#and I was like pLEASE CAN I TAKE THESE when I moved out

[mihanisms]

buried to the hilt

— caleb finds he cums embarrassingly quickly when he sees how he looks in you.

— (slight) size kink, inexperienced caleb & reader, pathetic dirty talk, pathetic pervert caleb!!!!!!!! pathetic pervert reader!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! kiiinda fluffy at the end? a bit angsty-feely too?? as fluffy-feely as my freaktivities can be???

The first time Caleb sees your tummy bulge full of him, he stills. The nights he'd spent jerking off to the thought of you (with your panties pressed against his nose) pale in comparison to the real thing — his cock, lodged into your pussy, the outline of his tip just barely peeking through your skin. He can't take his eyes off it, transfixed by both the feel and look of you around him.

He stares for so long that you begin to feel impatient, whining softly and grinding your hips down. "Caleb..." Yet even that small movement from you has the bulge in your stomach shifting slightly, a choked moan leaving his lips at the sight. Though lost in the heat of the moment, the neediness in your tone does not escape him and he shakes himself out of his trance, his hand trailing up from your thigh to press on your stomach. "...Yeah, pips?"

When you glance down, you finally realize just why he was in such a daze. the tip of his cock barely visible beneath your skin drawing a surprised whimper from you. Your eyes flick between your best friend and the impression of him in you, the sigh utterly intoxicating. "Ca-Caleb...he's peeking out at me..."

That's all it takes for Caleb's honeyed tone to go darker, a raspy growl now evident in his tone. "Mhm. That's...me right there, pips." He thrusts shallowly at first, eyes flicking down, watching with fascination as his cock shifts beneath your skin, a  whimper catching in his throat at the sight. “Fuck, baby look that’s me- fuck- baby, I ah-!"

He loses himself in the warmth as his body presses against yours. Slowly, he begins to move, his rhythm building with each thrust. And he tries — he really tries to hold on.

But the sight of his cock pushing up against the soft skin of your belly has Caleb's mind unraveling like a cat clawing at a ball of yarn. Every slow thrust, every squeeze of your walls around him, makes the bulge in you shift. It's a visible, undeniable reminder that he’s buried so deep inside you there’s nowhere else for him to go.

His breath is ragged, each roll of his hips getting sloppier as the heat in his body quickly overwhelms him. His forehead stays pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded, glassy, and completely lost in you.

“Baby, I- You feel so fucking good.” His voice cracks into moans, wrecked and desperate, his fingers twitching against your waist as he fights to hold on.

Fuck, he's close. Too close. He's supposed to be in control. Supposed to pace himself. But the way your warmth engulfs him, how your tight little hole pulses and pulls him deeper, shatters any semblance of restraint.

You feel it too. The way he trembles above you, his body taut like a fraying wire. Every shaky exhale, every hitched breath, every needy little sound that slips past his lips, they all tell you how he’s on the edge. The knowledge that he's losing himself, falling apart because of you, sends heat flooding through your body.

Involuntarily, you clench around him, and his reaction is instant. A strangled, breathy “oh fuck-” chokes past him as his hips stutter against yours. You roll your hips in response, and Caleb fucking gasps for air at the sight of the bulge shifting beneath your skin, his grip on you tightening as if you were the only thing tethering him to reality.

The two of you were in the same sinking boat, breaths and moans mingling as the aching need for release quickly overtakes the both of you, the harsh thrusts and helpless moans spilling from Caleb's lips tightening that coil in your stomach. "Pl-Please Caleb-"

The strained breathlessness in your voice has him crumbling, his rhythm getting sloppier as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, voice thick with something fragile. "I know, baby, I know- Fuck, just-" His words get cut off you pulsate around him, the tight heat of you making his mind short-circuit. "S-So close- just give it to me, please please please-"

His hands move on instinct, an overwhelming ache leading one to over your stomach to press down and feel himself inside you. The moment the pressure registers on his cock, his mind blanks and so does he—wave after wave of cum pulsing into you as he shakes and whines, hips desperately meeting yours as he chases his high.

The shocks of his orgasm run through him, his mind blank and overwhelmed, nothing left but the feeling of you wrapped around him, milking him through his high. His lashes flutter, breath hitching as he shivers, everything is too hot, too good, too much.

The feeling of his hips stilling against yours and his cum flowing into you has your stomach tightening, the pleasure cresting fast, and then you're gone. Ecstasy slams into you with a force that has you crying out, your body going rigid as you spasm around him.

You're both left trembling, wide-eyed and flushed and locked onto each other's gazes as you process what just happened. Caleb then slumps against you, your bodies spent and trembling, his voice soft as he nuzzles back into your neck. "....Fuck. 'M sorry, baby."

His cock stays nestled deep, twitching with oversensitivity, trapped in you. He’s panting into your skin, and you reach out to push away the hair that had fallen into his face. "Don't be," you murmur softly, feeling your cheeks heat up at the sudden after-intimacy of the moment.

Caleb's voice was quiet, a layer of insecurity lying below the surface. "I didn't expect- I barely lasted-"

You soothe him with a soft hush, running your fingers through his hair and cupping the base of his neck. "That doesn't matter, baby. It was still perfect. You were perfect." You press a soft, lingering kiss to his temple, noticing how he's still slightly stiff and you run your hands down his spine, tracing slow, reassuring patterns on his back.

He shivers at the contact, looking up at you like a puppy seeking reassurance. Before he could say anything else, you tighten your grip, squeezing at his skin and pulling him closer. “You made me feel incredible. It doesn’t have to be some long, drawn-out thing. You know we’re both….new to this.”

“But I….” He huffs slightly, finally relaxing into your touch and letting it ground him. “You…You mean that, pipsqueak?” 

You smile, gently nudging your nose against his head. “‘Course I do. Besides, if you liked seeing me that full ‘f you, means we’ll have to go again.” Leaning in even closer, your warm breath ghosts over his ear. “You know you’re still hard in me, right?”

Caleb groans softly, shifting on top of you, his cock twitching against the walls of your cunt. His lips graze your skin, his breath hot and uneven. "Do you think- Do you think you can take another round?"

You adjust yourself slightly, just enough to tease him deeper into you. "I can take whatever you want to give me, you know that.”

“You horrible tease.” Despite his words, Caleb breaks out into a light snicker, fighting back the groan and the desire re-capturing his gut to have a few more moments of this sweetness. He finally pulls himself out of your neck, looking at you with that lovesick, dazed expression that’s always made your heart skip.

This was going to be a long night.

[ink3dpag3s]

Unexpected siblings AU

Aka Jazz fenton is a certified therapist friend and a tad bit of a gremlin child, but both fenton kids gain a shit ton of siblings.

Everyone knows that Jack and Maddie fenton were deeply in love with two kids when they moved to Amity Park but what wasn't known was the fact that danny was not Jack's son or that jazz wasn't Maddie's daughter. So when shit went down with the GIW, the elder fentons sent their respective kids to their other biological parents for their safety.

Jack had always known his little girls bio mother was most likely someone unsavory and quite honestly pegged them as a possible spy. This made sense to him since Jazz had been left on his doorstep a good year after her mother disappeared from Jack's life, even if that meant he probably didn't know her actual name.

Meanwhile, Maddie always knew who her sons father was afterall she had been born of old money but chose to leave that life behind once she met Jack. Maddie had gotten a bit tipsy at a gala her parents threw alongside one Brucie Wayne, which ended up in a one night stand that gave her Danny.

So, while the two teenagers were on the run from the GIW, they stuck together with Jazz, promising she wouldn't leave her brother behind unless she knew he was going to be ok before going to find her birth mother. Both siblings grew out their hair, Jazz letting her natural brown hair grow in, in order to better hide from the guys in white while danny jist let his hair get shaggy while using some of his ghost energy to change his eye color to green just enough so that his eyes wouldn't glow. It didn't take long for them to run into something they didn't expect...

*The fenton siblings standing in front of the main entrance to Wayne manor.*

Danny: I know mom and dad wanted us to be safe, but are we sure this guy would even believe us?

Jazz: *Giving her brother a small hug.* If he doesn't, you can always come with me while I search for my biological mother.

Bruce & Talia: *Stepping out of the vehicle, they used to discuss damiens safety from the one's who led a coup against Ra's, freezing once they make it to the door because of the teenage doppelganger's standing in front of them.*

Danny: *Being the certified gremlin he was, turning around pretty fast when he heard them approaching and recognizing Bruce Wayne pretty easily.* Surprise, it's a boy! Can we come inside, please?

[kathaelipwse]

You Can Take It, Right? | S.Mingi

MDNI 18+

Song recs: Friends by Chase Atlantic | Take you down by Chris Brown | Say my name by ateez | Red lights by Skz |

Warnings: Heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, mutual pining, teasing, best-friends-to-lovers energy, Mingi being a menace, mild language, hot & messy make-out session.

Trope: Best Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Friends Who Flirt Too Much, Slow Burn with a Payoff

WC: 781 words

Synopsis:

What starts as harmless teasing turns into something far more dangerous when Mingi decides he’s done playing around. Trapped between him and the couch, you’re forced to answer the question—will you push him away or pull him closer?

Author’s Note:

I had way too much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy Mingi being an absolute menace with that dirty mouth of his. The tension? Thick. The teasing? Dangerous. And that payoff? Worth the wait. LMK if you want a part two! 😉

You should’ve known better than to challenge Song Mingi.

It started off the way it always did—banter, teasing, stolen glances that lasted too long to be friendly. You were used to pushing each other’s buttons, toeing the line but never quite stepping over it. Until tonight.

It was just the two of you, sprawled out on his couch after a movie, the soft glow of the screen flickering over his face. The teasing had started when he caught you staring.

"Like what you see?" he’d smirked, stretching his arms over his head, his hoodie riding up just enough to show a glimpse of his toned stomach.

You rolled your eyes, trying to act unaffected. "Please. You’re all talk."

That was the mistake.

Because the second those words left your mouth, Mingi shifted—his lazy smirk sharpening into something darker, something unreadable.

"All talk, huh?" His voice was lower now, dipping into that deep, husky register that made your stomach tighten.

Before you could react, he moved—one arm bracing against the back of the couch, the other pressing into the cushion beside your hip, caging you in effortlessly.

The air changed.

Mingi wasn’t smiling anymore. His eyes dragged over your face, slow and deliberate, lingering on the way your lips parted, your breath suddenly uneven.

"You can take it, right?" he murmured, and fuck. The way he said it—like a challenge, like a promise—sent a shiver straight through you.

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady. "Mingi—"

He hummed, dipping his head until his lips hovered just above your ear. His breath was warm against your skin, his voice a deep rasp that made your stomach flip.

"Look at you," he mused. "All quiet now. Wasn’t so cocky a second ago."

You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to squirm. "Shut up."

Mingi chuckled, the sound low and smug. "Make me."

Your breath caught.

He was still so close, his body heat sinking into you, his scent—clean, warm, Mingi—wrapping around you like a trap. But it wasn’t just his presence. It was his voice—the way he was dragging this out, letting his words settle over your skin, heavy and thick.

"If I touched you right now," he murmured, his lips just barely grazing your jaw, "would you push me away… or pull me closer?"

You should’ve pushed him away.

You should’ve.

But instead, your fingers twitched, itching to grab the front of his hoodie and pull. And Mingi saw. His smirk widened, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips as he let out a low chuckle.

"That’s what I thought."

Your patience snapped.

With one sharp tug, you fisted his hoodie and yanked him down.

Mingi barely had time to react before your lips crashed into his. And for a second, he froze—like he hadn’t actually expected you to cross the line first. But then he moved.

A groan rumbled from his chest as he kissed you back, deep and hungry, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against him. The shift sent you sprawling back onto the couch, Mingi following without hesitation, pressing you into the cushions as his weight settled over you.

His mouth was hot, his lips parting just enough for his tongue to brush against yours, slow and teasing. His fingers dug into your hips, keeping you pinned beneath him, his body pressing into yours like he needed to be closer.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips, breathless. "You taste better than I imagined."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan. "You imagined this?"

Mingi grinned against your mouth, his teeth grazing your lower lip before sucking it between his teeth, biting down just enough to make your breath hitch. "Baby, you have no idea."

The way he said it—low, rough, possessive—sent a full-body shiver through you.

And then he was everywhere. His lips trailed along your jaw, down the column of your neck, each kiss punctuated by a hushed whisper, a dirty little confession. "Been thinking about this for so long." A slow, open-mouthed kiss to your collarbone. "The way you look at me? Drives me insane." His teeth scraped against your skin, making your fingers tighten in his hair.

"Mingi—"

He groaned, his hands tightening around your hips as he rocked against you, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale. "Say my name like that again, and I swear I won’t stop at just kissing you."

Heat flooded through you.

But before you could respond, his phone buzzed on the coffee table.

The sudden noise snapped you both back to reality, your heaving breaths the only sound filling the room. Mingi didn’t move right away—his forehead still resting against yours, his fingers still gripping your hips like he was this close to saying screw it and going all the way.

You let out a shaky laugh. "Guess we got a little carried away."

Mingi groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. "Worst timing ever."

You nudged him playfully. "You gonna check that?"

"Absolutely not."

You giggled, finally pushing at his chest until he let you sit up. But when you looked at him, his dark, hooded eyes were still locked on you, his lips kiss-swollen, his breathing uneven.

"This isn’t over," he murmured, tilting your chin up with his fingers.

You swallowed hard. "No?"

His smirk returned, slow and dangerous. "Oh, baby… I’ve barely even started."

---

[wendichester]

ok you write some teen dean but I wanna see teen sam x reader please and thank you :3

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ assignments & study sess,

summary. you run into sam at the school's library

pairing. teen!sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 539

notes. honestly, whenever i think of sam is almost stanford and onwards, but this turned out cuter than expected ehe thank you for requesting bubs 😙🩷

Sam has noticed you before. It’s hard not to.

You’re in a couple of his classes, always sitting near the window, twirling your pencil between your fingers when you’re lost in thought. You don’t talk much, at least not like the loud kids who take up all the space in a room, but when you do—when you answer a question in English or crack a joke to your friend—Sam always finds himself listening a little too closely.

He’s never had the nerve to talk to you, though. His family moves too much for him to bother making friends, and besides, you probably don’t even know who he is.

At least, that’s what he thinks—until today.

The library is quiet, except for the occasional rustle of pages and the soft hum of the overhead lights. Sam’s hunched over his history textbook at one of the back tables, trying to focus, but his brain feels like it’s made of static. He’s got an essay due in two days, and all he’s managed to do so far is reread the same sentence ten times.

And then—

“Hey, is this seat taken?”

He freezes.

Because that’s your voice.

Sam looks up so fast he nearly knocks over his coffee. And there you are, standing right across from him, your bag slung over one shoulder, a hopeful tilt to your lips.

For a second, all he can do is stare.

“No,” he blurts, a little too quickly. He clears his throat, willing himself to not sound like a complete idiot. “Uh, yeah. I mean—go ahead.”

You smile, sliding into the seat across from him, and Sam swears his heart actually stumbles over itself.

“Thanks,” you say, pulling out your notebook. “It’s weirdly packed in here today.”

Sam glances around. There are maybe five other people in the entire library.

He looks back at you, and you’re watching him with a tiny, knowing smirk. Oh.

You did that on purpose.

Sam swallows, trying to fight the warmth creeping up his neck. “Yeah. Super crowded.”

You grin, setting your stuff down. “I’ve seen you around,” you say casually, flipping open your book. “You’re, like, crazy smart, right? You always get the highest scores in English.”

He blinks. “You—you’ve noticed that?”

You tilt your head, like the idea of not noticing him is absurd. “Of course. I sit right behind you.”

Sam has no idea how to respond to that. His brain is short-circuiting, stuck on the fact that you��this girl he’s been secretly stealing glances at all year—have been paying attention to him too.

“Uh, thanks,” he finally mutters, pushing his hair back. “I just… read a lot, I guess.”

You hum, resting your chin on your hand as you watch him. “You always look super focused in class,” you muse. “Like, intense focus. It’s kinda impressive.”

Sam lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, well. I try.”

You lean in slightly. “So, Mr. Genius, since we’re here—wanna help me with my essay?”

It’s an easy excuse to stay here longer, to keep talking to you, and Sam knows it.

But he’s definitely not going to say no.

“Yeah,” he says, a real smile tugging at his lips now. “Yeah, I can do that.”

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[ggukgoldensoul]

travel

pairing; idol!jk x reader

summary; reader has wanted to go to japan since she started watching anime when she was a child… good thing her boyfriend wants to make her happy whatever it takes.

warnings; nothing!!! pure fluff, jk loves so so so so much reader he would d!e for her and k!ll for her, and reader also loves jk so much she would kll for him.

a/n; i have started one piece and my anime root has started again (it never disappeared) i dont know why i didn’t started it earlier, such a good masterpiece!!! 

laying on the couch of the living room with the chill air of the air-conditioning wrapping around her like a second skin, the 5 episode of the second season of jujutsu kaisen was playing on the tv, a tray of food next to her. she knew she told jungkook she would wait for him to come back from the agency, but the need to continue the shibuya arc was stronger than any feeling. 

the front door opened and jungkook came in, leaving behind his shoes and jacket in the wardrobe. he heard the voice of gojo coming from the tv and froze. she stopped the episode and slowly turned towards him. 

“i can explain it” her hands up, trying to protect herself. against what? she didn’t know.

“yah, we were supposed to watch it together” he said while walking to the couch and sat beside her, arms crossed and a pout on his face, clearly annoyed and a little sad. she looked at him and grabbed his arm, shaking it a bit. “jungkook-ah, look at me, please, im sorry” still shaking his arm, jungkook let escape a hmm. “pleaseeeeeee…”

he wasn't going to give in. 

 sitting on his lap, she took his face in her hands so he was looking at her. they looked into each other's eyes, her doe eyes and pout melted something in him. damn, he couldn't stay mad at her. with a sigh, he hugged her and placed his face on her chest. laughing a bit, she hugged him back. “missed you kook” “missed you too sweetheart”

“would you mind if we start it again? i really want to watch it from the start” he said, excitement filled in his voice. she nodded and was about to sit beside him but jungkook’s arm tightened around her waist, not letting her go, and she was more than happy about it. 

jungkook took the control remote and played the first episode. she snuggled into him a little more and he placed a kiss on her cheek. 

time passed, night came, they finished the entire second season and then decided to continue with one piece. 

“do you know there’s a one piece theme park in japan? i really want to go, and also the jujutsu kaizen theme park and the nintendo one too, and then visit tokyo and buy things there” sighed “maybe one day i'll go.”

he listened to her rambling and noticed the sadness in her voice. he knew her financial situation wasn’t good, sometimes she would cancel their plans not wanting him to pay for everything, but he didn’t mind that a bit. he payed for her things because he wanted to, not because he was bound to it, he really loved to pamper her with love and things he knew would make her happy. 

“oh, we have runned out of food, im going to the kitchen to take more snacks”

jungkook stopped the episode and took his phone while she was in the kitchen. her head peeked out from the kitchen door. “we have runned out of snacks, do you want to order food?”

“ok!”

half hour passed and they were both eating and watching the series, enjoying a peaceful summer night with each other. 

___________________________________

the sun was peeking through the curtains as if wanting to catch the lovers in their sleep. jungkook was the first one to wake up, admiring his lover by his side, the curve of her lip, the softness of her cheek, everything that made her being herself was something to admire. slowly, he got up and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. he was making the toasts and the coffee when he felt her arms around his waist. 

“good morning, gorgeous”

“good morning, gguk”

she sat at the kitchen island looking at her boyfriend moving around the kitchen. “anyway, why are you up this early? its barely 8 in the morning”

“we are going to travel”

“oh, travel? where?”

he placed the breakfast on the island “its a surprise”

“yah! it's this about yesterday? are you mad?”

“of course not! why would i be mad with you about that?” he placed a kiss to her forehead. “eat, we have to prepare luggage”

“okay” she said with a singsong voice

they finished their breakfast and went to prepare the luggage. 

_______________________________________________

the clock hit 11 in the morning, everything was ready, the tickets hid from her, everything was a surprise until they reached the airport. all the suitcases were at the front door, all the lights were off, the only thing left was a quick check of the things they needed for the journey.

“sneakers?”

“yes”

“coat?”

“yes”

“jungkook, we have everything, this isn’t necessary.”

“i know, but i don't want you to complain later about not having something”

she rolled her eyes but smiled anyway, even though she didn’t know where they were going to travel, she felt excited and happy about it.  

“okay! let's gooo!”

________________________

the airport was buzzing with people going and coming, airplanes landing and flying. they entered the airport when a call was made through the speakers.

“dear passengers of the airplane 06132013, with destination tokyo, japan, its going to take flight in 10 minutes”

“oh thats our flight lets go, come on”

“wait- what? jungkook wait!” she yelled at him while running behind him, trying to catch him.

“come on!”

“you're too fast! slow down!”

people looked at them while they ran to the door. they arrived sweating and panting, but they were living their best moment right now, but it wasn't until then that it hit her, they were flying to japan, they were going to tokyo, her dream since she was a child was going to come true in that moment, when their feet where on the plain and all because she had by her side the most wonderful person someone could ever met. 

“hey, dont cry bae”

she didn't even knew she was crying “its just that” a sob stopped her from talking “i really love you jungkook, im so glad to have you with me”

he took her by the waist and pressed her to his side, leaving soft and loving kisses to her face, head and neck. 

“lets go sweetheart, japan is waiting for us!”

all rights reserved to ©ggukgoldensoul. no tranlations allowed. no copy theme. don not copy my work.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 5

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bucky's gone when you wake up. Your heart sinks. Last night was better than the day. Still, you're not reassured. 

You shouldn't feel like this about your husband. You should be happy for him to come home. You should give him a kiss without thinking. He might have been gruff about it, but he was right. 

You drag yourself out of bed. On habit, you grab your phone. You have a message from Nat. 

'Missed you at girls' night. Coffee?' 

You leave her in read. You'll have one before you answer her. You go downstairs and put a mug in the tray. You slip a pod in and hit brew. 

The doorbell chirps, 'visitor at the door.' Great. You already know before you check the camera on the front display. 

You forget that you're in one of Bucky's shirts when you open the door. It's just Nat anyway. Yes, Nat with her svelte waist and perfect hips. 

"So, is that what you're wearing for our coffee date?" She taunts. 

"I just woke up." You turn and let her follow. She's great at inviting herself in. 

"Late night?" She purrs. 

"Got a couple hours," you mutter as you go back to a kitchen. 

"I know you're not drinking that horse piss," she says as she comes up across the arm of the counter. "I'm taking you out for a pistachio latte. Extra cream." 

"Black is fine with me," you take the mug only for it to shatter, the hot coffee splattering across Bucky's shirt. The knife lands at your feet. "Nat!" 

"It's butter knife. Relax." 

"And? You told me once you could kill a man sixteen different ways with one." 

"Oh, I can," she cackles. "Get some pants on. Let's go." 

"Ugh, Nat--" 

"Ugh, you," she hurls back. "He said you were in a mood." 

You flinch, "I am." 

"I always loved that you're a bitch," she snorts. "Get that bouncy booty moving." 

You tilt your head and give her a mean look, "look who the fuck talking, bitch." 

She laughs. You do too. She can be terrible but she's too cool for you.

"Yeah, give me a minute." 

You go to get yourself together. That coffee would have helped a whole lot. You'll manage. 

You get dressed and clean up. You come back down. The kitchen floor is clean, the broken cup cleared away. Bucky always said Nat was good at getting rid of messes. 

"Fine, let's go. I'm cutting back on the cream though." 

"Coulda fooled me," she scoffs. 

"Nat," you chide again. 

"What? I'm sure Bucky can't get enough... since you got more than plenty to give." 

"Shut up." 

"Well, if you wanna do something about it, you can always take up sparring again." 

"And get my ears boxed in by a trained assassin, fun." You roll your eyes and go out into the entrywau. 

"You get your back blown by one," she retorts over your shoulder. You shoot her the finger. Sometimes you forget that about Bucky. How dangerous he really can be. 

💍

You take Nat up on her invitation. Both of them. After the calorie-loaded latte, you let her take you to the compound for a workout. It’s been a while. Too long. 

Since the wedding, you just kind fell off everything. That was three years ago.  You just never got back on it. There was always something else. 

When you wanted to read, Bucky wanted to talk. When you wanted to try that new game you bought, he wanted to go out for dinner. Whenever you wanted anything, he had the perfect distraction. Just like last night. 

You should feel better. That’s what you keep arguing with yourself. You’re losing that battle along with the one with Nat. She knocks you off your feet and the air rushes out of you on impact. 

You never beat her. Never even came close. You’re not a mercenary, or a soldier, or an assassin. You’re not one of them. You’re just you and you’re starting to think that’s not enough. 

You stay on the mat. She steps over you and offers her wrapped hand. You take it and let her pull you to sitting. You wave her off as she sets her feet. 

“No more.” 

“You’re conditioning is shit,” she drops down across from you, draping her arms over her knees. “I thought he’d keep you in peak shape.” 

“Nat,” you shake your head. 

“Okay, I get it. Soft spot. What’s the matter? You and the doofus not fucking?” 

You sigh, “no, we did. Last night. It was...” You shrug. 

“Wow, sounds amazing,” she says dryly. 

“It could have been. He was away a whole month.” 

“I thought you’d be drooling,” she chuckles. “When you were dating, I remember him pinning you on this very mat.” 

“Yeah, well... he couldn’t even pick up the phone the whole time he was gone.” You stare down at your thighs. You lean back and feel your bloat. “Ugh, I’m not even mad about it. How can I blame him? Look at me.” 

“But last night?” She argues. 

“Yeah, last night, with the lights off, as I tried to pretend I was anyone else,” you exhale and look away. “Nat, I should be crying about this. I’m not. I can’t.” 

“Have you talked to him?” 

You give her a look. 

“Right. Talk to Bucky. Good luck.” 

You chew your lip and finally your heart decides to kick up. Your stomach churns. You look at her as a wrinkle lines your forehead. 

“What?” She urges. 

You scrunch up your lips. Just say it. Say it and it’ll sound so stupid you’ll know it’s wrong. 

“I think maybe... maybe it’s not going to work. Maybe...” you push your shoulders up. “Maybe I should look into lawyers.” 

“Divorce?” She gasps. 

You nod. It makes sense actually. You thought you’d take it back the minute it met the air. For once, you think you might be right. What did she always say? Trust your gut. 

[witchywithwhiskey]

Dear Molly! For your sweethearts game. Can I please request

Lloyd Hansen- Bite Me! 😍

taste so sweet

pairing: brother's best friend!lloyd hansen x female reader

summary: you've been staying with your brother's best friend while you look for a new apartment, and when he gets on your last nerve, the dynamic in your relationship takes a sudden, sharp turn toward the filthy.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (f and m receiving), vaginal and anal fingering, anal play, spanking, light pain play, light sadism/masochism, biting, bdsm dynamics established on the fly (including safe words and check-ins), very brief daddy kink, sir kink, praise kink, light degradation, pet names (a bunch), aftercare, sweet ending, kinda roommates to lovers

word count: 5.0k

a/n: i think i can safely say "bite me" was the most popular prompt y'all chose for this game since this is the third one i've written with it 🤭 i've had a lot of fun coming up with different scenarios that it makes sense in, and with Lloyd...well of course he's going to actually bite you 😏 anyway thank you for playing my sweethearts game, i hope you enjoy ♡♡

sweethearts game masterlist

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

The dulcet murmuring of the yoga instructor on the TV was rudely interrupted by Lloyd Hansen, whose voice was equal parts eager curiosity, impolite teasing and vulgar innuendo. 

You couldn’t see your brother’s best friend-slash-temporary roommate’s face from where you were positioned on your yoga mat. You were facing the TV in the living room of his apartment, while the front door was at your back. 

Somehow, though, you could still see the smug grin on Lloyd’s face, framed perfectly by his stupid mustache.

Lloyd wasn’t supposed to be home so soon! You thought you were safe to do your morning yoga routine in the living room instead of the cramped guest bedroom without commentary from the man who couldn’t seem to resist annoying the shit out of you—which had only gotten worse since you’d moved in.

After the lease on your last apartment had ended and you hadn’t been able to find a new place in your price range, you’d had to take your brother up on his offer to stay with Lloyd for a bit while you continued your search. You’d never liked Lloyd—he was an undeniable douchebag and, again, always seemed hellbent on annoying you—but you hadn’t had much of a choice. 

It was just your luck that Lloyd was the only person in the city who had the luxury of a spare bedroom. Your friends were all crammed into tiny places with roommates or significant others, and your brother lived too far outside the city to be a reasonable commute in for work. So you’d sucked it up and moved in with Lloyd. 

For the most part, things had been fine. Mostly because you’d been avoiding your brother’s best friend as much as possible, especially since the first week. You’d accidentally caught a glimpse of Lloyd wearing only a towel as he’d ducked from the bathroom into his bedroom while you’d been eating breakfast. 

You’d nearly dropped your spoon and spilled oats and yoghurt everywhere. The sight of Lloyd’s muscled chest, bare and glistening with droplets of water, was such a shock to your system, you’d stared after him for a long time, your brain unable to process the undeniable truth of what you’d witnessed. 

Your brother’s best friend was hot. 

Ever since then, you’d been unable to stop noticing things about Lloyd, like the softness of his pink mouth beneath the bristles of his mustache, and the spark of humor that seemed to be ever-present in his bright, blue eyes. He actually had a handsome face—though, in your opinion, he would be hotter if he’d shave off that ridiculous mustache. 

But even the mustache was growing on you. Which told you that you were getting in way too deep.

And to make matters worse, Lloyd seemed to have noticed that his lewd and flirty comments flustered and annoyed you the most, so he’d started making them more and more. You knew he didn’t mean anything by them, that he was just pestering you because you were your brother’s little sister, but you’d started to enjoy it far more than you should.

It was the main reason you avoided doing yoga in the living room. The positions the yoga instructor led you through had you bent over on your hands and knees, ass sticking up in the air, and you could just imagine the things Lloyd would say—and the way your body would warm, as if welcoming him to follow through on his empty threats—and you didn’t want to deal with it.

But now you had to. 

“I didn’t take you for the yoga type, cupcake,” Lloyd drawled when you didn’t immediately respond to his question. He set something down on the table beside the door, toed out of his shoes and padded further into the apartment, coming to a stop at the foot of your mat. “I never thought you’d paint such a pretty picture, pumpkin, with your head down and ass up…”

Lloyd’s voice trailed off, his tone thick with suggestion, and it took every ounce of self-control in your body not to tremble. You wanted to lower your shoulders, press your cheek to the mat, and present your ass to Lloyd, but your pride would never allow it. So instead, you spit out two words designed to make him leave you alone.

“Bite me.”

You’d turned your head to look at Lloyd while you said it, so you knew he wasn’t even looking at your face. He was just staring at your ass. 

But at your words, his eyes flicked to yours, humor and hunger sparkling in their blue depths, and he grinned widely. Something low in your belly clenched tight with anticipation, but you forced yourself to roll your eyes at him and turn back to your video. 

The yoga instructor on the TV was using her melodious voice to encourage you to inhale into cow pose before exhaling into cat pose. The movements meant you had to arch your spine toward the mat and then round it toward the ceiling, all while Lloyd watched.

Your body warmed when you dropped your belly and looked up, assuming cow pose, the position practically offering your ass up on a platter for Lloyd. 

Despite this, you couldn’t help but keep your breath in your lungs, holding the position longer than normal as you wondered what Lloyd was going to do or say. Thankfully, you didn’t have to wait long to find out. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lloyd muttered, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard it before. 

You only had a second to puzzle over the meaning of his words before he was falling to his knees behind you, his hands grabbing hold of your hips. A second later, you felt his teeth sinking into the soft flesh of your ass through your leggings. 

If you’d been asked, before that moment, what your reaction to someone biting your ass would’ve been, you would’ve answered confidently that you wouldn’t have enjoyed it. You’d assume you would shriek in surprise or kick backward to dislodge the person biting you. But your actual reaction was very different.

A low, obscenely filthy moan slipped from your lips, and your arms gave out. Your upper body sank down to your elbows on the mat, just like you’d imagined, and you pushed your ass right into Lloyd’s face. 

It just felt so good—the slight sting of pain simmering into a burning heat of pleasure that had heat gathering quickly between your thighs. 

It was only when you realized your response was just as inappropriate as Lloyd biting you that you reached an arm back and pushed against his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the breathlessness in your voice and the way it sounded like you were panting for more, not begging him to stop. 

Lloyd lifted his head from your ass enough to catch your eye over your shoulder. “You told me to bite you, so I did,” he said simply, an unrepentant grin on his stupidly handsome face.

You huffed an annoyed sound, turning around and burying your face in your arms, refusing to let him see how turned on you were. But then Lloyd pulled one of his hands from your hips and slapped your ass hard. 

Your body rocked forward from the force of the spank, and you bit so hard into your arm, you thought you might draw blood with the effort to hold in your moan. But you couldn’t stop your hips from pushing back instinctively, as if asking for more.

The brazen movement only made Lloyd chuckle, the sound low and devious and far hotter than it had any right to be.

“And it looks like you liked it—do you like a little bit of pain, princess?” Lloyd teased, an undercurrent of knowing in his smug, patronizing tone. 

“That’s none of your business,” you spit out, forehead pressed to your forearms. You were unable to look at him, lest your brother’s best friend read it all over your face that you very much did like the little bit of pain he was giving you, that it heightened the pleasure, and you desperately wanted more.

Lloyd paused, and for one brief devastating moment, you thought he might pull away, that things might end there and you almost rushed to tell him not to stop. But before you could, he spoke, his voice calmer and more even.

“If I ask you ‘red, yellow or green’, do you know what that means, sunshine?” he asked in a serious tone. His hand was lighter and more soothing as his palm skimmed over your lower back, no longer touching you anywhere that was inappropriate. 

“Yes, I understand,” you rushed to say, arching your spine and pushing your ass back into Lloyd’s lap, sucking in a gasp when you brushed against a thick bulge. “Green—green, Lloyd, please.” 

It was easier to beg him this way, with a vague statement of consent, so you didn’t have to put into words everything you wanted. That you wanted him to push your head into the mat and spank you hard enough you’d be feeling it for days, to pull down your leggings and shove his cock into you, pounding against your smarting ass until he made you come undone.

Lloyd chuckled, the sound so self-satisfied and condescending, it made your slit grow wetter, your arousal dripping into your panties. But then his hands grabbed you roughly again, his strong fingers kneading your ass mercilessly through your leggings. 

“You’re wrong about it not being my business, cupcake,” Lloyd rumbled, his voice warm even as it was patronizing. “As long as you’re living under my roof, everything about you is my business.”

The possessiveness in his words did something to your body, your belly swooping and your heart flipping in your chest, none of which you were ready to admit to Lloyd. 

So you huffed a noise that you hoped sounded annoyed and sarcastically muttered, “Sure, dad.”

Your intention had been to mock Lloyd, who’d sounded like an overbearing father unable to give their child the freedom they deserved. But your words only seemed to heat the air between you and Lloyd, your brattiness bringing out something blazingly hot and deliciously volatile. 

The quiet of the apartment, save for the yoga video still playing softly on the TV, was broken by the sharp crack of Lloyd’s hand coming down on your ass. You could feel your soft flesh jiggle, and it added a wonderful contrast to the light, stinging pain of the slap, which sounded worse than it had felt. 

A low moan slipped from your body and you lowered your upper body further to the mat beneath you, arching your spine and presenting your ass just a little bit more for Lloyd, almost as if asking for more without words. But you should’ve known your brother’s best friend better.

“Is that what you’re into, filthy girl?” Lloyd asked, his big hands kneading your ass roughly through your leggings, making you wish he’d pull the fabric down and touch you for real. “Do you like to call the guys you fuck ‘dad’ and ‘daddy’—or am I special?”

Lloyd’s hands must be magic, it was the only explanation you could come up with for how good they were making you feel. But you weren’t distracted enough to not mouth off at your brother’s best friend.

“Who says I’m going to fuck you?” you shot back haughtily, turning your head and catching Lloyd’s gaze. You quirked your eyebrow at him in what could only be described as an insolent look.  

Lloyd’s eyes darkened at the challenge in your tone. In a swift movement, he dropped his head to your ass, sinking his teeth deep into your soft flesh. 

Even through your leggings and panties, you felt the sharp sting of his bite, and your eyelashes fluttered while another moan spilled from your lips unbidden. 

The pain was at once reprimanding and playful, and your mind spun with the headiness of it. You could hardly believe Lloyd had bit you the first time, but a second time… Your heart was racing in your chest and your pussy was throbbing between your thighs and you needed something. 

“You are,” Lloyd growled, dragging your attention back to the conversation you’d been having. His voice was smug even as it was thick with lust, and it took you a long moment to process his words. 

Lloyd gave you a short reprieve, one of his hands sliding up your spine to wrap around the back of your neck. With his grip firm on your head, he lifted you up enough to make sure you maintained eye contact while he spoke. 

“I’d prefer if you called me ‘sir’ instead of ‘daddy’ or anything like that,” he said, his tone as serious as it had been when he’d asked you for a color. His gaze held yours, and you knew he expected a response, but for a moment all you could do was look back at him. 

There was something weighty about the moment that stole your breath. Lloyd wasn’t just messing around with you, he wanted you to know his preferences, he wanted to make sure you felt safe with him. He’d made sure you had a way of telling him to stop while you kept playing your game and now he was telling you what he liked. 

It was freeing and terrifying at the same moment, so you responded the only way you knew how—like a brat. 

“Noted,” you said in the same serious tone as Lloyd had used. Then you tossed your head and murmured blithely, “But I’m not gonna fuck you, sir.” The honorific was spit from your lips with as much impertinence as you could muster, and you were gratified by the way Lloyd’s expression darkened.

“You’re right, sunshine, I’m the one that’s gonna be fucking you,” Lloyd countered, giving you little time to process his words before he was ducking down behind you. 

A second later, you felt his hot tongue press to the curve where your ass met your thigh and drag upward, licking you so close to where your slit was dripping into your panties, but not touching you there. It was such a tease that another obscene moan fell from your lips. 

“Oh god,” you groaned, canting your hips and pushing your pussy closer to his face, but Lloyd just repeated the motion on the other side of your pussy, ignoring your slit entirely. “Lloyd.” His name was a frustrated huff as he licked closer to your cunt.

“You sure you don’t want me to fuck you, pumpkin?” Lloyd asked teasingly, using his big hands to spread your ass so he could drag his tongue closer to your pussy. “I could fuck you real good with my mouth and make you cum on my tongue—ya just gotta ask nicely.”

You wanted to keep being a brat, you wanted to see how far you could push Lloyd before he’d snap, but the more he tortured and teased you with his tongue through your clothes, the wilder it drove you. 

You were so worked up, you thought Lloyd might be able to make you cum without even taking off your leggings and panties, but that thought left you cold and bereft. 

When you didn’t say anything, Lloyd chuckled at your stubbornness. His hot breath ghosted over the wet spots he’d left on your leggings, making you tremble violently, your thighs quivering as they struggled to keep holding you up.

“C’mon, don’t you wanna be a filthy girl for me, princess?” Lloyd coaxed, his voice low and smooth and so entreating you wanted to give in already. “Don’t you wanna cum all over my face, sunshine, make a mess of my mustache?” 

He dragged his face back and forth against your ass, making you feel the coarse bristles of his mustache, and you nearly howled with need. Desire was blazing through your body, your need for his tongue was throbbing in your pussy to the same beat as your racing heart. You could feel your resolve crumbling. 

“Just ask me nicely, cupcake, and I’ll make you feel so good.”

“Please,” you cried, the word half sob and half prayer, wrenched from the depths of your soul. “Please fuck me with your tongue, sir, please make me cum—please!”

“Atta girl,” Lloyd crooned, yanking your leggings and panties down in one harsh move, and burying his face in your cunt from behind. He groaned loudly into your damp flesh, sweeping his tongue from your clit to your ass, tasting every inch of you. “Fuck, you taste so sweet, pumpkin.”

Your thighs were trapped together by your clothes, which Lloyd had only pulled down far enough to get to your pussy, but that didn’t stop you from pushing your hips back into his face. One of your hands reached back blindly, sinking into his soft brown hair, slick with just a little bit of gel, and twisted in the strands, holding him close.

“Lloyd,” you cried out, your body trembling as he licked deep into your slit, his mustache brushing against your heated, oversensitive skin. It made you sob with pleasure at the contrast of his hot tongue and the rough rasp of his coarse hair. “Lloyd, oh god, oh god, yes!”

Without pulling his face from your cunt, which he kept eating voraciously, Lloyd brought a hand down sharply on your ass. It surprised you enough that you let out a little shriek, your body shuddering and your pussy dripping even more onto Lloyd’s tongue.

“What did I tell you to call me, princess,” he rumbled into your soft, wet cunt. “If you want me to keep eating this pretty pussy, you call me ‘sir’ and you use your words to tell me exactly what you want.”

“I want to cum,” you whimpered, your pleasure already twisting overwhelmingly in your core. You were so close, so close, so close. “I want to cum all over your face, sir—please make me cum, sir!”

Lloyd chuckled, nipping playfully at your folds. His hands kneaded your ass, holding you right where he wanted you while he feasted on your pussy.

“I’m gonna make you cum, pretty girl, don’t you worry,” he purred, pausing only to nuzzle his mustache over the tender flesh of your soaked cunt, laughing huskily when you trembled and whined for him. “Gonna make your cunt cream all over my mustache.”

“Oh god, yes, sir, want it,” you moaned, your fingers twisting tighter in Lloyd’s hair and pulling his face into your body. At the same time, you pushed your hips back, until his groans were muffled as he ate you out. 

His fingers worked your soft curves, groping you roughly and delivering sharp spanks whenever you reverted to calling him Lloyd, making you gasp and moan in equal measure. He gorged himself on your pussy, licking deep into your hole, sucking on your clit and nipping at your sensitive flesh until you were a writhing, moaning mess.

When he had you squirming and begging beneath him, Lloyd’s thumb trailed down the seam of your ass, brushing against your little rosebud. You squealed when he pressed lightly against the tight ring of muscle, your body shaking violently under the strength of your pleasure. 

Lloyd paused only long enough to ask for your color and when you gasped an enthusiastic, “Green!” he dipped his thumb into your pussy, coated it in your slick arousal, and pushed it into your ass. 

All the while, he used his soothing voice to coax you into relaxing for him, to letting him in, and when you did, you moaned loudly at the feel of him inside you. It was so depraved and delicious and you loved it.

“You’re so fucking perfect, cupcake,” Lloyd growled against your pussy, shoving his tongue deep inside you to feel the way you fluttered for him. “Now cum on my tongue, princess,” he ordered, his voice rough and demanding, “Wanna taste your cum, give it to me—cum for me, filthy girl.”

Lloyd’s growled command and the way his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking mercilessly on the bundle of nerves while his thumb was buried in your ass, had you shattering apart with a scream you tried to muffle in your yoga mat. It was a desperate, aching cry as your pussy convulsed and gushed with your release.

Behind you, Lloyd rumbled an appreciative sound, drinking down your juices greedily, tongue lapping up every drop until you were shivering from the overstimulation. Even then, he brushed his mustache over your clit, the delicious rasp wringing one last devastating aftershock from your body as you whimpered pathetically.

When you were done, Lloyd carefully slipped his thumb from your ass, pulled up your leggings and panties, then wrapped his arms around your upper body, easing you up from your bent over position. He sat back and tugged you into his lap, holding you close in the cage of his arms while you caught your breath.

“Did that feel good, sunshine?” he asked in a voice gentler than any you’d heard him use before. There was a level of care in his tone that made your heart thump harder in your chest, even as your body otherwise settled and cooled.

“Yeah,” you said on a delicate exhale, snuggling into Lloyd’s chest and breathing in the spicy scent of his cologne. He made you feel so safe and comfortable, you gave in to the urge to add, “Thank you, sir.”

Lloyd chuckled a little, cupping your cheek in his big hand and lifting your head so he could look you in the eye. “Thank you, pretty girl, for trusting me to make you feel good.”

There was so much genuine affection in Lloyd’s crystal blue gaze that it stole the breath from your lungs. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, traces of your release still glistening on his lips and in his mustache. The urge to kiss him, to taste yourself on Lloyd’s tongue, was nearly overwhelming. 

As if reading your mind, Lloyd leaned in, pausing a hair’s breadth away from your lips. But you didn’t want him to hesitate, you wanted him to kiss you—so you closed the distance and kissed your brother’s best friend for the first time.

Your first kiss with Lloyd Hansen was filthy and messy, and yet also somehow sweet and gentle. His mouth was soft, and firm as he explored yours, licking along your lips and deepening the kiss quickly when you immediately opened for him. 

Though he tasted of your release, reminding you of all the dirty things he’d already done to your body, he was tender as he slipped his tongue between your lips. And he was methodical in learning what made you gasp and moan for him. 

Against your thigh, you could feel Lloyd’s cock twitching, and a renewed heat began to stir in your core, making you yearn to keep going with whatever had begun between the two of you. 

Breaking from the kiss, you took a moment to appreciate the dark heat in Lloyd’s eyes, the slight, smug curl of his mouth. Before that morning, that look might’ve annoyed you, but now it just filled you with heat and excitement.

“Would you like me to take care of you now, sir?” you asked sweetly, dragging your fingers down Lloyd’s chest, delighting in the way his muscles jumped and danced beneath your touch. 

Before you could touch him where he was twitching and throbbing in his pants, though, Lloyd caught your wrist and snatched your hand away. Despite the way Lloyd’s fingers tangled in yours, disappointment crashed over you and you frowned up at him.

“Why don’t you finish your yoga, and then we can talk a bit, figure out exactly what we both want this to be,” Lloyd said in that softer tone of his. It made you feel safe, sweeping away the disappointment you’d felt only a moment ago. “I brought you coffee and a treat.”

Lloyd tipped his head toward the table next to the front door of the apartment, and you looked to see a cardboard tray with two to-go cups. Next to it sat a paper bag with the logo of your favorite bakery stamped on it. 

“You got me coffee?” you asked, tilting your head to the side with confusion. Lloyd never did nice things for you like that. You were just his best friend’s annoying little sister who was crashing with him while she looked for apartments, not someone he’d get a special treat for.

Looking back at Lloyd, you could see a slight pink in his cheeks, and he wouldn’t meet your eye. 

“And a pastry thing with red frosting,” he said, answering your question. When you sat in silence for a beat too long, he finally dragged his gaze to yours, noting your confusion. “Do you not know what day it is?”

You lifted your shoulders in a careless shrug and shook your head. “February…something?” 

Lloyd huffed a laugh. “It’s Valentine’s Day, princess.” His tone was somehow both patronizing and warm, and he rolled his eyes at you for good measure. 

But you were already rolling your eyes right back at him, shoving playfully at his chest. “How was I supposed to know, it’s not like I have anyone—wait!” Your defensive explanation for why you’d forgotten the holiday cut off abruptly as something occurred to you.

Your eyes widened and you looked at Lloyd, studying your brother’s best friend closely. His cheeks were still a little pink with the faint trace of a blush, and the corners of his mouth were flickering like he was trying to hold back a smile.

But it was Lloyd’s eyes that really gave him away. His sparkling blue eyes were glimmering with so much warmth and affection, it made you gasp all over again.

“You got me a Valentine’s Day treat!” 

At your pronouncement, Lloyd tossed his head back and laughed. Your eyes snagged on the long line of his throat, staring greedily and wondering if Lloyd would mind if you paid him back for all his teasing by licking along the corded muscle there. 

When Lloyd finally lowered his head and caught your eye again, there was humor and desire shimmering in the depth of his gaze. 

“I thought it was time we finally do something about all the sizzling chemistry between us,” Lloyd explained, giving you a playful wink. It was on the tip of your tongue to protest—your mouth even opened to deny it—but Lloyd just gave you a hard look. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, cupcake, don’t deny it.”

The memory of Lloyd ducking out of the bathroom in only a towel and striding to his room popped into your head unbidden. Since then, you had been looking at him with much more heat and desire than you ever thought you’d feel for your brother’s best friend, but you’d thought you’d kept it under wraps. 

Apparently not, since Lloyd was giving you such a knowing look. All you could do was scoff and roll your eyes. 

“Fine,” you said, crossing your arms while you huffed and puffed and pouted up at him. “Can I have my treat now?”

“Not until you finish your yoga,” Lloyd said sternly, patting your ass as he helped you slide off his lap. You shot him a bratty glare, which only made his eyes darken; his hand slapped your ass a little harder. “Finish your yoga and then you get your treat—and you can play with my cock.”

“Oooh, okay!” you said more eagerly, quickly stretching yourself out on your mat and pulling up the video that had long since finished. You found the spot where Lloyd had distracted you and got back into position before you hit play.

Lloyd gathered the cardboard tray and pastry bag from the table, then sat down on the couch, sipping his coffee while he watched you move through your yoga positions. You knew he watched you the whole time, because you could feel his eyes undressing you, no doubt thinking of other fun ways to interrupt your morning yoga in the future. 

Once you were blessedly done with the yoga routine, you bounced up from the mat and went to Lloyd, who pulled you into his lap before you could sit beside him on the couch. He handed you your coffee and the bag with the pastry. 

While you ate and drank, the two of you discussed what you wanted from a relationship, both inside and out of the bedroom, and whether you’d tell your brother before or after you moved out of Lloyd’s apartment. 

Lloyd promised to help you find your own place, revealing he’d been doing some digging already and had a couple prospects for you to look at. 

After you were done with your coffee and pastry, you slid off Lloyd’s lap, kneeling between his parted legs and begged him to let you have your other treat. Lloyd helped you get his pants down enough for you to pull out his cock. 

You licked him from base to crown, swirling your tongue around the hot, leaking tip and humming in delight when you tasted his salty precum. Looking up at Lloyd from under your lashes, you smiled at him. 

“You taste so sweet, sir,” you purred, before lavishing his cock with all the attention of your warm, devoted tongue. 

Lloyd groaned, mumbling something about how perfect you and your mouth were while you worshipped his cock, teasing him just as much as he’d teased you. When he finally came, it was with a nearly feral growl, his hands pushing your head roughly down on his cock as you swallowed his cum greedily. 

The rest of your Valentine’s Day was spent curled up with Lloyd Hansen, looking up apartment listings in between talking and getting to know each other better. He may have been your brother’s best friend when you’d moved in, but you were both determined that he’d be your boyfriend by the time you moved out. 

sweethearts game masterlist

[ksdarou]

My best friend's mother is my fuck buddy

Words: 2289

Tags : Big tits, Handjob, risky sex

In the quiet, tree-lined streets of our small town, there lived a woman named Yeji. She was a creature of simple beauty, with dark hair that cascaded down her back like a moonlit river and skin that seemed to glow with the warmth of a thousand distant suns. Her eyes, a deep brown, held the kind of secrets that could make a man's heart skip a beat. But Yeji wasn't just any woman; she was the mother of my childhood friend, Minho.

Minho and I had been thick as thieves since we could barely walk, our friendship a pattern of shared scrapes, whispered secrets, and stolen moments of pure, unbridled mischief. Yeji had always been there, a silent sentinel watching over us, her eyes often filled with a knowing smile. As we grew older, her teasing nature grew bolder, yet she remained the epitome of grace and poise, a constant source of both admiration and confusion for me.

One particularly hot summer afternoon, as we lazed in the shade of the large oak in Minho's backyard, Yeji brought us tall glasses of iced tea, the condensation beading up and running down the sides. "Drink up, my little soldiers," she said, her accent thick and playful. As she handed me my glass, her hand lingered just a fraction too long, her thumb grazing the back of my hand. It was innocent enough, but the way she looked at me made my cheeks burn.

"Thanks, Mrs. Hwang," I mumbled, taking a hasty sip to hide my nerves.

"Oh, please," she said, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes. "Call me Yeji." She winked, the gesture sending a shiver down my spine. Little did I know, that small act of familiarity was the opening note of a symphony that would soon engulf me in a world of forbidden desires and unspoken agreements.

The days grew longer, the heat more oppressive, and Yeji's teasing more intense. Her clothes seemed to shrink, revealing more and more of her lithe body. The way she'd bend over to pick up a towel or the way her shirt clung to her when she walked by the pool, leaving wet trails on her skin, had me swallowing hard. I couldn't help but steal glances, my eyes drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

Then came the night that changed everything. I was staying over, and after Minho had gone to bed, Yeji and I found ourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. She sat close, our legs brushing together. The air grew thick with tension, and when she leaned over, her breath hot against my ear, she whispered, "Do you know what I want?" My heart hammered in my chest.

Her hand slid up my thigh, her touch featherlight yet firm, until it reached the unmistakable bulge in my shorts. "I've wanted to do this for so long," she murmured, her voice a siren's song. Before I could protest or even process what was happening, she had unzipped my shorts and was stroking me gently, her eyes never leaving mine. I was lost in a sea of sensation, drowning in the warmth of her touch.

The next day, the house was a minefield of anticipation. Every creak of the floorboard, every rustle of a curtain seemed to echo with the promise of what was to come. Yeji had set the rules, and today, she had granted me the privilege of touching her breasts. I felt like I was walking on eggshells, my every move calculated, my every breath shallow.

When the moment finally arrived, she led me to her bedroom, the door clicking shut behind us like a gunshot. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me. "You can touch them," she said, her voice a smoky whisper. "But only if you're gentle."

My hands trembled as I reached out, the fabric of her shirt cool under my fingertips. As I slid it off her shoulders, revealing her bare skin, she leaned back, offering herself to me. Her breasts were firm, the nipples already pebbled with desire. I cupped them, feeling their weight, my thumbs circling the sensitive peaks. She sighed, the sound a sweet symphony in the stillness of the room.

Yet, as my thumbs brushed over her nipples, I felt a strange mix of guilt and exhilaration. This was my best friend's mother, and here I was, exploring her body as if it was a treasure map leading to uncharted territories. But the way she arched her back, the soft moans she couldn't hold back, they were an undeniable invitation to delve deeper into this secret world we had unlocked together.

The final day, my birthday, dawned with a sense of excitement tinged with a hint of apprehension. Yeji had promised that tonight, she would allow me to take her fully. The thought made my head spin, my pulse race, my heart thump in my chest like a drum. It was a gift I never dared hope for, one that seemed too good to be true.

That evening, as we sat at the dinner table, Yeji's eyes never left mine, a silent promise passing between us. Minho was oblivious, chattering away about his school day, the innocence of his words a stark contrast to the heated thoughts racing through my mind. When he finally excused himself to go to bed, Yeji's gaze grew more intense, a silent countdown to the moment we had both been waiting for.

As I approached her room, I heard the faint sound of jazz drifting through the hallway. I knocked softly, and she called for me to enter. The room was bathed in a soft, warm light, the scent of jasmine heavy in the air. Yeji lay on the bed, wearing nothing but a sultry smile.

"You've been such a good boy," she purred, her voice a seductive whisper. "Now it's time for your reward."

Her legs parted, revealing the slick folds of her sex, glistening in the soft glow. I knew what she expected, what she wanted, but as

 I approached, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. Yet, the allure of her was too great, and I found myself kneeling before her, my hands trembling with a mix of fear and desire.

I leaned in, my tongue tentative at first, tracing the delicate line of her outer labia before venturing further. She tasted sweet and salty, a cocktail of arousal that made my own need throb in response. Yeji's thighs quivered, and she let out a soft gasp as I found her clit, flicking it gently before taking it into my mouth. The sounds of her pleasure grew louder, urging me on, until she was bucking against me, her hands in my hair, guiding me as I pleasured her.

The tension grew, the room thick with it, until she was panting and begging for more. I stood, my erection painfully obvious, and she took me in her hand, stroking me with the same expertise she had shown the day before. Then, with a mischievous smile, she turned over, presenting her ass to me. "Take me," she whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "But remember, only outside."

I positioned myself behind her, my cock nudging at her entrance, and she was wet, so wet that she took me in with ease. I began to thrust, slow at first, savoring the feel of her tightness, her heat enveloping me like a glove. She was tight around me, and each stroke sent a jolt of pleasure through my body, making me ache for release.

The rhythm grew more urgent, our bodies moving together in a silent dance of lust. I could feel myself getting closer, the pressure building in my balls, and I knew I wouldn't last much longer. I reached around, my hand finding her clit again, and I rubbed it in time with my thrusts. Her breathing grew ragged, and she began to moan louder, her body taut with the approaching climax.

As she came, her muscles clamping down on me, I could hold back no longer. I pulled out, and with a few more strokes, I painted her ass with ropes of hot semen. The release was unlike anything I had ever experienced, a crescendo of pleasure that left me breathless and dizzy. Yeji collapsed onto the bed, her body still quivering with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

We lay there, panting and sticky, the room filled with the sound of our harsh breathing. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated carnality, a secret we would share forever. Our friendship had been forever altered, the invisible line between us erased in a whirlwind of passion.

In the days that followed, our encounters grew more frequent, more intense. Yeji became insatiable, her appetite for our secret rendezvous an addiction that I found myself eagerly feeding. Each time was different, each time a new exploration of her body, a new revelation of her desires. And through it all, she remained the same warm, caring woman I had known since childhood, her smile never dimming, her teasing never ceasing.

Yet, the weight of our secret grew heavier with each passing day. The fear of being caught, the guilt of betraying my friend's trust, it was a burden that I carried with me, a constant reminder of the fine line we were treading. But as Yeji's nails dug into my back, her voice crying out my name in the throes of passion, I knew I was in too deep to turn back now. This was a path that, once chosen, could only lead to a future fraught with both ecstasy and despair.

One afternoon, as the sun blazed outside and the house was still, Yeji and I found ourselves locked in a passionate embrace on the couch. Her skirt was hiked up, and I was buried deep inside her, our hips moving in a frantic rhythm that mirrored our racing hearts. We were lost in the moment, our breaths mingling in a silent symphony of lust.

Suddenly, the front door slammed shut, and we froze. "Mom, I'm home!" Minho's voice echoed through the house, shattering the illusion of our clandestine world. Panic flooded me as I hastily pulled out, tucking my shirt back into my pants. Yeji, ever the composed woman, straightened her clothes with a practiced ease, her eyes never leaving mine as she whispered, "Don't worry, I'll handle this."

We waited, the air thick with unspoken tension, as Minho's footsteps grew closer. When he entered the room, he looked at us with a puzzled expression before shrugging it off and tossing his backpack on the floor. "You guys okay?" he asked, his gaze bouncing between us. Yeji's laugh was light, airy, the picture of nonchalance. "We're just catching up on some TV," she said, her voice as smooth as silk.

Minho nodded, oblivious to the storm raging just beneath the surface of our calm facades. He grabbed a snack from the kitchen, and we resumed our positions, the tension in the room palpable. Yeji's hand found mine under the couch, and she gave it a reassuring squeeze. It was a gesture that spoke volumes, a silent promise that she had this under control.

As the days turned into weeks, the guilt grew more pronounced, a constant whisper in my ear. I found myself torn between the friendship that had shaped me and the woman who had come to dominate my thoughts. Yet, when she'd look at me, her eyes filled with a hunger that I couldn't ignore, all rational thought would evaporate, leaving only the primal need to satisfy her.

The culmination of our secret affair came one rainy night when Minho was out with his friends. Yeji and I had the house to ourselves, and the air was charged with electricity. She led me to her bed, her movements deliberate and seductive. "Tonight, my love," she murmured, "you can come inside me."

Her words sent a thrill through me, a mix of excitement and terror. This was it, the ultimate act of betrayal, and I knew there would be no turning back. Yet, as she straddled me, her eyes filled with love and lust, I couldn't resist the siren's call. We moved together, our bodies in perfect harmony, as the rain pattered against the window, providing a rhythmic soundtrack to our illicit passion.

When I finally released inside her, it was as if a dam had broken, flooding me with a mix of relief and dread. Yeji's eyes closed in bliss, her body shuddering with pleasure. But as she collapsed onto my chest, her breath hot against my skin, I couldn't help but wonder what price we would pay for this moment of pure, unbridled desire.

Our secret remained safe, hidden beneath the veneer of our everyday lives. But every time I looked at Minho, every time I heard his laugh, I felt the weight of our transgression pressing down on me. Yeji was careful, always the model mother, her smiles and teasing glances reserved for when we were alone. Yet, the tension grew, a tightrope we danced on, each step more precarious than the last.

And so, we continued, locked in our secret world of pleasure and pain. Each day brought a new challenge, each night a new temptation. The guilt was a constant companion, but the allure of Yeji's touch was stronger. I knew it couldn't last, that eventually, our house of cards would crumble. But for now, we reveled in the sweet, forbidden fruit of our love, each moment stolen, each touch a silent declaration of a bond that defied all boundaries.

[wchswift]

hiii there againn linaa!! i hope you're fine!!

ugh, i hate asking this but i can't help. i'm in need of some heavy angst and comfort 😭 please help in writing a HEAVY angst and comfort fic about old man logan 🙏😞 (i've had an argument with my bf but nvm not going to trauma dumping here)

— where it hurts the most

mdni 𖤐 18+ old man logan x reader

Logan pushes you away the only way he knows how—cruel words, distance, and a lie that cuts deeper than any wound. content! angst & hurt/comfort, heavy angst, emotional hurt, self-destructive behavior, arguments, confessions, soft comfort, angst with a happy(ish) ending, mentions of physical injuries (bruised/bleeding knuckles), emotional vulnerability. word count: 1.2k

notes: zayn hiii!!! I love receiving your requests, always feel free <3 and my apologies for the delay, really! I'm sorry to hear that and I hope everything is okay now dear, but know that my dm is always open if you want to talk, okay?? despite that, I hope you like it and that I do justice to your request 🫶

The fight is ugly. Worse than the others.

Logan is breathing hard, shoulders taut, veins standing out along his forearms from where his hands are clenched into fists. His eyes are wild—storm-dark, sharp with something too tangled to name.

You don’t move from where you stand. You’ve seen him like this before—worn down, pushing, clawing for distance like it might save him. But tonight feels different. The air is heavier, the silence stretching like a wound, raw and open.

“You don’t get it.” His voice is rough, a snarl that barely holds back a deeper tremor. “You never have.”

Your heart hammers, throat tight. “Then help me understand, Logan.”

But he just shakes his head. There’s something in his expression—something close to fear, buried beneath the anger.

“You wanna understand?” He exhales sharply, a bitter, exhausted sound. “Fine. I don’t love you.”

The words cut through you like a blade.

You're used to the "you should leave," "you deserve better." talk. But this, this is unexpected. You know he doesn't mean it, that it's something new to push you away for good, but you can't stop the pain.

Your breath catches. The whole world stutters to a halt.

“…What?”

His gaze flickers, jaw tightening—but he doesn’t take it back. He doesn’t soften. He doesn’t let himself.

“You heard me,” he mutters, voice low, dangerous. “I don’t love you. I never did.”

It’s a lie. You know it’s a lie.

But it still hurts. So bad.

You force yourself to breathe past the tightness in your chest. “Say it again.”

His nostrils flare, his fists trembling at his sides. “Don’t make me—”

“Say it again, Logan.” Your voice shakes. “Look me in the eye and say it.”

Something cracks in his expression. But he forces it down, swallows it back.

“I never loved you.”

The pain is instant, burning deep, settling into your ribs like something sharp and unrelenting. Your fingers twitch at your sides, nails digging into your palms to keep yourself steady.

He’s lying. You know he is.

But he’s also trying to break you. Trying to push you so far away you won’t find your way back.

And God, it almost works.

Your throat bobs, something sharp clawing its way up. You force it back.

“I don’t believe you,” you whisper.

Logan exhales roughly, turns away like he can’t stand to look at you.

“Don’t.” His voice is hoarse, worn thin. “Don’t do this.”

“Don’t do what?” You step forward, hands trembling at your sides. “Don’t stay? Don’t care? Don’t love you when you clearly—”

He moves before you can finish.

Not towards you—away. Shoulders stiff, back turned, head lowered. Like he can’t bear to let you see him like this.

Like he can’t let you see him break.

“I don’t want you here,” he mutters. “You should go.”

You inhale sharply, chest burning. “Logan—”

“Leave.” His voice is nothing more than a rasp. “Please.”

That’s what shatters you. The ‘please.’

You stand there, hands trembling, something cracking in your chest. Then, slowly, you step back.

The silence stretches, unbearable.

Then—

The door clicks shut behind you.

Hours pass. You don’t know how long.

You don’t know what makes you go back. Maybe it’s instinct. Maybe it’s something heavier, something impossible to sever.

But you find him exactly where you feared.

Collapsed against the porch railing, bottle shattered at his feet, blood smeared across his knuckles like he went looking for a fight and lost. His breath is uneven, his eyes dull and rimmed with exhaustion.

Something in your chest caves.

“…Logan?”

His head lifts slowly, sluggish. His gaze lands on you but doesn’t focus. It’s distant, dazed. Like he’s not all there.

A sharp inhale. Then you’re kneeling in front of him, hands framing his face, forcing him to look at you.

“Logan.” Your voice wavers. “Jesus Christ, what did you do?”

His eyes flutter shut. “Nothin’.”

Bullshit.

You glance at his hands—faintly trembling, bruised knuckles split from where he must’ve hit something. The bruises are already forming. He doesn’t heal like he used to.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I know what you were doing.”

A slow, shuddering exhale. Then, barely above a whisper—

“I don’t know how to stop.”

Your breath hitches. “Stop what?”

A pause. Then—

“Destroying everything I love.”

And there it is. The real truth, stripped bare and broken.

Your fingers tighten in his hair. Your own vision blurs. “You didn’t destroy me, Logan.”

“I had a dream.” His voice is hoarse, scraped raw.

You don’t move. Just listen.

His throat bobs as he swallows, still not meeting your gaze. “It wasn’t a good one.”

A beat of silence. Then he exhales, shaking his head. “It’s always the same. Always ends the same.”

His voice is quieter now, like he’s unraveling, like the fight has drained out of him.

Carefully, you reach out, your fingers brushing over his wrist—light, tentative. He doesn’t pull away.

It’s enough.

“You don’t have to tell me,” you say softly. “Just let me stay.”

Something in his shoulders sags, the last of his resistance crumbling.

He lets you guide him inside, where the air is warmer, where the quiet isn’t so lonely. Lets you press a damp cloth to his knuckles, cleaning away dried blood, gentle but firm.

His hands tremble when you hold them in yours. His fingers twitch like he’s torn between pulling away and clinging to you.

“I’m still here,” you murmur, your thumb tracing slow, grounding circles over his skin. “I’m always gonna be here.”

Logan exhales, something breaking in his expression. His breath shudders, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he lets himself lean into your touch.

Lets himself stay.

And you take care of him.

You ease him onto the couch, helping him sit, helping him breathe. He’s exhausted, the fight in him burned out, leaving behind something hollow, something aching. You run your fingers through his hair, slow and soothing, the strands coarse beneath your touch. He exhales shakily, pressing into the warmth of your palm like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it.

When you move to pull away, he catches your wrist. His grip is weak, but the intention is clear.

“Don’t go,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart clenches.

“I’m not.” You adjust, shifting so you can tuck yourself closer, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders. He’s solid and warm and so, so tired. “I’m right here.”

For a moment, he’s still. Then, hesitantly, he leans into you, letting his forehead rest against your temple. His breath fans warm over your skin, uneven but steadying.

“I don’t deserve this,” he mutters, almost too quiet to hear.

You close your eyes, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Too bad,” you whisper. “You’ve got me anyway.”

A shaky exhale. His grip on your wrist tightens for just a second before going slack, but he doesn’t let go.

And in the quiet, in the dim light and the warmth of your touch, Logan finally lets himself rest.

𖤐 reblogs and feedback are appreciated! requests are also welcome, ty!

taglist: @blossomingorchids @logaenhowlett @cruel-as-sin (let me know if you want to be added or removed <3)

[solxamber]

Leona, Romantic, Homesick by MICO

"I'd Stay" || Leona Kingscholar

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄����𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Homesick by MICO

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 990

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Happy ending

Leona doesn’t beg. He doesn’t chase. He doesn’t ask people to stay.

And yet—

He sits in the dim glow of early morning, watching the way the golden light stretches across your skin, watching the way you sleep so peacefully next to him, your body curled into the warmth of his own.

And he aches.

Because when the sun is fully up, you’ll leave.

He lets his gaze flicker to the half-packed bags in the corner, the ones you didn’t finish because last night, you were tangled up in his arms, pressing whispered nothings into his skin. Because last night, you were here.

But the morning always brings reality, and reality means you’re leaving.

He should be used to this. To letting things go before they slip through his fingers. He’s done it his whole damn life. But for the first time, something in his chest twists with a foreign kind of desperation—something he doesn’t know how to name.

He doesn’t know what to do with it.

So he does what he always does. He says nothing.

And waits for you to wake up and go.

You wake slowly, warmth cocooning you before you even open your eyes.

Leona.

You shift against him, pressing your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of him, the feeling of his fingers threading through your hair. He’s awake. He’s never awake this early.

That’s the first thing that tells you something’s wrong.

The second is the silence.

Leona isn’t a man of many words, but this silence feels different. He’s thinking—too much, too deeply, like he’s trying to work something out in his head and doesn’t like the answer he’s coming to.

You don’t say anything at first. You just let yourself stay like this a little longer. Wrapped up in him. Pretending the world outside this bed doesn’t exist.

But eventually, you have to break the quiet.

“I’ll visit,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep.

Leona goes still. His hand stops moving against your hair.

You don’t need to look at him to know what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t want a damn visit.

He wants you here.

“…I know,” he says finally, but it’s quiet. Heavy. A lie dressed up in indifference.

You press your lips together. You know it’s unfair, the way you’re waiting for him to say something, waiting for him to give you a reason to stay. But Leona is proud. You’ve always known that. He doesn’t ask for things. He doesn’t admit what he wants until it’s already slipped through his fingers.

But this time, maybe—

“You could come with me.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, and you feel the way he tenses beneath you. Like the thought had never even occurred to him.

Then, slowly, his fingers resume their absentminded movement against your scalp. He exhales a quiet scoff.

“Can’t just leave everything behind for you, herbivore.”

You close your eyes. That’s what you thought he’d say.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I know.”

The thing is, you would.

You’d stay, in a heartbeat. You’d unpack your bags, cancel your flights, change everything just to be with him. You would. But you know better than to ask him to do the same.

Because Leona is Leona, and he’s never been one to cling to things, never been one to believe in fairytales and endings that don’t end in disappointment.

And yet—

You don’t see the way his jaw clenches, the way he stares at the ceiling like it holds an answer he doesn’t want to face.

You don’t see the way his hand tightens against your waist, like he’s trying to commit the feeling of you to memory.

And you don’t hear the words sitting heavy on his tongue, the ones he swallows down before they have the chance to escape.

Stay. Please, stay.

Because Leona doesn’t beg.

And you?

You’ve already made up your mind.

The silence stretches between you, something unspoken hanging in the air. Heavy. Pressing.

You take a slow breath and shift, preparing to move—to get up, finish packing, and finally leave.

But before you can, a hand curls around your wrist.

Firm. Steady. Unyielding.

You pause, blinking in the dim morning light, and look down at where Leona holds you. His grip isn’t tight, but it’s final. Like he’s afraid if he lets go, you’ll disappear completely.

“…Leona?” You murmur, confused.

His thumb brushes against your skin, slow and deliberate. His head is tilted back against the pillow, but his eyes—those sharp, piercing green eyes—are on you.

There’s something raw in his expression, something stripped bare in the way he looks at you now, like he’s finally let himself feel all the things he’s been too afraid to name.

And then, his lips part—his voice low, hoarse, like the words are scraping their way out of his throat before he can stop them.

"Stay."

Your breath catches.

He doesn’t say it like a demand. He doesn’t say it like a challenge, like he’s trying to test you or push you away like he usually does.

He just says it.

Like he means it.

Like he needs it.

Like he needs you.

“…Leona.”

His jaw clenches, and his grip tightens just slightly, like he’s expecting you to pull away.

You don’t.

Instead, you swallow hard, something swelling in your chest—something warm, something hopeful—and you let your fingers slip between his, squeezing gently.

"Okay," you whisper.

His breath shudders out, and then he’s pulling you back down, into the warmth of the sheets, into him.

He doesn’t say anything else. He just buries his face in your hair, arms circling you like he can keep you here just like this, like he can make up for all the nights he let you walk away without stopping you.

But this time, you won’t be leaving.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[tinythebunni]

blurb for simon and his socially unaware princess who makes him pass out in her cunt every night. for @goodsoup19

DUBCON WARNING: reader drugs simon with sleeping pills and he wakes up handcuffed to the bed. he gave consent prior for her to use him whenever she wanted!! DUBCON WARNING. I REPEAT DUBCON WARNING!!

🩷🧁🫧🎀

It’s not like simon’s never had sex before. I mean he’s a man so of course he has needs. And lord knows he gets what he wants when he wants it. He hasn’t had sex in a bit, due to deployment and the physical therapy in between those. But this? it feels like he’s back in his 17 year old body getting head behind the market.

You took control of him. he was still the one with the upper hand, and he was definitely the dominant one, but it seemed like now you were taking what you wanted. using him for your personal gain. making him your own sex toy, your person dildo. the thought made his cock throb and his tip leak inside of you. The way you’re bouncing on his cock, slipping almost all the way off before forcing it back in had his resolve slipping away ever second.

With his hands cuffed behind him, you slowly started to regret his comment. “can’t keep yer fookin hands off me, can ya bun? desperate little thing.” he could see the fire in your eyes in that moment. and he should’ve known how this would end up.

For him being such a suspicious military man and all, he sure sucked at knowing when a pretty girl was drugging him. God, Price would chew him up and shit him out if he ever found out about this.

Simon is pulled out of his thoughts as your hand slips around his throat to squeeze the sides of his throat, slowing blood flow to his brain. the loss of oxygen making him harder and whinier. it’s everything he’s needed and gosh it’s so good.

You glance down to see tears slipping out the corner of his eyes, arching your back to lean down to lick them off his cheeks, leaving a flush of crimson on his face. he can’t help the way the blush flows down his body, and the musky sweat that starts at behind his knee caps.

you stay like that, tits pressed to his chest as you pick your hips up and down. sliding your arms under his back, right by the cuffs. you cage him in, legs locking in place to keep him inside of you. he fights the urge to cum but he can’t move!

“wait wait! b-bird you gotta ngh fuck fuck you gotta let me up!! m gonna cum in ya please please hold on!! can’t can’t ‘old it.”

He’s scared and it’s evident in his eyes. he’d love to cum in you but he knows you’ve never let him before, scared for your boundaries. he can’t hold it and he doesn’t know if you know that, too stuck in that familiar sexed up haze. but you are aware of what’s happening, almost too much. this is exactly what you want. his cum inside your belly,that warm feeling you keep hearing about. and Simon cums a lot, almost a fountain. it shoots everywhere when u give him a hand job and you want him to cum in you, right now. and simon always does as you say.

you feel him shoot milky ropes inside of you, probably nudging your cervix now. but you don’t stop. not even when he’s wailing right by your ear.

“bun, bun!! baby!!!, p-please… please just… j-just ohh! Ah, fuck, oh fuck oh fuck ! Oh, God, please! Please! too much too much!” you’re ignoring his babbling, not caring about his needs know, only wanting yours.

“aw the big bad military man can’t take it? too overstimulated?” you soothe, faux sympathy dripping with every word, but he’s too fucked out to know that. blissfully unaware, too pussydrunk. what a fucking man.

“yes baby p-please, fuck fuck bun... you you... ya gotta stop... please, c-can't... can't take it... too fucking warm too tight... y-you're killing me... shit shit, please! please, just just gimme a moment g-gimme a moment, need a minute, a a second even, please! you're holding me too tight... like a fucking cage!! needa... f-fuck, shit shit shit! there's so much... so much fucking cum... it’s your fault, fuck, please!!”

[muqingslover]

hiii, can you please share more goofy habits caleb has while sharing a bed with u 💝

[ By popular demand i'm here to share extra thoughts on Caleb's sleeping habits! Kinda of a part two to this, in case you missed! ]

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Oh boy there's so much to unpack here. We all know Caleb has experienced a loooot of bad things and has not worked through them in an actual healthy way at all. He is also a master at hiding it from you, but you can get a glimpse of how damaged he truly is during bedtime.

First of all, you will rarely, if ever, catch him sleeping on an actual bed. Or sleeping at all to be honest. What Caleb does is take power naps whenever he can on his couch at the office or when he's at your place waiting for you to. The one to (partially) blame for this is his chronic insomnia. I like to believe Caleb has always been a very light sleeper and it's only gotten worse throughout the years— The sound of a door opening is enough for him to be wide wake in a matter of seconds. Trust issues anyone?

When he wakes up, if alone, his go-to activity is working out. He'll do push-ups or leave the house for a loooong late night jog, anything that will tire his body out since he's wired up. Then, he takes a freezing cold shower to reboot his system and either starts to work early or sits down to solve some calculus problems to prevent his mind from thinking about anything else since it's 98% of the time never anything good.

To add to that, the main reason as to why his insomnia is so bad is the fact he has nightmares on an almost daily basis. They're often about you in some way and he wakes up panicking about where you are, how you are, if you're with someone else, why you aren't here with him instead and if you plan on leaving him. That's why it's so crucial for Caleb that you stay somewhere he can see you whenever he needs to. Otherwise, his anxiety will gnaw at him until he just shows up unprompted on your front door in the middle of the night.

On the topic of nightmares, next thing on the list is a more...sensitive one: His reactions to nightmares that involves the abuse Caleb himself went through. I say sensitive because this man is a trained soldier and he wakes up in very high alert which, sometimes, means he might hurt you by pure reflex similar to retired war veterans.

The first time you woke up with his hands tightly wrapped around your neck you seriously thought you were a goner. The sound of your voice calling his name was fortunately enough to make him snap out of the haze he was trapped in, believing he was under the threat of the ghosts of his past and had to defend himself before it was him the one who would end up dead. You have always been his anchor, it was not a surprise that you were the only one able to pull him back even in a moment like this.

Regardless if he had been in control or not, Caleb would blame himself until his last day on this world. He wouldn't sleep (Key word being sleep because he will stay in bed with you, he just won't *sleep*) on the same bed as you anymore after this and instead spends his nights on a mattress on the floor next to you. The sight of your bruised neck and the tears in your eyes because of his hands, because of him, only serve as fuel for his nightmares. He doesn't even want to imagine what would've happened if you hadn't been able to speak loudly enough to wake him up.

"Caleb is a big spoon!!" people yell at me and I agree! However! If you want this man to have some peaceful sleep then the only way to achieve that is to have him laying on your chest where he can both listen to your steady heartbeat and feel your warmth as he holds you. Run your fingers through his hair and promise him you'll be right there when he wakes up to soothe his anxieties as much as possible and he might just sleep throughout the entire night.

Moving on to more sweet thoughts so we don't end on a bitter note— He has serious beef with the plushies you own, specifically the ones you hug to sleep. I mean, he's right here? Hello??? Why would you want to hug that fat ass bear of yours. If your plushie goes missing one day through suspicious means don't be sad because you can just cuddle him! He promises he'll behave this time!

Another silly thing is Caleb cannot keep his hands to himself when the two of you are sharing a bed. Literally. His hands have a will of their own and they must be touching you at all times in some way. That also means he will bother you by torturing tickling you non-stop until you're on the verge of tears. He loves the sound of your joyful laughter and how red your face gets while you try to escape the evil tickle monster so I'm afraid there's no way to get him to actually stop.

[bellatrixscurls]

cinnamon girl | a jegulus x reader series. pt 1

masterlist

summary : your father insisted that you be dating Rabastan Lestrange, for protection and security. But what happens when said boy wants to run away from his Death Eater duties, and a certain bespectacled boy lands him a hand, leading to something more than he could’ve ever imagined.

pairing: regulus black x malfoy!reader x james potter, initially rabastan lestrange x malfoy!reader.

specifications : 1. this will be an entire series, but please be patient with me. 2. reader is one year younger than Lucius. & 3. this series is full of surprises.

warnings : angst, fluff, swearing, eventual smut, arranged marriage, mentions of bruises and broken bones, Sirius being dramatic, eventual polyamorous relationship, death eaters, death

“Do you know what time they’ll be here tomorrow?” you ask Lucius exhaustedly, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walk together to the Slytherin dorms.

It has been a pretty long day. Your legs hurt and you want nothing more than to finally get to your dorm and pack your things for Christmas break.

He sighs and throws an arm around your neck, his own eyes closing from the endless studying he’s done these past weeks. “Eight thirty, maybe nine. I’ll have to tell Evan about that, he doesn’t really do mornings.”

You laugh weakly, finally reaching the common room as Lucius opens the door for you. You’re about to open your mouth, but are interrupted by the loud chatter of your friends.

“He did what?”

“How could he be so stupid?!”

“For Merlin’s sake, Rabastan!”

“Hey, guys. What are we cussing out Rabastan for today?” your brother falls on the sofa and you’re right behind him.

But they don’t seem to take Lucius’ amusement lightly, and you can see that when Severus stops tugging at his hair to turn to you, and so do your other friends. Their shocked expressions make you sink further into the sofa.

“He’s all bloodied up in the hospital wing right now. Apparently the idiot got into a fight with Potter and, well… Let’s just say that now he can’t move his right hand at all” Narcissa explains and your eyes widen. How could’ve James done that to him?

“From the shoulder down. Can you imagine?” Barty shakes his head and your brother, still beside you, gasps.

You throw him a dirty look before turning back to Narcissa. “Can we go see him? I think he’d want us to be there.”

“I mean, he is in a lot of pain and Madam Pomfrey said he might be there for a few days” Bellatrix chimes in, carelessly rolling her eyes as she stands up abruptly. “We could always just hex Potter, that’s something Rabastan would want.”

The raven haired boy’s eyes shoot up and lock with yours, carefully placing his book on the table. “I don’t know about that. What I do know is that I’m staying behind for Lestrange.”

“Yeah, cause that is so entertaining” Bellatrix mocks her cousin, going back to discussing hexing James.

Your frown slowly fades as you and Regulus maintain eye contact. You’ve always wondered how he could be attentive and protective of his friends, but still seem cold and uninterested all the time.

“Will you?” he asks suddenly, his demeanour still as calm as ever. You have to blink rapidly, and when you do, you swear that you can see the corner of his mouth tilt up.

“I’m- Sorry?”

“Will you stay here for the holidays? To keep Evan company” he muses, and you can tell by his tone that he is utterly amused.

“I wish. He’s my boyfriend after all” you sigh softly, chewing on your bottom lip. You hesitate at first, but still lean in closer to Regulus, so only he can hear. “But father wants me and Luce home on the 31st. He said that we have to meet someone.”

Regulus’ shoulders tense up and you notice his eyes widen a bit, but he still manages to brush it off like it’s nothing. “The 31st is still two weeks away” he inquires and you nod slowly.

“You’re right” you give him a small smile, resting your chin on your brother’s arm that was now sitting around your shoulders again. “You’re right, I’m staying here.”

The green eyed boy hums contently, picking up his book once again as he traces his pale, slender fingers over the pages. “Good.”

You’re left gawking at him, and now that his attention wasn’t solely focused on you, or so you think, you can finally relax. Even speaking a few simple words with him made you nervous, your heart throbbing against your ribcage.

🦢

Later that evening, you find yourself not able to sleep. You’re tossing and turning, and your throat suddenly feels dry.

You curse yourself for not bringing a glass of water, before you get out of bed, the cold air hitting your bare legs and shoulders. You put your slippers on and do your best to open the door without making much noise, as to not wake up your roommates.

The stairs are old and with the creaking sound they make, you’re more than certain that you managed to wake up someone. The common room was dimly lit, and that mostly thanks to the fireplace.

“Can’t sleep?”

Your eyes widen as you clutch your chest, breathing heavy and alert, but the fear quickly dissolves when you catch sight of Regulus.

“Why would you do that?” you scoff, but still feel your cheeks burn, now very aware of his eyes on you. You’re almost bare, your pajamas doing very little to cover you.

He laughs quietly and your chest fills with ease. “And I didn’t even try” he sets his glass of water on the table, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he turns to get a better look at you. “You seem troubled.”

Regulus, always most observant. Damn him.

You sigh, walking toward the couch and plopping down next to him. “I’m just confused. I mean, Rabastan has a big mouth and sometimes that gets him weeks worth of detention. But he never gets… beaten up” you scrunch your nose, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue.

He nods, as if understanding why you’re worried. “I didn’t take Potter as one to break someone’s face either.”

“Exactly!” you beam for a moment, having been dismissed and laughed at by your brother earlier when you told him just that. “He’s been my partner in Potions since third year. The guy teared up when he saw some mosquito wings and I had to listen to his whole theory about how the mosquito must’ve had a family and they’re probably waiting for him.”

This makes Regulus laugh out loud, his hands covering his face as you sip your water, barely able to control your laughter yourself. “Tell me about it. He sits in front of me in Transfiguration. He turned Tammy Smith’s hair elastic into a ginger cat. It chewed on her hair and even scratched her scalp. Her hair hasn’t grown in that spot, and she has to wear a ponytail everyday. It’s been four months.”

“Right?! When I asked her why she refuses to wear her hair down anymore, she just glared at me” you giggle quietly, now feeling a little bad for her.

A comfortable silence settles between you two, and Regulus speaks softly after a while. “Someone should talk to James about it. I heard he’s in the hospital wing too.”

“Is he?” your bottom lip juts out slightly, and you look up at Regulus. “You’re right, someone should talk to him.”

He chuckles lowly, “I meant you.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Oh, come on” he draws out, his lips pursing, as if he’s trying to bit back a smile, or worse, a smirk. “He’s fond of you. You can’t tell me you didn’t know that.”

You hope that he’s joking, but when you look at him, searching his face for any sign of a joke, he’s serious. And it makes you wonder : Is James Potter actually fond of you?

“I think he’s just intrigued about us. I mean, Sirius barely lets us come near him. I can’t tell you how it’s like to brew potions whilst his eyes burn holes in the back of my head” you say, and in all fairness, that’s how it is.

James is a sweet, gentle guy, one that you would like to get to know better, but you just can’t. And it seems as though Regulus finds great pleasure in teasing you about it.

“You might be right” he shrugs, still not very convinced. He picks up his glass and stands up, walking toward the boys’ dormitories. He reaches the end of the stairs and comes to a halt, looking carefully over his shoulder, his words merely a whisper into the night. “Sirius leaves for about twenty minutes at lunch every day, in case you reconsider it.”

🦢

Your clock reads 11:01 o’clock when you finally gather the courage to leave your dormitory, heading straight toward the hospital wing. You’ve told no one, but deep down you know that Regulus is right. He needs to know that not all of you want to hex him for whatever it is he did to your boyfriend.

You finally reach the door and take a deep breath before slowly pushing it open. You figure Sirius should be gone by now.

The beds were empty, except for James’ and a sleeping Rabastan. You thank Merlin that he’s asleep.

“Y/n?” James calls your name, his voice hoarse and brows furrowed. Of course he didn’t expect to see you here.

“In the flesh” you force a tight lipped smile as you sit on the chair by his bed. His leg is bandaged, but other than that he seems just fine. “I didn’t know James Potter could fight.”

Your comment makes him smirk, “There’s a lot you don’t know about him. Heard he’s a pretty cool guy, doesn’t really pick fights either.”

Him talking about himself in third person makes you roll your eyes fondly, shaking your head. “I might not know this James very well, but I sure know who will pick up a fight if he feels like it” you sigh and look to Rabastan still sleeping peacefully, his bed just across from James’. “What did he say?”

His face flashes with something you can’t quite put your finger on, but he makes sure to ground himself, his signature smirk returning to his face. “He’s just got a beatable face.”

Your shoulders drop and James sighs defeatedly. Of course you wouldn’t give in just like that. “Fine, he got into an argument with Pa- Sirius. Mean things were said, he tried to hurt Sirius, so I had no choice.”

Liar. You don’t know much about James Potter, but what you do know is that he would never slap someone, let alone put them in the hospital.

You huff a laugh, eyes meeting his for the second time. “What did he say?”

“Oh- Well, now- Let’s just keep it at that” he says with a small smile, a very uncomfortable one at that. “You should go, though. My friends will be back any minute.”

You can’t help the scoff that escapes your mouth. He thinks that he can just lie through his teeth and then dismiss you like you’re stupid? You don’t want to give him that satisfaction.

You don’t say more though, and that leaves James with a heavy heart. You move nonchalantly, sitting in a similar chair, but now by Rabastan’s bed.

You did have a chance to say something, to snap at him or persuade him. But you didn’t.

It could get way more interesting than that.

[ssweetreveries]

friends | l.hc

🎧 friends . chase atlantic

✩ haechan x reader

• 18+ mdni!

• word count! 2.7k

oneshot, nonidol!haechan, afab!reader, bsf!haechan, softdom!haechan, sub!reader, unprotected sex, fingering, cumming inside, begging, haechan is a bit desperate, friends to lovers, they’re both a bit stupid, love confessions, lots of kissing, smut, fluff, use of petnames (baby)

synopsis . seeing your disappointment from yet another failed date, haechan swears he can do better than any of those other guys you’ve been going out with.

likes, reblogs, comments are appreciated!

i apologize if there's any mistakes, this isn't proof read and english isn't my first language. please bare with me!! enjoy! ><

You arrive at his house for your usual hangout and plop down next to him on the couch, making yourself comfortable. He takes the time to silently appreciate your appearance before speaking up. “So, how was your date?” he asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

You shrug. “Hmm? It was fine.”

“Just fine?”

“He was nice, i guess, not really my type.”

“I see..” Haechan can’t help but feel a flicker of satisfaction knowing you wouldn’t be seeing that guy again. “Something happened or..?”

“It’s not something that happened, he just has too many girls on his roster. Yeah, okay, he’s good in bed and he’s attractive, but..”

“Sounds like he’s a player,” he comments.

“Yeah, basically.”

Haechan hums, “You deserve better.”

“I know..”

“You knew he was like that and still slept with him?” he interrogates.

You shrug, “Mhm, gotta keep my love life interesting. Wanted to see what the hype was about.”

Haechan shakes his head with an exasperated laugh, “Of course you did.”

“Hey- What’s that supposed to mean!”

“You’re so impulsive sometimes.”

“C’mon Hyuck, can you really blame me, a single woman, for wanting the touch of a man?” you say, half dramatically.

His jaw clenches for a moment, and he has to hold himself back from confessing something he’d regret. “I guess not.” he reluctantly agrees.

He shifts closer to you, facing you to meet your eyes. “But, seriously, aren’t you getting tired of that kind of thing?—Don’t you want something more meaningful?” he asks a bit more serious.

You hum, “That’s kind of hard to find these days.”

“I guess that’s true..”

A comfortable silence settles between you too before Haechan speaks up again. “I could give you the touch of a man, you know. And more.” He suddenly says.

You laugh it off, taking it for another one of his usual jokes but when you meet his eyes there’s no sight of his cheeky grin.

“W-wait, Hyuck? You’re not joking.” You observe.

He remains silent.

“What- What did you say..?” you ask again.

He takes a deep breath, as if grounding himself and finding the words. “I said, I can give you the touch of a man, and much more.” he repeats.

“Fuck, I like you, okay? And I don’t know if you’re just too damn oblivious to notice or pretending you don’t know on purpose, but i’ve dropped countless of hints (Y/N). I don’t want you to go on dates with those shitty men anymore, can’t you see me?” He pauses for a moment, his heart racing as he confesses his feelings. “Fuck ‘like’, i’m in love with you even. Just give me a chance. One chance to prove i’m worth it.”

“Please,” he adds.

Your eyes widen at your best friend’s revelation. Unsure of what to say, “H-hyuck..” you manage out in a hushed tone.

“Please say something,” He urges, wanting to know if he’s completely ruined your friendship.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you whisper under your breath.

He tries to hide his dissapointment, but it’s evident. He looks away, unable to maintain eye contact with you any longer. “It’s fine, you don’t have to say anything.” he mutters.

He pulls back, creating a bit of distance between you two.

“N-no, wait, hyuck-” You reach out for his hand, stopping him from moving any further.

He tenses up at your touch but meets your eyes with his own, waiting for you to continue.

“That’s not what i meant..” you say quietly.

He frowns, not quite understanding what you mean by that. “Then what did you mean?” He asks hesitantly, holding to that last thread of hope and silently praying that he didn’t entirely ruin everything.

You’re not sure how to express your feelings so you ask him one simple thing, “do you trust me?’

He pauses for a moment before meeting your eyes and answering,

“With my life.”

You soften a bit at his words and coo, “Close your eyes.”

He listens, closing his eyes at your request.

You lean in, hovering over him, and he can feel your warm breath on his lips. “I’m going to kiss you now,” you whisper above him before pressing your lips to his.

He’s surprised at your boldness but immediately relaxes and gets lost in the feeling of your lips on his. His hand flies up to the nape of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you back.

The kiss starts off soft and tentative before gradually growing more desperate. His body presses against yours, wanting to close any gaps between you, needing to feel your body on his. He starts to move his lips more urgently against yours, unable to get enough of you. When you pull back for air, he lets out a low whine, already missing the contact.

He leans his forehead against yours, panting softly. He opens his eyes and looks at you—a mixture of lust, affection, and disbelief.

“Say you feel the same,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting yours as he speaks. His hand still playing with the hair at the back of your neck.

You peck his lips and assure him, “I do,”

“Then why-,” he starts, his mind going back to the guys you’ve hooked up with.

You cut him off, deciding to tell him the truth. “I- I was trying to ignore my feelings for you..” You say, and it sounds stupid now, but you continue anyways.

“You’re my bestfriend hyuck. I didn’t want to ruin that..”

“You..” he looks at you for a few moments before scoffing softly.

“You idiot..” He mutters, a hint of fondness in his voice. He tugs you towards him, pulling you in his lap so you’re straddling him.

He wraps his arms around your waist, his fingers brushing against the skin of your lower back exposed by your shirt. He looks at you silently, drinking in every small detail of your face as he thinks to himself how stupid the two of you are for not confessing sooner.

You look down at him, gently threading your fingers through his hair as you look at each other in silence.

He closes his eyes at your touch, enjoying the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I can’t believe this is real” he whisper, burying his face in your neck, nuzzling your skin and inhaling your scent.

You hum and Haechan starts pressing lazy, wet kisses to the exposed skin of your neck and collarbone.

You tilt your head, giving him more access as he continues nibbling at your skin.

“I don’t want you to go to those guys,” he mutters against your skin.

“I can treat you so much better, make you feel so much better,” He continues, pulling back briefly to meet your eyes.

“Say your mine,” he asks, a hint of vulnerability in his tone.

“I’ll show you how much better I am, just say your mine, please.” He whispers, his lips brushing your earlobe as he speaks.

“I’m yours, hyuck,” you whisper, a bit breathless.

And that’s all he needs before his mouth is back on yours. His lips capturing yours in a deep and possessive kiss. His tongue brushing against your bottom lip, wanting to taste you completely.

You part your lips for him, and he wastes no time delving in, tongue playing with yours as he desperately explores every inch of your mouth.

You let out a small moan in the kiss and that only seems to spur him on, his hands slipping up your shirt in no time.

You shivers at his touch, his cold fingertips a contrast to your warm skin.

His hands run up and down your sides, eventually sliding down to the backside of your pants, resting on your bottom.

He pulls back, and a soft whine escapes your lips at the loss of contact.

His hands massage your ass as he speaks, “I want you,”

“I want you so bad,” he whispers, his lips attaching to your neck once more.

“You have me hyuck-,” you whisper back, breathlessly.

“The problem is..” he starts, his voice now holding a huskier tone, “Once I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”

You whine and nod, “I want you too, hyuck, please,”

Hearing you say that, the neediness in your voice.. It’s all he needs to hear for the cord within him to snap. Your small plea breaking the last of his restraints, and within moments you’re flipped onto your back, Haechan hovering above you.

His lips find yours again before leaving a trail down your jaw, to your chest. He tugs on the hem of your shirt. “Can i take this off?”

You nod and he pulls it off you, throwing it on the floor and immediately going to kiss you through the thin fabric of your bra.

As much as you think it’s sweet that he’s taking his time, you need more.

You tug on his hair, earning a groan from him as he reluctantly pulls away to look up at you.

“I need you,” You whine,

His lips quirk into a smirk, “Need me, huh?”

You whine and nod. His hand travels down to your stomach, coming to rest on your lower half, fingers teasing the waistband of your pants.

His hand dips into your pants, softly rubbing circles on your hip bone. And you let out another desperate whine, just wanting him to touch you where you really need him.

He lets out a chuckle as he shakes his head, “You’re just so impatient, hmm?”

“Please-“

He hums and pulls away briefly, tapping your thigh, “up.”

You lift your hips and he tugs your pants down, leaving you in nothing but your undergarments.

He licks his lips as he takes in the sight of your damp panties, His hand travels down to your heat, cupping it as he leans back down to kiss you.

You arch into his touch, aching for more.

He smiles against your lips and his hand dips into your panties, fingers running down your folds and collecting your juices.

He takes his hand away and you whine at the loss, only to be followed by a moan at the sight of Haechan tasting his digits.

He lets a moan of his own, “Fuck.. you taste so good baby, could get addicted to this. To you.”

A soft noise escape your lips at his words, and his hand goes back to your heat. Fingers collecting your arousal, before gently rubbing circle at your entrance. “So wet…” he comments before entering a finger.

You moan and arch into him. “m-more, hyuck, please-,”

He adds another finger, the pad of his thumb coming to rub circles on your clit. The added stimulation causing you to moan in delight.

Your moans only spur him on, and he pumps his fingers faster, making sure to keep that delicious pressure on your clit at the same time.

You can feel yourself getting close and your hips buck against his hand as you feel yourself nearing your release. “Mmhhh- Hyuck, don’t stop, don’t stop-!”

And he listens, his lips attaching to your neck as he keeps fucking you full of his fingers, determined to get you there.

He feels you clenching, indicating that you’re close, and he pulls away from your neck, wanting to see your expression as you come undone on his fingers.

With a particular curl of his fingers, your orgasm reaches you with a breathless gasp. And god, what a sight to see, he thinks.

Your hazy eyes, parted lips, flushed skin.. God, everything about you. He wanted to coax that expression out of you over and over again.

He leans down to press his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. “You’re so pretty..”

You kiss him back, tongues dancing together.

He’s over you, body pressed against yours and you can feel his hard on against your thigh.

“Hyuck…” you whisper, hand coming down to feel him through his pants.

He groans at the contact, “baby- don’t.”

He gently takes your wrist and pulls your hand away from him. “If you touch me, I won’t last” He says, in an almost whiny tone.

You let out a whine of your own and tug him back down to feel his lips on yours again. “Hyuck…”

“Hmm?”

“Fuck me, please”

He groans and speaks in a husky tone. “Mm need me that badly?”

He pulls away to discard his pants. Once they’re off, he catches you shamelessly staring at the outline of his cock through his boxers, a smirk appearing on his lips.

He pulls them down and his length comes to stand tall against his stomach. Your pussy clenches at the sight and you can’t help the moan that leaves your lips.

God, he was so pretty, without doubt the perfect size and girth. And, gosh, you couldn’t wait to find out how he’d feel inside.

His hands come down to the waistband of your panties, and you lift your hips for him so he can take them off.

He licks his lips at the sight, his fingers coming back to play with your folds. “Fuck, so pretty, baby..”

“I can’t wait anymore, baby, please,”

You wrap your legs around his waist, efficiently tugging him closer, and Haechan takes that as an answer, hand finding his throbbing dick and giving himself a few tugs before lining himself up to your aching core.

He rubs his tip up and down your folds, the mix of your juices and his pre-cum making him glide smoothly. He taps his dick on your clit a few times before pressing his tip to your entrance.

He looks down at you, hand coming to caress your cheek before slowly pushing in.

The both of you moan in unison at the intrusion, his head coming to fall on your shoulder. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” he mutters as he fully bottoms out.

“S-so fucking tight-,” He moans out against your neck.

You moan, his cock so deep, it’s just perfectly touching that one spot that makes you see stars.

He pulls his hips back almost completely, before snapping them back to yours with a hard thrust.

He does that a few times before he finds another rhythm, his thrusts starting to pick up speed as he lets out a series of moans near your ear.

He kisses your cheek before pulling away and changing angles. His hands find your legs and push them back a bit, allowing him to reach even deeper.

“Hyuck!” You scream, his length hitting all the right spots at this new angle.

He only responds with a low moan of his own, his hips moving fast, at a relentless pace as he desperately chases his release, trying to coax your own at the same time.

“A-are you close, baby?” He asks through short breaths. “Can’t h-hold back much longer-”

You nod furiously, moans slipping past your lips as he continues abusing your sweet cunt.

You feel yourself getting there, and your pussy clenches around him.

“Fuck!” he groans at the feeling of you sucking him in, your walls clenching around his length, threatening to make him spill right there.

“H-hyuck!” you scream, letting him know you’re close.

“C-can I cum inside, baby, please, please” He whines.

You nod and that’s all he needs to know, he continues desperately fucking himself in your tight walls and within seconds he spills his load deep into you, the feeling of him triggering your own orgasm.

He falls against you as he reaches his high, arms wrapping around you and burying his face into your chest. Your legs are trembling, pussy desperately clinging onto him, milking him whole, causing him to moan into your chest.

When both of your breathing comes back to normal, Haechan gently pulls out before collapsing back against your chest, your hands coming to run through his hair as you both calm down.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder and looks up at you, “You’re mine, okay?” he says, tone a bit softer.

You hum in response.

He shakes his head, pulling back a bit to cup your cheeks. “I mean it, (Y/N).”

��I want you to be my girlfriend, mine to cherish, mine to love.” he says, a hint of vulnerability in his expression.

“Then I’m yours, hyuck..” you whisper back.

He smiles and presses a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, “good.”

© ssweetreveries follow for more!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy’s in the middle). I wasn’t intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

After you clean up the mess, you stay in your office. Bucky is stubborn. He's not going to run away. No, you hear him searching the house for what doesn't exist.

You finish the panels. You don't feel accomplished. You shut off your tablet but linger at your desk. You find some courage and get up.

You go into the kitchen quietly and do your best not to make noise. It doesn't matter, you know he can hear you. You take out the steak and rub some spice into it. It's easier than the marinade.

You set to quartering potatoes for a max, the starch sticking to your skin. You rinse off and check the green beans. They'll do.

"Is that your apology?" Bucky asks.

You dump the potatoes from the cutting board to the boiling water. You set the board down and face him. You frown.

"You really believe it?" You murmur.

"I don't know what to believe," he tilts his head, leaning on the door frame, a hand on his hip.

Your cheek twitches and you touch it, stilling the nervous tic. You repeal your hand and hide it behind you.

"I didn't. I know you know I'm telling the truth. You can hear it." 

He narrows his eyes, "maybe you didn't follow through, but you know, going out, flirting, it's all the same--"

"I wasn't flirting," you insist. "I'm not that type. Bucky," you set your feet. "Shouldn't I be mad you ignored my calls?"

"While I'm out there fighting off the bad guys? I can't always get to the phone," he struts across the kitchen.

"You could text me between all that," you insist.

"Got a lot on my mind when I'm out there. Now I'm gonna be worried about you and the bike jockey--"

"Really?" You grimace.

"I married you for a reason, didn't I? Why wouldn't another guy try it? Seeing you without your ring on..."

"I told you, I forgot."

"Yeah, forgot about me," he accuses.

You shake your head. You show your palms in exasperation and turn away. There's nothing you can say, nothing but what he wants to hear.

"I'm sorry about the rings. I really am. It wasn't on purpose but I'm sorry. And I'm sorry I didn't kiss you, I'm sorry I'm out of it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm... sorry I'm not good enough," You drop your arms and shrug. "I'm sorry I'm not patient or strong."

You turn your back to him and grab a wooden spoon to stir the potatoes. He sighs. It blows over you like a winter draft.

"I never said any of that--"

"You accused me of cheating," you tense. "You thought all of it."

"Christ, I'm trying to talk to you."

"Then say it, Bucky. Say what you want from me because I can't read your mind," you put the spoon down and grab the waiting skillet. "I haven't talked to you in over a month and I'm supposed to just act like nothing. I'm supposed to be okay." You slam the pan down, "I'm not okay."

"Baby--"

"Don't baby, me," you warn as you move down the counter to toss the beans in seasoning.

He nears and you go rigid. You ignore him as he gets close. He stretches his arm past you and grips the counter. He pushes himself against your back.

He nuzzles the back of your head, "I missed you. I really did. Can you blame me for getting... jealous? I got the greatest gal in the world waiting for me and I come back to see her with another guy--"

"I wasn't with him," you drone.

"Please, I'm sorry," he coaxes as his breath puffs over your scalp.

You inhale and stare at the wall, "for what?"

"For... for hurting you."

"How?" You rasp. "Tell me how you hurt me."

"Why are you doing this? I'm apologising," he clucks.

You frown, "alright, Bucky. I gotta finish up here."

He's quiet. He drags his hands off the counter and grips your hips. You wince and stop him, wavering on your feet.

"It's just nice to touch you," he growls.

"Bucky," you cringe as he kneads the extra flesh.

"You feel so good," he pushes against your ass.

"I can't. The potatoes," you shove his wrists.

"Let them burn," he slithers.

There's something there. That flicker inside. The one that wants him. It's dulled by the thought of him seeing you. The reality of what you've become. The idea of him seeing all of you makes you sick.

"That's..." you touch his hand. "Let me," you face him and force a smile. "Alright?"

"Baby, I wanna--"

"Shhh," you press a finger to his lips. His eyes flash. How can he look at you like that? Like you're not repulsive.

Because it's been a month. Because he's desperate. It's not you he wants, he just needs relief.

You slip your hand to his chest, your other along his pants. You taste pile as you unzip him. He shivers. You push your hand down his boxers and grip him. He squeezes your hip and grabs your head. He pulls you closer and presses his lips to your forehead.

He puffs as you stroke him. You stare at the top of his chest. 

It doesn't take long. He quakes and grunts, and spills inside his pants. It spears onto your fingers and palm. 

You pull your hand free as he cups your chin. He brings your head up and kisses you on the lips. You move your mouth with his, mimicking him, and he hums.

He parts and smiles. He pets your cheek and clears his throat as he backs away. You quickly turn away, your hand growing sticky.

"So, I'll finish dinner..." you say as you wash him off.

"I'm more concerned with dessert," he chuckles.

You wonder if he can hear your disgust. Not with him, but yourself. Can he sense your apathy even? Does he care? Why should he? He always gets what he wants.

[lostinlovingrevery]

old man logan teasing innocent!reader and discovering she can squirt <33

It's The Little Things

Old man Logan X F! Reader

Logan and you discover something new about yourself...

A/N: The way this had me actively blushing....

Warnings: SMUT MDNI! Thanks <3, Mentions of alcohol, fingering, teasing,some begging, a tad orgasm denial, squirting

"Look at what a pretty lil thing you are."

Logan coos, his voice rough, but gentle as he looks you up and down. His fingers tapped along his glass of whiskey that you just poured him.

A flustered smile came across your face, your eyes darting away from him quickly, as you turned away to set the bottle of whiskey onto the table.

"That a new dress?" He asks, bringing the glass to lips, looking at you over the rim. You looked at him over your shoulder, a small shrug and sweet smile.

"Yeah...You like it?" You asked.

"Mm..." He nods, his eyes trailed downwards, noting the hem of the skirt that fits just above your knees, showing a little bit of the skin of your thighs. "It's pretty.

"Thank you." You turn back around to face him, your hands hooking together behind your back. Your thighs pressed together the moment you saw how he was staring at you. Intense.

A flare of his nostrils, and his eyes that were staring into yours, glanced down. He sipped the glass of whiskey that you so sweetly offered him when he came home. You could tell he had a long day, his tense shoulders, tired eyes.

You wanted to help him unwind. You've watched him pour a glass of whiskey, light a cigar, sit and try to let the stress of the day disappear. You're here though, and you wanted to make things easier.

You wanted to make him happy, take care of him the way he has for you.

"Thank you darling." He rasps finally, lifting the glass of whiskey, before tossing the rest of it back. "Tryin' to take care of your old man?"

You bit your lip, and nodded, trying to suppress the shy smile that grew across your face. His eyes crinkled, crows feet becoming visible as he shoots you a pleased grin.

Sweet thing you are, trying to help him relax. He appreciated it, the little things you've been trying to do for him. He knew though, exactly what he needed to unwind.

and that thing was standing right in front of him.

He set the glass on the table, before leisurely standing up with a small groan escaping him as his achy muscles protested. He towered over you, and you became nervous from his stare. You took a step back from him, and he let out a small chortle.

"Nervous?"

"No." You say, a small shake of your head. A lie. He always made you nervous.

"Yeah you are." He refutes. His hand came up, gently cupping your chin between his fingers and thumb. "Don't worry darling, you'll just be taking care of me. Like you want to, right?"

It was a blur after that. The next thing you knew, you were naked, spread open on your shared bed with Logan.

You don't know how you were taking care of him, when you're the one naked, and exposed, clearly about to become a reciever to whatever Logan is planning.

You shut your legs after Logan had made you spread them- embarrassed of being so exposed to the room, even if it was just him, but he tsks, shaking his head, and giving you a small, gentle smack of your thigh.

"Keep em open darling." He says, as he moves to unbutton his dress shirt. "I wanna see your pretty pussy."

Your hands went up, covering your face as your skin burned from the filthiness of his words. You felt a fresh coat of arousal rush over you though- unable to help the excitement you did feel whenever he wanted to play with you.

"C'mon now gorgeous." He encourages, staring down at you. You slowly spread your legs open, the air felt good against your core, creating a chill that ran up your spine, and made your body tremble. "There she is...." He purrs, unbuttoning the last button, pulling off his shirt and leaving him in his pants and wife-beater. Your eyes widened at the sight of his muscular arms, and the way his shirt clung to his torso.

He took a few steps towards you, leaning over with his hand braced onto the mattress by your hip, as he tilted his head- observing your glistening pussy.

"Very pretty." He hums, moving to kneel down in front of the bed, so he was face to face with your bottom half. One arm hooked around your thigh, pulling your closer as he began to stroke your leg with his free hand. He leaned forward, taking a deep inhale of your scent. "Fuck..." He hissed under his breath, feeling lightheaded at the scent of your arousal.

He brought his free hand to your folds, sliding his fingers through them gently, making your thighs twitched. He barely noticed though, his lips parting, eyes narrowing as he became hypnotized by the way your pussy glistened, the way your creamy fluids coated his fingers. He watched your hole clench over nothing every time his fingers swiped over your clit.

Small whimpers escaped you as he messed with you. His calloused hand carefully exploring your folds. Spreading them and observing every detail.

"Work of art..." He mutters under his breath, as his thumb rubs small circles over your clit.

"Lo..." You whined tipping your head to the side, white knuckling the sheets beneath. His eyes glanced up at you, and he smirked.

He leaned forward, gathering spit on his tongue, and letting it dribble down over your clit. You gasped at the sensation of his warm saliva over you- only to whine once he placed two fingers over your clit and began rubbing firm circles.

"Logan..." You moaned once more, arching your back and lifting your hips up. He leaned forward, replacing his fingers with his tongue, swirling over your swollen bud- sending your careening as you felt something grow tight in your lower belly.

He added a finger inside of you, and your hands went to his hair, scratching his scalp and tugging at his salt and pepper hair as you started grinding against him.

Then he pulled his mouth away, sending you crying out.

"Logan!" Your head fell back onto the mattress. The building pleasure that tensed your muscles began to fade. Your hole tightening around Logan's thick finger, begging for stimulation, as he watched you with a cocky expression.

"Patience, doll." He hums. Your hips thrusts forward, as you beg,

"Please!"

"Please what?"

"Please..." You swallowed, "I...I want to..."

"Want to what? Can't read your mind sweetheart."

You took a sharp inhale of breath. His finger inside your felt torturous as your pussy squeezed around him- desperate for more. You gripped his hair tighter as you begged. "I want to...cum."

"Yeah?" His voice held a tone of amusement, a slight raspiness behind it as he watched you squirm on the bed. "Say it again darling."

"Logan"

"Then you must not want it that bad."

You finally let out a choked sob, "Please, I want to cum!"

"Fuck.." You heard him hiss under his breath, and he began pumping his finger in and out of you, pulling out and adding another finger, curling it as he searched for the spot that made you squeal. You tugged at his head, desperate for that high to return once more.

The feeling in your tummy did return- except it felt tighter, overwhelming. Something was off, a building feeling that you weren't familiar with- and you were becoming terrified that you were going to do something extremely embarrassing.

"Lo..." You gasped. "I think- I- Wait...."

"C'mon," He cut you off, "Be a good girl and cum for me doll-"

His words made you snap, as your back arched and you saw nothing but stars in your eyes. Logan became soaked, from his arm to his beard, now covered with your fluids as you sprayed him during your explosive coitus. Waves and waves of pleasure rushed over your body, as your pussy tightened over his fingers, a loud squelching noise heard in the room as he desperately worked your through your orgasm.

Once you began to relax, your chest heaving, and thighs trembling, you looked up- a horrified expression on your face as you see the mess you've made of Logan, your fluids practically dripping from his thick beard.

" I'm...I'm so sorry-" You stammered in fear "I don't know-,,,"

"Sorry?" He chuckled, licking his lips, his fingers carefully leaving your clenching cunt. He licked his arm, from the crook of his elbow to the tips of his fingers, letting out a groan as he shut his eyes. "Best fucking thing I ever tasted sweetheart." He stuck his fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices from them as he looked up at you.

You looked away, flustered, embarrassed, and horrified. "I don't...I don't know what happened." You whisper softly.

"No?" His normally tired eyes were now alert, filled with lust and mischief. "You looked gorgeous like that, giving me that little show... Didn't know you could do that doll. Hiding things from me?" He teased.

"No! I...I didn't know I could..." You bit your bottom lip, your face felt like it was on fire, Logan's stare doing nothing to ease the heat.

"Yeah?" His voice low, rumbling from his chest. Both his arms wrapped around your thighs pulling you closer to the edge of the mattress, his warm breath fanning over your drenched core. "How 'bout we do that again."