#and i realized it was because i was clenching my teeth the whole time

[pucksandpower]

Sweet Nothings

Day 18 → Praise Kink 💋 Charles Leclerc

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

The noise of the bar hums all around you — chatter and laughter, clinking glasses, and the deep thump of music. It’s warm in here, that hazy warmth that comes from a few too many drinks, and Charles — sitting right next to you — has the same glow.

“You were something else today.” Your voice spills out, laced with a bit of a slur but heavy with excitement.

You lean in closer, draping an arm around Charles’ shoulders as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. His skin is warm under your touch, even through his shirt, and he gives you that boyish grin, all dimples and teeth, the one that usually makes the fans scream. Now, though, it’s just you two, and you can’t help but feel smug about it.

“Come on,” he says, laughing softly, “it’s not all me. You … your work-” He gestures vaguely with the hand that isn’t clutching his beer bottle. “You know how much you help, right?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m serious. That win today — it was all you, Charlie. All you.”

He shifts slightly under your arm, but you don’t move. His shoulders are tense, and it doesn’t register right away because you’re too caught up in the rush of adrenaline from the race, the alcohol, the celebration, everything.

“You were brilliant,” you continue, turning a bit so you’re nearly face-to-face now. Your words come in a rush, like you’re trying to get them all out before the buzz fades. “The way you handled that last corner? God, you were on fire. No one else could’ve done it like that.”

Charles blinks, his smile faltering for a second. His eyes — usually sharp, alert — start to glaze over as you go on.

“Seriously, you’re driving like you’re on another level right now,” you push, squeezing his shoulder gently. “I don’t know how you do it. It’s like — like you just know what the car needs, before anyone else does. And the overtakes, Charlie, the overtakes!” You laugh, a bit too loudly, maybe, but who cares? You’re celebrating. “I was on the edge of my seat the whole time.”

He’s quiet. Too quiet.

You tilt your head, frowning a little. His jaw is clenched, his breath a little too fast, and you can feel him trembling under your arm. “Charlie?”

His eyes, wide and almost glassy, flicker down for just a second before they snap back to yours. “I-” He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out at first. His face flushes deeper, his neck and cheeks bright red now.

“Hey, what’s wrong ?” You ask, voice softening as you lean in closer. He’s not acting like himself, and it throws you. “Are you okay?”

He shakes his head, biting his lip, but he doesn’t say anything. His gaze drops again, and it’s only then that you realize something’s off. Really off. You follow his line of sight downwards, and your breath catches when you see it.

The front of his pants is dark, a wet patch spreading, and for a second, you’re confused — until the realization hits you like a sledgehammer.

“Charlie …” Your voice comes out quieter than you expect, and you feel your throat tighten. His whole body is trembling now, and he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s staring straight ahead, as if he’s trying to pretend this isn’t happening.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, barely audible over the noise of the bar. His voice cracks, and there’s something so raw, so vulnerable about it that it makes your chest ache.

You blink, trying to process everything, trying to understand how it all happened. How you went from praising him for his race to this. You weren’t even touching him like that. You were just — talking.

And now, you realize, the praise alone had pushed him over the edge.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to breathe slowly. He’s clearly not in any state to be left alone, and you have no idea how to handle this. But you know you can’t just — leave him like this.

“Charlie,” you say softly, pulling your arm away from his shoulders. He flinches at the movement, and you wince. “Hey, look at me.”

He doesn’t.

“Charlie,” you say again, firmer this time, and finally, his eyes meet yours. They’re wide, panicked, and his cheeks are still flushed. He looks so young, so … lost. It twists something inside you.

“Let’s get you out of here, okay ?” You say, keeping your voice gentle. “You shouldn’t be here right now.”

He swallows, his throat tightening, and nods stiffly.

You pause for a moment, unsure of how to handle this delicately, but you know the first thing you need to do is get him away from all these people, away from the noise and the chaos. You glance around, making sure no one’s really paying attention to either of you. Thankfully, they’re all too wrapped up in their own conversations, their own drinks.

“Do you … do you want to go back to your room ?” You ask, trying to keep your voice steady. You have to play this carefully — he’s already so on edge.

He nods again, quicker this time, still looking like he’s about to come undone at any moment.

“Okay,” you say softly. “Can you tell me your room number?”

He hesitates, his lips parting but no sound coming out at first. Then, after a beat, he stammers, “Twelve … twelve-fourteen.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you hear it, and you nod quickly.

“Twelve-fourteen. Got it.” You stand up slowly, trying to act like everything’s fine, trying to keep things as normal as possible. “Come on, let’s get you there.”

Charles follows your lead, getting to his feet, but he’s unsteady, his movements stiff, almost robotic. You keep close to him, one hand lightly on his arm, just in case he stumbles.

The walk to the hotel is quiet — well, quiet between the two of you. The city’s alive, buzzing with nightlife, but all you can focus on is Charles. He’s still trembling, still flushed, and you can tell he’s mortified. Every now and then, you glance at him, but he keeps his eyes forward, his jaw tight.

When you finally reach the hotel lobby, it’s quiet, thankfully. You guide him to the elevators, and as soon as the doors close behind you, you feel the tension between you both shift. It’s heavy, pressing, but you can’t tell if it’s from embarrassment, confusion, or something else entirely.

“Charlie …” you start, but he cuts you off with a sharp inhale, shaking his head.

“Don’t,” he mutters. His voice is hoarse, and it makes your chest tighten. “Just … don’t.”

You bite your lip, nodding silently. The last thing he needs is for you to make him feel worse. The elevator dings, and you both step out, heading down the hallway to his room in silence.

When you reach his door, he fumbles with his key card for a moment, his hands shaking so badly he can barely get it into the slot. You reach out gently, taking it from him, and slide it into the door for him. The lock clicks, and the door swings open.

Charles steps inside, pausing in the doorway, as if he’s unsure of what to do next. He turns to you, his eyes still wide, still glassy, and for a moment, you just stand there, staring at each other.

“I’ll … I’ll make sure you’re okay,” you say quietly, stepping in after him. “Just for a bit, alright?”

He doesn’t respond. Just nods, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion, embarrassment, and something else you can’t quite place.

The door closes with a soft click, leaving the two of you alone in the dim light of Charles’ hotel room. The air is thick with tension, the kind that clings to your skin and weighs down every breath. Charles is standing there, hands awkwardly by his sides, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He still hasn’t said much, and you can see the embarrassment practically radiating off him.

You take a step forward, your voice soft but steady. “Let’s sit down, yeah?” You nod toward the couch on the far side of the room, hoping the invitation will put him at ease.

Charles hesitates for a moment, but then he walks over, his steps slow, almost hesitant. He sits at one end of the couch, keeping as much space between you as possible. His hands fidget in his lap, and his eyes are fixed on some spot on the carpet, anywhere but on you.

You follow him, sitting at the other end, leaving a careful distance between the two of you. Silence stretches for a beat too long, the kind of silence that fills with everything unspoken. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, taking in the way his shoulders are hunched, how his chest rises and falls a little too fast, like he’s still trying to catch his breath.

“Hey,” you begin gently, folding one leg under you as you turn to face him more fully. “You don’t need to be embarrassed.”

His jaw tightens at that, and he lets out a sharp breath through his nose. Still, he doesn’t look at you. “You don’t … understand,” he mutters, the words barely audible.

You scoot a little closer, not close enough to crowd him, but enough that he can feel your presence more. “I do understand,” you counter softly. “You think I don’t, but … it’s not a big deal. It’s just-”

“It is a big deal,” he snaps suddenly, his voice raw, and it surprises you. He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands like he’s trying to pull himself together. “This — it doesn’t happen to normal people, alright?”

You blink at him, startled by the edge in his voice, but you stay calm. He’s unraveling, and the last thing you want is to make him feel worse. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” you say softly, leaning forward just a little. “It doesn’t make you any less, you know that, right?”

He shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin line. His hands are shaking slightly, clenched into fists on his lap. “You don’t know the half of it,” he mutters, his voice barely a whisper.

There’s a beat of silence before he adds, quieter still, “This … it’s not the first time.”

Your brow furrows at that. You weren’t expecting that. “What do you mean?”

Charles takes in a slow, shaky breath, and for the first time in what feels like forever, he lifts his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are glassy again, a mixture of frustration and vulnerability swirling in them. He swallows, his throat working hard, and then he says, “It happens. Sometimes. During races.”

You blink, trying to process what he’s saying. “During races?” You repeat, confused.

He nods, his gaze flickering away from yours again. His cheeks are flushed, and he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. “When you … when you talk to me over the radio,” he admits, his voice small. “When you … praise me.”

For a moment, you’re stunned into silence, your brain working overtime to make sense of what he’s telling you. He’s not just talking about tonight. He’s talking about during races — while he’s driving, while you’re guiding him through strategy and telling him he’s doing a good job.

It hits you all at once, and your chest tightens with a strange, overwhelming mix of emotions. You feel a pang of something — affection, maybe — curling in your stomach as you look at him, sitting there on the couch, all closed off and ashamed.

“Oh, Charlie …” Your voice is soft, almost a coo, and you can’t help it. You reach out before you even realize what you’re doing, your hand resting gently on his knee. “My perfect Charlie …”

He flinches at the touch, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes are wide, panic still simmering just beneath the surface, but there’s something else there too — something softer, something that makes your heart ache.

“You don’t have to feel ashamed,” you tell him, your thumb brushing lightly over the fabric of his jeans. “You’re … you’re perfect, you know that?”

He shakes his head again, his throat working hard as he swallows. “I’m not.”

“You are,” you insist, scooting a little closer. “You’re so perfect. You’re so good at what you do, Charlie. Every time you’re out there, I’m in awe of you. And if this happens because of me — because of my praise — then I don’t mind. At all.”

His breath catches at your words, and he finally looks at you again, his eyes wide and full of something you can’t quite name.

You can’t help yourself. You reach out further, gently guiding him to lie back against the couch. He resists at first, just for a second, but then he gives in, too exhausted to fight you, too tired to keep up the pretense that he’s okay.

“Come here,” you murmur softly, coaxing him until his head is resting in your lap. You stroke a hand through his hair, smoothing the dark strands away from his forehead, and you feel him relax just a little under your touch.

“Shh,” you whisper, your fingers moving gently through his hair, petting him like you would a skittish animal. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He closes his eyes, his breathing still uneven, but he’s calming down, slowly but surely. His hands, still resting on his stomach, twitch slightly, but you can feel the tension leaving his body bit by bit as you continue to soothe him.

“You’re so good, Charlie,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. “So, so good. I’m so proud of you.”

He makes a small sound in the back of his throat at that, something between a whimper and a sigh, and you can’t help but smile softly.

“You’re always so focused out there,” you continue, your voice gentle as you praise him. “So calm, so in control. You handle everything so well, even when things get tough. I don’t know how you do it, honestly.”

Charles shivers under your touch, his body curling slightly into itself as if he’s trying to make himself smaller. But he doesn’t move away from you. If anything, he seems to lean into your touch more.

“I’m always so impressed by you,” you say, your fingers trailing down the side of his face now, brushing lightly over his jaw. “Every time you drive, you amaze me. And I know you think it’s all just — luck, or timing, or whatever, but it’s not. It’s you. You’re so talented. So brilliant.”

He lets out another soft sound, this time more of a sigh, and you can feel the tension leaving his body completely now. His breathing evens out, his eyes fluttering closed as you continue to stroke his hair, your other hand tracing light, soothing patterns on his arm.

“You’re perfect, Charlie,” you whisper, your voice barely audible now. “Just perfect.”

He doesn’t respond, but you don’t need him to. You can feel the way his body has relaxed, the way his breathing has slowed. You keep petting his hair, your touch soft and careful, and before long, you realize he’s fallen asleep.

You sit there for a while, your fingers still combing through his hair, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. His face is peaceful now, all the tension and embarrassment gone, replaced by something softer, more vulnerable.

Your heart swells with something warm and tender as you look down at him. This is a side of Charles that not many people get to see — the side that’s vulnerable, that’s unsure of himself, that needs comfort and reassurance just as much as anyone else.

You keep stroking his hair, even though he’s asleep, your movements slow and gentle. The room is quiet now, the only sound the soft hum of the air conditioner and the steady rhythm of Charles’ breathing.

Eventually, you lean back against the couch, careful not to jostle him too much, and close your eyes. You’re not sure how long you sit there, with Charles’ head resting in your lap, but you don’t mind. You’re not in any rush.

You’ll stay as long as he needs you to.

***

After that night in the hotel room, everything shifts between you and Charles. What had once been professional, with the occasional friendly flirtation or shared joke, turns into something more — something neither of you fully acknowledges but both feel, constantly simmering just below the surface.

Charles no longer hides from you, no longer keeps his walls up. He starts to let you in, piece by piece, letting you see the parts of him that he keeps guarded from the rest of the world — the parts of him that are vulnerable, needy.

It’s subtle at first: the way he’ll lean into you a little more when you’re sitting together, the way his hand will linger on yours for just a second longer than necessary. Then, there are the nights he starts inviting you over to his apartment, no longer under the guise of needing help with something or work. He just wants you there.

It happens naturally — one night turns into two, then three, until you’re staying over more often than not. His place starts to feel like home, and you fall into a routine with him that feels both new and familiar, like something you’ve both been waiting for but didn’t know how to ask for.

You’ve gotten used to how he melts under your touch, how he craves your praise in a way that makes your heart ache with something tender and protective. He’s always been private, always been in control, but with you, he lets go. He trusts you in a way that makes you want to take care of him, to give him everything he needs.

One night, the two of you are curled up in his bed, the soft glow of a bedside lamp casting a warm light over the room. It’s quiet, the kind of peaceful silence that comes with being completely comfortable with someone. You’re lying on your side, facing each other, your bodies close but not quite touching. His arm is draped loosely over your waist, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your hip.

You watch him for a moment, taking in the relaxed lines of his face, the way his eyelids are heavy with sleep but he’s still fighting to stay awake. He looks so at peace, so open, and the sight makes your chest swell with warmth.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, reaching up to brush a lock of hair from his forehead. “I want to try something.”

Charles blinks, his eyes focusing on you. “What do you mean?”

You bite your lip, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach, but you press on. “I just … I want to see something. Can I?”

His brow furrows slightly, but there’s no hesitation when he nods. “Yeah, of course.”

You smile, your heart pounding a little faster now. You shift slightly, sitting up just enough to pull the duvet down from where it’s wrapped around both of you. The cool air hits your skin, but you barely notice. Your focus is entirely on him, on the way his eyes widen slightly as he watches you.

“Relax,” you whisper, your hand finding its way to his chest, palm resting lightly over his heart. You can feel the steady thump beneath your fingers, but there’s something else there too — anticipation. “I just want to talk to you.”

Charles swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, but he doesn’t say anything. His breathing is a little uneven now, and you can see the way his muscles tense slightly, like he’s bracing himself for whatever’s coming next.

You lean down, close enough that your lips brush the shell of his ear, and you whisper, “You’ve been so good today, Charlie.”

His breath hitches immediately, and you smile to yourself, watching the way his chest rises and falls a little faster now. Your hand slides down from his chest, grazing lightly over his stomach, and you feel him tremble under your touch.

“You’re always so good, though,” you continue, your voice soft and low, dripping with praise. “So focused. So controlled. The way you drove this weekend? God, you were perfect.”

Charles lets out a soft, shaky exhale, his hands gripping the sheets beneath him, knuckles white. His eyes flutter shut, and you can see the way his whole body is reacting to your words — the way he’s barely holding himself together.

“You make everything look so easy,” you murmur, your hand continuing its slow, deliberate path down his body, never quite touching him where you know he needs it most. “But I know it’s not. I know how hard you work. How much you push yourself.”

His hips twitch slightly at that, and you can feel the tension building in him, the way he’s teetering on the edge already, just from your voice.

“You’re incredible, Charlie,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his jaw now. “No one else can do what you do. No one else is as good as you.”

A soft whimper escapes his throat, and you glance down, seeing the way he’s already hard, his cock straining against the fabric of his boxers. The sight sends a rush of heat through you, and you bite your lip, fighting the urge to touch him, to give him what he so clearly needs.

But you don’t. Not yet.

Instead, you keep talking, keep pouring praise into his ear, watching how every word affects him, how it drives him closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so perfect,” you breathe, your hand skimming over his hip now, so close but still not quite touching him. “Do you know that? Do you know how perfect you are?”

Charles’ head tips back against the pillow, his lips parted, eyes squeezed shut. “P-please …” he whispers, his voice broken, desperate.

You smile softly, leaning down to press a kiss to his neck. “Please what, Charlie?”

He shudders beneath you, his hips lifting slightly off the bed as he tries to get some kind of relief, but you’re still holding back, still teasing him with nothing but your words and the lightest of touches.

“Please,” he breathes again, his voice trembling. “I can’t …”

“Shh,” you coo softly, finally letting your hand drift lower, brushing lightly over the waistband of his boxers. “You don’t have to do anything, Charlie. Just let me talk to you.”

He whimpers again, his whole body trembling now, and you know he’s close. So close. You can see it in the way his chest is heaving, the way his hands are gripping the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

“You’re doing so well,” you whisper, pressing another kiss to his jaw, then his neck. “So good for me. Always so good.”

And then, just like that, you see him break.

His whole body goes tense for a moment, his breath catching in his throat, and then he’s gone, spilling untouched into his boxers with nothing but your words pushing him over the edge. His hips jerk against the sheets, and he lets out a low, broken moan, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You watch him, your heart pounding in your chest, a mixture of awe and affection swirling inside you. You’ve never seen anything hotter than this — Charles completely undone, trembling beneath you, just from your praise.

It takes a few moments for him to come down, his breathing slowly returning to normal, but even then, he’s still trembling, still so sensitive. You run your fingers through his hair, soothing him, whispering soft praises into his ear.

“You did so well, Charlie,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “So perfect. You’re always so perfect.”

He lets out a soft, exhausted sigh, his body finally relaxing completely as he melts into the bed, his head resting on your pillow. His eyes flutter open after a moment, and he looks up at you with a dazed, almost disbelieving expression.

You smile down at him, brushing a hand through his damp hair. “You okay?”

He nods, his voice hoarse when he finally speaks. “Y-yeah,” he whispers, still catching his breath. “I … I don’t know how you do that.”

You laugh softly, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I just know you, Charlie.”

He smiles at that, a soft, tired smile, and his hand reaches up to take yours, squeezing it gently. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmurs, his eyes half-closed, the exhaustion clear in his voice.

You shake your head, leaning down to press your lips to his in a soft, lingering kiss. “You deserve everything,” you whisper against his mouth. “Everything.”

He sighs contentedly, his body relaxing further into the bed, and you can see the way sleep is already tugging at the edges of his consciousness.

“Get some rest,” you murmur, pulling the duvet back up over both of you, tucking him in. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Charles nods, his eyes fluttering shut as he finally lets himself drift off, a soft, peaceful smile on his lips.

You watch him for a moment, your heart full, and then you settle in beside him, pulling him close, knowing that whatever comes next, you’ll be there to guide him through it. Just like always.

[haechansdoll]

so perfect, i can't stop - ml x reader

Pairing : Lee Mark x f!Reader

Description : Mark is too horny, and he uses you non stop

Warnings : sex,sex and sex.

“you’re gonna lose it as soon as I put my cock in your pussy” Mark sneers, gripping the plush of your thighs and scooting you closer to his stiff, bare cock. your hands find homage on his shoulders, as he grabs a handful of your ass lifting you on his length. he doesn’t realize the heat cascading from your cunt, your folds brushing across his cockhead, “fuck.” He whispers. His fingers bleed into your thighs, eager hips bouncing subconsciously on his cock—sliding down till your flush against his lap. “jesus fucking christ angel.. didn’t know you were such an eager little thing.” You blush, and he smirks.

 “Don’t be shy.” He says, tilting your chin up as he bottoms out releasing a sultry moan, “you been hiding this perfect pussy from me this whole time? fuck.”

He wishes he could just keep you still, allow his cock to immerse in your sweet juices, tight velvet walls milking him dry, caresses your skin with his tongue—keep his fingers dancing on the skin but Mark just can’t do that. he has to feel more—his hips bucking up, cock curving against your spongy spot and you’re unraveling, whimpering when he takes the plunge and rams his cock harder upwards inside you. “want me to fill this pussy up, huh? feel my cum in your tummy for fucking days?”

Mark’s eyes grow dark, dropping the facade of pussy drunk and fully feral, leaning down to sink his teeth into your neck and slamming a hand down to move your hips harder on him, “never gonna fuck you with anything else but my raw cock princess, fuckin’ perfect for me.” you whine and moan against him, barely containing yourself.

“M-Mark—slow down” your whimpers left dull on his ear, mark raises his level of vision back to your disheveled face. “c-can’t help it angel—pussy so fuckin’ good” he throws his head back, his usually brown orbs clouded into a pitch black haze. He’s struggling—hips so sloppily drilling into your cunt. he’s thinking of the aftermath, your hole spilling out his cum and the wetness—how fucking wet and warm your hole will be when he pumps load after load inside you.

“fuck!” your ears vibrate against the shrill moan he echoes through the room, Mark drags his body back down mindlessly pounding into you. a high—the ecstasy laced bliss induced from his raw—untouched cock dragging against your velvet walls. and the tightness—have you always been this tight? he can’t stop thinking of those fucking thoughts. How much cum could you really take though? would Mark have to push it back in or just pump another load? The questions pile up while Mark feels your pussy clench around him and that’s where everything goes numb. A shiver that starts at the back of his neck, crawling its way to his cock and he finally—fills your cunt to the brim, gasping when he’s quick to pull out. He’s mesmerized by his seed oozing out of your messy hole and Mark is already pushing his cum right back in with his cock because what’s a better way to make it stick then with another pretty white load?

Mark inhales a long drawn out breath, steadily hoisting you over his cock for the second time that night. He flickers his eyes to you before casting his gaze back down—he wants to watch his bare cock disappear inside your pussy, something that he will never grow old of. “s-shit” he groans, brows furrowed while you sink down completely, pink dusts his cheeks and his body falls limb under you. he’s’ mortified how much his cock is twitching, swelling at the head while he just basks in the feeling. Once a sign of nerves coats his arm, he immediately throws it over his face gasping when you start to bounce on his cock.

Mark can’t look at you right now, it’d be too much. ..one thing is going raw —but your slick guiding his cock inside your spongy walls but it’s another just to see you. your fingers gripping against your mounds, hips faultlessly moving to a sedate pace while your slick paints his thighs. Marks eyes knock white under his arm, slinging the limb aside to cast it on your hip, “god your pussy is so fucking good” Mark stutters, dragging your cunt on his length. he almost looks disoriented—the way his face has grown a sheen sheet of sweat, cheeks bright pink and his lips—so pretty and glossy, puffy and small gusts of air excluding from it. “don’t stop please, fuck!” Mark screws his eyes shut, he’ll relish this feeling in his mind—carelessly bouncing you on his cock, and even if he came, he won’t stop—even if his cock is spent, tip so sensitive and aching for a break, he cannot simply stop.—not when it feels this fucking good.

Mark feels like he can’t breathe, lungs persuading blue as he continues to slam his cock in your hole, head tipping over and crashing into your neck but you only let out a whimper. “p-princess” he mumbles in your skin, shakily gripping your thighs and spreading them apart, “i think im gonna cum” you feel him shake as he spills inside of you. Deep groans coating your neck, the mess accumulating on your thighs, you can call out his name but he won’t answer—almost like he’s mute, mouth filled with gasps and gurgles and his cock—swelling and dragging along your walls. he knows it’s not enough—just one more time. He thinks. He needs more reeling his hips back to push the cum deeper and deeper. “s-so good for me—fuck—pussy made for me” Mark is barely moving, hips shifting on their own as he continues pulling airy moans to the surface. struggling to hold on to your body while he dives headfirst into another high, senses overcome by pure desire—he’s chasing another tranquil abyss. knees digging into the sheets below you, arms wrapped around your body and his face pressed firmly against the crevice of your neck. He can’t go back now.

[melancholymetropolis]

“Lord have mercy,” the plump woman clenched the couch cushion tighter. “Logan. . . Please. . .”

Seated on the floor between her separated thighs and bunched up sundress was a man pulling her panties to the side. The wolverine’s hot mouth fanned the moist folds of her glistening cunt causing the woman to shiver. His deep brown eyes flickered up to hers, a question in his gaze. The woman took her bottom lip between her teeth and gave the older gentleman a slow nod. Every rational thought had drifted away the moment Logan captured her lips in a heated kiss.

To think it all started with a pyrex dish filled with homemade lasagna.

As a woman born and raised in North Carolina, Y/N L/N knew a thing or two about Southern Hospitality. She has distinct memories of her mom baking muffins for the new families in the neighborhood and offering juice boxes to any child playing in the sweltering heat. She was early for every council meeting, funeral and church picnic there was. 

Y/N's mama was the kind to spread love everywhere she went and managed to wear down even the grumpiest assholes there ever were.

Sadly, Y/N didn't have that gift.

At least she thought she didn't.

Logan Howlet was the grumpiest man she'd ever met. He didn't speak to anyone, always kept his head down and pretended not to hear the crappy things people said about him. He frequented the liquor stor as if it were a second job, but never smelled like liquor somehow. 

He had all but slammed the door in Y/N’s face when she offered him the glass dish. The younger woman thanked the heavens his roommate, Wade, swooped in to rescue the tilting dish from crashing on the patio floor.

The man's dripping tongue slid from her oozing center to her aching bud. The plump woman groaned loudly from the action and leaned further onto the arm of the couch. With one leg thrown over his shoulder and the other attempting to keep her balance, Y/N realized how obscure the position— fuck it through whole situation was.

One minute she was at the door, dropping off Wade's monthly pan of lasagna and the next Logan was pushing her against the kitchen counters, kissing her silly. He didn't bother ripping her dress off completely. Just broke a few buttons to gain access to her heavy breasts. One of his hands was gently squeezing the mound as his tongue tapped at her bud. 

The soft muscle swirled around her clit before the lips latched onto it. The older man sucked on the bud tenderly, whilst gripping her thigh so tightly she was sure it would leave bruises the next day. The sounds coming from her lips didn't feel light her own as the ripples of pleasure moved along her nerves like dancers. The plump woman took her bottom lip between her teeth as she watched his move against her womanhood. The salt and pepper hair atop his head nestled between her brown skin was something out of a dream. The sounds of his throaty groans as his sucked her cunt had turned her brain to goo and somehow made her even wetter.

"Take them off," Y/N said, suddenly. "My panties. They're getting in the way."

"Yes, Ma'am! Although, that will be a little hard to do considering Wolfy's posi--- oh shit! You absolutely weren't talking to me like at all," an annoying familiar voice sounds causing us to freeze in place. "But, I wish you would start to because I am about to bust just----"

"Either get the fuck out or come over here and put that mouth to use," Logan snapped, rising to his feet and staring pointedly at Wade. "Because I do not have the time for your bullshit today."

"I'll take option numero dos, Alex," the taller gentleman practically skipped to the couch. "If it is okay with the lady?"

"I'm. . . uh. . . I'm fine with it?"

-------------------------

this scene has been stuck in my head since I seen the film last weekend.

fun fact: I used to be a MASSIVE Marvel fan before the pandemic and secretly wrote Steve Rogers fics.

if you want a full piece, comment or send an ask.

Been thinking of writing some throuple stories. Thoughts?

[luveline]

Hi jadeeeee I have a request for coworker James! Another man whether it’s at work or somewhere else starts hitting on reader and James get jealous and realizes he hates seeing her with other guys

ty for requesting 💌 fem

It’s another sunny day at the office, but today is the day the vending machine men come in and fill them, so it’s not all bad. The doors and windows are wide open, the air is fresh and clean. 

“It’s too hot,” Remus complains without any real passion. 

“It’s not that bad,” Sirius says, though he raises his hand to begin fanning Remus anyhow. “It feels hotter than it is because of the humidity.” 

“I feel amazing,” James says. He gives you a nudge with his shoe, his hair tickling his neck as he leans back in his chair. “It’s not that hot, is it?” 

“It’s boiling,” you say. 

You were never going to agree with him. It could be sub zero and you’d tell him you were on fire. James rolls his eyes at you and continues a rather lavish existence of sun, breeze, and cold grapes, their crisp insides popping between his teeth. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

James lifts his head. 

“That’s okay,” Jordan says, to James’ immediate affront. There’s no need for the man in charge of maintaining the vending machine to be talking to you in that tone. It’s bordering too sweet. 

“I’m always in your way,” you laugh. 

“You? In my way? Never.” 

You turn to Remus with an obvious expression. Is he flirting with me? it says. 

Remus looks at James —what the fuck?— before he gives you a tentative back and forth of his head, weighing it up. He shrugs. 

James shakes his head resolutely. 

You give them both the silent version of I understand and settle down in your seat again. The vending machine guy (what’s his name again? James can’t remember) pops open the front cover of the machine and takes out the change box. Clearly, he doesn’t categorise you or the boys as a risk of burglary. 

“So,” Jordan says, “how was your weekend? Did you do much?” 

“In this weather?” you ask with light-humoured sarcasm. “I went on a couple of walks, nothing huge. How about you?” 

“Went to a couple of matches.” 

“Rugby or football?” 

“Rugby, always.” 

James feels the pressure of his teeth clenching at the back of his head. “Do you play, mate?” he asks. 

Jordan looks at him in surprise. “No, we just watch. It’s an excuse to have a pint before five.” 

You break two slices of your clementine away from each other. James doesn’t know why, but your gaze is on him, and that’s where he wants it. “Day drinker?” he asks sympathetically. 

“James,” Sirius says, laughing. “Grow up.” 

“Sometimes,” Jordan says. He finishes reinstalling the change holder and starts to push snacks and drinks onto the vending machine shelves. “Gotta have a little bit of fun every now and then, right?” 

He emphasises to you. 

You give a shy smile. “Right.” 

Jordan finishes his job and wishes everyone goodbye quickly after that. You chew your clementine, your finger looped under your bracelet, tugging slowly round and around. He fucked that up for you, didn’t he? You couldn’t get very far with him poking holes at poor Jordan, but… you’d been smiling at him nicely. You’re allowed to smile at whoever you want to, of course you are, so why did James act like that? 

“Sorry,” he says. 

You slide your thumb between slices of clementine. “To me?” you ask from the corner of your mouth. “For what?” 

Sirius and Remus laugh at the same time. 

James ignores them. “I was mean to him. How are you ever gonna get a date if I bully the vending machine guy?” 

“You think I can’t get a date?” you ask. 

“No.” He grimaces. “No, just, he’s a dickhead.” 

“As opposed to who? You?” you ask. 

James is pretty sure his vision goes white. He hates seeing you with other boys, but this isn’t where he wanted the conversation to go. He doesn’t wanna be your boyfriend. He just hates seeing you happy with other people. 

Oh, god, he thinks. That’s horrible. 

“I think you can do a whole lot better than Jacob the vending machine guy.” 

“Jordan,” you correct, laughing. You don’t bring him up on avoiding your real question, perhaps you don’t notice. You just laugh with Remus and pass James a piece of your clementine. “Vending machines are an honest living. Don’t be so classist.” 

“You’re classist,” he rebukes weakly. He ignores Sirius’ knowing gaze to offer you his punnet of grapes. “Horrible woman.” 

“Get it together, Potter.” 

James doesn’t know what to say to you after that, so he says nothing at all. Your clementine is sweet on his tongue. 

[short-honey-badger]

Older Men

Pairing! Crocodile x Reader

Warnings! Drinking

Crocodile realizes that you need someone older to take care of you, not the boys that you seem to want.

Masterlist

You fast walk through the tall tents of Buggy Town, arms wrapped tight around yourself and head ducked low so that no one else could see the tears streaming down your face. You'd been rejected again, by the third man in less than three weeks. All you wanted was a little companionship, someone to hold you close at night. To kiss you good morning when you woke up. Was that so wrong to want from someone your own age?

You don't notice how close you've gotten to Crocodile's side of the town until you physically bump into the man himself. You grunt when you lose your balance, and you brace for a fall that never happens. Instead, you feel warm sand supporting your back and upper arms, gently setting you back on your feet, and dangerously close to the ex warlord.

“Pretty things like you should watch where they are going,” Crocodile grouches lowly, and you look up at him through wet lashes.

“Sorry, sir. I'll be more careful,” you murmur, and fresh tears spout up at the reprimand. Now look at what you've done. Gone and pissed off one of the leaders of the Cross Guild.

Crocodile looks down at you, looking rather unimpressed with the thick cigar clenched between his teeth. He recognizes you and has seen your walk of shame back to his side of town each time your little date didn't go as planned. He didn't understand why you would want to waste your time on pip squeaks like them when he has been here this whole time.

The devil fruit user comes to the conclusion quickly and spins on his heel, “Come with me.”

You blink at his retreating back and jump to follow after him when he glances over his shoulder with an expectant look. You follow him to the edge of the town, and he steps to the side to allow you inside his personal tent first. You're just a little nervous being in here. You've known Crocodile for a while, after all.

He breezes past you, stopping at his desk to pour two glasses of dark liquor. He pushes one glass to the edge, an obvious offer that you are hesitant to accept. However, it's never a wise choice to not accept anything that the towering man offered.

The liquor burns as it goes down, but you find yourself relaxing because of it. You watch as Crocodile hums in satisfaction and sits back in his chair, mouth going a bit dry at the way he spreads his legs and rests his dangerous hook on his thigh.

“Why do you bother with those boys?”

You jump at the unexpected timbre and whip around to give him a look of confusion. He scowls at you, rolling his purple eyes skyward.

“Don't play ignorant. I've watched you each time you come crying back home. Why do you keep trying with them?”

You sink into yourself a little. You don't understand why it matters to Crocodile, but you couldn't not answer your boss.

“I um. I should be with someone my own age, right?” You say carefully. You've never really thought too much about the why of it.

“ku- ha ha, Who told you that?” He demands and his voice drips with condescension, clearly thinking you an idiot. You blush and embarrassed tears well up.

“No one? I just thought that's how it's supposed to go.”

Crocodile lets out a soft hmm, and then sets his now empty glass away. He eyes you, looking all cute and pathetic.

“Come here, Doll,” he murmurs and pats his lap, “Those boys out there will never know how to treat a beautiful woman. You need someone to take charge, someone who knows what they're doing. Someone a little older.”

Your face feels like it's on fire, but you can't help but hang on to every word that the gator says, his tone soft and beckoning. You step closer, clearly nervous, but Crocodile makes your decision for you when the ground under your feet becomes less stable and you fall forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulders.

Crocodile rumbles another laugh and tugs you into his lap properly, tucking you close to his chest. His hand finds your face, and the ex warlord is gentle in the way that he wipes your spilled tears away. His eyes soften, and you look on in wonder as he leans in and presses his lips to the top of your head.

“You've got me now, _, so don't think for a second that I'll send you away.”

[writing-mlm]

hii saw you also do marvel fics :) a scott summers x male reader would be so awesome i can never find any good mlm stories for him. bonus points if it’s like an opposites attract dynamic where the reader is more irritable and rash whereas scott is more level headed and critical. thank you, no rush!!!

Irritations and Delight

Summary: Your temper is well known amongst the others but they have a trick up their sleeves that works every single time. Pairing: Scott Summers x Male Reader WC: 4.7k a/n: genuinely foaming at the mouth for Scott I forgot how little screen time he gets LMFAOOOO

Scott sighs as he gets called down to the War Room just before midnight. It’s the third time that week he’s been called to stop a fight and considering that it’s only Monday he knows it’s going to be a very long week. Despite the urgency of Jean’s request, he takes his sweet time going down the stairs rather than taking the elevator as he should have and through the halls before he sees the door. It’s closed, so he presses his hand to it, rubbing the sleep from his face while it scans him.

“I’m not taking shit from someone I need to look down at!” He hears you scoff as the doors open. He knows you’re arguing with Logan, because of course you are, it’s more often than not him. “Keep your Canadian ass away from my fucking snacks!” You warn, nostrils flaring. Jean looks at Scott with a pleading look and he just leans against the door frame, debating if this is even worth intervening— spoiler; it’s not. He’ll let you go for a little longer, get most of the steam out of your system. 

“You can make more,” Logan shrugs. “Isn’t that your whole thing? Creating,” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were so broke you gotta steal like an alley rat,” Taking the jab as well as you expected, Logan flares— damn near growls, too— and clenches his fist. You grin, staring at his claws, and tilt your head, threatening him even to try and hit you. But he’s stopped by Scott calling for you. Your last name cutting through the air like a whistle during gym class.

Scott’s voice is half a warning, half a tired plea when he calls you. Regrettably, his presence makes Logan smirk and you scowl before it drops from your face and you glare over at him. “C'mon now,” He beckons with his index and middle finger before turning and walking away. You suck your teeth and drop the topic for now. 

“Run along,” Logan taunts as you walk past him. “Daddy’s calling.” You stop and look at the door before at Logan; it’s not really a split-second decision but you walk back around and punch him in the jaw before leaving. He doesn’t fight back, not when Jean is attending to his ‘wound’ and Scott yells for you. He should be thanking you, really. She hasn’t willingly been that close to him in months. With one last shared look, you head out of the War Room and into the bright hallway. 

“Don’t say it,” You grit, rubbing your knuckles as you walk in stride with him. It doesn’t hurt, you’ve punched harder things, but you’re making sure that you didn’t break anything seeing as your hand is technically still healing from your last mission. 

“Say what?” Scott pauses, standing with his arms crossed. “That you’re being childish or that you shouldn’t hit your teammates?” Sucking your teeth, you drop your hands into your pockets and kick the imaginary rock on the floor. 

“He called you my daddy,” You grumble. “I’m older than you, by the way.” It’s like four months, but that’s still older than him. 

“Really?” He grins, his arms still crossed but now he flexes his biceps. It gets your attention more than his words do and he knows that. Asshole. “I couldn’t tell.” 

“Shut up, Summers.” 

He just tosses an arm over your shoulder and drags you over to the elevator. You bite the corner of your mouth, stopping the smile on your face until you’re alone in the elevator. 

“What even started that?” He asks, his knuckle stroking your cheek. It doesn’t take an empath to know the action alone makes you weak in the knees; metaphorically speaking, of course. The man knows how to make you unfold in seconds, which is why he’s the only one dispatched to handle you. 

“I was making cookies in secret,” You start, pursing your lips. “It’s stupid but I was proud of them and-and they were mine. But Logan’s stupid fucking nose sniffed them out while we were out getting groceries and he ate every single one of them.” He frowns, just a bit. He doesn’t want you to think he’s pitying you but he knows how much it hurts you. 

Baking wasn’t exactly a hobby of yours, truth be told you were a disaster in the kitchen, but he knew well enough that you could make some mean cookies. Everyone knew that and snatched them up whenever you made any, leaving nothing left for you. And yes, your mutation allowed you to recreate those same exact cookies as much as you wanted but you never did. 

“I just wanted something for myself— and you, of course. Just this once. And that bitch starts going on about how I should’ve hidden them better or put a note on them if I didn’t want anyone else eating them. But they were! They were in our room, in my dresser, inside of my tupperware!” Now you’re shouting and Scott takes a step back, his chest rising as you enunciate each pronoun. 

“I’ll speak with him,” He promises and your head whips around to face him. The elevator gets to your stop and you face forward, marching out and towards the staircase. 

“Oh, because then he’ll talk about how my ‘daddy’ came to my rescue again!” You shout while using air quotes. “No— it’s fine. Next time I’ll just make him a batch and load them with laxatives and chocolates, have that dog dying with shit pouring out his ass.” 

“(L/n),” He scolds, following you as you climb the stairs two at a time. “You agreed to stop calling Logan a dog.” He catches you by the elbow, spinning you around so you’re facing him. 

“No, I said I'll stop calling him a mutt.” You correct, waving your finger in front of his face. “It felt like a slur, so I stopped. But technically wolverines aren’t dogs, they’re weasels. So, dog doesn’t work either.” Slow blinking, Scott drops your arm and follows you into your shared room. By that point, you’ve gone quiet and it’s not because it’s after hours and you, as the responsible adult and teacher, would hate to wake the children up. 

He sees a mess, the things in your dresser are tossed about and the tubberware is broken into several pieces. You don’t apologize, you don’t feel a need to, instead you huff and start cleaning while he sits on the edge of your bed. Knowing that you hate it when he helps with your messes, he waits until everything is neatly folded or tossed into the trash can before he pulls you over. 

“Would you like it if I talked to the Professor about getting a toaster oven for our room?” He asks while guiding you to your side of the bed. You shrug as a response, staring at the wall. “Hey,” Grabbing your face with a ghostly grip, he makes you stare at him. “You can’t just shut down, come on.”

“I guess,” You huff, moving his hand from your face. “It’s ridiculous that we’d need to do that, though. It’s a communal space but no one respects it. I’m tired of treating people older than me like toddlers just because I have something they want!” Tenderly, he kisses the top of your head and lays properly next to you. 

“I understand, we can have a conversation with the Professor in the morning. For now, rest,” While he puts his night mask on, you reach over and turn the lamp off before holding him close. He insists on laying this way, with your head tucked into his back or neck and his grip tight on your hands. You like it, too. Scooping his legs on top of your own, you sigh into a yawn and try to fall asleep. 

—

“Hey, pretty boy!” You call as you enter the garage where Scott is working on his motorcycle. Classes had since finished up and with no other work to do, it was officially time to do whatever the fuck you wanted. And what you wanted was to bother your oh-so-loving boyfriend. 

“Yes, hun?” He calls from under that damn bike. Only able to see his legs, you lay your head against the door frame and look around. 

“Would you mind if I sit and watch you?” You ask, checking out an empty spot. Maybe you should get a motorcycle— but then he couldn’t drive you around anymore. But you could ride with him. But you wouldn’t have an excuse to not go places alone anymore. No motorcycle. 

“Course not.” He responds, sliding out from under the bike and beckons you over. Taking long strides over to him, you settle next to him and he explains what he’s doing. Fixing an exhaust pipe and something on the bottom of it had been dragging during the last ride so he was checking on that. You used to offer to fix it, your dad is a mechanic and your powers could fix it in seconds but he said he liked getting his hands dirty. 

You just know he doesn’t like anyone to handle his bike. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence until he finishes, you’d given up watching him tinker because you wanted him to actually do his task and knew you couldn’t stop yourself from pestering. Instead, you grabbed a useless tool in the box and changed it into various objects, eventually changing it back and reaching for an instruction manual that was hidden under wrenches. 

It wasn’t riveting or even particularly useful, an instruction manual for a toolbox wasn’t the best literature. But it passed the time until Scott let out the huff that signaled he was done and would admire his work for ten minutes. 

“Have you eaten?” You ask while he washed his hands in the large basin in the corner of the garage. 

“Not since lunch,” Lunch, if you could call it that, was a single slice of toast with a layer of jam so thin you couldn’t believe he wasted a knife for that. 

“Perfect, let’s go get some dinner.” Dinner with the rest of the school was hectic; it was dinner with a bunch of superpowered teenagers after all. So whenever you can, you opt to eat away from them and luckily tonight is one of those nights. 

Charles had ordered enough pizza to fill a god and you snagged a box before anyone noticed. It was yours and Scott’s favorite, too, so you think the Professor knew your plan from the start. But who knows? You still head outside with the box in hand and head to your secret spot on the property. 

Since the mansion overlooks acres of land there were plenty of secret spots but you like to believe yours was actually a secret. When you first got there you’d create a tree house, back then it was just large enough for you and your items but nowadays you hang with him whenever you can. 

The great weeping willow was the perfect tree to hide the house in, too. The large dangling leaves provided more than enough coverage— even for the spiral staircase you climb to reach the top. 

“How romantic,” Scott teases when you appear with a pizza box, soda, and two cups. You’d forgone getting plates because eating from the box is just as acceptable. You thank him and slide the box onto the table. He stops it from sliding off, watching as you grab a vinyl from the display case and set it on the player. It’s a newer one, one you’d stolen on accident. You swear it was an accident and Scott is inclined to believe that for his peace of mind. 

“Dinner and music,” He meets you halfway and runs his hands along your arms. “You really know how to treat a guy.” He muses. 

“Not just any guy,” Your lips curl into a smile as you stare at him. “My guy.”

“Your guy?” He echos and you nod, your eyes darting to his lips. 

“My favorite guy, my dream man, my boyfriend. My heart— I can continue if you’d like.” 

“Message received.” He shakes his head and presses a slow kiss to your lips. When his lips leave yours, you slowly open your eyes and then nudge his shoulder, telling him it’s time to eat. 

When you spend nearly all day with your significant other, sharing memories and gazes throughout the day, one might think there’s not much to talk about at the end of the day. But you begin to word vomit the second your butt hits the chair. Scott listens and gives his own input whenever he wants and the conversation eventually evolves into very juicy gossip about your students. 

Not very mature, sure. But come on! It’s like your own reality TV show. It would be better if one of you were telepathic but oh well, word of mouth and visual cues are just as fine. 

You think Tamara, a girl who’s technically a senior in high school with the powers to walk through walls is the one who’s been helping the younger kids during their nightmares before the others could get to them. Scott disagrees, he thinks it's Kevin, a kid who can enter people’s dreams.

“But Kevin can’t control whose dream he enters,” You point out, stopping yourself before you tell him about the time Kevin went into your dream where you were inside of the White House trying to get the President— who’d been Bob Marley— to come to your birthday party. 

“He’s getting better,” Scott draws his hand to his hair, slicking it back. “Because he’s been helping the others. You haven’t seen the way the kids look at him?”

“Have you seen how they look at Tamara? She’s like a big sister to them.” Tossing the crust of your slice into the box, you grab another. Honestly, his point does make sense. How else is a kid with dream powers supposed to get better? By entering dreams. “Maybe it’s both of them.” You settle on. 

“What? Kevin deals with the dream and Tamara helps them if they wake up?”

“I mean…” You trail. “Their rooms are right next to each other, it’s not hard to believe.”

“I think we cracked the code,” Scott grins and you nod as pizza cheese slides off of your lip. 

“Man, sign us the fuck up for mystery solving.”

—

Physically imposing wasn’t typically a word people would use to describe you. You don’t have a body type close to Logan or even Scott. You work out just enough, truly you don’t care too much about lifting cars or being able to punch through walls.

It’s useless in your opinion when you could very easily just turn the wall into sand or make the car paper. 

But that doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. 

You’re plenty strong, you work out every morning with Scott. You often use the students as weights just for the hell of it. While you don’t keep track you think your current limit is two seventy-five on each side of the dumbbell. 

So when you punched a protester it caught him off guard. Which wasn’t hard considering he was busy shouting nonsense at your students. But, hey, he was being really annoying. No one around you said he didn’t deserve it, no one gave you a look of shame or disgust. 

But he didn’t hit the ground, time seemed to freeze and you sighed through your nose, fist still clenched as you listened to Charles making his way over. Scott wasn’t far behind, grabbing you by the elbow just before Charles spoke up. 

“Now, was that necessary?” He asks, his stupid holier than-thou voice doing nothing to make you ashamed of hitting the man. 

“When you talk shit about my kids, absolutely,” You tell him. “How about next time you agree to take at-risk children on a field trip, you use your shitty powers to make sure someone isn’t going to hurl cruel words at them.” 

“How’d he even know?” Scott asks, staring at the man’s clearly unhinged jaw. 

“Someone scared Man-man on accident and his face went all… froggy,” You explain, looking at Man-man with an apologetic look. He looks down, rubbing his arm. “And of course, the man saw.” 

“You should’ve come to me.”

“You should’ve known.” You correct him, staring down at him. “Isn’t that your whole thing? Mind reading, and understanding people’s characters? You’re supposed to look out for them and my method is much more effective than walking away and calling for you.” Scott whispers your name, his voice was soft, and begging you to stop arguing. 

You falter, not wanting to ruin the trip anymore, and run your face.

“Can’t you just wipe his memory? Only we saw.”

“And can we go somewhere cooler?” Claire asks, leaning against her boyfriend Todd. Her long blonde hair running down the length of her face before she shifts it behind her ear. “We’ve been to this evolution museum three times. I heard there’s a movie theater down the street.” 

“The movies sounds good,” Ororo agrees, ever the helper for Charles. “I’ve been wanting to see the new one, what’s the name?” She turns to Jean who whispers the name and she nods. 

“I suppose some quiet time in the cinema couldn’t hurt.” Charles reluctantly agrees and the kids cheer. 

“We could totally—“ 

“No.” Scott shoots the idea down and you sigh, crossing your arms while getting the kids to line up. He pinches your side as he gets his kids to line up next to yours and you pinch him back. 

“It would be for like twenty—“

“No,” He drags out, not even looking at you. 

“You don’t even know what I’m asking!” Giving you a look, you chuckle and nod. “I totally was asking for that.” 

—

“It’s nine,” Scott drawls from above you, one hand on your shoulder and the other on the headboard. “You’ve slept in plenty today.” You groan and roll over, pulling your cover up to your chin. 

“Suck a dick, Summers.” 

“I’m sure I will, later,” He blinks. “But you’ve missed breakfast and your first class. It’s time to get up.” Grumbling under your breath, you turn and face him. He’s been awake for hours, you knew because he woke you up when he did. Plus, he’s a messy sleeper and you relish the bed to yourself sometimes. He smiles and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you, stroking your hairline. 

“It’s Friday, man. Can’t we cancel class for one day?” Your eyes dart between his glasses, finding his eyes in the red. 

“I’m sorry,” He shakes his head. “It’s time to get up.” Relenting, you sit up and drag yourself into the bathroom. He doesn’t stay, he has a class to teach and he knows if he does, you’ll rope him into missing it. 

Thankfully, you only have three classes before you can sit and relax. But things are never that simple inside that damn school, something happened during the period just before lunch. Some telepathic kid messed with the newest kid to join and the kid absolutely destroyed the classroom with his shock waves. He told you it was something about his past and you reassured him it’ll be fine before sending him up to talk with Charles. 

Tragic backstory after tragic backstory, you must’ve thought yourself lucky that your trauma came from the one time you accidentally turned a candle into a stick of dynamite at a historical building during a field trip. 

Not your best moment, you should admit. But the tour guide was being a prick and it’s what you imagined throwing at him. Sorry to the historical building, though, shame it became an arcade like five years later. 

This mutant's anonymous shit wasn’t your speed, sure that’s not what Charles called it (he called it mediation between two students who are having issues), but that’s definitely what it was. Everyone sat in a circle, telling their feelings and instead of some chip to commemorate being a mutant, you’re left to go out on ugly ass spandex and give up your apartment in replace of living amongst traumatized teenagers and more traumatized emotionally stunted adults. 

But hey, you agreed to become a teacher for those same young mutants— you just didn’t expect them to take to you like glue on paper. For fucks sake, you taught them chemistry, far from a friendly subject. You know you hated it when you were their age. And Jean tells you that you’re far from a friendly person, too. Not too sure on how she managed that assessment because there’s a group of teenagers in your office eating and talking. Willingly, during their lunch period. 

There are six of them, one of which is sitting on top of your filing cabinets and eating straight from a cantaloupe. No spoon or anything, just his hands. Never mind the chunks falling on your floor.  

“No, because Todd is totally grinding my gears,” Claire grumbles from the floor. Todd, her boyfriend, definitely wasn’t on your list of best students. “He keeps talking about he’ll be the next leader of the X-men and I’ll be his trophy wife! Trophy wife!” She shouts through a laugh. “He runs fast and I can bend light to my fucking will!” 

“He tried to get with Stacy Ambers,” You hum, stabbing your fork into a piece of chicken. Everything quiets down and they turn to face you, their jaws dropped. “I caught them during class when you went to the bathroom. He ran to give her a note, she giggled and nodded.”

“That sleaze!” Kelly shouts, standing on her knees. “Ugh! And with Sticky-Stacy? As if,” She lowers herself back to the floor and picks up her juice carton. “I say we stick them together in the training room and use them for target practice!”

“Saying stuff like that will get you a week's detention if the Professor hears,” You lazily remind them but you do nothing more to stop that conversation.

“The owner of the school is a telepath,” Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m sure he already knows all the fucked up plans in her noggin’.” 

“Which you shouldn’t be encouraging,” Scott chides from the door. “Come on now, go with the rest of your peers.” The kids groan and pack their things, leaving you and Scott inside the room. He steps inside and shuts the door. 

“I wasn’t encouraging,” You defend, holding your hands up. “I was acting as an outlet to the children, as Charles always drones on and on about.” He smiles and you think, rolls his eyes before he walks over to your desk. 

“That’s not what he meant, and you know it.” 

“What’re gonna do about it, Summers?” You grin, rolling your head to the side as he gets closer. He shrugs and sits on the edge of your desk. Grabbing his thigh, you roll your chair over to him and hang your arms over his legs. “Because it seems like you’re jealous I’m the favorite teacher.” 

“Jealous?” He echos, staring down at you. “Far from it; I’m glad you’re bonding with the children. We know how your temper is.” Frowning, you shove his stomach and lean back in your seat. He tilts his head as though you’ve proved his point and you chuckle, rolling your eyes. 

“Why’d you come anyway? You never visit lil ole me during lunch.” Grabbing your food, he steals a piece and you’re just glad it wasn’t the piece you were eyeing. 

“I do visit,” He rebuts. “I visited you last week. But I wanted to see if you wanted to come with me this Saturday? The Professor wants me to check out a potential mutant fight ring,”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think. “Another mission turned date, I can get down with that. Where is it?” 

“Chicago. Close to the border.” 

“Groovy, I’m in.”  Patting his thigh, you push yourself back to your desk and grab your lesson plan for next week. “Do you think the Professor would be upset if I turned the walls of the classroom into chocolate? For science, of course.”

“Yes, he would. Especially since they’re currently being rebuilt.”

“Aw, man. That was my whole lesson for Monday.” 

“Why don’t you do normal chemistry lessons? Like toothpaste volcanoes or colored fire?” He grabs another piece of your lunch and some of your juice. 

“Firstly; it’s called elephant toothpaste. Secondly, it’s hard keeping them focused in class. Half of the kids already make colored fire!” Taking the juice from him when he’s done, you take a sip. “I mean, I could do normal lessons. But it would bore everyone.”

“How about boring lessons all week but on Friday you do fun stuff like chocolate paperwork or something.” The suggestion is obvious but you take it down all the same, writing that in the corner of a paper to look at when you get back from the mission. 

“Oh, and since classes are canceled because of the incident, we could leave for Chicago now. If you’d like.” 

“Oh man, would I? Let’s go, Summers!” Slapping his shoulder, you run out of the room and head up to pack your bags. 

—

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask while Scott flies the jet. It’s impossibly quiet inside, the unattended chairs and lack of chatter were almost foreign with missions. You’d been walking around, messing with straps, and threatening to turn a chair into water. It didn’t take a genius for Scott to tell you were talking about Logan’s seat. 

“You always are,” He hums and you grin, messing up his hair. He grabs your hand after a second and kisses the back of it before you move to take a seat next to him again. 

Sighing, you kick your feet up on the control panel, careful to not actually press any buttons. “I don’t know your eye color,” You admit, staring at him. Even though you’ve been dating for nearly three years, you’ve yet to see his eyes behind those red frames. You also haven’t seen any childhood photos of him. 

“They’re blue,” He answers with a smile. “I have blue eyes, Alex said they’re blue like the sky. I think they’re blue like Florida oceans.” 

“Blue,” You softly echo, staring at him. “I always thought they were brown.” He laughs and shakes his head. It makes sense, you think. Because of course, he’d have blue eyes, how could you picture him any different? 

“What about yours?” He asks. “It’s hard to tell colors,” You tell him, describing your eyes in the way that you view them. Correlating beautiful things to the shade. “That makes sense. I thought they were gold because of your mutation and that’s what Ororo had told me.”

“Oh, I wish!” You shout. “I’d be so cool, you couldn’t stay away from me if they were.” 

“I can’t stay away from you now,” You chuckle nervously, looking away from him and he just smiles. That asshole just smiles. “I love you, I hope you know that.” He continued just to see your reaction. 

“Yippee,” You respond and immediately cover your face. “Summers, take those glasses off and kill me.” It’s a near beg as you scream into your hands. You, a grown adult, had just uttered the word yippee following a declaration of love from your boyfriend. Oh, how prepubescent. How… emotionally stunted. Oh my god, you’re no better than the other X-men. 

This, this is your trauma. This is what you’ll look back upon and shiver, pushing it deep down in your memories as if it was bad food at a family gathering and the trash was nearly full. 

“I meant,” You shudder. “I love you, too, Summers.”

“Wanna try with my first name?” He asks and you groan. He blinks over at you, his eyebrows clearly raised at your antics. 

“Give them an inch and they’ll ask for a mile!” You joke. “I love you, Scott.” You finally say, looking back at him. He bites his lip as he smiles and you lick yours, nearly forgetting that he’s flying a jet and should not be distracted. Looking away, you see Chicago in the distance and remind yourself that the mission comes first. 

Go, X-Men, Go!

[xxsabitoxx]

Where They Are Sensitive 18+

Warning: contains smut (obvi), talks of thigh grinding, cunnilingus, hickeys, nipple sucking (lmao)

A/N: @muzanswaifu got my brain working overtime after the Giyu Drabble she wrote. So here are my personal takes on the Hashira and where they are most sensitive

Tomioka Giyu: his thighs, his neck, his lower back

When it comes to Giyu’s thighs, he didn’t realize how sensitive they were until you sat on his lap

Mid-make out session, literally only the second time y’all had ever done something like this, you climb onto his lap and suddenly that man is a goner

Your weight on his thighs as reduced Giyu to a whining mess, his hands roaming your body with more fervor, his kisses turning rougher, the whole nine yards.

If you grind on his thigh? He’s making just as much noise as you are. The steady rhythm of your cunt gliding back and forth on his tensed thigh has his eyes rolling back.

Giyu’s neck is ticklish, which in turn makes it very sensitive. You discovered this during the same Make out session towards the beginning of your relationship

Your lips on Giyu’s neck is his absolute kryptonite. That man is putty in your hands the second your tongue glides along the column of his neck.

Giyu’s lower back is a place he never knew was sensitive until he met you. Thanks to your hands, he realized.

You were giving him a back massage because he had gotten hurt on a mission. As your hands crept lower, the heat on his face rose. So did the noises he made.

Now, even the slightest of touches along the small of his back has him tensing, your giggles only making it worse.

Kocho Shinobu: her hips, her stomach

The moment your hands rest on her hips, she’s clenching her jaw in hopes of not making any noises

They are just a tad ticklish, when your hands massage the flesh it doesn’t help her case

She enjoys the feeling of course, especially when you’re going down on her. Nothing makes her feel as helpless / at your mercy than your hands on her hips, holding her still.

Hold her hips while you kiss her, she’ll melt into your touch, holding you tighter in fear of you letting go.

Shinobu’s stomach is ticklish, even the slightest of touches will have laughter spilling out of her

You found this out unintentionally, your lips gliding from her neck to her chest, down to her stomach with the intentions of going lower

All it took was a couple of pecks and she was laughing softly, nearly breathless. Which surprised you a lot considering the mood of the situation.

You use it against her a few minutes later, face buried between her legs while your hands trial across the plain of her stomach.

This earns you a mixture of noises, breathless laughs and moans. Tears glimmering in her eyes from the intensity of the sensations you’re bringing her

Rengoku Kyojuro: his chest/nipples, his jaw, his earlobes

The feeling of your hands resting on his chest is enough to send Kyojuro spiraling. Now take things further and lick or suck on his chest? It’s a miracle if he doesn’t cum.

He didn’t know how sensitive his chest was until you began leaving hickeys on it. The gentle sucking sensation sending shrills of arousal straight through him.

When you licked his nipple for the first time, his face turned the deepest shade of red you had ever seen. A nearly guttural moan tumbling from his lips as you suck.

Kyojuro’s jaw was another surprising revelation. Your teeth gently scraping the skin, goosebumps trailing through his body as you moved towards his ear.

You know that space, right where your jaw ends, that little space between the bone and your earlobe? Nip at that, suck on it, it does something to him (this one is super specific so I hope it makes sense lol)

Sucking along his jaw will have him melting under your touch, soft moans escaping him while his hands hold your hips as tightly as possible

Biting his ear lobe was just to tease him, but the gentle, almost ticklish pressure, sent Kyojuro into a fit of breathless giggles and moans

He’s embarrassed about this, because you know it’s an easy target. If he gives you a hug, you’re going to bite his earlobe. If you cuddle at night? You’re going to nibble his earlobe. It’s become a game at this point

Combine all three of these sensitive areas and you’ll have him whimpering for you.

Uzui Tengen: his thighs, the back of his neck, his chest

When it comes to his thighs, it’s more about gentle touches. Truth be told, Tengen is sensitive all over but only when the touches are gentle.

Being gentle with Tengen will melt his heart, turn his brain to mush, he’ll be putty in your hands, whining softly.

Sitting on his lap, running your fingers along his thighs, you’ll notice him turning red, that confidence he always has it melting away and he’s getting shy.

You discovered the back of his neck was sensitive when you were doing his hair one morning.

The feeling of your fingers threading through his hair, just barely scrapping the back of his neck. The moan that slipped past his lips was enough to silence all of you.

Naturally that means you have to tease him, kissing the back of his neck and biting it until he couldn’t help but gasp out a “stop”. Not because he wanted to go stop, rather, he was embarrassed

When it comes to Tengen’s chest, it’s no surprise that he’s very reactive to your hands on him

Especially if you’re straddling his waist, dainty hands trailing along his pecks and smiling as a blush creeps down his neck

Luckily, he has you, makio, suma and hinatsuru. You can easily stimulate all of his “weak points” at once

Kanroji Mitsuri: her hips, her breasts, her inner thighs

Now I know what you’re thinking, some of her most sensitive areas are usually exposed when she’s wearing her uniform. Lemme explain.

When it comes to Mitsuri’s hips, she’s very particular about what makes them sensitive. Gently putting your hand on her hip won’t really earn a reaction.

However, squeezing her hips, massaging them, holding them tight while you kiss her or do other things? She’s whining and melting into your every movement.

For Mitsuri’s breasts, it’s the same kind of idea. I mean she doesn’t wear any wraps or bras, just puts on her uniform and prays. Despite the sensitive skin being exposed, her uniform top is tight enough that they don’t move.

Now, when you touch them, lick them, suck on them, she’s a whining, squealing mess.

She’s almost embarrassed of how sensitive they are, her face warm and eye lids heavy while she watches you lavish them in bites and kisses

The only part of her thighs that are super sensitive are her inner thighs. Even the lightest of touches will have her instinctively trying to close them

Leaving hickeys on her inner thighs will drive her insane, the process and the result are almost too much for her to look at never mind endure

She’s also very ticklish, so don’t be shocked if touching her anywhere has her turning a shade of pink

Iguro Obanai: his chest, his dick, his neck

Obanai is a man of …modesty… for lack of better words.

He’s not used to being touched never mind being touched in particular places with further intent. So it’s not all that shocking that something like your hands on his chest has noises coming out of him that he’s never made.

Your hands on his chest will have his brain doing cartwheels. He’s not use to such an intimate touch and the moment your fingers ghost his nips he’s losing it

Now I know what you’re thinking “May, his dick?” Yes, his dick. Hear me out, please.

Obanai isn’t one to masturbate, he’s not one to really to think about pleasuring himself. So the first time you touch him, he’s gasping for air, praying he doesn’t instantly cum.

He gains a tolerance of course, but those first few times he’s absolutely at your mercy. Making noises he can’t stand because he finds them embarrassing

Now, his neck being sensitive came as a shock because Kaburamaru usually sits there.

The thing is, he’s grown a tolerance for Kaburamaru. But your tongue feels a lot different than a snake slithering around his neck and shoulders

The thing with Obanai is the fact that he’ll grow a tolerance for all of his more sensitive areas. But that doesn’t mean he won’t get the chills and melt into you when you touch him.

Shinazugawa Sanemi: his abdomen, his tip, his thighs

Lord, it’s me again. He’s so confident in the fact that he isn’t sensitive nor is he ticklish and there is nothing you can do to convince him otherwise…

Until your hands are on his hips, kissing your way down to groin and suddenly he can’t stop the blush covering his face. Not only that but he can’t stop the noises.

Your teeth scraping along his abdomen, tongue sliding along his v-line, he’s closing his eyes so you can’t see the fact that they are rolling backward.

It also doesn't help that the sight of you licking and sucking along his abdomen and hip bone looks so utterly lewd

When it comes to the tip of his cock, there is no controlling the noises he makes. The moment your lips wrap around him, he’s an absolute goner for you.

You don’t even have to worry about the rest of his dick, you could sit there and lavish the head and he’d be content, probably spilling into your mouth or on your face within seconds

When it comes to his thighs, Sanemi can’t contain his noises as your nails scrap across the plains of his skin.

If you ever want to work him up in public, just rest your hand on his inner thigh and go no futher.

Combine these three things together and you just may bring Sanemi to his knees. I'm serious. He'll go weak in the knees.

Himejima Gyomei: his neck, his shoulders, his hips

This man is covered in muscle so you’d think it would be pretty hard to find some weak points on him

However, despite his height and build, I can assure you that Gyomei is a simple man with simple desires

Your lips on his neck make him, of all people, feel small. At your mercy even, willing to do whatever you desire.

He finds it a bit scandalous if you leave marks on him, but he secretly enjoys it. He also likes that you tell him you’ve left a mark behind because he can’t see it lol

Massaging his shoulders will earn you many pretty noises

Honestly, this man will start to purr if you massage body just right. But his shoulders will really get him going.

His hips are something sacred to be fully honest, he’ll turn a shade of red when he feels you touch him there

Your small hands on his waist, sinking to his hips, is almost amusing to him. But that doesn’t stop the shrill of arousal that shoots down his spine when your grip tightens

A special bonus is just sitting on his lap while kissing his neck or massaging his shoulders. The added pressure drives him a bit wild.

[turbulentscrawl]

Steamy Rescues

Sorry, I'm just thinking about hot men saving my life today. Let me drool in peace

Warnings: suggestive stuff, delicious men

Naib

Your time in the chair was nearly up when Naib suddenly slammed into it at full speed. One second you were struggling against your restraints, cursing and consumed with desperate thoughts of freedom, and the next his hands were next to your head. Initially you fell silent because you were startled, but that quickly melted into a perverted sort of awe as you looked over the mercenary.

He was looming over you, muscles tense, toiled taut like a spring. His tight shirt was torn open like he’d been caught by the collar and wrenched himself free, leaving a teasing view of his sweaty, scarred, heaving chest. Some of his hair had slipped free of his hair band and clung to his damp face and neck. He was out of breath too, each exhale fanning down on you, panting less like a rescuer and more like a predator who’s cornered his prey. There was a certain musk wafting off of him…it was a bit maddening.

“I know, I know,” Naib said quickly. “You can tell me I look like shit later. We’ve got to GO.” He grabbed the bar pinning your torso to the chair and, with a flex of his biceps and feral grunt, ripped it off you.

“I’ll tell you something alright,” you gasp quietly, briefly wondering if your nose was bleeding.

Naib seemed to pay no mind to your mutterings. The last cipher popped, and the siren blaring in the distance gave you both a rush of adrenaline that overrode any lingering pain. Taking that que, Naib grabbed your wrist and all but dragged you sprinting to the gate.

When you were home free, though, he held your gaze daringly and asked, “So what did you want to tell me?”

Andrew

You had heard the disturbance of dirt nearby, but were too preoccupied with struggling to notice the source. The next second, Andrew’s dirty blonde hair (literally) popped out of the ground between your legs. He was already cursing under his breath, and shaking, just a bit. You vaguely remember hearing about Andrew being claustrophobic…. But those thoughts are washed away when he roughly grabs your thighs for support and you realize the exact position you’re in.

He had emerged a little too close to the chair and was having trouble getting out without sliding his body up against yours. The chair wobbled forward a little, hanging you over him, as one of the feet dangled into the hole he’d left in the dirt. He grabbed your caged forearms next, managing to haul himself out enough to be level with your chest.

“Can’t you help me?” he hissed, face flush with embarrassment at his predicament.

“I’m a little preoccupied,” you snap back, thankfully still having sense enough for it. Andrew clicks his tongue, hangs his head in what’s probably supposed to be shame…but his mop of hair hides his face and most of your lap from view, bringing even mor lewd thoughts to mind. “Y-you know, I’m kind of on a time crunch here!”

“Shut up, I know!” Andrew shouts. As soon as it’s out he clenches his teeth and looks over his shoulder for the Hunter, and without bothering to climb out of his hole starts fumbling with your restraints. When you pop free, the angle and weight of him clinging to you throws you both to the ground, your chest right on his face.

He screeched like a schoolgirl, but his tomato-red face was endearing enough to override most of the fear you felt for the remainder of the match.

Luchino

Though no one called him such, Luchino was a healer in his own right.

His skilled hands had patched you up twice already this match, and though the pain from Michiko’s cuts lingered, you could hardly complain when you thought about how Luchino had loomed over you. He was a polite man, but no-nonsense. Whenever you appeared at his cipher, alone and bleeding, he shoved you to your knees beneath him and got right to work. You couldn’t say if it was the adrenalin, but you were acutely aware of the heat radiating off his body the whole time. Of the gentle ghosting of his claws on your back, making you shiver. When he tied the bandages tight—too tight, almost, but he said that’s how they’re supposed to be—he grunted and huffed in your ear.

“All done,” he said, smirking. “Take these, too.” Luchino straightened up, but instead of returning to his cipher he applied some of that mystery serum to his forearm—his sleeves rolled up deliciously—and peeled away a hard patch of scales. You were too entranced by the oil-slick glisten it left on his skin to question why he was handing them to you.

Before you could stand, a butterfly alighted on your shoulder. Luchino reacted incredibly quickly; you blinked and he was hunched over you again, arms caging you fully to his chest. A sound like cracking glass met your ears the same time as his displeased hiss. Before you could ask, he grabbed you by the waist and threw you into a forward sprint, ordering “Go!”

[pedgito]

hi! would u ever be comfortable writing about eddie's uncut cock? if not, it's totally fine. hope ur having a great day! <3

author’s note: funny you ask, because yes, absolutely. and look, i know people have varying opinions but let me be a whore in peace with my own nsfw headcanons, i don’t care what others think about eddie’s dick because this is just what sits in my brain. this was meant to be a small blurb so ignore the lack of form that i usually keep.

cw: 18+ (minors dni) obviously lots of dick talk what else do you expect, talks of self-exploration/masturbation, eddie dealing with some body issues pertaining to the topic in the ask, handjobs, oral (m receiving), i don’t apologize for any of this.

word count: 1.4k

eddie doesn't realize how uncommon it is until the reactions become the same and frequent, eventually forcing eddie to hate any kind of sexual interaction outside of himself for a while—he knows it's not a big deal, but the judgey looks and offhanded comments about how weird it was didn't make him impenetrable. it was always there in the back of his mind.

but eddie has always been about self-exploration, maybe to an unhealthy degree as he got older, interacted with girls less, buried himself into hellfire club and his side business of dealing—he usually kept interaction to a minimum, which wasn't hard when most of the school despised him.

and he can't imagine how anything could be better, his dick laying heavy against his belly as his fingers dragged up under his balls, touching delicately, almost teasing in a way before he gripped himself forcefully, tugging down until the head peeks past the skin in all of it's glistening glory, precum smeared over the slit as he slides back up, squeezing the head between his thumb and forefinger under the foreskin.

he thought being this sensitive was normal, but he was proven wrong time and time again. he's learned over time and through a lot of experience how to hold himself back, squeeze himself at the base to keep himself from coming too early or letting go completely, occasionally trying the tactic of squeezing the head until the feeling fades, it works wonders, but still, it doesn’t prepare him for the real thing—he's embarrassed when he's coming in the hands of some beautiful girl he sat next to in english class at the beginning of his first senior year, only some unrhythmic strokes of her hand and her thumb rubbing over the head of his cock before he's there, spilling over her hand without warning.

and when he’s really eager and seeking the relief, he's quick, knowing just the ways to touch himself, how sensitive the head of his cock can get under the skin and he's there before he can even process, groaning through clenched teeth.

he meets you somewhere between the beginning of his hopefully last year of school and the few weeks before then end of '85—he doesn't understand how you came into his life, telling himself how he surely manifested you, that there's no possible way you were real.

regardless, eddie's is riddled with nerves the first time you touch him, making some off-handed comment about how not pretty his dick is, hoping it isn't a total deal breaker.

you can't help but look at him, eyes wide but your gaze scewed, confused on why any of that would matter. you can't remember the last time you've found that to be a dealbreaker.

when you finally get his pants down, sneaking your fingers into the waistband of his boxers until his dick springs free, you realize just how dramatic eddie was being about the whole thing, having been fed some idea that uncut dicks weren't as acceptable as the contrary and it's a shame, because if it isn't the prettiest dick you've ever seen, arguing his earlier statement with a quick quip that has eddie laughing through his nervous blush.

"eddie—i don't say this to too many guys, none actually," you glance up at him briefly before trailing your fingers along the hard ridge of his abdomen, barely grazing him, "your dick is very pretty."

"careful," eddie warns with a grin, teeth peeking through slightly, "you'll give me an ego."

eddie watches you wearily, your eyes taking in the full sight of him as your fingers wrap around the shaft, the soft velvety texture of his skin pressing against your palm and fingertips.

his thick, not so much that it's intimidating but he fills out your hand in the best way and somewhere between seven and eight inches, the head of his cock a deep pink that slightly contrast the softer shade of his skin and you're pulling the skin back to rub your thumb over the tip, earning a hiss from eddie in response.

"sensitive?" you ask teasingly, smiling at eddie's reaction before you repeat your previous movements, circling his head with a torturous pressure that has eddie gripping the pillowcase above his head, chin tilting down slightly against his chest to look at you, his eyes squeezing shut momentarily as the feeling becomes too much.

"okay, okay," he rushes out, "maybe ease up on that unless you want—want this to be over in the next five seconds."

he's right, so you relent, continuing the slow drag of your hand as you gauge his reactions, the easy glide that the skin creates until you're leaning forward to lick a stripe along the underside of his dick, tracing along the faint vein that ran there before you’re practically drooling over him, the mix of your spit and his own precome making it more overwhelming before you're closing your mouth over him completely, keeping the same pace of your hand as your mouth hollows out around the tip.

eddie feels like he might die, but he's fully accepting it.

"oh fuck—shit, that's so much better than—" eddie rambles mindlessly, "never—never had anyone suck my dick before."

which is a shame, because it's easily becoming your favorite thing.

"can't see how," you reply as your bottom lip drags along the ridge of his blushed tip, “but i guess that makes me lucky.”

“just—girls always looked at me strange, said it was weird,” eddie comments, “like i have any control over that, guess my parents have always been destined to fuck me over, even from birth.”

you laugh along with him, his rambling thoughts slipping past his lips and filling the quiet lull of the air.

you were so thankful eddie wasn’t the type to stay quiet, because while his sounds were torture, the way his voice cracked with every few words was even better. you let him talk as much as he pleased until he physically couldn’t, his fingers slipping over the top of your head and into your hair, squeezing lightly as your shifted your hand up, skin slipping back over the head as you pressed your tongue over the small glimpse of his slit that was still visible, moaning softly as he tugged a little harsher, mumbling something under his breath you couldn’t make out.

“can’t wait to have you inside me,” you confess, his eyes lighting up as they connected with yours, “don’t ever want you thinking anything negative about yourself again, either—it’s not true.”

eddie nods slightly, “fuck—can’t say stuff like that with my dick in your mouth, sweetheart.”

you prod further, breath ghosting over his dick as you spoke, “why?”

eddie groans quietly, speaking through gritted teeth, “really need you to stop unless you’re okay with me coming in your mouth—i’d hate—hate to do that without asking.”

your teeth drag along your bottom lip, biting at the skin briefly.

“is that you asking?” you giggle softly, stopping briefly with skin pulled back to take him into your fully and fast, earning a choked gasp from eddie.

eddie nods again, more needy, “uh huh—yes, yes—god, please—“ and it’s only a few seconds later that he’s spilling into your mouth, his own hand wrapping around his shaft to pump it quickly, swatting your own hand away, salty slick pooling over your tongue in spurts, the warm liquid wouldn’t be as enticing if it wasn’t for it being from eddie—and you wouldn’t dare let a man come in your mouth like this, but eddie had earned that right.

you pull back slowly, swallowing for show as eddie squeezed at his dick, thumb rubbing over the head tenderly as his body jerked slightly with aftershocks.

“i’ve never—“ eddie sighs heavily, catching his breath, “never came that hard, holy fuck. i’ve always been sensitive but jesus—“

“i guess that’s quite the perk then,” you tease, crawling back up the slowly until your clothes cunt is pressed over his slowly soften dick, “amongst others.”

“you sure it doesn’t gross you out?” eddie asks curiously, having been programmed to always think it does, needing to hear the words for reassurance.

you grind the soft fabric cover your hips over his cock, feeling the subtle pressure it applies and watching eddie wince from the overstimulation, chucking weakly.

“positive.” you smile, leaning forward to press a sweet kiss against his lips, quickly turned dirty from eddie’s obvious impatience, his tongue slipping into your mouth to taste a mix of you and himself, the tanginess strange but welcoming as you moaned into his mouth openly.

“about being inside you—“ eddie starts, speaking softly against your lips, “can i take you up on that?”

“i thought you’d never ask.”

and it’s safe to say that eddie never doubts himself again, learning just how beautiful every piece of him is.

[gladiatorcunt]

i’m thinking about modern!coryo again… ‘n the way he’d just love humiliating you. when you’ve been particularly bratty (let’s be real, any time you tell him no he thinks you’re being defiant… no matter the circumstances), he loves to shove your face into the mattress so your ass is facing him, and grip your hips, teasing his cock against your entrance until you’re whining and begging for him to fuck you. but he doesn’t! he just lets his cock slap against your clit and tease your slick hole until you’re soaking your panties. his favourite thing though, is filming you take his cock, because even though he’d never let anybody see the videos (besides maybe his friends), he gets off on the way you’re whining for him to put the phone away as he fills you up, pearly cum sliding down your soft thighs. but he won’t, because he just loves the way you’re absolutely humiliated at the thought of somebody seeing how much of a whore you are for him

CW: anal, sejanus mention (throuple au tease), typical coryo type warnings, yandere/possessive & obsessive behavior, gn reader but there is feminization (reader calls themselves a "good girl", coryo calls your pussy "sweet girl" & assigns it she/her pronouns), blood (coryo has a fantasy of you tearing), accidental slight pet play/dumbification, my modern coryo's typical inability to understand/care about poor(er) people, the ending is inspired by ghostface's finishing move in dbd, implied plus sized reader (who's afab) he loves you really.

So true, you could do something as small as say “i want to be alone in the bathroom for 5 minutes” and he’d lose his shit. Something about that arrogant rich boy behavior turned up to 100 because he’s inherently a psycho….. like he loves you deeply but wdym his prized possession has a mind of their own (if you just decided to do everything he wants, he’d support you making your own decisions). His whole vibe was being untouchable and unavailable but now it’s coming apart. Like do you know how much he planned to hoe around when his family inevitably made him get married??? But now you’ve fucked it all up and made him feel like he’s constantly writhing around in every circle of hell fr.

So yeah, he can’t take it if he feels like you aren’t “putting in as much effort” as he is. And i don’t mean that he’d be pissed if you’re not cooking or cleaning, i mean that he’d be peeved if you weren’t matching his energy (batshit balls to wall insane). He’ll do a little cute open palm wave like “Hi, baby 🥰” when you look at him over your shoulder with tears in your eyes. King of false sympathy with all the cooing and mocking your facial expression (which you wouldn’t even have to make if you were behaving). His weird ass is completely naked even though he made you keep your clothes on, and he tore a hole in your leggings with his teeth for easy access.

He’ll put his dick in between your ass cheeks and fuck you like that until the sheets are soaked because you got so desperate (you nearly pissed yourself). He’ll press the head against your asshole and see how deep he can get before you realize that he’s using the wrong whole. Sometimes he wishes that he’d tug his cock from your hole to find the whole thing covered in blood. If you catch on him, he’ll just say that it was an accident. But to be real, you knew immediately. It just gets you hot watching him go on his little power trips. The pleasure of letting your rabid dog off of his leash but he thinks it’s his idea does something to you that you’re currently ignoring.

The iPhone camera you can see from the standing mirror by your bed doesn’t exactly catch you off guard. Coryo’s got a fair few videos of you getting backshots in his family’s limo and even more of him devouring your pussy anytime and anywhere he pleases. Your stomach rolls with shame but your pussy clenches in arousal. A big part of being able to handle being his s/o means having the ability to straddle the line between calling his bluff and baring your neck in submission. So you just whine pleadingly and let your head fall forward onto the pillow.

You'd never admit that there are times where you'd be perfectly happy if your ass was all he fucked; that on mornings when the sunlight beams down on you as Coryo pushes the velvet curtains from the large penthouse windows and all you can see out of the eye that's not smothered in the pillow is your boyfriend in a pair of gray sweatpants, you feel feral with the need to swallow his cock all the way to the base and lie there forever.

A "love tap" to your clit brings you out of your thirsting. When all you do is gasp, you receive a firmer strike.

"Don't tell me you're already out of it? Did I make my smart baby all stupid already?"

"Hngh~ Uh huh, don't stop..." You beg, the carefully maintained image of the prim and proper perfect student crumbling under his touch.

Your need to be praised and to have male approval can really be a curse sometimes, because outside of the bedroom you don't let yourself be as willing of a kept pet as Coryo wants. But as soon as you're alone, you gratefully sink into the safe space he creates for you where you can just... let go and have someone else think for you for a change.

It feels like bolts of electricity go through you when two of his fingers start to trace letters on your pussy lips. It makes you think of his family crest branded on the gates of their mansions.

C-O-R-I-O-L-A-N-U-S S-N-O-W, pinching your clit after every letter. (training)

"That's okay, I like you dumb anyway. Can't use that big brain to think about anything else but me when I get this dick in you." He says and wags it in his hands at you like it's a treat.

The bed creaks as he sits back on his heels, and like a good girl you parts your legs as far as they can go.

Welcome Home.

The heavy weight of his palms clutching your hips calms any lingering anxiety, his nails bite into your flesh but you know he'll be licking and nuzzling the marks soothingly later. He's told you how beautiful you are in the beginning, that he relishes in the way you give up all tension to him with a sigh; that one of his favorite versions of you is the you that shuts down. Has him feeling like the "family man" he always vowed to never turn into.

"Now, you know the drill, take a deep breath..." He pants, somehow already pussy drunk, "It's going to be a tight fit, dove."

His grip tightens as he feeds his tip to your clenching hole, you soak in the mutters of 'aw, I missed you too, sweet girl.' You know he wasn't talking to you.

Your breath hitches when you start taking him past the tip, and like always, Coryo wraps a hand around the nape of your neck and massages it to distract you from the inevitable sting of pain. It'll always be there no matter how much of a mess he's made of your cunt.

"That's my dumb bunny, biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiig stretch." He grunts, dragging his words out when the thickest part of his cock comes to greet you.

You moan when he takes his other hand off of your hip to reach it around and rub your twitching clit. More juices drip from your hole, making the remaining inches slide in a lot easier.

You hear shuffling and the bed creaks as Coryo leans over to grab something off the nightstand. He quickly finds what he's looking for and settles back into position behind you. He gropes one of your ass cheeks and gives it a couple long squeezes before he jiggles it, letting out a low whistle when he does it again.

You mewl impatiently, clenching your pussy around his long cock. He doesn't give you what you want, however, until almost a minute later. He jostles his hips against your ass, showing off for the camera that's focused down on where the two of you are connected.

Coryo's head shoots up when he hears you sniffle, and even though he could tease about how much of a needy whore you are, you're HIS needy whore so he only smiles.

"Alright, alright. 'M sorry, petal, I know your pussy's gagging for this dick. I'll give her what she wants, don't you worry."

Your mouth falls open on a silent moan as he leisurely drags his length out of you until the tip catches on your entrance; being forced to be broken down and rebuilt around it until you both turn to ash. He has never wanted anything more than he wants you to somehow grow to only survive of his own body. His blood would be your water, his very dna would be your floss, his bone marrow would soothe your raw throat, his organs would be your snacks, his bones would be your jewelry, his teeth would be your little trinkets, and his surrounding flesh would be your every meal until you could eat no more.

You have no idea how much of your boyfriend's time has been spent making sure he tastes delectable, in every way.

Like those people from Pompei who are forever immortalized in the arms of their lover, chained to the passage of time but the eyes that dust them off are the only things about them that change.

You made him watch Titanic once, saying that your MasterChef binge could be paused for a night. He huffed but complied, and gun to his head, he wiped his tears on the arm of the couch before you could notice that he was crying. Rose could've done a little more to help Jack in his opinion (they both could have fit on the wood), he'd have never just let you go like that. But there was something in the way all they really had in the world was each other, in how calm the old couple was as the water creeped into their room; because they were together, and to Coryo, death after a very very long and happy life is an experience that's meant to be shared (no matter the circumstances).

His body has been moving on autopilot during his usual mid-sex spiral monologue. There's ringing in his ears as he tunes back into your hiccup-y whines and high-pitched moans (he loved when you stopped being so fucking shy). His thrusts had gradually sped up until they were at the speed they were now, your bodies now making wet smacking sounds as his dick pulverizes your pussy. He had been so lost in thought that he nearly dropped his phone, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that it was still recording.

He removes his death grip on your ass cheek to slap your swaying tits one after the other. He can never resist showing love to the chub of your tummy either, so he hits that too.

"Yeah, you like that, bunny?" He sneers, tonguing your ear and gnawing at the lobe as the excess saliva trickles down the valley of your breasts.

It's a rhetorical question, of course you do.

But you answer, using your words like he often "urges" you to.

"Like it so much, Coryo.... fuck!"

His thrusts become even faster, and he gathers as much of your hair in his hand as possible. Your moans cut off into a gasp as he wrenches your head up off the pillow by your hair, bringing the phone around to put your tear-stained face into frame.

You're helpless to do anything but take every inch he slams inside your puffy cunt, which will no doubt be sore and red by the time Coryo's done with his latest fit. He bends down to whisper in your ear about braindead you look, sobbing with your eyes glazed over and your mouth gaping.

"Shh, that's it, keep going baby. It's all about you, these'll just be fun memories so I can have little parts of you forever, so you could never really leave me."

You never look away from the camera though, and he's suddenly overcome with so much gratitude that he uses his grip on your hair to bring you into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss; your tongues making it so wet you'd think he'd been eating your pussy nonstop with how soaked the lower half of his face gets.

He doesn't let you pull away, the impulsive french kissing only ends so he can lean his head against yours and get into the shot with you. He's smiling so warmly like you're taking a selfie on one of your numerous vacations, but his hips never stop their rough assault on your already thoroughly debauched pussy. Coryo tightens his hold on your hair and pecks your round cheek when you whimper due to the sting.

"Smile, petal."

The videos are kept in a locked folder on his phone titled “💍💒", and while he threatens to show his friends (in actuality he’d only show sejanus in some version of this au where he’s trying to force him into a throuple), he’ll apologize with his tongue swirling around your sensitive nipples once he feels like you’ve learned your lesson. If you’re really upset, he’ll offer to make up to you on his father’s yacht in Greece. (he has your bags packed already)

faetreides 2024. request rules. please consider tipping/reblogging if you enjoyed!

[bucketsofmonsters]

I was wondering, in Proper Etiquette (my favourite of your writings) Reader is wearing dresses and corsets all the time (which is Wonderful and corsets are Not Evil Actually they're literally a bra that supports the weight of heavy layers of skirts BUT I DIGRESS) but how would Rygel react to his wife, feeling a little cold as fall comes along, asks to have a sweater like he's wearing and some warm pants or a wool skirt and petticoat to wear with the sweater, rather than her usual fine clothes that clearly aren't built for the weather in her new home

You’re so real for the corset thing, I will defend corsets until the day I die. Also sorry this took me forever

Rygel ran hot. You were well aware of that fact by now. Every time you pressed up against him he radiated heat, more than any person you’d ever been near, although to be fair you didn’t have much of a frame of reference. 

What had taken a bit longer was realizing they all did. 

When you’d first arrived it had been summer, a little colder than the summers you were accustomed to, but nothing too severe. 

But then winter had come, and with it, something unfamiliar to you. With it came the snow. 

It was a perfect coincidence for them because while they seemed largely comfortable in the cold of your new home, you were not. You were instead accustomed to a little rain in the winter, maybe some cold winds, but nothing an extra layer or two couldn’t combat. 

This was far from that. At first, the snow had been delightful. You’d only ever heard stories and caught glimpses of it on the peaks of faraway mountains, but here it was all around you. 

As the novelty faded, it became a bit more of a problem. 

You tried what you’d always done, adding layers and bundling up, but you just didn’t have enough. Nothing you had was built for this kind of cold and it wasn’t like you could borrow clothes from someone, you’d drown in the sheer amount of fabric.

So instead you stood, bundled under layers that were helpless against the biting cold. You’d barely been outside for a few minutes before you’d rushed back into the warmth of your room but the cold had settled in your bones and couldn’t be snuffed out so easily. 

Your jaw was clenched to stop your teeth from chattering, your whole body wound tight, trying to preserve what little heat you had. 

“I’m not built for this,” you said with a huff as you collapsed backward onto your bed, wrapping yourself in blankets. 

Rygel huffed out a laugh from his desk, his attention still focused on whatever he was reading. “Not built for what?”

“Winter. Not here at least. I think I might go into hibernation.”

He froze, eyes widening before he turned to you. “Oh my god, you’re cold. Of course you are, I should’ve prepared for this.”

You cut him off. “No, I’m fine, really. I’ve been keeping inside as much as I can, the layers have been helping, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He did not seem convinced. “We don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you. Hell, we don’t have warm enough clothes anyway. Shit. You should’ve told me.” His words were dripping with concern as the full implications of his mistake hit him. 

“Rygel,” you said, trying to cut through the worry and reassure him. “I’m fine, really, it’s not a big deal. I can stay inside for a season, god knows there’s more than enough fires and blankets in this place to keep me warm.”

“I should have realized. I forget how fragile your kind are, I should have seen this coming, gotten you some real clothes. As much as I love those dresses, we have to get you in some furs. ”

 “We are not fragile, you are just all far too sturdy. And besides, I like my dresses.”

“Mmhmm,” he hummed dismissively with a smile. “Sure we are. I really should have been more careful with you though. Your safety is more important than anything. I will keep you warm if it’s the last thing I do, even if we do have to cover up those pretty little dresses. Now, how will I ever manage to keep you warm until we can get you some better-suited clothes?”

You climbed onto his lap, ducking underneath his shirt, and pressed up close to him, absorbing his heat as you felt a chuckle run through his chest. “Maybe I shouldn’t get you warm clothes,” he said as a steady arm wrapped around you. “I think I prefer this.”

You hummed in agreement. “Plus it’s very dignified.”

His hand scooped under you, lifting you while keeping you close to him. “Very.”

You happily nuzzled further into his chest and he returned to his work, his arm still firmly wrapped around you. You were sure he’d find something for you, get you warmer clothes and make sure you were safe and warm and happy. His concern more than convinced you of that. 

And when all else failed, at least your husband ran hot.

[iheartyvesss]

boyfriend joel miller hcs

joel miller x younger!reader

i love southern men with my whole heart - a texan w a thing for her own accent ♥︎

this was very rushed bcs im working on a bigger joel and miguel fic right now so i just wanted to put something minor out while i did this

sfw & nsfw hcs! mentions of: breeding, dumbification, age gap (reader is 28, joel’s 34), pussy eating & fingering, that’s all i think?

post outbreak hcs here!

boyfriend!joel who feels his pretty young girlfriend is too good for him. he sees the way your eyes light up at the most miscellaneous of things and simply adores the way you’re the sunshine to his rainy day. he feels that you should have a chance to get settled and be happy, not be with your neighbor that just-so-happens to be an old man in need of a break. his feelings don’t matter, though, because everytime you come back from work you’re immediately at his house, smiling sweetly at him and pressing the softest of kisses to his lips.

boyfriend!joel who can’t take his eyes off of you while you take care of his sarah. the way you cook breakfast for her in his shirt and some shorts and dance around with his little girl while listening to “hey ya!” by outkast. sarah dances while mixing the pancake mix you’d ask her to, and you take care of the eggs and bacon. joel’s heart hasn’t felt this full since sarah was born. it’s on this day that joel realizes he wants to marry you. give you the kids you wistfully speak about while watching sarah fall asleep between the two of you. he wants to give you the family you deserve.

boyfriend!joel who glares at sarah’s soccer coach that keeps ogling you everytime you come to watch his little girl play. he doesn’t care what you wear, the short shorts and replica of sarah’s jersey are the least of his concern. it’s the eyes of the coach, amongst other fathers attending the game, that pisses him off. he knows not to make a scene because sarah would kill him, probably wouldn’t speak to him for days, but he can’t help the way his fist clenches and his teeth grind together. his anger clears when your sweet giggle floats through his ears, and your free hand that you’d been holding a sprite in tangles with his own. “you can’t possibly be jealous, baby.” you’d purred, grinning up at your boyfriend. “i’m goin’ home with you and my little girl after this. don’t worry about who’s lookin’ joel, they can look all they want.”

boyfriend!joel who takes pride in his girlfriend having a better job than him. you’re 28, fresh out of medical school with a doctorate in orthopedics. you work at the hospital down the street from sarah’s school and joel swears he has never been this attracted to scrubs before. he remembers the time you had to bring him lunch because he’d left it, and he can only presume you were on break or didn’t have any patients because you’d arrived in your scrubs with a happy smile on your face. “joel ‘s that your girl?” “mmmhm, that’s my doctor.”

boyfriend!joel who cannot for the life of him keep his hands to himself. it doesn’t matter what you’re doing, joel is going to have this hands on you! when you’re going grocery shopping his hand is settled on you waist, walking in step with you as you browse the aisles. sarah usually trots ahead of you two while talking about soccer or her school day if you’ve gone afterwards. when you’re at home, even if you’re just watching a movie or cooking, he’s kissing the side of your head and asking you the most miscellaneous of questions. you’ve discovered his love language is physical touch. (as if you could miss it)

nsfw headcanons ↓

boyfriend!joel who eats you out like he’s never eaten before. he’s dragging his tongue through your folds while his fingers busy themselves with rubbing your puffy clit. he’s made you cum once already by ordering you to use him, to move your hips as you needed to cum on his face. now he’s ignoring your cries for him to slow down, your soft cry of “‘s too much” only fuels him further, makes him eat your pussy like a madman. joel knows what makes you tick, he knows what spots to hit to make that pretty cunt clench and he does it for you every. single. time.

boyfriend!joel who can’t help but to fuck you dumb. he’s never trying to overwhelm you, to make you go stupid on his cock. no that’s never his intention. but he can’t deny how pretty you look with your eyes glossed over, fingers digging into his back, and your lips parted in nothing but ecstasy. he enjoys the way his smart girl loses all her senses with a little dick. he enjoys knowing his smart girl is just a slut with a degree, and it makes him harder the more he thinks about it.

boyfriend!joel who couldn’t control himself after you mentioned wanting kids. you’re talking with your friends that’d come over for a bit, and the statement comes out soft and sweet. “i want kids, i just don’t know if joel wants to start over.” you’d hummed, smiling softly at your friend’s 6 month old daughter. the evening passed quickly after that, and with sarah gone with her friends, joel has the entire night to make sure you have that baby you want so badly. it isn’t long before you find yourself in full nelson, pussy gushing and tears falling from your eyes. “joel- oh-” you gasp out as your eyes roll and your pussy tightens around your boyfriend’s dick. joel groans from above you, pulling his hips all the way out to snap them back against you. “aht, baby, you gotta take it all. you wanted a baby, i jus’ gotta give it to you. take it pretty mama, take this dick.”

boyfriend!joel who talks you through every orgasm. either the sweetest of phrases leavehis lips or the nastiest. joel likes to watch you fall apart with a satisfied grin on his face. “that’s it, my good girl. mmhm, let go f’me sweet girl. that’s it- jus’ like that baby.” and he’s leaning over to kiss you softly while your body shakes from your orgasm, your eyes are closed to prevent them from rolling and he finds it cute because he can still tell. he knows how good he makes you feel. it’s his pride and joy.

boyfriend!joel who knows how to use his accent. he knows you aren’t originally from texas and that southern accents simply do something to you. you believe it to be the huskiness of his voice mixed with the deep rumble of the sheer power of his voice, it all melts over you like a blanket. joel likes to whisper in your ear, deep and low. “thas’ my pretty slut, hm? takin’ this dick like she’s a professional.” and you’re moaning, clenching the sheets as he presses down on the middle of your back. his voice only becomes clearer with each stroke, and he’s practically splitting you down the middle while whispering in your ear. “come now, darlin’. there’s no way you’re cumming offa listening to me.” he laughs this low and raspy laugh that is so sexy to you. you can only whine in response, glancing over your shoulder with a little pout decorating your puffy lips. “can’t help it, baby.” you whimper out, not a thought going through your mind save for joel joel joel.

back to the website !

[shysuccubusstuff]

calcharo! bodyguard

Content: dubcon, brat taming, rich! female reader, (...) eating, overstimulation.

Note: Since I found out he has a crooked nose I've become so thirsty for him...

You and Calcharo had met a few weeks ago, your parents had forced you to take that big scary man with you, cause "what if you get hurt, baby?" Despite how much you complained about their overprotection, you were still unable to refuse them, in the end, they were worried about you.

So you got ready, his huge frame behind you during the whole time, sending shivers through your body each time your eyes encountered his. Maybe it was because he was a resonator and you weren't, but his whole vibe was much different from any other person you had ever met. He seemed cold, even colder than the icy nights you had to spend, sleeping around in some awful place, not awful enough for you to complain outloud, cause you refused to show that mean man even the slight sign of you being some weak rich girl.

Of course, that was difficult, cause as soon as you were able to find yourself trapped in the worst situations possible, how were you even able to almost fall to a cave? Despite everything, Calcharo's face never showed even the slightest emotion, not even when you (almost tripped) because of a small nut left by a rabbit.

After seeing this, you finally planned something to get rid of him. Just annoy him, make him save you all the time, complain about everything... you know the drill.

Now that the plan was set, you decided to put it into action. First, each morning you woke up a little earlier than him, putting a few cute frogs that you had found close to where both of you were sleeping on his clothes, just a slight prank, right? When he finally oppened the bag, his face didn't even flich, he just got rid of the frogs, returning them to the small pond. You were clenching your teeth, but, it was the first time, you could do it better, yeah.

So, next morning, you decided to take his clothes, leaving them out during the damp night, of course, the clothes ended up with a weird smell to them. Calcharo took his clothes, simply giving you a stern look and knealing at the lake, starting to clean his own clothes without more talking.

You were already running low on ideas, but he suddenly snapped after finding out you had touched one of his trinckets, more specifically, the rusty plate that was hidden around his bag. His brows furrowed, making seem even more intimidating, almost enough to make you kneel down and beg for forgiveness, despite that, the plan had to keep going on, so you smiled, a crooked smile that was too fake for your own taste.

"I... I thought it was some old ugly thing so I just tossed it, why do you even care?" Your voice was tembling a little, hands behind your back as you tried as hard as possible to seem relaxed. You were about to say something when his arms were suddenly wrapped around your waist, you tried to scream and kick him, his hand quickly over your mouth as he sat down, your body on his lap.

"You're done, brat." One of his hands moved down, getting closer to your skirt, his hand removed the skirt and left it in the ground, what was he even thinking?!

"Hey, cut it! Do you even know how much money have my parents paid to you?!" Your voice had a whiny tone, maybe due to the fear and nervousness. He chuckled, his hand resting on top of one of your cheeks.

"Oh yeah, those people, they must be so busy that they even forgot to pay for the body guard of their silly little daughter." Your eyes widened a little, what did he mean by that? You started to bite your lips, already lamenting your dumb plan about making him sick of you.

"Oh, it seems your dumb act is already reaching the end, did you have fun?" His hand was still caressing your cheek, sending shivers down your spine, cause who does that while he is trying to sound menacing? "The brat has finally realized who is really in charge here. i could have simply left you, but as you were still quite young I chose to stay, even if that meant losing a lot of money, but look how I got paid, getting my clothes dirty and trying to mess up with me like a child." He clicked his tongue, despite the harsh words his voice was as calm as always. You tried to squirm away, but you were quickly forced to stopped as soon as you got a spank, your face turning as red as a cherry, you had never been spanked, not even once.

"Stop squirming, I'm trying to ponder about how should I deal with you." His voice sounded a bit ammused, his hand still caressing the slightly reddened flesh.

"I'm... I'm sorry I was just trying to get rid of you because I wanted to prove my parents that I'm more than capable..." Your sorry excuse finally left your lips, face flushed because of the huge shame that was running through your body. "Can... can you please lift up my skirt? Somebody may be watching..." You tried to move your arms a bit, but you were stopped when his hand spanked you once again. Your eyes were starting to tear up, you knew you had been annoying him a lot, but you had never spanked him! Just as you were about to complain, you felt his hands moving dangerously close to that part, sadly, no matter how much you struggled his grip didn't even flinch a bit.

"You keep asking me to let you go, but this part of you is quite happy, am I wrong?" One of his fingers started to move around, caressing your clit with his gloved fingers, the feeling almost making you cum on the spot.

"Stop! We are in public, you know? I'm sorry, i'll go back to my parents and tell them about the payment... just let me go." Ignoring your pleas, he kept playing with you, his fingers caressing your clothed cunt while you tried to get away from his lap. Before you could complain, you were lifted, both of you entering in the small tent in which you had been sleeping all that time. Without saying anything, his hand gripped your underwear, suddenly tearing it from one of the sides, your legs tried to close but his hands were already stopping each side.

"You know? I've been thinking about what could be the best way to get my payment, then I realized, what's better than putting a brat on their place?" His voice sounded soft, whispering in one of your ears while one of his hands kept playing with your clit. You were already piercing your nails on the blanket, tears forming in your eyes as the shame poured in. In a single movement, your legs were lifted, each being supported against one of his shoulders, he got away for a moment, removing his gloves and then tying his silvery hair into a low ponytail, the image making you feel a bit weird. He lowered his frame, positioning his face against your bare cunt and smiling just before he started to lap at it. Your hands rushed to his hair, trying to pull him away from there but being completely unable to move him a bit. His tongue was playing with your clit, sometimes sucking at it while your hands were pulling from his soft hair.

"I'm sorryy! I won't do it again, please, please, I'll make up for it! I'll... I'll do it please...!" The feeling of his tongue lapping while his hands kept caressing your legs was almost too much at that point. After a few minutes, he moved one of his hands, allowing one of his fingers to enter and making you whine a bit. "I'm serious, please...! I'm gonna cum at this point!" Your pleas and whines fell to deaf ears, as he not only kept going, but got even roughter, entering another finger inside you and sucking on your clit, suddenly stopping and then licking at it.

The stimulation was getting too much, your brain feeling as it had became mush, just enough for you to start babbling without much shame while pulling him closer. Just as the knot that was formed in your tummy was about to break, his tongue suddenly stopped, abruptly moving his face away while the dim light made his lips shine because of his saliva.

"Just enough pleasure for it to hurt, I hope you have learnt a lesson from this." He lifted your face, his heart beating a bit faster after he saw your pretty face messed up. Some tears were falling down your cheeks, salive dripping down your lips while your eyes were quite foggy, such a pretty girl for him. While you were still trying to recover from his little punishment, he got a bit closer, lips leaving a wet kiss on your forehead. He stood up, taking one of the spare blankets that were laying around and covering your body with it, swiftly leaving the tent as the night was starting to darken.

[ambros1an]

firefly x reader / what tethers my fate

warnings: gn reader, reader is TB but not stelle/caelus, angst, HEAVY PENACONY SPOILERS, implied nonbinary firefly

summary: “how can you love me? you don’t know anything about me.”

a/n: firefly’s dangerous side needs to be talked about more!!

They say captive fireflies only live three days, and so she was released to the world. Yet, you knew her for less than that. Still, your heart raced nonetheless upon seeing them.

“I love you.”

The Firefly you knew lead you by hand. How fitting that they also held you in the palm of their hand. The ‘normal girl’ had not only set ablaze the world, but your heart.

“How can you love me? You don’t know anything about me. I used you.”

“But you tried to save me all the same.“

“But I lied to you! This whole time I’ve been misleading you, showing you a version of me that doesn’t exist.”

“Was ‘trying to save me eleven times’ a lie too?”

Firefly remains silent. Of course you’d remember that. The way SAM kept his eyes on you the whole time in the dreamscape, ignoring everyone else. The way he headed straight to you. Keeping that galaxy ranger and Memokeeper away from you. As if you were the only thing that mattered. As if you were the spark that lit her namesake.

“I do know you. You’re Sam, but also Firefly. You try your best even when things are futile. You told me that Elio said that ‘destiny cannot be changed’ but you tried anyway. Thank you.”

Firefly looks down at the ground, clenching her fists. “To you. As SAM I kill indiscriminately. I haven’t felt bad once.” Their teeth bite their lips, eyebrows furrowed. She’s furious.

Haven’t felt bad? She’s so tense that a touch could send them running.

You shake your head, “I don’t believe that. You tried to save me, because if I died, you would’ve blamed yourself.”

Firefly says nothing. She unclenches her fist and sighs. “With you, I could be normal, whatever I wanted.”

“You can still be ‘normal,” you hold your hand out to her, but not to touch her, “whatever you want.”

They look down at your hand. Her eyes darting around the skin of your palm as if she was remembering everything that happened before. When she was just a normal person acting as a ‘stowaway.’ Holding your hand. How would that feel again?

Before she realizes it, her hand grabs into yours. Nearly crushing it in her grip. Everything they touch turn to ash, but yet you remain. Still here through everything.

“Everyone else looks through me, why couldn’t you.” They give a half-hearted chuckle. Firefly’s eyes are locked with the ground, as if stuck in the past. Through SAM, entropy, the Stellaron hunters-

“Hey.”

…and finally you. With a ridiculous amount of strength, Firefly quickly has your head in her grasp, placing her lips upon yours. But contrary to her strength her lips are gentle. They caress yours so delicately, that you can feel their plushness. Just like that, she pulls away, flushed and staring up at you. Her eyes are narrowed as if challenging you.

“You still feel that way about me?” She stares you down, but the flushness of her cheeks combined with her twirling her hair around her finger betray her nervousness.

“I-yes.”

“That’s good.”

Shutting people up was a normal part of her job, but this was the first time she’s done it without blood. A kiss. She liked that.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

loml

Request: absolutely need u to write a fic about roy kent’s controversially young ex gf writing so long, london about him and the teams reaction to the realization. happy ending or not 👀

Roy Kent x Popstar

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, angst, age gap, did I mention angst?

A/N: It's been a minute since I posted anything! This definitely put me deep in my feelings, not gonna lie. Enjoy all the emotions 😝

Roy clenched his jaw as he rounded the corner to head towards the changing room and his office. There wasn’t the usual ruckus that greeted him before training; instead, he followed the sound of what he realized was music. And it wasn’t the usual rap or energetic pop the lads usually blasted and sang along with, either. No, this was slow, haunting, something that left Roy tightening his grip around his black duffel bag.

Thinkin, how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

Oh, the tragedy ...

So long, London

You'll find someone ...

The breath caught in Roy’s throat as he came to a skidding stop outside the changing room door. He knew that voice. He’d heard that voice humming in his kitchen. Giggling in his ear. Whispering into his chest. Sighing in his bed. For almost two years, that voice had filled his home and his heart, bringing warmth and joy to both places. And the lips that voice came from always formed the most beautiful smile, the smile he always wanted to kiss right off that pretty face- and fuck, he sure tried his best every chance he got.

Gritting his teeth, Roy took one step into the changing room, doing his best to ignore the immediate stares of his squad. He hated the looks on their faces, all filled with sympathy, reminding him way too much of the faces he saw after his retirement. He swore he saw guilt in some of their expressions, too.

Of course they felt guilty. They’d been caught listening to his ex-girlfriend’s new album. The album that had skyrocketed to the top of the charts since its release over the weekend. The album Roy couldn’t quite bring himself to listen to yet. The album, he knew, that she had written about him.

Refusing to meet anyone’s eye, Roy stalked into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. Beard and Nate were nowhere to be found; they were probably on the pitch, he reasoned. He ignored the feeling that they’d probably want to give him some space with the album’s release.

Everything had started off innocently enough. He’d taken Phoebe to one of her concerts, motivated purely by his desire to be a good uncle. Keeley had been kind enough to arrange a meet-and-greet before the show. And, while Pheebs was definitely thrilled to be meeting the popstar, it was Roy who was left completely starstruck. She was beautiful and charming, not to mention down-to-earth and so kind to his niece. He spent the whole concert enchanted, jaw slacking slightly as he watched her strut around the stage with a magnetism he wasn’t sure he’d ever encountered before.

Fuck the almost two decades between them; Roy Kent was smitten.

Apparently the feeling was mutual, because the next thing he knew he and Phoebe were invited backstage after the concert, where the young singer had shyly thanked them for coming and asked if she could come watch the Greyhounds sometime. She was so timid for someone who had just rocked a stadium filled to the brim with thousands of screaming fans; Roy found her bashful, blushing face nothing short of endearing. How could he ever say no to her?

So he didn't. For two years, he never said no to her. He wanted to adore and spoil her the way no one else ever had, and she let him. The only condition was he had to let her do the same. So, for the first time in goodness knows how long, Roy Kent let himself be loved.

It was perfect. She was perfect. Roy found himself laughing and smiling more than he ever had in his entire miserable life, and it was all her fault. Never mind the articles and tweets about their age difference, condemning him for being with what they called a “twenty-year-old girl”. (They never could differentiate between twenty and mid-twenties, Roy had thought as he rolled his eyes at yet another opinion piece about his relationship.) They had both agreed that the abundance of affection and respect between them was more than enough to ignore what she always called the “haters”, and he called “wankers with nothing better to do”.

After about a year together, Roy found himself thinking about houses. And rings. And babies. And forever. And less and less about their age difference. While he never said flat-out that he wanted to marry her, they both seemed to know where things were headed. And, thanks to her songwriting, so did her fans. Not that Roy minded; for once, he was in a relationship where he didn’t mind having his business paraded around for the world to see. Hell, he even did some of the parading from time to time.

But, like every other good thing in Roy Kent’s life, it didn’t last forever.

He could deal with the judgy headlines. He could deal with the invasive paparazzi. He could deal with the ribbing from his friends and family. He could even deal with being the subject of pretty love songs. But just as he was starting to look at engagement rings, an article came across his newsfeed. And this one, unlike the million others he’d ignored and rolled his eyes at, gave him pause.

It was about her. It was about how young she was, how in the prime of her career she was. About how Roy was going to tie her down and take her out of the spotlight. About how she could say goodbye to the already legendary career she’d spent the better part of a decade building. About how all that hard work, all that potential, would be swept away the moment he put a ring on her finger.

About how it would be all Roy’s fault.

He couldn’t do that. Not to her. So, he made up some shit about not being ready to settle down, about how he didn’t think marriage was for him, about how he didn’t want to waste her time. And she’d listened, with those understanding eyes and her mouth in a straight line. While she wasn’t afraid to shed a couple of tears in front of him, she didn’t shout or fight him. All she did was lean close and ask one little question:

“Are you sure?”

No. No, Roy wasn’t fucking sure. He had never been less sure in his entire fucking life. As she gathered her things in stony silence, Roy had to stop himself from telling her to stop, that he’d made a mistake and that of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. But, like the idiot he was, he just watched silently. And he watched as she disappeared from the public eye, as the papers reported their breakup, as she reemerged at the fabulous parties thrown by her fabulous friends, as her outings with various men sparked rumors of new romances; in short, Roy watched as she moved on from him.

And now, a little less than a year after their breakup, with the release of this new album, he was sure she’d cemented how over him she was.

Despite knowing he had a football team waiting out on the pitch, Roy decided he needed to listen. To one song, at least, he reasoned with himself as he opened the music app on his mobile. Beard and Nate could handle the team for a few minutes, couldn’t they?

As he skimmed the track titles, he spotted one that caught his eye: So Long, London. He’d heard that phrase in the song the guys were playing; surely this had to be the same song, right? With a trembling breath, he clicked on the song and closed his eyes.

I stopped trying to make him laugh.

I stopped CPR, after all it's no use. The spirit was gone, we would never come to.

And I'm pissed off you let me give you all that youth for free.

I'll find someone.

Just how low did you think I'd go?

You swore that you loved me but where were the clues? I died on the altar waiting for the proof.

For so long, London… Had a good run… A moment of warm sun… But I'm not the one.

Every word stabbed at the heart Roy hadn’t realized was still so fucking raw. All that regret that he’d buried away under football and bottles of beer finally bubbled back to the surface, reminding him of how deeply he wished he could go back in time and stop himself from letting her go. He somehow felt even more gutted than he did the day he lied and said he didn’t want to be with her anymore.

“Fuck,” he growled, stopping the music and opening his texts. He typed that familiar name, pulling up texts that he hadn’t looked at in months. He gulped, remembering all the memes, all the texts about what to have for dinner.

She’d probably ignore his text, he warned himself as he started typing. Hell, she probably already had him blocked. Part of him hoped she did; it would be a lot better than the absolute dressing down he deserved after breaking her lovely heart.

Still. That stupid little part of him that was willing to admit that he was still completely in love with her emboldened him.

She’d always made fun of him for signing his texts, he recalled with a reflexive smirk. She’d made fun of him for lots of things; fuck, he missed her teasing, the way she’d raise an eyebrow when he growled at her to fuck off. The way she’d lean close and hum, “Make me.” The way-

Hey, just listened to ‘London’. Incredible as always. I’m sure the rest is too.

-Roy

The whistle from the mobile in his hand dragged Roy out of his reminiscing. With another gulp he looked down at the first message she’d sent in months.

Thanks, Roy! I’ll actually be in London next week. Maybe we could catch up while I’m in town.

Despite himself, a smile broke out across his face. He wasn’t much of a believer in second chances, or fate, or happily ever afters. He was so sure all good things had to come to an end eventually.

But maybe, just maybe, some things could begin again.

Tags: @i-am-mrsreckless

[rivatar]

Neteyam who?

(Pt. 2 to Good Luck Finding Better)

Based off this request!

Pairing: Dilf Jake Sully x fem omatikaya reader

Warnings: HEAVY SMUTTT, darkish Jake?(rougher than the previous part), p in v, oral, spitting in face, dom Jake, creampie, a lil face smacking, lots of dirty talk, think that’s it but lmk if I missed anything

W/c: 2.8k

A/n: hey y’all, sorry this took longer than I wanted it to but schools been kicking my ass. I hope you all and the anon who requested this enjoys!! Dilf Jake is my guilty pleasure 😈😈

As the sun rose the next day, you slowly blinked your eyes open. You immediately felt soreness in your muscles, especially in a particular region between your legs. Then the realization dawned on you and you remember what happened last night. You wondered if it was a dream or if it really happened. You gasped as you noticed the cum seeping out of your hole onto the bed and decided that was enough evidence to confirm you weren’t dreaming.

You stayed alone in your hut for 2 hours, refusing to go into the village and overthinking last nights’ events. What were you gonna say to Jake now? Or Neteyam? Nothing would ever be the same! You fucked your Olo’eyktan, a whole married man! And he was your best friends dad, to make matters worse. You felt shame and wished you knew what to do.

By now you were hungry and it was well past breakfast time. You had to leave sometime, you couldn’t just stay in here forever. So you begrudgingly got yourself ready and tried to clean the mess between your legs. You were fearful everyone would be able to smell exactly who left their seed in you. So you tried to cover it up by dabbing your strongest smelling oil that you had on your inner thigh. It would have to work.

Just as you were about to walk out of the door and face your fears, a familiar face appears. And speak of the devil, it’s Jake.

He was smiling mischievously down at you, and you just looked up at him angrily and crossed your arms.

“Get out of here.” You demand sharply.

“Excuse me?” He scrunches his eyebrows in confusion and tilts his head to the side, scanning you over with his intense gaze. Part of you wants to cower but you kept going.

“Last night was a mistake,” you explained, “I was in a vulnerable state and you knew it.” You said as you poked his chest hard with your pointer finger. “And now I’ve probably lost my best friend because of you.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Jake holds his hands up to stop you. “If I remember correctly, that skxawng rejected you and I came to make you feel better. To which you had seemed to thoroughly enjoy,” he cockily smirked and you blushed, looking away with a pout. “Why are you mad at me and not my son?”

“Because he means more to me than you do! You’ve ruined everything!” You yell at him without thinking.

He suddenly grabs your neck with one hand and brings you closer to his face. Your breath caught in your throat and you struggled to balance on your tippy toes.

“Watch your tone, girl. Don’t forget I’m still your leader” he lowly speaks, his hot breath was fanning over your face and causing your thighs to clench together.

“Fuck you.” you manage to spit out.

He lowly chuckles and seems to be amused. “You already did that, honey.”

You bare your teeth at him, it made you so angry he was taking this so lightly and nearly mocking you like this was some kind of joke.

“Let me the fuck go!” You choke out harshly, still barely touching the ground with your tip toes to hold you up, both your hands gripping his arm to help hold you up so you wouldn’t actually choke.

His smile grows bigger. He seemed to like having so much power over you.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” he faked like he was actually thinking, “I think you look so pretty like this.” You fought and wiggled as much as you could, but it was to no avail. “You’re a feisty one, ain’t ya? I never knew that about you.” He muses.

Then something came over you as you decided you’d heard enough of him, and with no thought you spit in his face.

You surprised yourself more than you surprised him it seemed like. Your jaw drops at what you just did and he just blinks once. Most of it landed on his mouth and to your absolute horror he licks it up and groans in appreciation.

“Mmm you taste so good, baby.” He tenderly smiles and you look at him in disbelief. The bass in his voice and his vulgar display lights something inside of you.

He gathers the rest of your spit off his face on two fingers and puts it to your mouth, beckoning you to open and pushing his fingers inside.

“Suck.” He demands, still holding your neck with his other hand but he sets you lower so you’re back on your heels now at least.

You didn’t know why you listened to him, but you did. Maybe it was his authority, or maybe because you felt yourself heating up and loosing your resolve.

Once you sucked your own spit off his fingers he pulled them out. He was making intense eye contact with you to the point you couldn’t force yourself to look away, almost like you were hypnotized.

“Good, now swallow.” You did as you were told with no hesitation. It was like your body answered to him before your mind could tell you not to.

You stuck out your tongue to show your empty mouth. “Good fucking girl,” he said while lightly smacking your cheek a few times.

“You still wanna go talk to Neteyam?” He asks, feigning innocence and mocking you.

You shook your head no, the desperation in your eyes from him getting you riled up was obvious to him but he liked teasing you.

“Good. Get on your knees” he demands roughly.

You were a little surprised at his straightforwardness but you obeyed and sank down to your knees before him.

He gracefully unties his loincloth and his full erect cock springs up right in front of your face. You didn’t get to see it this close up last night but now you’re noticing how pretty it is. Long and girthy, sprinkled with tiny bioluminescent freckles all the way up to the dark purplish tip.

“Open up for me, pretty” he rasps while rubbing his thumb across your bottom lip.

Once again you do as your told, your body fully submitting to him. You stick your tongue out and he places his dick on it, tapping it a few times. You lick and swirl your tongue around his tip as he lets out a pleased sigh while his body relaxes. You close your lips around him and he places his hands on your head to tug you closer and take more of him.

“Think I need to fuck this pretty mouth, how’s that sound?” You moan in response and he pushes your head hard, making you take almost his entire length and you gag.

He chuckles while you choke on him. “Yeah, this bratty mouth just needed to be stuffed with some cock, that’s all” He groans and tosses his head back while feeling your tight throat sucking him in.

You were already a mess, spit running down your face and neck, and tears welled up in your eyes. He picked up his pace and now held your head in place as he thrusted himself into your mouth. You couldn’t do anything but just take it. You focused on breathing through your nose and relaxing your throat, trying not to gag.

“Oh fuck-“ he whimpered and bit his lip trying to suppress his moans. “Shit that’s good. You’re doing so fucking good for me,” he praised as he felt himself coming near.

Your nails were digging into his smooth thighs and your throat was stinging at this point but you honestly couldn’t get enough of him. Your lower belly was warm and had butterflies.

“Gonna cum in your throat and you’re gonna swallow it all, okay?” He panted.

You felt his body stiffen and his cock twitch before you felt the warm ropes of cum spilling in your mouth. It felt warm and smooth like honey and you greedily took it all.

He pulled out of your mouth once he finished and smiled proudly at you.

“Good girl, that’s what a good slut does. You learn so quick,” he said while grabbing your face and placing a sloppy smooch on your lips.

He graciously grabbed a small towel to wipe your tear stained face and the sticky drool off your body. You smiled deliriously up at him.

“Don’t worry baby girl, I haven’t forgotten about you,” he grins. “Bet that lil pussy feels so neglected right now, huh?”

You nod your head and could hardly wait any longer.

“Nuh uh, need to hear you say it. What do you need?” He asks while petting your hair as you were still on your knees.

“Need you! Need you and your cock, please” you outright begged like he wanted.

“Please what?”

“Please.. sir?”

“Mhmm. Atta girl,” Jake praised.

He crouched down to your level and started crawling to tower over you. Your eyes were glued on his lips and he seemed to understand since he connected your lips in a heated kiss. He felt warm and tasted sweet and earthy.

He guided you to lay all the way down and you felt his rough hands start exploring, first just on your arms but then he couldn’t help himself from touching your tits.

Slipping under your top he kneaded one of your breasts, still holding himself over you with his other hand. He slightly moaned into your kiss at the contact and then pinched your nipple, making you break the kiss.

“Mmm” you hummed and threw your head back in pleasure.

“Yeah? Is that it?”

You bit your lip trying not to sound too desperate but still shook your head yes, begging him with your eyes. He took that as more than enough permission to keep doing it how you liked. He shifted to balance on his knees and his other hand wasted no time by going to knead your other breast that was left out.

“So, so perfect,” he whispered admirably.

Then with no warning he ripped your top off, beads flying everywhere. Normally you would’ve been upset about the damage of your precious clothing but right now you couldn’t care less.

“This needs to go too,” he said while yanking off your loincloth. It kinda hurt, but again, you weren’t in your right mind at the moment. And he was clearly getting impatient.

“Fuck” he breathed while eyeing your form. “Pretty. So fucking pretty” he rubbed your leg gently, quite contradictory to his former display of roughness.

Deciding to take the lead now, you opened your legs up for him. You were propped up on your elbows so this position was picture-perfect, and Jake did indeed wish he had a camera for your pornographic pose.

He was practically salivating over you but he wasn’t gonna let you get the upper hand. Snapping out of it, he looks at you devilishly like he was gonna devour you whole. You notice his cock is already fully hard again. Fuck, he’s good you admitted in your head.

Your pussy was a mess, your juices coating your lips and running down your ass.

“Jake, please” you begged.

He stopped ogling you and practically pounced onto you. He stole your lips in a hungry kiss and God, you loved the way he tasted too. You fought for dominance with your clashing of tongues but of course he wins with his larger mouth. He was shoving his tongue far into your mouth trying to get everything he could take from you. And you let him.

You whimpered as your heart rates increased and the thrill was like no other. Yeah, you loved Neteyam as your best friend but Eywa, his dad made you feel like you were flying.

All that could be heard was heavy breathing because neither of you wanted to stop. Then you felt his five-fingered hand slide down to rub your inner thigh and you thought you could almost cum right then. It was dizzying and made your body feel fuzzy.

He finally stopped teasing around the area and touched you where you wanted him the most. You both gasped at the contact.

“Damn,” he breathed while coating his fingers in your slick, “Needy little thing”

He pushed his middle finger in your sopping cunt and it slid in easily. You moaned and looked at him.

He started finger fucking you and gained a rhythm, then slid in another digit to add to the stretch.

You closed your eyes shut and were making so many little sounds that he loved. He also loved the sight of you squirming in pleasure.

“Watch it” he gruffed

You obeyed his request and turned your eyes to the sinful scene. He had you spread wide open and was pistoning his two big fingers into you like there was no tomorrow, hitting all your sweet spots so perfectly. It was so good you were struggling to get any sounds out as your mouth stayed open in a silent scream.

You felt your impending orgasm coming quickly. He seemed to have picked up on this as he started rubbing your clit in circles, making your climax rip through you.

“JAKEEE” you screamed and arched your back as it wracked through your entire body, toes curling and grabbing his dreads for support.

“Fuck yes. Fuckkkk yes!” he praised as he kept pumping you with one hand and lightly spanking your clit with the other, prolonging your orgasm.

You slowly came down from it, panting and a bit dizzy. Your eyes looked heavy.

“Don’t fall asleep on me, I ain’t done with you yet, babe” he said while manhandling you to flip you over on all fours. You could barely hold yourself up on your arms as you felt tired so you slumped down on your face, ass up in the air.

“Now ain’t this a pretty sight,” Jake chuckled from behind you. You felt his tip prodding at your entrance that was still soaked from your arousal and orgasm.

With no warning he slammed himself inside.

“OH!!” You shot up, the intrusion catching you off guard.

“Had to get you awake somehow,” he laughed. “Now take this cock until I cum in your little pussy”

Before you could say anything he slid all the way out and slammed back in. Your eyes were almost popping out of your head at the fullness. He had to be in your stomach, you thought to yourself.

He grabbed onto your ass cheeks for leverage to pull you back onto him, setting a brutal pace. The skin slapping could probably be heard from the village.

“You feel so good.. such a good slut for me”

You clenched around him at his degrading comment.

“Oh yeah? You like being a lil whore? That’s all you are, hm?” he growled clenching his teeth, already lost in the feeling of your pussy wrapped around him.

You moaned and whimpered below him, taking every inch of his dick.

“Bet you’d probably like Neteyam to see you getting fucked again” he taunted and you once again squeezed him tight as confirmation to his statement, “Yeah, I know,” he laughed, “it’s funny, ‘cause you try to act all innocent for everyone else. If only they could see you now”

You were hearing every word but truly didn’t care. Not right now, not when his dick was blissfully pounding your cervix and you feel another orgasm rolling in.

“Pleaseee” you whined.

“Please, what? One cock not enough for you?” he teased and smacked your ass.

“It is! Just please don’t stop!”

He sped up and thrusted harder into you.

“You gonna cum? Yeah you better cum for me,” he panted, feeling himself approaching his own high.

And just like that the coil in your lower tummy snapped. You cried out in ecstasy and he ate every bit of it up, boosting his ego.

“That’s it, baby” he cooed.

Then he felt his rip through him. “Gonna fill you up- fuck!” He whimpered “you won’t ever be able to get my smell off of you,” he promised while riding his out, his groans and little whimpers between words.

“This pussy is mine,” He made sure to milk out every last drop of his seed inside your pussy. He wanted to own you and mark you as his, so no other men could have you. He slipped his dick out carefully, making sure to not overstimulate you.

You were both fucked out beyond belief so you laid limp and he grabbed another towel to clean you up first, and then himself.

You smiled weakly at him and he smiled smugly in return. “So you gonna take back what you said earlier about wanting me to leave or do you like my company now?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes and scooted back against him where you were laying down. “Shut up” you yawned.

Taglist: @neteyamssyulang @professional-yapper @bambithewriter @nonamevenus @jakesullyfatjuicypeen