was so embarrassing. You were hanging out downstairs, showing them something on your phone. That’s when Rafe texted you, the notification clear for everyone to see.

“Who’s Don’t Text?” one of your friends asked, confused by the contact name.

You locked your screen, meeting their cautious stares, sure they already knew.

Who else would you have saved as Don’t Text other than your toxic ex-boyfriend? It wouldn’t have been so damning if he hadn’t sent ok see you tonight.

So, you admitted it. That you’ve been hooking up with Rafe for the past few weeks, ever since the night of your friend’s birthday when you drunkenly texted him to ask for a ride home.

You knew what they were thinking. That you’re an idiot for inviting the man who you always cried over back into your life, the man who you repeatedly told your friends is an asshole, the man they watched tear your heart out when you tried to make your relationship healthier, just to be told by him that no, it wasn’t going to happen, he wasn’t going to try to get better for you.

While you thought it’d be a relief to have the secret off your chest, it wasn’t. The tension in the room was heavy, your friends piecing together that this is why you didn’t want them to sleep over on the one night you have the house to yourself. It’s because Rafe is coming over after they leave.

As you lean against your pillow, you read through your emotionless conversation with him, a noncommittal string of plans to hook up. Earlier this evening, you had texted my place later? He replied with time? You said around 1. He responded with ok see you tonight.

Your confession made your friends look at you with worry and contempt, asking “are you sure it’s a good idea?” when you told them it’s just sex and that he’s saved as Don’t Text because one day, you really are planning on not texting.

But they weren’t convinced. They said you’ll just undo your healing and wind up hurt all over again. And you’re angry because they’re right.

You brushed past the subject, saying that you’re unattached. It’s a lie.

Every time you see Rafe, you feel shameful relief. He’s a drug that gets better and harder to stop with every hit. Admittedly, you couldn’t wait for your friends to leave so you could sink into mindless pleasure with your ex.

He’s on his way now.

You scroll up to the top of the conversation with him. The oldest message is from when you asked him for a ride a few weeks ago. You had deleted everything, every piece of evidence of your relationship, when you first broke up so that you wouldn’t go back and reminisce.

But you still have a hidden folder in your phone. Of photos and videos and screenshots. And because you must love to torture yourself, you open it.

Photos of memories that you used to cherish and now wish you could forget flood your screen. You open your favorite photo of you and Rafe.

It’s a captured moment of you two on a couch at a house party, unknowingly being photographed as you laugh together, your head thrown back, Rafe gazing at you with a dimpled smile and unconstrained love.

Ironically, the friend who was telling you earlier tonight that he did nothing but make you cry is the one who took the photo.

You continue to scroll through the folder, stopping at a screenshot of a text he sent you. You remember reading it for the first time so clearly.

You’d been together a little over three months. You’d gone to the beach and settled on the sand by a hidden cove. Rafe brought a blanket and your favorite drink and you sat together and talked as the half-moon shone down over the water.

You had innocently asked if he had eaten yet and he opened up to you about how you’re the only person in his life who really cares about him. Nobody else worries if he ate or if he slept or if he’s been drinking too much. You hugged him and kissed him and stroked his hair, whispering promises of how amazing he was.

Your eyes travel over the text he’d sent you the morning after. I can’t believe you’re real.

Those sweet moments were dirtied when your relationship slowly descended into a twisted, toxic mess. Rafe became jealous and controlling and you became combative and unforgiving, both of you poisoning each other the longer you were together.

It’s day and night when you compare how your texts used to be to how they are now. Whether you were on good terms or arguing, at least when you were together, your messages had passion behind them. Now, every text is cold and clinical, making plans to fuck and nothing else.

Your phone buzzes. He’s here.

As you pace down the stairs towards the front door, you regret the way you dressed. After your friends left, you showered and slipped into your sexiest bra and panties and draped a silk robe over your shoulders.

It’s something you’d do when you were together, dressing up in something you know he’d love. But now, it feels silly, going the extra mile for a man who didn’t consider you worth fighting for.

Rafe waits for the door to open. It’s all he fucking does these days. Wait. Wait to get better, wait to be over you, wait to see you texted him and just ignore it instead of feeling his heart come together and break apart.

You keep the lights off, but when you swing open the door, he can see your figure in the muted dark. Your robe is barely held open by the knot over your waist. The sight of your cleavage sends hot electricity through him.

“Hey,” you say impassively, stepping away so he can come inside. You see that he cut his hair. It’s not hanging over his forehead anymore. He buzzed it and he looks so damn handsome that your heart skips a beat.

He grimaces when he notices your expression. This is why he’s been avoiding meeting your eyes lately. Because of that blank way you look at him, unaffected by his presence, only interested in sex, detached when you used to hold onto him like you’d die without him.

Rafe purses his lips, trying to act like seeing you doesn’t make his blood run hot, like one second of looking at you doesn’t make him hard. You’ve been broken up for nearly two months now, so he doesn’t understand why he has the impulse to compliment you on how pretty you dressed for him.

“How long are you alone?” he asks. He doesn’t want to deal with being seen by your parents. You’ve already told him how much your family and friends don’t approve of him. He can do without the reminder of how much he doesn’t fit in your life anymore.

“All night,” you say. “They’re not back until tomorrow.”

He follows you up the stairs, eyes trailing up your bare legs, already wanting to rip that robe off of you.

He hasn’t been in your bedroom in ages. He didn’t expect it to be so hard to be in here again when he owns the title of ex-boyfriend.

You pull him in immediately. You can’t deal with your thoughts anymore. You just want to drown in pleasure with someone who knows your body better than you know it yourself.

Rafe tastes like cinnamon with a hint of whisky, and you’re mad that he’s been drinking, but you think you forfeited the right to be mad at him for his choices when you ended things.

His tongue is warm against yours as you pull him down onto your bed. You sink into the mattress and he hovers over you. His hand roughly drags up your thigh, squeezing your ass, his cock already hard against you.

You hate how much you love the effect you have on him. Why does it make you so proud that you can get him so hard, that you can text him to come over and he does, savoring you like you’re forbidden fruit he’s been starving for?

Rafe’s kisses are ravenous, teeth nipping at your lips, kneading your ass, groaning against your mouth.

You spread your legs so that he’ll touch you and he knows what you want, because at this point, he reads your body like a book. He presses his fingers against your core, rubbing over your panties.

“Couldn’t wait for me, yeah?” he mumbles against your mouth.

Your brows pinch in sadness. Ever since you became exes with benefits, you play this game, dirty-talking taunts, fighting for power, as if one of you can win if you prove that the other needs this more.

But you don’t have it in you tonight. Not after the way your friends looked at you. Not after going through that stupid folder. Your heart weighs a thousand pounds.

“Just…” you breathe.

“Just what?”

He pulls your panties to the side, the warm pads of his fingers making direct contact, and you slightly buck your hips, a whine spilling from your mouth.

“Just what?” he demands, tracing up and down.

“Just make me feel good.”

It’s a plea much deeper than it sounds. You don’t just want the sexual gratification. You want to feel how you did before. Happy with him. Happy with who you are when he’s around.

Rafe’s lips press against your neck, taking on the challenge. He hasn’t gone down on you since the first time you fucked after your break-up, when you roughly pushed him down and sat on his face, using him, treating his body with so much anger.

He tells himself he hasn’t eaten you out since because it’s too loving of a gesture for two people who are just hate-fucking. But it’s not the truth. He doesn’t do it because he falls in love with you even more every time he tastes you.

He can’t bear to need you any more than he already does. You broke him in every sense of the word. You proved to him that he’s unloveable.

“Rafe, please,” you whisper, arching your back.

“What?” he rasps. “What do you want? Just fucking say it.”

You stay silent as he leaves open-mouthed kisses over your neck. He’s frustrated that you’re not answering.

“You want me to go down on you?” he says impatiently.

“Yes,” you whisper. He catches the shakiness in your tone. You don’t sound like who you’ve been since you started hooking up. You sound gentle and adoring like who you used to be with him. You sound like the woman you’re not anymore.

He ignores it, not giving in to ask what the hell is going on with you, not when he knows you’ll brush him off. He pushes your robe off your body, the silk slipping over your skin quickly, and shifts lower to put his head between your legs.

You moan when he kisses you over your panties. Your hands lace in his hair, but you don’t feel the locks you used to feel. Instead, you run your nails over the soft buzzcut, wondering when and why he cut his hair, knowing you won’t ask because you don’t make much conversation with him anymore.

He’s rough when he pulls your panties down, rushing to spread your lips apart and taste you as soon as he can. The heat of his open mouth against you makes you quiver in bliss.

Rafe’s head is swimming. You’re so soft and hot and wet against his mouth, sweet just like he remembered. He groans against you, starting to lap at every dip, your folds slick and delicate.

Your hand runs over his hair as you writhe beneath him, feeling his mouth working you, listening to the sounds of him licking and sucking.

He’s an addict relapsing and he wants to overdose, to replicate how this was when you lived in the promise of a relationship together, even though he knows it’ll kill him.

“Talk how you used to,” he murmurs.

“What?” you ask.

“Do it.” His voice is hoarse as he grips your thigh. He’s fucking mortified to be asking to be spoken to and praised the way he used to when he’d please you like this. But he needs it.

You look down to see Rafe’s head between your thighs, expecting clarity, but getting nothing else. He keeps his eyes off of you, licking you slowly.

“How I used to?” you whisper.

He shifts to run the tip of his tongue over your aching clit, pushing hot pleasure through you. You’ll do anything he wants if he makes you feel like this.

“I can,” you stammer breathily, willing yourself to fall into the old habit. He locks his lips around your clit and you shudder. “Shit. That’s good.”

“Yeah?” he pulls back to groan.

“So fucking good,” you say. “You know exactly what to do.”

Euphoria floods every one of Rafe’s senses and he lets himself believe, for just this moment, that you meant all the good things you said to him and none of the bad.

He sucks your most sensitive spot slowly, warm breaths pooling over you every time he pulls back.

“Just like that,” you whisper. “That’s perfect.”

Your words spur him on, his tongue flat against you, his lips and chin wet and sticky. He’s obsessed with the way you’re talking and breathing and moaning. He loves the sounds you make when you’re so deep in ecstasy that he’s giving you.

Your words are in your throat. You used to tell him you loved him whenever he did this to you, but you can’t and it’s a jarring realization that it’s not because you wouldn’t mean it, but really, because this is supposed to be indulgent and sinful, not loving and sweet.

“Whose?” he rasps. It’s what he used to always ask. Who your pussy belongs to. Whose you are.

You can’t say it.

“Whose?” he demands.

You give in.

“Yours,” you whisper. Saying it makes the tears that’ve been threatening to come out finally fall out of the corners of your eyes.

You’re his and you don’t want to be. Because being his means loving a broken man who doesn’t want to get himself together for you.

Your throat aches as you swallow down the pain, shuffling beneath him so he’ll take his mouth off of you. No matter how earth-shatteringly good it feels, you’ll cry if he keeps going.

You turn to perch up on your knees, looking back, but not meeting his gaze because you can’t handle him seeing you teary-eyed. Too many times in the past, you were vulnerable with him just to be called sensitive.

“Hard,” you say in a hush. You want him behind you, fucking you with force, giving you raw pleasure because you need the reminder that that’s all he’s capable of offering you.

Rafe’s pissed off that you cut it short, roughly tugging off his shirt and pulling down his jeans. He realizes you’re still in your bra and he unhooks it, because if he’s nothing but a fuck to you, he deserves to see all of you.

He holds himself at his base, on his knees, finding your entrance. The head of his cock sinks into you and you push back, needing him now.

Rafe smirks depravedly, revelling in the way you look with your ass up in the air for him, desperate for his cock. Good. Because he’s so fucking desperate for you that he still can only come to the thought of you.

His hands are on your hips and he shoves into you, making you gasp, granting your wish to give it to you hard.

He pulls back, then drives back inside over and over, your skin slapping against his, your ass recoiling with each thrust. Every plunge into you is fucking perfect. You’re squeezing him so tight.

Your breaths quicken, both panting as he fucks you from behind, filling you with a deep, hard pressure. It feels so damn good, your moans uncontrollable, but you can’t shut your mind up.

It’s all too much. Loving someone who accused you of not caring about him as much as he did about you was exhausting, but having to pretend you don’t love him at all is even worse.

You bury your face into your pillow, asking yourself the hell you’re doing, getting dressed up for him, letting him continue to take pieces of you every time you meet like this. For the first time, you can’t get lost in the pleasure. The pain is louder.

Rafe’s fingers dig into your hips as his body tightens with the promise of an orgasm. This is what makes it all worth it. When he’s balls deep in you, he doesn’t have the self-loathing thoughts that haunt him every minute he’s alone, he doesn’t have to pretend he’s somewhere else.

It feels so right to be inside you, even though you’re someone he’s supposed to hate. He’s empty, but with you is the only time he’s whole and he so deeply resents that he’s not enough for you, that all this has to be so goddamn complicated.

He sees stars when he comes, pumping deep inside you, grunting a broken string of fucks into your quiet bedroom air. It’s embarrassing to come this fast, but eating you out got him so worked up that he couldn’t control it.

He’s weak, hunching over, one arm holding himself up as stays inside you and skims his other hand over your hip and between your legs, rubbing your clit exactly how you need to come.

Your face is against the pillow, now wet with tears. You won’t be able to come. You can’t.

“Stop it,” you say, voice thick with sorrow.

You shift forward, feeling him slide out of you, collapsing to your side.

“Fuck,” you mumble in the pillow.

Rafe is at a loss. You were just moaning, pushing back against him, and now you’re angry at him, not wanting to let him give you an orgasm.

“What?” he murmurs, moving to lean over you, his hand resting on your sweat-sheened back. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes,” you say impulsively, because while it’s not physical pain, it is emotional agony. You can’t do this. Casual sex isn’t all that casual when the person you’re doing it with owns you in every possible way.

Rafe stiffens. You’re crying. He can hear it in your voice. When you sniffle, he feels like the lowest of the low, the biggest piece of shit in the world. He must have lost himself in the moment, going too rough.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His hand runs up and down the curve of your back, watching you with worried eyes, but like always, you won’t look at him.

“You can leave now.”

Rafe pulls his hand off of you. The bed shifts when he stands. You hear the shuffle of clothes. You look up to see his broad silhouette leave your bedroom, in just his boxers. You wipe away your tears.

In the dim glow of the lamp light, you watch him come back into your bedroom. He’s holding a towel, damp with warm water, and you’re weak, so you let him lie next to you in bed, gently turning you onto your back and wiping between your legs.

It’s something he’d do as a boyfriend, knowing his way around your home, cleaning you up. Not as an ex who’s using you for sex. Every hook-up you’ve had since you broke up ends with one of you abruptly leaving, no concern for aftercare or pillow talk.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, dabbing gently. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Any and every shred of anger and disappointment he holds for you is silenced. He’s disgusted in himself for hurting you. No matter what you are to him now, you were once the sun in a storm, the only person who didn’t make him feel like he was in the background of his own life.

He sounds devastated and you wriggle in your sheets to get a look at his face. His gaze darts to you for just a moment, but it’s enough for you to see that his eyes glossed over with tears.

You feel a prick on your heart. He’s crying over this? You would’ve thought he’d be fine with hurting you during sex. After all, he’s fine hurting you every other way.

“It wasn’t… it didn’t hurt,” you say softly. It’s the first time you care about not hurting his feelings since your catastrophic break-up.

“What? You said it did.”

You gently put your hand on his, stopping his movements, letting your tears fall now because there’s no point in hiding them anymore.

“I meant… what we’re doing hurts,” you admit, looking down at your hands atop the towel because you can’t bear to look into his eyes. “Hooking up like this. It’s fucking with my head.”

Rafe takes a moment to breathe, his chest rising and falling with tears that won’t stop.

His hand slides out from under yours and he sits up, wiping at his eyes. You toss the towel aside, sitting up, too, finding your robe and draping it over your body, even though he’s seen you naked so many times before.

You watch him in the dusk of your bedroom, the light soft over his handsome features, his lips parted as he stares down and tries to gain composure.

“You’re saying you want to stop?” he finally asks through hitched breaths.

You don’t know the answer. You don’t know if you want to stop having Rafe in your life, even in this twisted capacity.

You’re silent, sniffling as your cries refuse to cease. You can’t believe you’re here, both crying on your bed, both having crumbled so quickly.

“You have to answer me,” he says, blinking fast, his tone on the verge of a whine.

Your face is pinched in misery as you gaze at him. He looks up, his eyes bloodshot and glimmering.

“Do you want to stop?” you ask. It’s mostly a cop-out, a test to see if he feels anything more than lust for you.

“Don’t turn it on me,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “You told me to leave. And I’ll go and never come back if that’s what you want.”

Rafe’s eyes burn from the tears. He’s in pieces. He’s not going to be the one going out on a limb here, asking you to keep this arrangement with him. You have to decide.

“Do your friends know that you still see me?” you ask. What happened earlier tonight with your friends won’t leave your head.

“What?” Rafe squints in frustration.

“Do they?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. How the fuck did he get here? He was just living in a fantasy, finishing inside of you, releasing all his stress, and now, he’s facing the demons that he’s constantly trying to outrun.

“Yeah,” he says. “Why?”

“What do they say?”

“What are you getting at?” he huffs.

“Do they tell you to stop? Or that I’m bad for you?”

“You know we don’t talk like that,” Rafe tells you.

You chew on your lip, gently sweeping under your eyes with shaky fingers. You were the only one he didn’t keep at an emotional distance. The only one he opened up to who never told him to toughen up. It seems that hasn’t changed.

“My friends found out tonight,” you admit. He’s immediately on edge. It was an ongoing theme in your relationship that they never liked him.

“And what, they don’t approve?” Rafe mutters. “So, you’re ending this because you live by their rules?”

You pull your legs forward, curling into a ball with your forehead on your knees.

“Please stop,” you whisper defeatedly. “It’s not like that.”

He stares at you, a hole in his chest as your shoulders skitter with your cries. He always hated seeing you cry.

It’s overwhelming dealing with his own tears, so it’s a million times worse seeing yours. His reflex is to tell you to stop. But when you were his girlfriend, you’d told him, screamed at him really, that it was cruel of him to tell you to quit being sensitive when your body was just letting out pain.

And he’s been ruminating over everything you ever said to him, trying to figure out if there was an exact moment you fell out of love with him. He doesn’t want to be called cruel again.

“What’d they say?” he asks.

You’re surprised to hear the gentle tone of his voice. It’s relieving to not be fighting with him for once.

“That I’ll just end up hurt again,” you confess, your words muffled. “And I am. Already. I don’t remember what it’s like to not hurt.”

Rafe aches, taken aback. You’ve been cold and apathetic every time he’s seen you since the night you drunkenly hooked up in his car as exes. He never knew you were hurting, that he still has the power to do that to you.

“Me, neither,” he admits, his voice brittle. You lift your head to look up at him, needing to see his face to believe it.

“What else?” you ask.

“What else?” he echoes.

“What else do you feel?”

He swallows. It’s odd, not having the urge to hide behind his pride. But your gaze is so sincere, your sniffles so hard to listen to.

Rafe has never been good at talking through his feelings. He prefers to show them by yelling and throwing things and fighting because those methods are easy and safe.

Crying never feels safe. At one point, it did. With you. Before you broke his heart.

“You can tell me,” you say. “I won’t start a fight about it.”

“I don’t give a fuck if you start a fight,” he says, a humorless laugh leaving his lips.

“What do you give a fuck about?” you say, keeping your temper in.

Rafe mumbles your name in frustration, shaking his head.

“I don’t want to… talk to you about this shit just for you to not…” he trails off.

You know your ex well, aware that he needs to be coached through hard conversations. He doesn’t think before he speaks when he’s vulnerable. He rambles, at times all over the place, making it hard to understand him.

“For me to not what?” you ask.

“Think what I think,” he admits.

You rest your cheek on your knee, your eyes stinging with tears.

“What are you thinking?”

“Goddamn it. That I miss you, okay?” he says sharply. “And you just… you look at me like I’m a fucking stranger now.”

It’s the last thing you expected to hear. You thought you were just hook-up to him. Not somebody he misses. Your throat is raw. Your pulse is loud in your ears.

Rafe looks down again, breath shaky as his crying gets closer to sobbing. He’s a mess. He doesn’t do this shit in front of people. He does it alone, when he can’t hold it in any more, letting his cheeks burn with tears when he lies on his pillow at night, knowing there’s no point in trying to stop.

“You miss me?” you repeat. He scoffs, as if he’s angry you pulled it out of him. “What do you miss?”

“Why are you asking me this?” he mutters, annoyed. You always do this, pull at the string barely keeping him together, making him speak. It’s what he always loved and hated about you.

You take a beat before you answer, accepting that you’re about to break the promise you made to yourself to never open up to him again.

“Because I miss you, too,” you admit.

It’s the first time in months that you see light in Rafe’s eyes. A few seconds of heavy silence pass between you.

The moment’s not even over, but you already know you’ll think about it for a long time, about the feeling of sitting with him in your dim room this late at night, practically naked together on your bed, wordless. Every sense of anything sexual is gone, the atmosphere much more fragile.

Even after weeks of hooking up, this is the most intimate moment you’ve shared in a long time.

Then, his brows furrow, uncertainty and anguish flashing on his face. He doesn’t believe you.

“I do,” you say softly, nodding to confirm it.

Rafe opens his mouth to speak, looking down again, another tear rolling down his face and dripping off his chin. You watch the way his glossy bottom lip trembles, as if his mouth is refusing to let him get the words out.

This is when he cracks all the way, holding his head in his hands, silently sobbing. You gaze at him with a broken heart. You’ve seen him cry, but never this hard.

Despite all the pain and anger that festers between you, you shuffle closer. Your bunched up robe falls off your chest and you don’t care. You rest your hand on the back of his neck, guiding him to cry against your bare shoulder.

“It’s okay,” you whisper.

He shakes his head no against you. It’s so far from okay. It’s not fair to meet someone and give them all of himself just to be ridiculed and told that all of him isn’t enough.

But impulse and muscle memory take over and he wraps his arms wrap around you, bare chests pressed together, his face in the crook of your neck.

“You said I was just like my dad,” he murmurs shakily against your skin.

You squeeze your eyes shut. You compared him to his father once, just once, during a fight when you were together. He’d gotten angry at you for being upset, and you knew his dad had done that to him in the past, and the vile, spiteful words came out of your mouth with no filter.

You regretted it immediately. You had no idea he held onto it, too.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, running your hand up and down the back of his hair. “You’re not. I said that just to hurt you. I didn’t mean it.”

He burrows his face deeper, smelling you, his heavy arms lightly trembling as they encircle you. It’s ridiculous how he wanted an apology from you for so long, but now that you gave it, he feels guilty.

“I hurt you, too,” he says. “Your friends are right to hate me.”

“They’re just protective,” you say, your voice wobbly.

“You shouldn’t…” He breathes in sharply. “You shouldn’t need protection from me. I know I fucked up. I fucked up so bad so many times.”

Your mind replays your vicious fights before and after your break-up, how deeply he hurt you when he hurled insults at you and accused you of cheating and blamed you for your problems.

But the good parts weave their way in. You were best friends. You made so many good memories. He loved you, took care of you, spoiled you. You always came together after a fight. Until too much damage had been done.

You can’t deny that he fucked up. But you did, too. You were mean. You were spiteful. You ignored him because you knew how much it hurt him.

“I fucked up, too,” you say, never having liked when he spoke low of himself, hating that you’ve called him names and insulted him in the past. “You deserve to feel good about yourself, okay?”

Rafe exhales shakily. He’s not sure he agrees. He knows there’s a screw loose, something missing in him. Maybe someone like him is fated to hate himself because there’s nothing to love.

“You know why I miss you?” you offer, not waiting for a response. “I had fun with you. I loved how full of life you are and how intensely you care. I loved how you called me your girl and how you much you looked out for me.”

It’s the best thing you could’ve said. This is why you owned his heart. Why you still do. You can unravel him, but you can also you tie him back together. You’re the only one who knows how to.

“Why aren’t you my girl, then?” he finally mumbles.

You swallow hard. It’s not that simple. Not even close.

“You know why,” you say.

Rafe wills himself to pull back, leaving your shoulder wet with his tears, sitting inches away from you.

Your eyes are glossy and red. The sight is pure torture for him. You sigh when he swipes his thumb under your eye, wiping away a fresh tear.

“No, I don’t,” he replies, because really, he’d rather be in a fucked up relationship with you than be apart.

His chest twists with unease. That’s why. He’d choose to be miserable together because at least you’re together. You’d rather be happy with him or be nothing at all.

You look down, frustrated that he still doesn’t get it.

“You always said you loved me more, but it was the other way around,” you say. “Loving someone means wanting to be the best person you can, because it’s what they deserve.”

You meet his hardened eyes, feeling dizzy.

“Why didn’t I deserve it?” you ask.

Rafe’s skin goes cold. He pulls you in, his hands cradling your jaw as he meets your lips tenderly, because he can’t go another second without kissing you. You let him. It feels too good not to.

“You do,” he breathes when he shifts back, his nose nudging yours, his hands still holding your face. “You deserve it. You deserve everything.”

“You’re everything,” you whimper impatiently. He expels a breath of relief. The tears welling in his eyes are from happiness this time. You still care about him. There’s no way you don’t.

“I’ll be better,” Rafe says. You’ve heard him say it so many times before. Your heart isn’t fully out of its cage yet, but you’re willing to listen.

“How?” you say.

It’s been tumbling in his mind nonstop. A world where you’re together is all he thinks about. He straightens, palms still on your cheeks, gazing down at your watery eyes.

“I won’t yell at you,” he says. “I won’t control you. I won’t ever hurt you.”

“You can’t promise to never hurt me,” you say, skeptical.

“Watch me.”

Your lips briefly curl into a sad smile that fades away. He nervously licks his lips, needing you so bad that he feels it in his bones.

He’ll make a fool of himself if he has to. He got this far. He’ll spill his guts to you and if you tell him to leave, he’ll pick himself up and go, because at least he tried. He’s half a person these days anyway.

“I was born to be with you,” Rafe whispers through his tears, staring into the beautiful eyes he dreams about every night. “You’ll always be my girl, alright? I love you.”

A wave of hope and fear and excitement and worry crashes into you. You need a second to understand that this is really happening, to come up for breath.

You gaze at him, taking in how soft and sweet he looks. This is Rafe. Not the man who makes you feel like you can’t do anything right. Beneath everything, beneath his anger and his trauma, the person looking at you is who he really is, someone who just needs to feel loved.

“Talk to me, please, baby,” he begs, thumbs stroking your skin. He can’t take the miserable look on your face. “What are you thinking?”

“That it’s impossible not to love you back,” you confess. “I think maybe we… we can try this again.”

Rafe kisses you hard, passion and joy blazing through him, every part of him wanting every part of you.

Even if you tried, you couldn’t keep track of how many kisses he’s leaving on your lips and your cheeks, overcome with love. You sink into the satisfaction and relief of hope. You never thought you’d feel that with him ever again. Hope.

“I’ll be good to you,” he whispers breathlessly, his forehead against yours. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you,” you say, your hands dragging up his firm, naked back. “I never stopped.”

Rafe kisses you again and again and again, his head swimming, his heart racing. He won’t fuck this up. He’ll die if he loses you again.

He gently pushes you so you’ll lie on your back and you sigh in pure relief when his hand dips between your legs, sliding his fingers up and down.

He’s painfully aware that you never got the pleasure he did tonight. He needs to give you an orgasm, to make you feel all the happiness he possibly can.

“My girl,” he says. “I’ll only ever make you feel good. I promise.”

He shifts to rest his head on your chest, fondling you as he lies right over your heart. He hears it pounding, feeling so lucky that you made space for him in it and so determined to never let it hurt ever again.

You wrap one arm around his shoulders and the other settles over his cheek, stroking softly as he traces circles right where you need him to. Your breath is shaky, your body loose, craving him in every sense.

“I fucking live for you, you know that?” he whispers, finding heaven in the way you’re panting and moaning.

You writhe beneath him, adoring how he knows what to do, knows when to dip a finger in you, when to move back up to your clit.

You whisper that you love him over and over as you reach your orgasm, mind-blowing pleasure ripping through you, sure you’ve never felt this much physical and emotional relief at once.

As you tumble down into a blissful fog, Rafe continues to gently run his fingers over you, moving up to kiss you again.

“I live for you,” he repeats against your mouth.

You feel the same way. You know now that you two weren’t destined to fall. You were meant to be happy together. It just took some time to get there.

#shoutout to my 🩵 anon ily #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron and you #rafe cameron and reader #rafe cameron and y/n #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #boblurb

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baby-yongbok · 8 months ago

Text

𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚

Fem!Felix x Fem!Reader

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Smut 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.5k 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your best friend is curious about a certain taste so you offer some help like a good friend would. 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Oral sex, Rule 63 - Felix is depicted as afab in this fic, 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆(𝒔): Felix is referred to as Lix & Lixie + No use of Y/n + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: Cherry by Lana Del Rey, This is what makes us girls by Lana Del Rey, Cola by Lana Del Rey

♡ Masterlist ♡

"What do you think it tastes like?" You peer up from your laptop screen, your curious eyes take in your best friend staring down at her phone screen, her platinum blonde bangs covering her furrowed brows and her glossed bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“What?” She tilts her phone towards you, showing you the filthy video she's been watching on loop for God knows how long.

“Gosh, Lixie, in my room? Really? Right now?” A chuckle escapes you as you watch the video replay.

“I'm sorry, I know, I was just scrolling and it popped up. You know how unpredictable Twitter can be.” You only half heard what she said, you can see why she stopped to watch this video. Whoever that lucky lady is, is getting her pussy devoured in a way that you can only dream of.

“But seriously… what do you think?”

“Uh, I actually already know what it tastes like. Well, everyone is different but -”

“Pause.” Your brown eyes shoot up to meet her wide ones. “You've done that before?”

You can't help the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah I did, I mean it wasn't planned and it was just -”

“How did I never know this?”

“I don't know but you won't find out much more if you don't let me finish.” Lix locks her phone, throwing it to the side and sitting up on her knees so that she faces you with shining eyes. Her plaid skirt rides up her thighs a bit as she gets comfortable on your bed. It’s way too short so that doesn't surprise you. It was her idea to get matching skirts but when the one she wanted was only available a size smaller than what she needed she decided to squeeze into it so that the two of you could match.

“Start talking.”

“Okay okay uhm, it happened at my old friend's 18th birthday sleepover. It was a classic case of girls just messing around and things going too far. I went down on my friend while everyone else was sleeping, we always had some tension between us and we were both questioning if we were into girls so we just said fuck it and went down on each other.” She stares at you, blinking a couple of times as the information sinks in. “I’ve done it other times since then but that was the very first time.”

“What… does it taste like?” Her Australian accent decorates her words as they slowly fall from her lips, she bites at the inside of her cheek as she waits for your reply.

“Uh, kinda like nothing? Some girls taste kinda bitter and some kinda taste metallic? It depends on where you are hormonally but it generally tastes like licking the back of your hand.” You giggle a bit when her eyes flicker down to her hand. She makes a fist and brings it up to her lips to slowly run her tongue over the skin. You watch her closely, taking in her reaction. She licks again, closing her eyes this time and following with a low hum.

“Then why do guys say that it tastes sweet?” Her brows are pinched together as her eyes flutter open. “I never understood that.”

“It’s just cause it sounds good I guess? It makes us feel good.” Lix sits back against the headboard to your bed and rests her head on your shoulder. You tuck your curls behind your ear so that she can get comfortable. “Have you never tasted yourself before? You don’t kiss Hyunjin after he goes down on you?”

“I mean, yeah but I just thought it would be a bit different I guess? He always says that I’m sweet so that’s what I expected.”

“I think that they say that when they really like you, ya know? Maybe Hyune likes you a lot.” The scoff that escapes her makes you chuckle, you can already tell that she’s rolling her eyes.

“He likes everyone, he'd never actually wanna date me and that’s fine cause I’m not interested.” She’s not wrong, Hyunjin is the flirt of your friend group. He only started sleeping with Lix after they shared a drunken kiss and Lix went down on him. Ever since then he’s been trying to sweep her off of her feet but your friend isn’t easy to impress.

“Then why do you fuck him?” You turn to look down at her and she’s already looking up at you with a coy smile.

“He’s got a big dick.” A loud laugh ripples from her throat as you stare at her with a slack jaw and big eyes. So the rumors are true? “I’m not telling you anything else.”

“Come on, you can not basically tell me that what everyone says about Hyunjin is true and then shut the conversation down!” She kicks her feet as she sinks further down onto the bed.

“I don’t wanna talk about how big Hyunjin’s dick is, I’ll show you a picture later. I wanna talk about how I think I might be into girls.” She pauses, waiting for my reaction.

“Oh, you are. You always have been. Everyone knows it, you’re late to your own party.” You slide down to lay next to her, resting your head on her chest.

“No one was gonna tell me?” She chuckles, playful pushing you off of her. “Some friend you are.” She runs her fingers through your hair mindlessly as she stares up at the ceiling pondering her thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long. I already know what my pussy tastes like. I wanna know what others taste like.”

“Are you interested in anyone? Like, any girls?” A comfortable silence blankets the both of you while she thinks, her eyes trace the blemishes on your ceiling as she picks her next words.

“I don’t know, not really.” You crane your neck to look up at her but she doesn’t look at you.

“No one at all?” You whisper like you’re trying to get her to let you in on a secret. “Do you fantasize about anyone?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” She whispers back. “I’ve imagined eating someone out…it’s always the same girl.”

“Do I know her?” Lix shakes her head and you smile, sitting up a bit to get a better look at her. Her eyes stay trained on the ceiling until you ask her. “Is it me?” Her gaze slowly drifts over to meet yours. She studies your features for just a second before shaking her head, a deep cherry blush washes over her freckled cheeks as you smile down at her.

“You’re always staring at my tits, I knew it.” You tease with a laugh, falling back down against the mattress and Lix scoffs.

“As if.” She rolls her eyes before falling into a fit of laughter with you “You’re my best friend and you’re a total babe. How could I resist? I was doomed from the start.” She puts the back of her hand against her forehead and sighs dramatically.

“Lixie likes me, Lixie likes me.” You sing song as you tease her, poking her side and making her laugh as she swats you away. You two giggle and thrash around a bit before you’re still again, laying on your sides facing each other.

“I’ll get over it.” She sighs, snuggling into her arm folded under her head. “It’s not like I’m in love with you, I just think you’re hot.”

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” She shakes her head and you smile “I think about you sometimes.” Her eyes go wide at your confession and you chuckle at her.

“Swear?” You nod, moving closer to her.

“Do you wanna know what girls taste like… or what I taste like?” You’ve been best friends with Lix long enough to recognize that look in her eyes, you know the answer to your question before she even opens her mouth. “You could… taste me if you want.”

“Now is not the time to mess with me! I’m having a crisis here.” You roll your eyes and grab her by her hip.

“I’m not messing with you, I mean it. You wanna know if you like girls and I’m a girl, this is what friends are for.” She smiles at you, shaking her head a bit as she ponders your offer.

“Are you serious?” You smile back.

“So serious.” The two of you stare at each other for a minute or two, allowing your racing heartbeats to fill the quiet that’s surrounded you. Both of you know what you want to do but who’s going to make the first move?

As if you both can to the same conclusion simultaneously you both lean in to each other, gripping the others hips and capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Lix giggles at the contact, kicking her feet a bit as excitement surges through her. She leans in again, deepening the kiss and you sigh into it. She feels just like you thought she would and she tastes even better. Soft and sweet.

“This is insane.” She whispers against your lips before kissing you again. “I have no clue how to eat pussy.” You both fall into a fit of laughter, clutching onto the other's waist as you struggle to find words.

“It’s not hard at all I promise!” You wrap your fingers around her wrist gently and guide her down to your core. “Feel it first, get to know it.”

“Why are you talking about your pussy like it’s a cat?” You hike your skirt up with your other hand, revealing your cotton white panties with an obvious wet spot forming on the gusset.

“Hey, it’s my kitty and it has feelings.” You rest her hand on your pubic bone, giving her control of how far she wants to go. “Be nice to her.”

Lixie’s slowly moves her fingers over your clothed pubic bone, taking in your trimmed pubes that you’ve carefully styled into a perfect triangle. She inches her way down the inside of your thigh, her palm slightly brushes over your clit and you sigh at the feeling. Her careful touches are something that you’re new to, everyone you’ve ever been with has been rough, their touches seemed rushed and eager but not Lix.

The feeling of her fingers brushing over your vulva brings you back to the present. Her touch is feather light as she runs two fingers over your clothed folds. She trails up and stops right at your clit, pressing a bit against it. “Oh” You kick your head back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut at the feeling. That’s one thing that you’ve always loved about being with girls, they all know where the clit is.

The feeling of the mattress dipping next to you makes you open your eyes, you watch as Lix moves further down to get a better look at where you're gushing for her. Her barely glossed lips are parted slightly as she looks you over with wide eyes. Her breathing is slow and calm despite her heart beating out of her chest with excitement. The cherry blush on her cheeks has only grown deeper now that she’s face to face with your cunt. Before you can even say anything she’s leaning into you, she places a soft but long kiss over pubic bone and your breath catches in your throat at the sight.

“Is that okay?” Her voice is barely above a whisper and her eyes never meet yours.

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky exhale as you watch her kiss a bit lower this time. You spread your legs further and she quickly slots herself between them. Her lips brush over your inner thighs, peppering soft but sloppy kisses over the skin. As she got more comfortable she left sweet kisses over your labia, licking a bit at the wet spot forming to get a hint of your taste on her tongue. You tried to stop your hips from bucking up into her but you couldn’t help it, the closer she got to your clit the more eager you got.

“Lixie.” You moaned out her name and gasped as she started to tease your clit with her tongue. Her gaze is trained on you as she kisses and licks over your panties, her wide eyes sparkle with faux innocence. You lazily grab at the blanket under you, small whimpers and restrained hums escape your throat despite your attempts at being quiet.

It’s the middle of a sunny day in May and your room is in the front of the house and your window is wide open. Your record player is playing some random song by Lana Del Rey and though it’s fitting for the situation you highly doubt that the soft music will drown out your moans.

She breaks eye contact and pulls away so that she can observe your pussy through your ruined panties. She whimpers at the sight of your pussy under the cloth, cocoa and pink just like she imagined it.

“ ‘S so pretty.” She coos as she pinches the lips between her fingers. You moan at the pressure, rolling your hips a bit. She taps to fingers right where your clit sits under the wet cloth and you hiss, throwing your head back.

“Was that okay?” she asks quickly, pulling back a bit. “Hyunjin always does that, and I wanted to try it.”

You laugh and she follows. “You’re trying tricks on me that your fuck buddy does to you!?” She laughs louder, resting her forehead on your thigh.

“No! Well, yeah I am but I don’t have any other reference!” She continues her ministrations, running her fingers over your clit and halting your laughter immediately. Your whole body tenses in pleasure as you clench around nothing. Your body tingles with excitement as she kisses you over your panties once more. You could cum from just the thought of her doing that and now she’s here, with her mouth on your clit and you can’t help but want to explode right on her tongue.

“Can we take these off?” she tugs at the hem of your panties and you offer an eager nod before lifting your hips to allow her to pull them off. Lix gasps as she pulls your panties down, her jaw hangs slack as she watches a string of arousal connect you to your soaked panties. She takes in the way that your cunt glistens in the spring sunshine and she swears that it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Is this a dream?” She mumbles under her breath but you hear her.

“It might be.” You prop yourself on your elbows, determined to watch her as she tastes you. She throws your panties to the side and spreads your pussy with two fingers. Her lust glazed eyes study you like you’re a work of art. She takes in every mole, every slight glimmer of your arousal and every clench of your tight hole. Her eyes meet yours for a second before she leans in closer. You stare down at her, not daring to break eye contact. She dips her tongue out and slowly licks a stripe up your leaking cunt. A loud moan escapes you when her eyes roll back at the taste of you, a whine leaving her throat when she swallows your essence.

“Oh my god.” You say in unison, chuckling for just a second before falling back into the moment. She’s eager to taste you again, wasting no time dipping her tongue back out and licking up your folds.

The tip of her tongue teases your clit a bit and you buck up into her. She notes the reaction, leaning in to circle your clit with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are on yours the entire time, she blinks up at you, drinking in your reactions to her amateur work. “ You look so pretty down there. Holy fuck, Lix.”

She feels more confident with your praise lingering in her head. She sucking your clit between her lips, laving over the sensitive bud and humming in satisfaction when you arch your back off of the mattress with a loud moan. Her small hands press against your inner thighs to keep them open for her as she runs her tongue up and down your folds. She flicks, licks and sucks all of the right spots, fucking you with her tongue once she’s truly comfortable.

You’re a moaning mess, your body trembles with pleasure as she works you towards your climax. Her name tumbles from your lips like a prayer and your fingers grab at the hair at the crown of her head. You’re so close but you don’t want this to end.

“Y-you’re really good at that.” She swirls her tongue over your clit, writing the alphabet with her tongue and you shudder at the dragged out moan she offers in response. You can feel your orgasm creeping up your spine, the familiar warmth starts to wash over you but she pulls away before it can take you completely. You whine in protest but before you can say anything she slides a finger inside you. You cry out, fisting the blanket under you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Oh my god, yes, like that, please, please add another.” Your breathing intensifies when she slips another finger into you, stretching you perfectly.

“I should still eat you out right?” You nod frantically, eyes shut tight as you chase your high. She dives back in immediately, lapping at your clit like an expert as she fucks your clenching hole. Your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm washes over you, your moans and cries are so loud that you’re positive that anyone passing your house can hear your signs of pleasure but you couldn’t care less.

“Lix-ah, Lix, Lixie, I’m cumming” She licks up your gushing arousal as you come undone, her free hand keeps you spread open for her as she laps up your juices. A chorus of moans float through the air, some belonging to you and some her. Once you start to settle down she slowly slides her fingers out of you and gives your cunt one last lick before backing away. Her chin is glistening in the sun as she smiles, her swollen lips are coated in your juices and the two fingers that were previously buried in your cunt are now between her lips as she runs her tongue over them. She rests her head on your thigh as she watches you come down from the clouds.

“This is definitely a dream, there’s no way that I made you cum that hard.” She smiles, as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand. “Did I do okay?”

“Was my screaming not enough of a give away?” You both laugh and she crawls back up to lay next to you. “Thoughts?”

“You taste…sweet.” She side eyes you with a smile and you both erupt into a much more intense fit of laughter. “You must like me.” You tease, pushing her playfully. “C’mere”

You lean up in an attempt to catch her lips with yours and she closes the gap, pressing her swollen lips against yours with a hum. “I am sweet.” She chuckles and you push her down onto your mattress.

“It’s your turn now.”

“You don’t have to -” You cut her off with a kiss.

“I really want to.” She smiles up at you and watches as you crawl down her body. Just when you’re about to flip her skirt up her phone chimes underneath her. She ignores it and turns her attention back to you, lifting her hips to give you access to her pink strawberry print panties. You kiss her outer thigh and start moving inwards but before you can get too far her phone vibrates again. She groans in annoyance before she lifts up and grabs the device, unlocking it aggressively and checking her notifications.

“Oh.” She whispers with wide eyes as she sits up. “Oh no oh god I completely forgot.”

“What?” You ask, crawling back up to look at her screen. “Oh.”

“I completely forgot that he was picking me up, our plans completely slipped my mind.” She starts typing quickly, trying to come up with a message that would get her out of her plans. Her phone vibrates in her hands seconds after her message is sent and somehow her wide eyes get even wider. “He’s here.”

“What?” Before you could even ask any questions there’s a knock at your window. All of your friends come through your window when it’s open. Why not? It’s in the front of your house and it’s fucking huge. You turn quickly and sure enough Hyunjin is lifting himself up and into your room.

“Ladies.” He greets with a sigh once he’s in, he takes you both in with furrowed brows. His eyes dart from your skirt around your waist to Lixie’s messy hair then down to your friends flipped up skirt and then they finally stop at your ruined panties discarded at the end of your bed. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” You say in unison, not even bothering to fix your appearances.

“Nothing?” He questions, an eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his lips as he looks you both over again.

“Yeah we’re just…” Lix trails off, looking at you for assistance but Hyunjin finishes before you can jump in “Tasting cherries?” He walks over to your bed, sitting at the edge and leaning back against the frame.

“Mind if I have a taste too?”

a/n : Thanks for reading! I've never written anything like this ever so I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, Comments and likes are appreciated and always make my day!

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lipringlrh · 1 year ago

Text

give you a show | LN4

summary: when your roommates that good looking it's hard not to stare

pairings: roommate!lando norris x fem!reader

an: not posted in a little (sorry) but i actually have a lot in my drafts but i’m grouping them together so i need to finish them all off before i post them :)

word count: 800

warnings: none i don’t think

feedback and reblogs appreciated !!

…

You hadn't been roommates with Lando very long, only a few weeks, and each day you couldn't tell whether you were regretting it or enjoying it more each day. Today included both.

You opened the door to your apartment only an hour later than you left after picking up a few things you needed. You quickly took your shoes off by the door and headed further inside, announcing a quick, "I'm home," as you led your jacket down on the top of a chair, a bad habit both you and Lando formed, but it was just easier.

"Kitchen," a reply came from your left.

You headed towards the kitchen door, briefly pausing as you stepped inside before recomposing yourself and carrying on. You sat on a bar stool seat in the corner of the room, Lando in perfect view, before unconsciously taking your phone out.

You weren't focused on it at all, not when Lando was standing there, looking like that. His body was faced sideways away from you and his hair was sticking up in all sorts of directions, but he still pulled it off well. Grey sweatpants hung off his hips very lowly and he wasn't wearing a shirt at all. He was either chopping some food or mixing something - you weren't sure, you weren't focused on what he was doing anyway.

A few minutes pass, he's moved around a bit but always returning to the same place no matter what he's doing. You weren't really sure what he was doing but you weren't complaining. The more he seemed to stand there, the more his arms seemed to flex too. You were loving it, completely unaware of how obvious you were, or what you were meant be to doing, you couldn't think straight anyway.

You were too concentrated on him and his arms that you didn't hear him call your name the first time - or the second. It was only the third time he said it that it knocked you out of your daze. Your eyes met his face again, tracing over every detail. Luckily he wasn't looking at you, you thought, he was still focused on whatever he was doing.

"You've been watching that for an awful long time," he spoke, a smirk taking over his features. He was right, you realised. Looking at the phone, you noticed you'd opened tiktok and had just been letting the same video play on loop since you sat down.

You stutter for a moment, thinking of an excuse. "I was reading the comments." You said, lying through your teeth way too obviously.

His smirk never faltered, instead just grew, "took you a while to tell me that. Don't worry, I don't mind when you stare."

You didn't really know how to answer that so you just stayed quiet, your eyes still trained on his face as he turned around and stepped much closer to you.

He was right in front of you now, the only thing separating you was the marble of the kitchen bar worktop.

"What? You think I didn't notice? I cut up way more salad than I'd need in a week, waiting for you to notice." He grinned, putting his arms on the counter and moving his face down to the same height as yours and ever so slightly closer.

"So you were giving me a show?" You reply before you have any time to think about it. You watch as he falters at your response, giving yourself a little ego boost. You cock your head to the side, almost as if you're challenging him for a reply.

He quickly gains his compose back, brushing off the slight embarrassment of you getting him flustered - it isn't the first time but it's the most obvious.

"Well, when there's a pretty girl in front of you, always." He whispers as though it's obvious, in an attempt to again fluster you more than how you flustered him.

"So you think I'm pretty?" You try to hide your grin but fail miserably. Lando also fails to hide his when he sees yours.

"Very much so," he smiles back, moving a hand up to brush some hair off of your face. "Now," he says, slapping his hands down on the counter and flexing slightly, "what kind of roommate would I be if I didn't give you a full show? Anything else you'd like to watch me do?" he says, almost playful, almost serious, liking the idea of being ogled at by you quite nice.

"Well there's a watermelon in the fridge," you tease, tracing your hand down the prominent veins in his arm.

He smirks, watching your hand in motion, "perfect." He doesn't move though, he stays there, absorbed in the way your hand touches his arm.

"Get to it!" you joke, watching as he moves instantly towards the fridge.

In his rush, he doesn't forget to turn back and give you a cheeky wink, followed by a "yes, ma'am."

…

feedback + reblogs appreciated and requests are open :)

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teapartyprincess4two · 8 months ago

Note

Can you make a Latina reader x Matt sturniolo smut? You can make it up how you want it

Lipstick- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Thick!Latina!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: fluff, smut

inspiration: request^^

translations: embedded within the story!

warnings: 18+, MDNI, literal sex, use of Spanish, Hispanic/ Latino culture mentioned, established relationship, slight cursing, traditional parents, mentions of alcohol, didn’t name any of the side characters, long

summary: Matt’s nervous to meet your family, but after making a good impression you treat him to a night full of kisses and lipstick stains.

—

Matt sits in the living room, nervous hands playing with the keys that hang from his belt loop. Your mother keeps him company, sitting on the sofa across from him as she asks him a plethora of personal and uncomfortable questions. Latina mothers are unashamed to prod into the personal life of others, especially when meeting their daughter’s boyfriend for the first time.

You’ve only been dating Matt for a couple of months, and although he seems like a nice kid, she’s not entirely sure she can trust your judgment just yet. The few boys you’ve brought home before haven’t always necessarily met her high standards. Matt hasn’t done anything to throw her off yet, but she’s sure she’ll find something to dislike. If he manages to stick around long enough, though, he’d surely grow on her.

“So what do you do for work?” your mom asks, momentarily looking up from her latest costura project to catch Matt’s anxious gaze. She expertly weaves the string in and out of the white lace, forming an intricate floral design in the process.

[translation: costura- sewing]

“Oh um… my brothers and I we make YouTube videos,” Matt doesn’t know where to look, he’s afraid to make eye contact but also afraid that if he doesn’t it’ll come off as disrespectful. He’s never been so nervous in his life, and from the look on your mother’s face he can tell that that’s probably not what she wanted to hear.

Your mother scoffs, obviously unimpressed with his answer. “Esta niña, siempre saliendo con los más huevones,” she turns her head towards the stairs. Matt’s been waiting for you to descend for over 30 minutes, and the awkward tension was even becoming too much for her.

[translation: “This girl, always going out with the laziest ones.”]

Matt coughs, taking a quick swig of the water bottle in front of him. He’s nervous, his hands are clammy and he has no idea what your mom just said. What was taking you so long?

“So is YouTube gonna pay the bills?” your mom was abrasive and she knew it, but she couldn’t help it. In her eyes, nobody was worthy enough of her babygirl. Matt remains silent, he doesn’t even know what to say, so she continues, “You know, when you two start having kids.”

The thought of having children at 20 years old terrifies Matt beyond belief, he can feel his hands getting clammier by the second. He understands that it’s a cultural dissonance, though, so he keeps his mouth shut. “We’re not planning on any kids soon, ma’am. We haven’t— Um, we haven’t really talked about it,” his voice trembles slightly, your mom was doing a good job of intimidating him.

Matt takes another swig of his water, his mouth was dry and he felt like his throat was closing up. “Oh, but you’re having sex with my daughter right?” the question is so unapologetically bold that it causes Matt to choke on the liquid, some of it managing to dribble down his chin.

“I’m sorry?” he chokes out, but he heard your mom loud and clear.

Finally, as if on queue, Matt hears footsteps coming down the steps. ‘Finally!’ he thinks, watching as your curvy figure rounds the staircase and enters the living room. Matt shoots up from his spot on the couch, his eyes immediately dancing over your entire body.

You’re wearing a fitted, black bodycon dress that reaches just above your knees. The spaghetti straps work to hold your bust in place, a gold necklace dangling delicately above the curves of your breasts. You push your freshly curled hair onto your shoulders, luscious locks framing your face perfectly. White lace-up sneakers adorn your feet, your ankle bracelet glimmering as you walk into the living room.

Matt can’t keep his eyes off of, every aspect of your being pulling him in and putting him in a trance. Your mom notices Matt’s inability to hide his attraction for you, “her eyes are up here!” His face goes beet red, eyes immediately darting up to your face.

You roll your eyes before sending Matt an apologetic smile, “Ya nos vamos, Ma.”

[translation: “We’re leaving, Ma.”]

“Bueno, mi niña. Pórtate bien,” she warns, bringing you in for a strong, warm embrace. Your mom’s change in behavior is so quick it gives Matt whiplash, but he can’t blame her for being standoffish with him. He understands that it’s her mother bear nature.

[translation: “Okay, babygirl. Be good.”]

You kiss your mom on the cheek, your red lipstick staining her face. You turn to Matt with a big, toothy smile sprawled onto your face. “You ready?” you ask, taking his hand in yours as you guide him outside. He nods and hums in response, squeezing your hand as he trails behind you in a lovesick daze. Your ass jiggles with each step and Matt wonders how he ever got so lucky.

“Sorry for taking so long,” you apologize once you’re in the car, getting situated in the passenger seat. “No problem. You look really beautiful,” he replies, starting the car and doing another once over on your body. You lean over the center console with puckered lips, “kiss?” He happily obliges, your red lipstick instantly transferring onto him. His pants are becoming tighter by the second and you notice it right away. Your relationship is still in its infancy, so even this has you blushing.

“Was my mom nice?”

“Mm yeah, some like that,” he replies with a chuckle, adjusting his pants and beginning the drive to your destination. You know he’s lying, but you’re grateful that he’s courteous enough to put up with your mom’s attitude.

“Just wait till you meet my dad and my siblings. They’re not as bad,” you say, the hum of the car engine and the low music in the background creating a calm atmosphere.

“Can’t wait,” he laughs, and although he’s nervous for when that day finally comes, he’s actually excited to become a constant presence in your life. It might be too early to say it, but he’s definitely falling in love with you, the tent in his pants making it obvious as ever.

—

A year has passed since that day and, as expected, your mom has warmed up to Matt. They aren’t super close yet, but she definitely sees him in a different light. She can tell that he truly cares for you and that what you two share is real, but the real test comes when Matt meets your dad.

Your dad works a lot, the manual labor taking a toll on his body that puts him to sleep as soon as he gets home. So, even if your dad is home when Matt’s around, he’s usually asleep or resting in his room.

Matt was nervous when he met your mom, but he’s TERRIFIED to meet your dad. There are so many factors to take into consideration; the language barrier, the cultural dissonance, the fact that he’s your literal dad! It doesn’t help that your siblings are gonna be there too, all of it makes Matt tremble with unease. But he’s been invited to your family’s cookout so he can no longer postpone it.

It’s a sunny Saturday afternoon. The weather is nice, it’s not too cold or too hot. It’s the perfect day for a cookout, and Matt should feel excited, but he doesn’t. Sweaty hands grip the steering wheel as he anxiously drives to your house. Chris and Nick are being dragged along as moral support, but unlike Matt, they’re not nervous.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have brought you guys. I don’t even think they know I’m a triplet,” Matt’s words are coming out a mile a minute as he places the car in park outside your house. The panic is starting to set, and from the looks of it they’re the first ones here. Usually being on time would make Matt proud, but this just means there will be less people to hide behind.

“Dude, it’s gonna be fine. Plus, maybe Y/n has a cute cousin or something and we can be like brother in laws,” Chris is only half-joking. “Gross,” Nick grimaces, hopping off the car and beginning the short walk to your front door. Chris laughs, copying Nick’s actions and following closely behind.

That just leaves Matt. He’s glued to the front seat, mind racing uncontrollably. If he’s going to do this, it needs to be quick and painless or he’ll just psych himself out. He takes one deep breath in and out, unbuckling himself with such fervor that the seatbelt slaps the door. Once he steps out of the car, he takes a second to anchor himself before jogging to catch up to his brothers, who are already ringing your doorbell.

Three minutes pass and no one has opened the door, so Nick rings the doorbell again. “Allí voy, allí voy!” a voice shouts from inside, the door swinging open aggressively to reveal your little sister.

[translation: “I’m going, I’m going!”]

“Oh it’s just you,” she deadpans, moving aside so they can walk in. She slams the door shut, pushing past the stunned trio until she’s at the foot of the stairs. “Y/n’s upstairs,” she says, waving towards the staircase haphazardly.

“Y/N! YOUR BOYFRIENDS ARE HERE!” she shouts up the stairs, the loud outburst taking the triplets by surprise.

Your sister is a good 4 years younger and the complete opposite of you. She’s a thin tomboy, wearing an outfit so oversized that she’s drowning in fabric. Her style directly resembles Chris’s, chunky sneakers adorning her feet and a backwards hat resting atop her long, curly hair. A long gold chain that she stole from your older brother hangs from her neck, swaying back and forth as she shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her makeup is nicely done and her glossy lips are resting in a smirk, she loved embarrassing you.

“Stop yelling, pendeja!” you shout back, head peering from your doorway. Your sister shoots you an unbothered shrug, turning on her heels and disappearing into the backyard. You descend the stairs, immediately hugging Matt and planting a fat kiss on his lips. Within seconds his lips are the same color as yours, your cherry lipgloss tasting all too familiar.

[translation: pendeja- dumbass (feminine)]

“You guys are early,” you chuckle, pulling away from Matt to greet the other two. “You can blame Matt for that,” Nick says, the four of you walking outside to the backyard patio. The setup is simple but nice, rows of foldable chairs and tables lining the grassy lawn. Coolers are up against the walls of the house, each one filled to the brim with soda, juice pouches, and alcohol.

As Matt is surveying the area, he sees your dad, or at least he thinks he does. A tall, muscular man is working the grill. His shiny, bald head reflects the sun and his tattoos are on full display past the sleeves of his ribbed cotton tank top.

Matt grabs your hand, pulling you back slightly, “Is that your dad?” His voice is hushed, afraid to be heard accidentally.

You follow his gaze, “What? No. That’s my brother.”

An audible sigh of relief escapes Matt, and you instantly clock it, “Don’t worry, babe. Everyone’s gonna love you.” The reassuring words momentarily calm his nerves.

Your older brother’s boisterous voice breaks the moment, “Y/n, go get the rest of the carne from the kitchen!” He’s pinching carne asada, elote, and cebolla off of the grill with long metal tongs, stacking it neatly on a metal tray.

[translation: carne- meat, carne asada- grilled meat, elote- corn, cebolla- onion]

Chris is the first to approach your brother, his friendly nature making it easy for him to talk to new people,“Dude, that smells good!”

Your brother is very kind, his scary appearance completely juxtaposing his hospitable personality. He’s wearing baggy jean shorts and black air forces with a matching gold chain and bracelet. The black sunglasses that rest on his face make him look unapproachable, but the warm smile he offers Nick and Chris makes up for it.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” you quickly peck Matt’s cheek, once again staining his face with your lipstick. Matt hums in response, joining the rest of the men around the grill.

“I feel like I’m seeing triple. I didn’t even know there was three of y’all,” your brother jokes, offering them each a firm handshake. Even though they’ve heard the joke millions of times before the triplets laugh.

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Nick laughs.

“Bet you do. Which of you is dating my sister, though?” your brother asks, but he knows the answer; the red kiss on Matt’s cheek is a dead giveaway.

“That would be this lucky guy,” Nick replies, shaking Matt’s shoulders playfully. Matt’s cheeks burn a bright red and he can’t stop himself from smiling, he truly was lucky. “If the red lipstick on his face doesn’t tell you, then his smile surely will,” Chris chimes in, his finger smudging the makeup on Matt’s face.

Your brother laughs, “Yeah you might wanna wipe that off before el jefe gets back.”

[translation: el jefe- the boss (masculine, a nickname commonly used when referencing one’s father)]

“Oh shit,” Matt mutters, scrambling for a nearby napkin and rubbing it along his face feverishly.

—

An hour has passed and no one else has arrived yet, I guess the triplets didn’t get the memo that Hispanics are almost always fashionably late. Your brother is still working the grill, immersed in an entertaining conversation with Nick about God knows what. Chris, on the other hand, is playing soccer with your sister. He keeps either kicking the ball over the fence or missing it completely, his clumsy actions make your sister laugh uncontrollably.

You sit with Matt at one of the many tables, hands intertwined as you both anxiously await your parents arrival. “He should be back by now,” you mumble, a restless leg bouncing up and down. You knew Matt would make a good first impression on your dad, but you were still nervous.

It’s almost like you summoned him, the familiar sound of your dad’s pickup truck ringing in your ears as he pulls into the driveway. “Is that him?” Matt asks, grip tightening on your palms. “Yeah that’s him. Don’t be nervous, my dad is nice,” you reply, but you’re equally as anxious.

Your dad’s first words do nothing to help your case, you’re just glad Matt can’t understand them, “Vengan a ayudar, huevones!”

[translation: “Come help, lazies!”]

“Lemme go help, you stay here. Okay?”

“No, I’m coming with you.”

“Actually yeah, good idea.”

Matt follows you to the front yard, he’s so beyond nervous that his hands are practically dripping with sweat. Your dad senses Matt’s presence immediately, “Y este pinche güey que?”

[translation: “Who’s this fucking guy?”]

“Pa! No seas feo!” you exclaim, but your dad just rolls his eyes and silently instructs you to unload the truck. He bought more alcohol for the party, because when you’re Hispanic you can never have enough.

[translation: “Pa! Don’t be ugly!”]

“Es tu novio o que?” your dad asks, grunting as he picks up two cases of beer. He rests them on his shoulders with ease, he’s so strong that it intimidates Matt. “Yes, dad. He’s my boyfriend,” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes.

[translation: “Is he your boyfriend or what?”]

Your dad, much like your brother, is also bald. The greatest differences between the two men are the wrinkles that crease near your dad’s eyes when he smiles, his long bushy beard, and his protruding beer belly. “Nice to meet you,” your dad finally directs his attention towards Matt, offering him a genuine smile as his thick accent butchers the words.

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Matt replies, picking up a case of alcohol as to make himself useful. Your dad can tell that Matt’s nervous, and even though he doesn’t like the idea of you dating, he decides to take it easy on him. He’s heard stories about Matt from your mom and by the way you look at him, your dad knows he’s the one.

As your dad enters the backyard, absolutely shocked to see Chris and Nick. Never in his life has he met a twin, let alone triplets, “Ay güey! Hay tres? No chingues, creo que me mareé.” Everyone, except for the triplets who have no idea what’s going on, laughs at your dad’s statement.

[translation: “Oh shit! There’s three? Fuck, I think I just got dizzy.”]

“I think he likes you,” you shrug, a sly smile playing on your face. Matt suddenly feels confident, all the nerves washing away.

—

As the hours pass, the party becomes less innocent as everyone becomes more and more inebriated. Matt’s chatting with some of your uncles and cousins, a cold beer resting in his hands. He’s been nursing the same bottle all night, only sipping from it occasionally.

You’re on the opposite end of the lawn, sitting at a table with your chismosa cousin. “Your man is so handsome, prima. If you find another one like that, send him my way.”

[translation: chismosa- gossiper (feminine), prima- cousin (feminine)]

“He does have a brother,” you joke, eyes still trained on Matt. You needed to get him alone in the house, away from prying eyes.

You could think of so many actual reasons you needed him right now, though. First, he was being such a gentleman with your family. He introduced himself and made small talk despite the evident language barrier. Secondly, when you served him a plate, he finished it faster than you’ve ever seen him eat anything. Then, when he got up for seconds, he moaned as the delicious flavors melted in his mouth.

Everyone loved him, and for whatever reason that turned you on. The longer you looked at him, the wetter you became. You’re clenching your thighs together, the sheer thought of him making you squirm. Before you know it, you’re excusing yourself from your cousin and walking up to Matt with a random excuse as to why you need him inside.

“Hey is everything okay?” Matt whispers, hands resting on your hips. His head is crooked down towards you, lips capturing yours briefly before resting his forehead against yours. “Yeah, just missed you,” your breathy words fan his lips as you place a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth and travel them down his neck.

Although he welcomes the feeling, you’re both standing in the kitchen and if anyone were to walk in they’d catch the intimate moment. That’s the last thing he wanted, especially not after making a good first impression, “not here, baby.”

You pout, completely retracting yourself from Matt, “okay.”

“No, wait. I said not here,” he pulls you back in as he looks around the house in search of another secluded area, not wanting to completely abandon your touch.

“Then where?” your voice is sultry and inviting.

“Outside?” it’s the first thing that comes to Matt’s mind, and the suggestion breaks you from the mood.

“Outside, Matt? Really? Like what, like a dog?” you have a dumbfounded look on your face, almost like you can’t believe he even suggested it.

“No, like, in my car,” he dangles the keys in front of your face before pulling you back in for a heated kiss.

The kiss seems to convince you because he’s successfully leading you to his car. The street is dark, only illuminated by a few street lamps, but you find it with ease.

You fumble into the backseat, Matt following behind you giddily. “We have to be quick, okay?” you whisper, pulling Matt in for another kiss by the collar.

“You know I like taking my time with my girl,” you can hear the smirk in his voice, a playful scoff falling from your lips. You scoot further into the back seat, making room for Matt as he situates himself between your legs.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look today?” he brushes a stray curl away from your face, a gentle hand caressing your cheek. “Hmm yes, but I could hear it again,” you turn your face, kissing his palm.

“You look beautiful today,” he murmurs, leaning in for a kiss. You mould into each other, your lips fitting perfectly against his. Matt grinds himself down on you, momentarily breaking from you long enough for you to feather kisses along his neck.

With each kiss comes an affirmation, “I’m. So. Proud. Of. You.” It’s too dark to see, but you’re leaving lipstick marks all over him. The praises send blood rushing to his dick as you continue, “You did so good, papi. Just like I knew you would.”

[translation: papi- daddy (bear with me ppl)]

“Yeah? How good?” he eggs you on, relishing in all your sweet words. His hands push your dress up, the fabric scrunching up around your hips to reveal the red lace panties you wore underneath. Matt swears he’s in heaven.

“You did perfect…” your words trail off as you watch Matt remove your underwear in a daze. “How about you show me how good I did?” he grabs your waist, flipping you both over so you’re on top. You let out an excited squeal, your bare cunt coming in contact with his rough denim jeans. His dick is straining against the fabric, begging for release.

You grind onto his clothed penis, one hand resting on his chest as the other pushes your hair out of your face. Matt’s hands instinctively find your hips, a firm grip guiding your swiveling motions.

“Tell me how you want me, baby.”

“Ride me?”

As soon as he says it, you’re wiggling down onto his thighs and unbuckling his pants. Your fingers dance along his erection, teasingly tracing it. Matt bites his lip at the sight, “Please don’t tease.”

“So polite,” you giggle, finally tugging his pants down. His dick slaps against his stomach, the swollen tip already dripping with precum. Your thumb runs across the tip, spreading the lubrication along his shaft.

Matt’s a whimpering mess, propped onto his elbows to get a better view of you. When his hips subconsciously buck into your hand you decide to stop teasing and situate yourself above his crotch, dragging his penis along your wet folds before positioning it right at your entrance.

You’re going so slow, too slow, so Matt decides to take matters into his own hands. He grabs handfuls of your ass, pushing you down onto his dick with force. “Matt!” you gasp, the delicious stretch sending you into overdrive.

He doesn’t respond, instead he pushes and pulls your hips so that you’re bouncing on his cock. Your breasts are jiggling rhythmically, threatening to spill out of your dress. Animalistic grunts fill the car as Matt watches your pussy wrap around him, his jaw is slack and his eyebrows are furrowed in pleasure. Your soft whimpers and moans motivate him to keep going.

“You like that?” The car is rocking with the intensity of your movements, windows becoming foggier and foggier with each breathy moan that escapes your lips.

“Yes!” your voice is high pitched and squeaky, the pleasure choking you up. “Use your words, pretty girl,” he grunts, feeling the familiar wave of pleasure approaching.

“It’s so good, papi. So, so, so good,” you babble, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. Your pussy is fluttering around him, the sensation bringing Matt closer to his breaking point.

“Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” he whimpers, large hands squeezing the skin around your hips so hard that it was sure to bruise. You place loving kisses all over his face, especially on his cheeks and the corners of his mouth.

“I love you,” you moan, chanting his name again and again right after. He’s thrusting up into you feverishly, his pace faltering slightly as you both near your climax. “I love you too, princess. So much,” his voice is strained, strong arms wrapping around your waist and holding you in place as he shoots his warm load into you. His affirmations send you into a state of euphoria as your orgasm washes over you.

He’s peppering kissing all over your chest, whimpers escaping his lips as he comes down from his high. You delicately push his hair off of his sweaty forehead, admiring him as he continues his gentle attack on your chest.

“We should probably get back, babe. They’ll be wondering where we are,” you whisper, but he doesn’t want to let go. He wants to stay like this with you forever.

“Let me enjoy this a little longer,” he murmurs, hooded eyes finally looking up at you. Your lipstick is smudged all over your mouth. “Aww baby, your lipstick is all messed up. You look so cute,” he laughs, attempting to wipe some it off but failing.

He shifts slightly, the streetlights briefly managing to illuminate his handsome face. Your kiss marks are all over, a clear visual representation of how much you love him.

“You’re wearing more of it than I am,” you joke, earning yourself a playful slap on the ass.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: clearly I couldn’t just write a smut right? Lmaoooo idk I had all the characters in my brain & it couldn’t just be smut 😭 hope u enjoy

This is so different from anything I’ve written before so lmk how yall like it & if you enjoy having Spanish in stories w/ the translations in the story💃🏻 also don’t kill me for using papi, i’d gladly call my man papi any day 😋

-L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

taglist: @nicksmainbitch @sturniololovers @mayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

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nats--sw · 2 months ago

Note

Leah with a goalkeeper kid is awesome! Any chance we can get Mary & Hannah’s reaction?

this wasn’t in the plans,, but I went for it anyway, it’s under 1000 words, so it’s a quick one, sorry for taking so long this is a short from this

It was a special day at the England national team training camp. Amidst preparations for the next round of friendlies, the team had set aside a couple of hours to film media content. The atmosphere was relaxed, the usual high energy focus shifted to something lighter.

Mary had just stepped out of the dressing room, busy adjusting her gloves, when Leah approached her with a grin that made her look far too pleased with herself. The kind of grin that always made Mary suspicious.

“What’s going on, Leah?” Mary asked, raising an eyebrow, curious about the mischievous glint in Leah’s eyes.

“I’ve got a challenge for you” Leah announced, looping her arm through Mary’s and gently steering her in the opposite direction from where Mary was supposed to be.

“Hang on, I’m supposed to shoot some videos with Hannah” Mary protested, though she didn't resist that much.

“Change of plans, Mary” Leah said, her grin widening.

Mary was about to argue when she spotted Hannah nearby, standing next to a little girl carrying an armful of balls.

“Wait... is that your daughter?” Mary asked, a touch of surprise her voice as she recognised Olivia.

“Yup” Leah said proudly.

Mary raised both eyebrows now, half-wondering how Leah had managed to sneak her daughter into a national team media day. But given the relaxed vibe of the day, she figured it was one of those rare occasions where bending the rules was allowed.

“Hi Mary!” Olivia came running up to them, beaming as she high fived Mary enthusiastically.

“Hey Livy!” Mary grinned, leaning down to her level. Then in a mock whisper, she added, “Does your mum know you’re here?”

Olivia gave her a cheeky smile and pressed her finger to her lips in a shushing gesture. Mary chuckled, shaking her head.

Hannah sidled up to Mary “Did you hear the news, Mary?”

Mary glanced at her teammate “What news?”

Leah came back with Olivia by her side, hands resting on her daughter’s shoulders, grinning even wider. “Looks like we’ve got your replacement lined up for when you retire.”

Olivia blushed a little under her mother’s proud gaze but stood tall, already wearing her gloves. Mary blinked, caught between amusement and admiration.

“Is that right?” Mary said, smiling down at Olivia “Well then, show me.”

“You're throwing them wrong on purpose, mom!” Olivia huffed, her cheeks flushed from the effort as she stood in the goal, catching her breath. It was the third shot in a row she had saved, her face glowing with pride. She stood under the goalposts they used for training, fully suited up in her keeper gear, proudly breaking in the new gloves Leah had bought her a few days earlier.

“I doubt it, kiddo. Your mom’s not exactly famous for her penalties” Mary teased from the sidelines, her voice laced with amusement.

Leah shot her a playful glare “I’ll take that as a compliment to my daughter and not a dig at me, thanks” she quipped, positioning another ball at her feet “Ready Livy?”

Olivia nodded enthusiastically, clapping her gloved hands together before crouching into position, her eyes locked on her mom.

“It’s going to the right!” Leah called out, sending the ball flying toward the left instead, hoping to throw her daughter off.

But Olivia was quick. With a determined leap, she deflected the ball with a firm swipe of her gloved hand, sending it out of bounds.

“Brilliant!” Mary cheered, bursting into laughter “The future of England’s got some serious hands!” Without hesitation, she jogged over, scooping Olivia up onto her shoulders.

All Olivia could do was giggle as Mary paraded her around the field, circling Leah, who had dramatically collapsed onto the grass, feigning defeat.

Leah, her face a mix of pride and amusement, sat up and dusted the dirt off her knees “Alright, alright, you win this round” she called out with a smirk, watching the two of them.

Mary, still carrying Olivia, shot Leah a mischievous grin “Great. Now, Livy, I’m going to teach you how to shout at your defenders so they don’t mess up”

“Ugh” Leah groaned, tilting her head back in mock dread. She couldn’t help but remember all the times Mary had scolded her for messing up on the pitch.

Olivia beamed from atop Mary’s shoulders, her eyes sparkling “Does this mean I get to play with Mary more often?”

Leah chuckled, shaking her head with a fond smile “We’ll see, Livy”

Mary finally set Olivia back down, ruffling the little girl’s hair “Anytime kiddo. Just give me a call and we’ll sort out a session”

Leah stood and walked over, wrapping her arm around Olivia “Alright, how about we head back inside before anyone realizes we’ve completely hijacked media day?”

Olivia nodded eagerly, still glowing with pride as they made their way towards the dressing room.

#nn answers #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you #mary earps imagine

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euovennia · 2 years ago

Text

"what's so funny?" | task force 141

this blurb has been on my mind so much ever since it first appeared in my inbox and i'm so happy to have finally written it, my dumb little gen z brain couldn't resist. thank you for requesting, and as always, i hope you enjoy <3

pairing: youngest!reader x (platonic) task force 141

warnings: none

summary: the team gets curious when you seem to having just a little too much fun while scrolling through your phone. (based on this request)

The team doesn't seem to notice your small huffs of laughter at first, and if they do, they don't seem to give it a second thought. Why would they? You laughing at random videos on your phone had practically become second nature to them by this point. So, they remain quiet, each of them doing their own separate thing in the common area. Gaz reading some random article about sharks on his phone, Ghost and Soap watching some low-budget action film on the television, and Price busying himself with some random crossword from a book of puzzles he'd picked up for himself not too long ago. They don't bother to interrupt your screen time as you sit propped up in the corner with your phone in your hands. They've come to learn you're often far too enthralled with the minute long videos you religiously scroll through to give them more than a quick smile of acknowledgement. They don't mind, however, it seems to make you happy.

Even so, they can't help but each feel a little curious as your faint smiles of amusement turn into small fits of giggles that you can barely contain with a painful bite to your lip. By the time Gaz finishes up reading his article, you're practically bursting at the seams as you try to contain your laughter. He watches you from across the room with great interest as you give your phone screen another swipe with a swift movement of your thumb. He keeps his eyes concentrated on your smiling face, eagerly waiting to see your reaction to the video you're currently watching. He's glad he did, because he's first to witness the way your resolve practically shatters as you fall into a loud fit of laughter. Each of the men give each other a shared look before Ghost stands up from the uncomfortable couch and makes his way over to you.

He stops just a few steps shy of you, "What's so funny?"

You give yourself a moment to calm down and take in a deep breath before handing him your phone with a large grin. He watches the video, his brows knitting themselves together in a state of confusion before he looks back down at you once the short video is finished playing.

"You're kidding me."

You grab your phone from his hands and haphazardly place it back onto the small table before standing up and grabbing his wrist.

"We need to do that, now."

He lets out a grunt, "We're not fuckin'–"

He's cut off by you reaching forward and grabbing onto his wrist with a soft touch.

"Please? I really wanna do it."

His eyes flicker back over to the video that's looping itself on your phone before settling his gaze back onto you who's staring up at him with a dopey grin and hopeful eyes. He's found he has a hard time saying no to you nowadays.

He sighs, "Fine."

Your face glistens with delight at his words and you're quick to pull him away from the room with the rest of the team still being able to hear you say something like, "this is gonna be so funny!"

Price, convinced you've whisked Ghost away to take part in something diabolical, quickly gets up from his chair and makes his way over to your abandoned phone. He picks it up with a careful grip and watches the video that's still looping.

Soap is the first to speak up after a few moments have passed, "What was it?"

Price's face is one of pure confusion as he turns the phone to face the men awaiting his response, "It's just a slice of bread falling over."

Gaz's face lights up as he gets up from his seat, "I wanna see some bread fall over," He cheers before rushing off in the direction of where you had taken Ghost.

The remaining two men watch him scurry off before turning to each other, the eldest of the two looking exceptionally confused as he speaks out, "Is this meant to be funny?"

Soap shrugs, "I prefer the one where the bread is having flashbacks, but the original one is fine too."

Price gapes at the Scotsman, "Flashbacks?!"

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virginsexgod69 · 9 months ago

Text

❝ Video Star — ✩❞

pairing (Season 7) Negan Smith x f!Reader

cw smut, unprotected p in v, slight humiliation, pussy slapping, bow jobs, name calling/ pet names, sex tapes, porn photography?

summary You and Negan have some fun with a digital camera you found on a run.

note ahh this is my first time writing for negan, so i hope it's okay... jdm is just tooo fine. i have wild thoughts whenever he's on screen 🫦

1.5k words

...

"Smile!" you said before snapping the photo, taking Dwight off guard. The picture was blurry and unfocused and due to the flash, he was squinting and not even looking at the camera.

"The hell?" he questioned looking at you crazy. "It's a camera, duh. Found it on a run," you explained. He walked off in an annoyed huff leaving you wondering what crawled up his ass and died. You continued walking about the sanctuary taking pictures of unsuspecting people.

"Laura! Say cheese," you prompted the blonde woman as she approached you. She rolled her eyes and held her hand up to the camera, affectively ruining the picture.

"Negan wants to see you," she said. You turned off the camera and looped the strap around your wrist before heading toward his room. What is was he wanted, you had no clue. Your relationship with the man in charge was an odd one. Toeing the line between wife and solider, you had no clue where you stood. Sometimes he sent you on runs, other times he spoiled you with little treats so you wouldn't have to spend any of your points. Once, when he called you in to have a glass of 30 year old scotch with him, the two of you ended up fucking in a drunken haze which lead to regular hookups. You knocked on the door once you arrived and waited patiently for him to let you in, wondering what he wanted and hoping it was to hook up.

He opened the door, revealing him leaning against the door frame in his white t-shirt with Lucille in hand. You stood there nervously, not knowing what to say or what mood to expect from him.

"You just gonna stand there lookin' stupid or you gonna come in?" He asked. He had such a way with words. You stepped into the large room and let him lead you to the couch by the small of your back. You sat in the chair facing the couch he took a seat in.

"Got a little somethin' for ya," he said with a wolfish grin on his face. You relaxed a little as he seemed fairly happy.

"What is it?" you asked, excitement lacing your voice. He reached behind his back and tossed a ball of white fabric at you. You held it up and revealed it was a sheer, lace babydoll dress. Heat flooded your cheeks as you realized that he expected you to put it on.

"Um...could you look away while I change," you asked shyly.

"I've seen you naked, been inside you, but you don't want me to see you change?" he mocked.

"Neeegaan," you whined. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, but covered his eyes with his hand nonetheless. You made quick work of stripping off your clothes, including you underwear, and put on the sheer number. It was a bit small. It struggled to contain your breasts and stopped at your mid-upper thigh, but to Negan, it added to your sex appeal.

"Goddamn, baby. You look fuckin' hot!" He said as he admired you. It was so sheer it barely left anything to the imagination and the lacy parts made you look angelic.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased with newfound confidence brought on by Negan's words. Then you remembered your digital camera. "Here." You tossed the camera to him. He caught it and smirked when he realized what it was. A lustful look washed over his eyes as he turned the device on.

"On your knees," he ordered using his leader voice. You quickly and eagerly obeyed him, which only made his dick harden in his pants. He walked over to you and grabbed you jaw in a large hand, tilting it up to look at him before snapping a picture.

"Just look at you. My pretty little doll." And that's exactly what you felt like. His pretty little doll. His to dress and pose and fuck however he wants. It made you wet, giving him full control over you like this.

"Take those panties off." Your body was hot with lust and shame as you slid the moistening garment off your body.

"Get on all fours." You did so and he manually readjusted you to how he wanted. Your ass in the air and back arched with your chin rested on your arms crossed beneath you. The skirt of the dress slid up your body, exposing you to the cool air of the room. Negan snapped a few pictures of your face before moving behind you. You squeaked in shock when you felt his finger slide up and down your slit.

"Damn. So wet and I barely touched you." The humiliation of him taking pictures of your bare pussy only made you wetter. You got on your knees again and turned to face Negan.

"Let's make a sex tape," you suggested as you fiddled with his belt. His signature grin blossomed on his face and he looked down at you with lust filled, hazel eyes.

"Fuck yeah!" He started recording once you got his belt off and pulled his pants and boxers down just enough to free his hard cock. It sprang up, hitting his abdomen and revealing veins you could only see when he was erect. You took him in your hands, licking the precum off his sensitive tip before taking it in your mouth. You swirled your tongue around it while slowly stroking the rest with your hands.

"Quit your goddamn teasing and suck my dick," he impatiently demanded. You looked up into the camera with mischief laden eyes as you took the rest of him into your warm mouth, earning a guttural moan from the man. Your pussy fluttered at the sound. Eager to hear it again, you stopped teasing and picked up the pace. But it must not have been enough since Negan grabbed into your hair and began fucking your face at his own rapid pace, ignoring the way you gagged around his large member and the tears streaming down your pretty face.

"That's it. Takin' me so good doll." Your cunt throbbed at the praise. He was getting close, you could tell by the way he twitched inside your mouth. He groaned as he emptied his white hot load down your throat.

"You did so good baby," he praised as he wiped the tears off your face with his thumb. He helped you up off the floor before pushing you onto his bed.

"Show me that pretty little cunt of yours." He spread open your legs and zoomed the camera in on your soaked pussy. Your inner thighs were coated with your arousal, as well. He delivered a rough slap to your pussy, forcing a moan out of you.

"You like it when I hit you, huh?" You could hear the smirk in his voice as he did it again.

"Please Negan! Need you so bad," you begged from beneath him. He ignored your pleas and directed the camera to your breasts, which were barely contained by the babydoll. He pulled them out with little effort. He gave you the camera to hold while he focused his attention to them.

"Such pretty tits," he complimented before nipping your nipple. You squealed in shock and pleasure. He had never done that before, but you liked it. With a flattened tongue, he licked the nipple he bit, soothing it before taking it into his mouth. The scratch of his beard felt so good on your sensitive, bare breasts. He rolled the nipple that wasn't in his mouth between his thumb and pointer finger, causing you to squirm.

"Need you inside," you slurred. Negan pulled away from you r breast with a pop and took the camera back from you.He zoomed in on his own hard-again dick as he lined it up with your sopping hole. You were so wet he slid in effortlessly. You moaned in ecstasy as he finally put out that fire that was burning in you. He didn't hesitate as he started thrusting into you at a merciless pace. The leader couldn't decide if he wanted to focus the camera on the way your cunt swallowed him hole, the outline of his dick protruding through your stomach, your tits as they bounced in unison with his rapid thrusts, or your eyes rolling back in the head of your fucked out face. He zoomed out, capturing the beauty of it all.

"Such a good little fucktoy for me," he admonished. His words brought you closer to the edge as your walls clamped down on his cock.

"Negan 'm gnna," your own moan cut off your nonsensical, fucked babbles.

"So drunk on my cock," he grunted as he filled you with his seed, not waiting for you to reach your own peak. But he didn't have to since you came right after, arching off the bed. He pulled out and zoomed the camera in on your abused cunt. His cum slowly leaked out of your hole and onto the dark bed spread. That was the perfect place to end the video, he decided.

"Hot damn. Were you a porn star before the world went to shit?"

...

not proofread, sorry! thanks for reading! <3

i uploaded this from my phone, so sorry if it's a bit of a mess.

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Note

okeyyyy!

but we need a Grid Kids that maybe y/n and seb were in an car accidente (and y/n took the worst of it) and now the roles are reversed, now they are gonna take care of them

Loving this series so much

Grid Kids: UNO Reverse Card

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: the roles are reversed when disaster strikes and your grid kids make it their duty to take care of you

Series Masterlist

The rain is pouring down and the paddock is filled with the usual organized chaos accompanying a wet race. The garages are lively with the sounds of mechanics tuning engines, engineers going over data, and drivers preparing for the race.

Suddenly, a deafening silence descends as a member of the Aston Martin team rushes in, face pale and voice shaking, “There’s been an accident. It’s Sebastian and Y/N.”

The news spreads like wildfire. The paddock, usually filled with the roars of engines and excited chatter, is now eerily quiet. Your grid kids, upon hearing the news, rush to find out more details, their faces masks of concern.

A shaky video from a fan’s phone plays on loop on their screens, showing the aftermath of a devastating collision. Your car is almost unrecognizable, crushed, with the driver’s side visibly less damaged.

George, having seen the video, collapses onto a nearby chair, tears streaming down his face. “This can’t be happening,” he whispers.

Lando, usually the life of the party, stands frozen, disbelief evident in his eyes. Mick, face ashen, tries to make calls to get more information while Lance rushes to find his father to find out if the team has heard anything more.

***

Soon, details emerge that you bore the brunt of the impact and your condition is critical while Sebastian, though injured, is stable. The helicopter is already airlifting you to the nearest hospital.

As the severity of the situation sinks in, your grid kids, in an unprecedented move, gather together for an emergency meeting. The weight of the decision is clear in their eyes.

After what feels like an eternity, Charles stands up, his voice firm yet choked with emotion, “We’re pulling out. We can’t race knowing Y/N is fighting for her life. We need to be there for her, just like she’s always been there for us.”

The decision is unanimous. One by one, they all agree. Telling their teams and the FIA descends the paddock into even more chaos.

***

The hospital waiting room is filled with a mix of team colors. Red from Ferrari, orange from McLaren, deep blue from Red Bull, green from Aston Martin, white from Haas, and black from Mercedes. The fierce rivalry that usually defines race weekends is nowhere to be seen. Instead, they’re united in their concern for you.

Sebastian, despite his injuries, is by your bedside, holding your hand, praying silently for a miracle.

As the hours drag on, the grid kids take turns sitting by your side, sharing stories, hoping their voices provide some comfort, even in your unconscious state.

Mick, teary-eyed, recalls, “Remember when I missed my dad? You were there for me.”

Lando adds, “And when I just wanted milk? You welcomed me like family.”

Charles, voice filled with emotion, says, “We’re here now, for you, just like you’ve always been for us.”

***

As night turns into dawn, there’s a shift. Your vitals start stabilizing and the worst seems to be over. The relief is palpable as the somber mood hanging over your family fades away.

Sebastian, tears of gratitude in his eyes, thanks each one of them. “She’s strong, and with all of you here, I knew she’d find a way to fight through.”

***

A week has passed since the accident and you’re now firmly in the recovery phase. The room is overflowing with flowers, cards, and quirky gifts — each one a symbol of just how much you mean to the racing community.

As you slowly regain consciousness, groggy from the medication, the first thing you spot is a balloon, bobbing near the ceiling, with the words “Speedy Recovery!” It has a little caricature of you in a race car with your cat (in a tiny sweater) on your shoulder. Another one reads, “Get back on track soon!”

Mick enters the room with a tray, “Look who’s awake! I made you my special recovery smoothie. Okay, it’s mostly chocolate ... but it’s the thought that counts.”

Charles follows, holding a peculiar-looking teddy bear dressed in a racing suit. “Meet Racy. He’s going to keep you company. We tried to smuggle Speedy in under our hoodies but got caught so this is the next best thing.”

Lando waltzes in, proudly holding up a t-shirt with “I survived a car crash and all I got was this lousy t-shirt” printed on it.

Max pops his head around the door, holding a full-sized F1 helmet, “You better wear this the next time you get in a car.”

George, with his trademark smile, presents a plush safety car. “To keep you safe and sound, always.”

Lance, trying to contain his grin, brings in a steering wheel cushion. “For those moments when you feel the need to take control of your recovery.”

You can’t help but chuckle at their antics. “You guys ... always know how to lighten the mood.”

Sebastian, holding your hand, grins, “They’ve been brainstorming ways to cheer you up nonstop for days now.”

***

Determined to keep things positive, your grid kids rally together for a surprise. As the evening descends, they transform your room into a mini-movie theater. They even managed to sneak in a projector.

The movie choice? “Cars” of course.

Lance, armed with a bucket of popcorn, declares, “I mean, if we can’t race real cars today, might as well watch animated ones!”

Mick dims the lights and George hits play. As the familiar sounds of the movie fill the room, everyone settles in ready for a night of laughter.

***

It doesn’t take long for the grid kids to turn the movie night into their own commentary session.

As Lightning McQueen races across the screen, Max quips, “I think I could’ve taken that turn better.”

Lando, laughing, chimes in, “And Mater reminds me of Charles after a few too many energy drinks.”

Charles feigns outrage, “That’s unfair! I’m at least 10 percent more sophisticated than Mater.”

You, through bouts of laughter, shake your head, “Honestly, I can’t decide what's better, the movie or your commentary? You guys might have a future on a broadcast somewhere if this whole racing thing doesn’t work out.”

As the credits roll, Sebastian whispers, “This is exactly the medicine you needed.”

Your grid kids truly make the day memorable, proving that through thick and thin, family — in whatever form it may take — is everything.

***

The sun is high and the paddock is buzzing with energy as preparations for the upcoming race are in full swing. As you and Sebastian approach, there’s a sudden almost comedic halt in activity. It’s as if someone hit the pause button on a remote. Everyone turns to face you, jaws dropped.

Lance feigns fainting, “Is it a mirage? Or has our beloved Y/N truly graced us with her presence?”

Max approaches with an exaggerated limp, mimicking you, “Thought I’d get into the spirit of things,” he says with a smirk.

George emerges from the crowd holding a makeshift red carpet (it’s just a red towel he stole from Ferrari), rolling it out in front of you. “For our returning queen,” he declares with a bow.

Charles and Lando appear, each holding one end of a “Welcome Back” banner. You try to turn your head to read it … they accidentally held it upside down.

You’re trying hard to hold back tears of laughter. “You guys are impossible,” you manage to say between your chuckles.

Mick, with a gentle smile, approaches holding a small framed photo. It’s of you surrounded by all your grid kids, taken during a race earlier in the season, with the inscription “Family, Always.”

Touched by the gesture, you softly say, “Thank you so much, Mick. This means a lot.”

“You’ve always been there for us,” he replies. “It’s only right that we’re here for you.”

Sebastian, wrapping an arm around you, adds with a grin, “I think they missed you.”

You really loved your grid kids.

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6okuto · 9 months ago

Note

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeyFC7mc/ this but with keiji 🫣

(link :3) Stop. i literally have a multi-chara plan in a doc for this rn. STOPP MY KEIJI :((

a little suggestive, gn!reader

keiji didn't have a bad day, and when he's expected to join four different meetings in the next couple of weeks, alongside editing longer chapters than usual in time for this week's publication, not having a bad day is all he can really ask for.

though, maybe there's one thing, one privilege he'll always ask for at the end of the day to make it a little better.

"keiji!"

your voice rings clear as you jog to meet him at the entrance, slippers loud against the wooden floor. he hangs up his jacket just in time for you to grab his hands with a grin— "c'mere, i need you for a minute."

his lips form a half-smile, even as he furrows his brows while you pull him into the living room. "no 'hello'? no 'how was your day?'"

you turn to look over your shoulder. "hi, baby, how was your day?"

"it was okay, could've been better. thanks for asking. how was yours?"

"mm, could've been better, too. but i'm gonna make your day right now, sit down."

and he does, of course; he lets his bag fall off his shoulder and land on the rug, untucks his shirt and pushes up his glasses that have fallen down the slope of his nose. all the while, you take a seat beside him, close enough that your thighs touch, and balance your phone on the coffee table against the books that keiji thrifted a week ago.

he makes sure he isn't staring at you when you finally turn the camera on.

"wanna record a video with me?"

"people usually ask that before setting up the camera," he points out, "but, yeah, okay. do i have to do anything?"

"no, well, yes, but it isn't hard or anything. i'll explain when i hit record."

and before he can ask if this is another prank trend, you've started recording with a smile on your face.

"hi, guys! so, i saw this trend going around, and i wanted to try it out."

keiji narrows his eyes.

"basically, i have my husband here, say hi, keiji."

"hello- wait—"

"and he's going to list off his favourite colognes, and i'm gonna rank them!" you turn to face him, feigning innocence you know you don't hold. "go ahead, babe."

it's obvious what's going on, what this video is really supposed to be. he knows, and yet he can't stop from looping that word in his head again—

husband.

husband?

his eyes flicker down to your ring finger, then back up to your eyes.

keiji thinks he's stopped breathing.

he has stopped, actually—he's doing it manually, telling his brain to let out the carbon dioxide in his lungs for oxygen.

in,

husband-

out,

husband-

in-

would you like him as your husband?

out-

it's a push and pull, and when he thinks he can manage to say something, a "seriously?" or "well, the one i bought recently has a vanilla note that i've been enjoying," you make eye contact with him through the screen. again—

"c'mon, husband."

his head drops to your shoulder, and he pouts at the immediate laughter that follows.

"what's wrong, keiji?"

arms wrap around you, a hand finding its way to rest on your hip. "stop."

"stop what?"

"i hate you."

"you hate me? guys, my husband hates me, can you believe that?"

"oh my god."

keiji burrows his face into the crook of your neck, and you yelp as he nips at your skin— "keiji!"

your voice makes him pull you closer, hide a little longer, because despite everything, he knows he has a stupid, lovesick grin on his face, and that's something he wants only you to see.

so it's only after you reach to stop the video (with no help from your boyfriend that continues to cling onto you) that keiji finally looks at you, his cheeks flushed pink as he smiles.

then his fingers climb up to your waist, his skin warm against yours under your shirt, and it's your turn to be shocked this time,

"what are you—"

heat travels up your neck as his eyes look down at your lips, and he asks, "can i try to make your day better too?"

#haikyuu x reader #akaashi x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu fluff #6okuto.txt #myleg...MY LEGGGG MY #love keiji... in my head hes soo easy to write for... and then i get here and #i dont question myself on anyone as much as i do w my keiji posts. Alas. AKAASHI!! uyeagahahh #q

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prettygiri222 · 11 months ago

Note

Hi baby idk if ur requests are on but can u pls do a black reader who doesn’t have a lot of ass (baby I be reading these fanfics (not urs) and it always has black women with fat ass and big boobs and I’m like 😔 that ain’t me) and who doesn’t smoke, with like anyone but maybe wit eren or Connie, thank you sm girl and even if u don’t do this I appreciate u reading this hottie.

Girl I feel you, my shit not the fattest either but I do smoke myself so that's why it's present in some of my stories😭

Connie x Black Fem Reader SMUT

“stop playing with me mama,” Connie quickly ushered your naked bodies into his bedroom. clothes lost from the heated makeout session that took place on the leather couch in the living room. the movie playing long forgotten on the flat-screen TV. “get on the bed.”

“ah!” you let out a little gasp when he brought his large hands down and delivered a slight slap to your ass. excited for what was coming next you let out a little giggle as you crawled onto the bed. you got into position as you always did, missionary. with you on your back and pulling back your legs so they rested near your head.

Connie loved being able to see your pretty face scrunch up in pleasure. the way your eyes crossed when a particularly strong orgasm raked through your body. the access he had to play with your small tits, his huge hands dwarfing them. he loved the way you clenched extra hard when he tweaked or sucked on your nipples leaving them puffy and sore in the morning.

your slacked jaw gives Connie free entry to your mouth to spit and suck on your tongue, mixing saliva. you're left breathless, gasping for air unable to kiss him back with moans being forced out into his mouth by his deep strokes. or when halfway you would give up on holding your leg and clutch onto him for dear life. your smaller body jostling against his sweaty one as he pounded into your pussy, basically drowning in your slick.

but today he wanted to try something different.

“can you get on your hands and knees for me please?” your boyfriend asked, staring intently at you from above. your cunt was already glistening from just making out but he was no better. his dick was standing at attention between his legs just waiting to find its way inside you.

“ok…” you meekly replied wanting to please your boyfriend. you slowly dragged yourself into the new position. the arch you presented to your boyfriend was utterly pathetic. you felt embarrassed feeling more exposed despite holding yourself open for him only a few moments ago.

“you can do better than that,” Connie said. you felt him nudge his dick against your soaking cunt.

“I can't” you let your head fall against the mattress. god, this was so humiliating. until now Connie never mentioned anything about wanting to try doggy style but you hated it. always jumping into a position that allowed the two of you to be face to face. you loved the sight of Connie above you. his happy trail that led to a sharp v-line, the way his abs flexed after every thrust made you so wet and his caring eyes that watched your every move to see how you would react. a cute way to tell that Connie was close was the way his pink lips quivered faster the closer he got to his orgasm.

but the underlying reason you preferred missionary above all was because anytime you watched porn you noticed how in every video the girls in doggy always had the fattest asses, something you didn’t have. but it wasn’t something that made you self-conscious. you just didn’t think you would enjoy it as much cause of it.

you loved your smaller body and showing it off. like earlier today, you were wearing a tight baby tee and your favourite pair of low waisted jeans that showed off your deep back dimples. Connie could not keep his hands off you, they trailed your exposed skin before pulling at your belt loops. it was his signal that he wanted them off.

Connie on the other hand didn’t mind indulging in your love for missionary. seeing his girl happy and fucked out made him feel good but he felt like he wasn’t able to give you all he had. Connie's dick wasn't the biggest but it was really thick and girthy with a downward curve due to how heavy it hung.

what he noticed after prodding around at your insides with his fingers and memorizing all your soft spots was that your most sensitive spot was upwards, toward your stomach. so in missionary he could only brush it and not abuse it how he wanted.

wanting to hear no more of your complaints Connie took matters into his own hands. he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed where he was standing. before you could turn and see what he was doing he pressed his hand in between your shoulder blades and forced you down face first into the mattress. “oh sweetie, but you can”

your newfound arch was delicious. your upper body was pressed flat against the bed creating a deep curve in your spine that led to your ass that was being held up by Connie. you turned your head to the side so you could breathe

“look at you, so talented,” he praised, marvelling at your body. it was amazing how you could take his dick like a fucking champ yet you were so tiny compared to him. his huge hands swallowed each of your asscheeks as he kneaded them while teasing the tip of his dick against your slicked hole.

“I'm going in,” your boyfriend gave you a brief warning to prepare for the stretch but you weren't ready. you're so used to his curve going down towards your spine so feeling it go up into your tummy was new.

“oh my goddd” you whined out. he bottomed out quickly, his tip kissing your cervix. you instinctively pulled away from him already feeling overwhelmed.

“where you going ma?” Connie stuck his thumbs into your back dimples to give him some leverage. he easily pulled you back onto his dick. you let out a cry as he forced himself inside. “you feeling me deep inside?”

“yeaaa,” the wet squelching sounds of your pussy coating his dick could be heard. some of your wetness dripped down your thighs. after each thrust you could feel yourself being stretched out to fit his size. “all in my tummy pa”

the view Connie had was amazing. he spread your brown cheeks so he could watch himself slide in and out of your tiny cunt, the pink of your pussy appearing when he pulled out. he watched as your creamy paste began to coat his dick. pap! pap! pap! it was like music to his ears.

you were already soaking wet, the sheets underneath where you two connected was drenched and turning darker in colour. so for the pure obscenity of it Connie spat on the shaft of his dick. he groaned watching as your hole greedily slurped it up along with his dick.

“you hear that mama?” pap! pap! pap! Connie gave you a second to listen to the sounds your body was making. it was straight-up pornographic. “that’s how you know I’m hitting it right.”

“uhuhuh” your boyfriend was showing you what you were missing out all this time during missionary. his cock struck the same spot each time. it felt so good that it was starting to hurt.

the force of Connie's pelvis slapping against your ass was enough to send you flying forward every thrust. and each time he pulled you back like you were a fucking ragdoll. you couldn't do anything but take everything he was giving you.

you reached out to trying to grab something, whether it was the sheets, his arm, the bedframe, you just needed something to brace yourself. Connie watched as your tiny hands struggled to grasp at his sheets.

your poor pussy was going to be bruised in the morning from how rough Connie was being. once he found your sweet spot he didn't let up, the intensity he was pounding at it was insane. he didn’t let up, not that you would allow him to either.

each time Connie pulled out your pussy just sucked him back in. pap! pap! pap! the sight and the sounds you were making had his dick twitching, aching for release. and your cunt felt like heaven, all warm and wet. he wasn’t going to last any longer in this position. “ma, I'm so close.” he groaned.

“me to me to” you moaned out against the bed. the growing feeling in your stomach was about to burst. your legs shook like a fawn taking its first steps. you sunk further into the bed arching deeper into Connie needing just a bit more. his tip reaching your cervix was the final push, “m’cumming” you whined out.

you pressed your face into the sheets when the overwhelming feeling hit you. Connie let out a low whimper feeling you clenched tightly around his cock stopping him in his tracks. unable to pull out he was forced to release inside you, painting your insides.

“knew your lil ass would love it.” he chuckled watching you twitch underneath him. he waited until your sopping cunt stopped spasming around his dick. one you both finished your orgasms he pulled out watching as his cum mixed with your fluids spilled out of your quivering hole.

hope this was to your liking <3 my requests are open but I'll do another post on that later

#anime smut #aot smut #x black reader #aot x black reader #black reader smut #black y/n #aot #connie smut #connie x black reader #connie springer #connie x reader smut #connie x

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flamingpudding · 1 year ago

Text

The Ghost King is my Uncle Drabbles #2

A/N: Some more linked to a prompt week writing I did

>>Masterpost

Original this builds on: Link

Rowdy Cousin

Batman swore internally, from the outside he stoically sat in his chair and did nothing to indicate the absolute chaos that was going on in his mind. The Meeting rooms light flickered and the speakers once more started up loudly blaring a song all over the Watchtower. He was pretty sure one of his sons had told him once that playing that song was a meme.

"Someone do something about that kid! He is Rickrolling us!" Green Lantern screamed above the music.

"Constantine is already trying to do something." Superman's hands covering his sensitive ears as the music must sound to him even louder.

Batman very much only looped one thought in his head. -It's only for world ending purpose, I cannot use it right now.-

He had a responsibility to uphold, he was the patriarch of the earth branch family. This was not something that required him to use that. No he would not use it. He refused. This was not a world ending matter. Surely Constantine or anyone else of the Justice League Dark would solve this problem any second now.

The screens flicker and Batman did anything he could in his mind to not let his eye twitch even if no one would be able to see it. Cat videos were playing where second earlier statistics and observatory programs had been running.

No he would not, they could handle this problem no need to involve family.

The music stopped and some of his hero colleagues let out a relieved sigh only for a familiar laugh to echo through the watchtower and a new song starting to play. One that apparently counts all 100 dumb ways to die.

"Why is Klarion even targeting the watchtower like this?!" The Flash shouted over the lyrics before turning to him.

"Did one of your kids piss him off or something?!"

"No." At least not as far as he knew, though considering the recent discovery as well as the surprise visits his uncle had done lately he might have a guess why the witch boy was targeting them right now. Didn't mean he would elaborate this reason to the other heroes present.

Before Wonder Woman could comment John Constantine stormed in the room and slammed his hands down onto the table staring right at Batman with blood shot eyes. "Call him."

"Who?"

"Don't play fucking dumb bats. You know who I mean. This is not the witch brat alone. There is another entity and if you don't want the fucking watchtower crashing into earth you call him right now."

"Bats, he is not talking about who I think he is?" Superman carefully asked while the other heroes looked at him just as questionable.

He held his staring contest with Constantine a little longer before he grunted and reached into his utility belt pulling out a small bat-shaped pendant. A personalized upgraded calling card, his uncle had gifted to him as well as each of his children and extended family members.

This was not how he imagined a meeting in regards to his new discoveries and a possible sure fire contingency plan against world ending emergencies would go. He rubbed his thumb against the engraving waiting for a short moment for it to pulse, before tapping the pendant three times, paused and tapped it two more times. This was a non-emergency call, even if his colleagues might disagree.

He still thought they could very well handle this situation without the help of his uncle.

"BABY BAT, YOU CALLED THIS IS THE FIRST TIME YOU DID!"

The present heroes watched in stunned fashion how a white haired, 20 years old man stepped out of a green portal and instantly zoomed across the room to hug THE Batman around his head rubbing his cheek against the bat's cowl mindful of the pointy parts.

And Batman was letting the man do that only looking resigned.

"We agreed that I would only call on you with this pendant for emergencies."

The white haired man only hummed before his head turned sharply and green glowing eyes narrowed at Constantine, who visibly paled and took a step back standing straight and looking very much like he regretted what he had asked Batman to do. "Trading game is not being rude to you is he?"

The bat only grunted and the white haired man finally let go of him, humming as he took in his surroundings, eyes glinting in mischievously as he saw the flickering lights, animal videos on screen and heard the blaring music over the speaker. "When I okey-ed Klarion to go playing with his cousins I didn't think he would seek you two out. He had been talking about his older cousins starting another game of 'who's the better demon lord' in different dimensions. I thought he was joining their bet."

Wait did he say two? Batman grunted and the white haired guy chuckled. "I will be back in a second."

Not even the Flash could react as fast as the white haired man disappeared and reappeared with Klarion next to him. Clearly pulling on the witch boy's ear like a father would when their child had been naughty. The flickering lights and blaring of music over the speakers had stopped.

"Ow DAD what in the name of chaos are you doing here."

"Your Cousin called me. You are disturbing his work and risking them crashing into earth with Technus' help."

"YOU SNITCHED TO MY DAD?!"

"Hn."

"Technus get out of their network or I will lock you up on a Medieval Island for three decades."

As if the present heroes weren't confused enough a face appeared on one of the screens. Glaring at the white haired man. "You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me, if you stay in there any longer. I will also dig out the old thermos and soup you additionally for a decade or more."

The face on screen grumbled and the heroes nearly flinched back as a ghostly, green skinned man came out of it, looking every bit frustrated and annoyed. "I was just getting a good look at this modern technology, you have banned me from any big shot Industries…"

"We had that discussion 100 years ago, Technus. Back to the Ghost Zone." The white haired man commanded by opening a portal next to them with the wave of his hand and surprisingly, the green skinned guy listened.

"Sorry about this Baby Bat and Little Demi. Klarion will be grounded for a bit and re-educated in how to bond without risking potentially killing any bystanders. Oh and remember I will come by later for Baby Ghost to get his checkup with Frostbite!"

"Dad, please no grounding! Anything but that!"

"I am sure your Grandpa will be happy to have your help during your grounding."

"Dad! NO! I don't want to keep time in order! I live for chaos not order!"

The man was just smiling and completely ignoring Klarion's complains as he turned towards Batman and Wonder Woman, for reasons the hero's didn't understand.

"Well we will be on our way then Baby Bat, Little Demi!"

Batman grunted and the white haired man chuckled, leaving through the portal and dragging along a whining Klarion, who apparently was that man's son.

Just before the portal closed, the man stuck his head back out looking towards Wonder Woman with a mischievous smile. "Oh before I forget! Pops Clockwork sents his regards Little Demi . He doesn't want me saying this, but he is glad about the path you choose. Says you're set on a pretty good timeline!"

The head disappeared into the portal again and it finally closed. Wonder Woman was left blinking at the empty space, her mouth slightly open with the silent question of "What?"

"Bats, who was that?" The Flash was the first to break the silence that had followed as eyes turned to the dark knight.

"His Uncle." / "The Ghost King."

Superman and Constantine spoke at the same time. The JLD member flinched back as he looked at the glowering bat. Muttering something the man took his leave or rather escaped the room as quickly as possible as Batman kept glaring. Meanwhile Wonder Woman was slowly having a crisis of her own as suddenly family relations that had been hinted to her through Pandora made sense. "Clockwork... no, Titan Cronus? The Ghost King... Uncle Daniel?"

Chaos broke among the present heroes.

"WHAT UNCLE?!"

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