#and your desperation was all written all over

[randombush3]

te hacemos falta

alexia putellas x reader

prologue, que te quiero, busco lo de antes

summary: you wake up but you're not sure where

words: 4715

content warnings: bit of smut

notes: the end was written way before the beginning. i couldn't decide what to do with this for a while but it came to me in the shower earlier today so here we are, finally completed

there will have to be more parts to this because i'm not done yet 🙄

The duvet falls to the floor. 

Swathes of tanned skin spread over your smooth legs, encapsulating, suffocating. It’s good though, so good. And it’s exploration of somewhere familiar, crevasses that she knows, divots that you wish you did. Dimples where muscle tenses and relaxes and veins that throb at the sight of… this. Oh, how she has missed this. 

There’s a hunger in her eyes – desperate, ready. Her tongue is warm and wet as it slides down the valley of your breasts and your stomach and the apex of your thighs. She’s moaning, you’re moaning. It’s a cacophony of sound and pleasure and this might kill you, might just end it all, because is this what it used to be like? Blazing, fiery, passionate sex? 

She sucks and bites and kisses and you’ve never been at anyone’s mercy quite like how you are at hers, back arching, legs clamping tightly until blonde hair and stars are all you can see. Her breath sears and your skin must be branded: ‘Alexia, Alexia, Alexia’ it must say. The sound of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, louder than her name falling from your lips, louder than her appreciation that you are here and doing this. 

It’s better than it ever has been. And it’s building. Climbing, growing more intense. Her tongue swirls your clit and it’s almost enough, your hands gripping the sheets as though that will anchor you on your ascent to Heaven. You might be screaming. She’s making you scream. 

Your stomach drops as you go soaring through the sky. And then it’s gone.

“It’s a sex dream.” You look up, ignoring the heat of your cheeks, trying to remind yourself that you’re allowed to feel like this in therapy. “The same one, right?” 

“I wake up sweating.” 

Your therapist nods, her expression neutral and free of judgement, pen poised on her knee as she waits for your confession to settle, really making you sit in it. Then, she speaks, measured tone like always, “And when you wake up, what’s the first thing you feel?” 

Her question is gentle but purposeful. She is a deliberate woman. 

“Embarrassment, mostly.” She doesn’t quite buy it. “Sometimes I… get off? After?” 

“Are you asking me?” 

“It’s uncomfortable,” you fire back, defensively. “She’s in the next room to me. My daughter is in the same flat. I’m acting like a horny teenager.” 

“Sex is biological. Your body was accustomed to the regular hormone release, a stable sex life. You’re young and you were both in high-stress professions. Is it so absurd for you to crave it?” You shake your head, although her rhetoric is clear. “And as you’ve already said, you’re attracted to Alexia, memories or not.” 

“I’m not blind,” you protest. (Is it really a protest?) 

Your therapist nods again, considering your words with slight amusement. “Not blind,” she repeats. She inhales. “What about the feelings that come with that attraction? Are you angry with yourself for still wanting her, even if the memories aren’t there?” 

The leather sofa creaks as you shift in your seat. You briefly wonder how many people she has made want to die of discomfort in this office, but she’s pretty good, you’ll give her that. “It’s not anger,” you murmur, the tightness in your chest still constricting in its nameless fashion. “It’s… guilt, maybe? Frustration? She looks at me like I’m supposed to remember, like I’m supposed to love her the way she clearly still loves me. And I want to. God, I want to. But I feel like I’m trying to love a stranger.” 

She leans forwards slightly, eyes deep and gentle, subtly glancing at the clock above the door before refocusing on your face. “You said you still feel attracted to her. That’s not nothing. Desire can be a bridge – it is for many relationships.” 

You sigh, rubbing at your temples. Months have dulled the ache of your head, the physical pain of the accident now almost gone, but nothing seems to have stopped your insides from howling in anguish. It echoes in your emptiness. You’re not sure if that makes it worse. “It feels hollow. We wouldn’t have fucked for a while, not if I had Amaia – she would’ve been so young.” The clock ticks over another minute. “And she deserves more than just me physically. It would be failing. Her. Amaia.” The crack of your voice betrays the steadiness of your tone. 

“She’s not asking for perfection,” your therapist says carefully. “She’s asking for effort, for honest. And if she didn’t believe in you, she’d have left, wouldn’t she?” 

“She wouldn’t do that.” 

“She wouldn’t do that to you,” she corrects. 

That merits a pause. It’s true, probably. When you have concocted some kind of response, you shuffle your legs so that they are crossed, one over the other – a pose Alexia had claimed to be the signpost of being ‘lawyered’, shivering as she’d said it. “Every moment we try to connect, I mess it up. She’ll talk about something we did, some moment that was important to us, and I just sit there. Blank. It is only a matter of time until she gets fed up and leaves. She’s surely just patient.” 

“From what you have told me about Alexia, she is not a patient person,” she rebukes. The harshness of her voice is not explicit, more like the piercing shot of a pistol equipped with a silencer. It makes good contact. “Have you told her how this feels for you?” 

You don’t reply. 

“Alexia might be holding onto the version of you from before the accident, the person she remembers,” your therapist continues. “But she’s also here, now, with this version of you. That tells me she’s willing to rebuild, even if it’s from the ground up.” 

Fuck. “You have a point.” 

She smirks. “Of course I do.” 

…

Alexia sits at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee clasped tightly in her hands. The hum of the fridge does nothing to mask the rustling of your sheets, nor the music Amaia thinks is too quiet to be heard. No one is asleep, yet no one is together. She wants to scream. 

Her coffee has long since cooled, her last sip maybe even hours ago. Time is no longer real. Time has fucked her over and she’s really renounced it. 

The decorations are starting to peel their way off, the tree going brown, the batteries in the lights dying. Maybe the horror of Christmas will also be lost, and maybe that’s for the best; awkward gifts, dinners where inside jokes left you on the outside, alcohol doing nothing to jog your memories or ease you into making new ones. Amaia’s birthday also carried that same awkwardness, worse at night, when she had asked to be cuddled and you’d frozen the moment she had fallen asleep on you. 

Nights suck. 

Nights leave space for Alexia to remember everything you don’t, cold in a bed that isn’t hers, with no one there to hold her as tears spill out and make her feel fucking pathetic. She pretends not to notice, but Mapi’s texts get later and later each day, as though she has caught on to the worsening bags under her captain’s eyes and the dark swirl of her mind. 

And at night, under the covers, all Alexia can do is picture you. 

She’d felt the shift when you had come back from Bilbao. She’d seen your body tense – no stranger to its signals. It’s been a waiting game ever since. 

She suspects it has something to do with Amaia. Your responsibility is unfaltering, even if you seem to not recognise it, and it is reminiscent of the first time round, when Alexia had been refused sleepovers and late nights, working with quick makeouts in daylight and steamy kisses in the five minutes you’d allow her to pull over for on your way back home. “My daughter needs me more than you do,” you’d joke, batting her hands away, grinning at the whines she’d let out. “And someone needs to teach you how to wait.”

“So many women would jump at the chance to sleep with me,” would be her instantaneous response. She’d say it to your back, because you’d already be on your way out. 

Sex shouldn’t be on Alexia’s mind like this. She felt guilty about it then, and she feels even guiltier about it now. 

You’re attractive. Beautiful. Intelligent. You’re more than the sound you make when she’s pressed inside you just right. Or the swears you hiss when you’re returning the favour. 

You’re the words you say when you’re trying not to let Amaia down: careful, caring. And the look of support when Alexia is watching nothing ring a bell and wanting to die because of it. 

And you’re still you, if not set on different tracks with different thoughts and feelings and perspectives. 

You are still the woman she loves – which she knows and clings onto. And you’re braver than she is, because she would not have survived this situation. 

Alexia pictures you again, when she finally gets herself into bed, hand wandering down her sculpted body, jerking away at the slightest sound like she is not allowed to be doing this. She does it anyway. 

It’s a relief, a fleeting escape, and the only thing that doesn’t make her feel so fucking hollow. Briefly, the world hasn’t ended. Her fingers find familiar paths, mapped out by yours as she’d melt beneath your touch, and, for a moment, it isn’t her hand. It passes, and the pleasure is only a ghost of what it once was. 

She tries again. 

Her breath hitches as her mind fills with memories – your face, your voice, the sparks beneath her fingertips, the heat between the two of you. A lump grows in her throat. She has to stop. 

A part of her wants to give in completely, to let the tension in her body break, to seize the satisfaction that’s right in front of her. But another part of her recoils. Guilt settles, a weight on her chest, as she thinks of your blank stare. 

She pulls her hand away, her body trembling. She feels pathetic. This isn’t what it used to be. Love is too distant, too faded. 

And there’s the other thing. What she doesn’t want to admit. 

She can’t do it alone anymore. 

She rolls over and buries her face in the pillow. This might be her breaking point. Where the fuck does she go from here?

…

To establish a sense of normalcy when your physical injuries finally get written off by your doctor, your therapist suggests you take Amaia to a football match. Obviously Alexia’s match. WIth her tickets. And her mother. 

Although Amaia looks like you, there is so much of Alexia in her. Her enthusiasm, her dedication, and… her love for football. You imagine they must have killed you with their obsession with kicking a ball into a net. They tend to not talk about it now, most family dinners casting a glance backwards to catch you up about the last decade. 

She is radiating excitement beside you as you take your seats. 

The stadium roars as fans pour in, a sea of blaugrana that your daughter slips into, donning her jersey with pride. You wince a bit at the sight, but Amaia is quick to whisper that she doesn’t wear it when Barça plays Bilbao. She speaks with such familiarity. She hardly lets on that her mother doesn’t know who she is. 

Alexia’s own mother, Eli, is a very nice woman. You once employed her, which is how you and Alexia met. You get why she was a good fit – wise, reliable, kind. You also get why she managed to set you up with her daughter. Eli can apparently see right through you. 

Thankfully, she says nothing during the match, the buffer of Amaia actually working. 

You had glanced at the news before, stuff with Alexia’s name in it always catching your attention, and, of course, you’d admired a few photos. But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. 

Since September, Alexia has fumbled her way around you, cautious and unsure. On the pitch, she is the opposite. Determined, commanding, majestic and she swerves and dribbles and takes out players left, right, and centre. She seems to read the future, apprehending attacks, anticipating defensive lines and destroying them before they can even be formed. This passion, this intensity… this is the woman you must have fallen in love with. You’ve been getting to know a shell of her.

You get a lot of things now. (You should’ve let your therapist convince you to attend a match way sooner.)

The final whistle blows and you feel transformed. Not reformed, but, rather, made anew. A butterfly emerging from its cocoon. 

Okay. No. Maybe you’re getting ahead of yourself. 

But right now, as a sweaty Alexia jumps the barrier and sweeps Amaia into her arms effortlessly, you are certainly less resistant to experiencing your recurring dream again. Something guilty ebbs and flows at the back of your mind, but if it were the ocean, it would very much be low tide. 

Her eyes are fixed on you as Amaia recounts the match with her own analysis like a mini-manager ready to sit down and review the footage. Her mother clears her throat once silence settles between the four of you. 

“Mama, we’re getting dinner,” comes the next spoken sentence. Not from Eli. 

You blink.

“Alexia,” Amaia repeats, tugging her arm. “Dinner.” 

“Zer esan duzu?” you mutter under your breath, accessing the private form of communication you have with your daughter like it is the Washington-to-Moscow hotline. It’s often too constrictive, too close, to Amaia for comfort – you’re not quite there yet, no matter how much effort you put into trying to bond with her. 

You’re not dignified by a response, instead met with an uninterested eye-roll (the cheek!) and commotion as everyone starts to move. Well, half the party. Eli kindly lets Amaia drag her away. 

“Did you enjoy the match?” Alexia asks awkwardly, waiting for you to pick your bag up from the concrete floor. She stops herself from getting it for you when you grimace, still getting used to the tightness that will always remain in your ribs. She knows you’d hate that.

“I don’t like football,” you say, because her hair is wet and falling over her face, and her neck is flushed, and her kit is sticking to her in a very flattering way. And you walk past her because you’re probably not going to get this relationship back. 

Your therapist does most of the talking in the next session. Internally, she is screaming. 

…

Sticky glue on clean fingers. Amaia grimaces. She prefers the mess of mud to glitter and paint, but the black pages of the scrapbook are almost full and her end goal makes it worth it. 

Alexia asks what she does in her room that keeps her so quiet, her voice laced with curiosity and that same exhaustion she hasn’t been able to shed since the accident. Alexia, with no answer given, probably assumes it’s reading, or homework, or some other thing that elevates her to saintly status – Oh, Amaia, aren’t you just so special. 

Special girls wouldn’t have been forgotten by their mothers… No. Amaia believes she should not digress. 

The scrapbook is her cure. Or at least, what she has convinced herself will help you, because she is a little girl and what would she know about ground-breaking neurological treatments and the effectiveness of a good psychiatrist? She sees the appointments listed in the calendar Alexia keeps on the dining table – an illicit activity only undertaken when no one seems to be ready to take her to training and she worries she has gotten the time incorrect – but they are just abbreviations and addresses to her. Pictures are real. Pictures cannot be cancelled or argued about or scheduled on top of school concerts and meetings with her concerned teachers.

It was difficult at first, finding the pictures. There were only so many on the iPad you let her borrow – then subsequently forgot about and allowed her to claim. She’d asked Eli for help (Eli would never reveal her secret mission), who told her about something called a disposable camera and then proceeded to go off on a tangent, showing photos of Alexia when she was a baby. But, eventually, when photo-Alexia had reached adulthood, Eli agreed to participate and the next time they convened, she had an envelope of at least three more pages’ worth of material. 

And so they got to work. 

Pages upon pages were slowly decorated with lost memories. Birthdays, holidays, first-times, last-times. If there was a photo of it, in it went. Afternoons in Eli’s kitchen were spent with gel pens and scissors, mornings before school dwindling in length as nights got later and alarms began to be snoozed.

You don’t know what to say when one day, red-cheeked from the exhaustion of the extra goalie sessions, Amaia barrels into the car with exciting news. You’ve been privy to this news, you think, because the coaches have already messaged you about trial dates for better teams (teams that wear blaugrana, to Alexia’s satisfaction), even if the Infantil-Cadet begins at the age of twelve. “I’m so proud of you, txiki,” you begin, before Amaia can speak, your joy bursting at the seams, barely contained in your voice. Affection for her has certainly been something you’ve mustered, even if it has grown from a seed all over again. She is not hard to love. “Alexia has been speaking to Cata and she is going to find time to give you some tips! The girls will be older and you’ll have to work with more powerful shots, more precision.” You’d had a conversation with your footballer (things are still awkward but Amaia is in no-man’s-land and requires civility), who had been monitoring this inevitable progression in Amaia’s life and already had an argument prepared for why she should be allowed to trial. Maybe in another universe, you would have said no. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it won’t be too much of a challenge for you.” 

You turn to watch for Amaia’s reaction, expecting elation or nervousness or something like that. Instead, you are met with confusion. “What’s wrong?” There’s nothing else to ask. 

“That wasn’t my news,” she states. The glimmer in her eyes – your father’s eyes – illuminates the cracks in her serious expression. “You’re going to like my news more, Amatxu. It’s not to do with football. You don’t even like football.” 

“I like football,” you instantly argue, indignantly mentioning Athletic Bilbao’s recent victory. 

“You didn’t before.” She’s somewhat insistent. She reminds you of Alexia, the way her smile is barely contained, her amusement too obvious, too profound. “When we used to go to Alexia’s matches, you’d just stare at her. And I would say ‘Amatxu, the ball is on the right wing’, and you’d still be watching her.” 

“I don’t like football.” 

“You like it when Alexia’s playing.” 

You huff in annoyance. You’ve been… lawyered? By a child. “Tell me your news, Ami.” 

“You stopped calling me that,” she points out.

“Alexia told me you like being called that.” Or, rather, implied it. 

“By my mum.” 

“I’m your mum.” Amaia looks almost prepared to disagree, which stings but in a familiar way that your therapist tells you is a part of healing. Therapy might still be a scam. “Tell me your news, Amaia.” 

“I like Ami.” The car may swerve a little, but then you see darkness and hear screaming and your hands are tightly gripping the wheel again. “My news! Yes, my news. I have a present for you. I’ve been waiting to give it to you for a long time.” 

That’s all you get until you arrive home. 

Alexia is making dinner, the smell of tomatoes and garlic wafting down the hallway as the lift doors swoosh open. She’s listening to music – happy music – and there are rhythmic thuds against the floor. You’re surprised Alexia knows how to dance. 

Her hips sway at the stove, grey joggers outlining toned legs and… Your daughter is right beside you. You blink and hope those thoughts disappear. 

“Ami!” Alexia exclaims at the telltale sound of pitter-pattering. The spoon drops from her hand, stirring be damned, as she swipes the girl into a hug, kissing the top of her head. “How was training?” 

“Seré la nova portera del Barça.” The excitement is infectious as Alexia lifts her slightly off the ground with the force of her hug. It’s immediately warmer, the room filled now that they are together. You try to feel included. The sight momentarily plucks a string somewhere deep inside of you, but before it vibrates, Amaia throws a glance back at you, her cheeky smirk a reminder that she is still hogging her news. 

Alexia sets Amaia down gently, wiping her hands on the teatowel slung over her broad shoulders. “What’s that face for?” she asks, raising a curious brow as the girl slips out her grasp and scurries towards the dining table, schoolbag in tow. 

You linger by the worktop, trying to work past the need to hide from Alexia and failing miserably. Amaia unpacks her bag – ludicrously capacious and stuffed to the brim with art supplies that make you question why you are paying school fees. “I’ve been working on something,” she announces, her voice just shy of a triumphant proclamation. Out comes a spiral-bound book, decorated like a unicorn ate a rainbow and then had diarrhoea. She’s eleven, you suppose. 

Then she opens the book and you regret judging it by its cover. 

She flips past pages filled with images that hitch your breath. Holidays you don’t remember. Birthdays lost to the void that exists between then and now. 

“What is this?” you ask softly, stepping closer despite yourself.

Amaia looks up at you, her expression both shy and proud. “It’s for you.” 

The slosh of sauce being stirred stops abruptly. You try not to look, but Alexia is leaning towards the table for a better view, bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes deepen and her chest grows heavier.

Undeterred by the silence, Amaia continues fervently, “I’ve been making it for months.” She pulls the scrapbook close to her chest for a moment, before offering it to you with both hands, glitter floating to the floor. “It’s so you won’t forget anything anymore.”

You freeze. The walls are touching your sides, too small. Alexia is watching you for your reaction. “Forget?” you echo faintly, hands trembling as they reach for the book. 

Amaia tilts her head, innocence piercing and painful. “Like how you forgot my birthday. Or, like, didn’t know it was.” 

The air is knocked clean out of your lungs. For a moment, you can’t move. You can’t breathe. Alexia’s eyes dart between the two of you, her jaw tightening as she grips the worktop. You know she wants to jump in, wants to soften the blow, but she doesn’t. Not yet. 

Amaia keeps going, her voice steadily reporting shortcomings like bombs she doesn’t know can kill. “I know you didn’t mean to. And I know that you don’t remember things because you hit your head really badly. So you don’t remember my first football practice, or when we used to go to the beach. So… I made this!” 

She flips the pages for you, her tiny fingers smudged with gel pen ink. “Here’s the picture from when we went to New Zealand and Alexia won the world cup.” You’ve seen that one before. She turns the page, “And this,” a small, faded photograph with fridge-worn edges, “is from when I won my first school race. This is in London, see?” She’s grinning widely, front tooth missing, a green field behind her with a grey sky that is certainly not Barcelona. 

Your throat tightens. You can’t look away from the book, each page a kaleidoscope of colours and slipped-away moments. Drowned memories that have sunken into a trench of blackness – still there, just unrecoverable. “Amaia…” Your voice cracks. You might break.

Alexia moves quietly, reaching a hand out to your back before steadying it centimetres away. Her warmth is felt only for a second before she remembers herself and moves away. “This is what you’ve been doing,” she deduces, her surprise comforting. For once, you were not the only one in the dark. 

Amaia beams but she is not looking at Alexia. “I told you you’d like it,” she says. You’ve not given your opinion yet. “Now you’ll never forget again, not even if you want to.”

Silence presses down on the room, save for the gentle bubbling of the tomato sauce on the stove. You clutch the scrapbook tightly, afraid that dropping it will send the wrong message. It’s not perfectly made – far from it. The edges are uneven, the colour clashing in some places, the glue smeared in translucent stains past photos. But it’s beautiful. It's yours, from Amaia. It is her love for you. 

Tears pinch in your eyes. “I don’t deserve this,” you whisper, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Amaia frowns, her brows knitting together in confusion. “Of course you do. Zu zara nire ama.”

Your skin bristles as Alexia moves past you, hand resting on the worktop. “You do,” she agrees. She seems to want to say more, but Amaia, satisfied with her convincing, turns back to the scrapbook, taking it from your hands and opening it to the very last page. 

“This one’s my favourite.” 

The final page is a drawing, not a photograph. It’s sketched carefully, although a little garishly done in neon green, but it’s unmistakable. Three figures stand together, arms linked. Surrounding them are words (Catalan words, you think) and images. Alexia’s hand presses harder into the worktop.

“Alexia says Barça is the best team in the world,” Amaia starts smugly, “but she’s not right.” A grunt of disagreement comes from the woman beside you, but she allows the girl to continue. “We are.” 

The words fall from her lips like a statistic, indisputable yet hard to believe. 

“We’re like a football team, to help Alexia understand,” she then says with a smirk. “Badakit ez duzula gehiago behar, Ama. Oso adimentsua zara.” 

“I’m not stupid,” grumbles Alexia. 

She’s ignored. “You are the attack, Ama. You’re, like, the glamourous one, the one everyone wants to be like, with glory and success and shiny trophies.” You’ve seen Alexia’s trophies, but you don’t argue, assuming it will be pointless when your daughter can be so stubborn. “And then Alexia is in the middle. Attack and defence are a pair, but it’s not right to have them on a pitch without the midfield. It’s never as seamless. The team would be incomplete.” You pause to consider if Alexia is ever afraid of being loved by Amaia. She’d have had no reason to be. “Of course, I am in goal. Nothing slips through me, even if it’s really scary and the ball is coming fast. I make sure we don’t lose.” 

Your breath catches. Something inside you shifts, not the fragments left by Alexia’s football match a few weeks ago, but a new part of this new life. A root in fertile soil. “Thank you,” you murmur, pulling Amaia into a tight hug. She tenses at first, almost shocked by it, but then she is relaxing and hugging you back, face buried in your clothes as though it is what coming home feels like. “I love it. I love you.” 

Alexia watches, her expression softening as she steps back towards the stove. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she announces, giving you both a moment to breathe. 

Amaia pulls back, her grin wide and triumphant. “I told you you’d like my news.” She pauses, glancing slyly at Alexia. “Much better than football, right?” 

The woman’s laugh is warm and free. You want to bottle it. “Careful, nena. You’re about to lose your biggest cheerleader.” 

“Never!” shouts Amaia, before leaning back into you. And for the first time since the accident, part of you is at home. 

[unknownati]

v. retwist

a/n: boomshakalaka u give ekko a retwist n help him sweat it out after! sorry i have like 2 fluff fics and an angst fic lined up for him too. god knows if i'll post them tho

for the record, i don't rlly like (I HATE IT SO BAD HELP) this fic, but i saw a few people excited for it and i feel bad so 💔 come get ur dinner

christmas fic otw too maybe sumn with au claggor...

warnings/tags: lowercase intended, no use of y/n, no description of reader's physical features, fluff to smut, modern!ekko, implied black!reader (just a bit of aave lol), fem!reader, oral (reader and ekko receiving), hair pulling (minor but if you've gotten your hair pulled after a fresh retwist/braids...yk.), switchy reader and ekko, ekko's a munch 😕, whiny ekko, prolly a little ooc, this was written at night guys please cut me some slack

______________________________________________

"ow!"

"now you know that shit didn't hurt. stop moving."

"baby, i'm tenderheaded--oww!"

you scoff, your thighs pressing into the sides of ekko's head to keep him in place. every movement you made was met with a small wince, and every wince was met with a scoff and a roll of your eyes. his hands, littered with calloused scars, flew up to meet the meat of your thighs. the tips of his fingers sunk in, making small dips in your skin.

"you're dramatic. hold still, 'm almost done."

your fingers and wrists have been aching from the repeated motions made on the thick locs. the throbbing between your fingers didn't help, either. your legs cross over his shoulders, your ankles meeting at his sternum.

thoughts wandered, and your eyes eventually lost the thoughtful gleam in them as you zoned out in the soporific task of parting the last few locs.

part, gel, twist, clip. part, gel, twist, clip. part, gel, twist--ekkostopmoving--clip. part, gel, twist, clip.

eventually, you were done, and you stared down at the simple maze of white squares atop deep skin. "all done. that wasn't so bad, was it?"

ekko keens, touching his fingers to his raw scalp.

"mmh..."

you press a kiss to his temple, twisting open the greasy bottle of braiding foam and pumping it atop his head. a shaky exhale pushes through his nose upon the cooling sensation, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in four hours when your fingertips massage the mousse throughout his scalp.

your rigid thighs finally release his head from their grasp and you sit back on the bed. ekko excitedly propels himself off the ground and into the vanity, craning his neck down to inspect you work.

"wow, 's beautiful, firefly. thank you."

"mmhm, i know. you're welcome. your girl comes in to save the day, yet again!"

he faces you with his soft eyes and dopey grin, walking back over towards you. quietly, he moves the comb, clips, gel, and mousse onto the floor and grips your ankles, spreading your legs.

your face makes the quickest change, your stomach twitching as you start to sit up, but your movements falter when he just kneels between your legs and lays himself down on your body, head cradled on your shoudler.

"oh." you mutter, shaky fingers reaching up to caress his cheek. the oils you used to moisturize his hair crept down the side of his ears and cheeks, leaving them greasy.

his automatic reaction was to tease you. you could feel his smirk against your chest. "what? did you expect some type of payment?"

"no!..." a beat. "...maybe. i did sit there for four hours."

warm breath blows against your collar bone, a small laugh. smooth and silky. plump lips meet your clavicle, his fingers walking their way up your side. you shifted away from his hand with a breathy giggle, the act feeling like a tickle. his mouth pulled into a smile as he trailed up your neck, his hand following the same direction up your shirt.

before you know it, his lips are on yours, and his palm is kneading at your breast which he gained access to by pushing the cup of your bra up.

the kiss quickly turned desperate, from slow and sensual to greedy and messy. your tongues were practically fighting with each other, your breaths growing heavy.

he pulled away for what felt like a agonizing eternity to shrug his wife-pleaser off and pull your (his) t-shirt off of you. his eyes fell on your figure, an enticing sight that made his sweatpants grow uncomfortably tight.

"quit staring." you whisper, though you're staring equally as much as him. from his broad shoulders down to the small trail of hairs that ran into the peeking band of his boxers.

"sorry, 's hard not to. you look so good."

your ears heat up at his words as you watch him get off the bed, kneeling on the same pillow he sat on while you did his hair. his hands grabbed your around your ankles and pulled you toward the edge of the bed, smooching your waist as his hands swiftly tugged down your shorts.

he pushes your legs open by your knees, his kisses getting tantalizingly close to your throbbing heat.

"ekko," you whine, just to be met with a shit-eating grin. his arms wrap around your thighs so his hand can easily reach your clothed clit, his thumb pressing into it, rubbing feather-light circles.

"hey, maybe i should just do this since you were so mean while doing my hair. you think this'll be enough to make you cum?"

you groan, a sound rooted so deep within your core that it sounds like a growl. your hips shakily push against his thumb.

"ekko please don't play with me right now—"

he readjusts you quick, laying your hips flat against the mattress again.

"stop moving."

your eye twitches and you couldn't stop your hand from flying down into the neatly array of locs and metal clips in his head, tugging lightly. but to a tender head, that slight tug was like a lash.

"ow!--☆, that—"

"s-stick your tongue out."

ekko hesitates, but doesn't waste any time after you tilt your head expectantly. his tongue lays against his bottom lip, glossy brown orbs watching as your free hand pulls your panties to the side. before you even push his head down, his tongue is flat against your clit.

your head falls back against the sheets, a blissful sob reverberating through the walls and calling back to you, ringing in your ears.

his lips wrap around your clit, sucking lasciviously at the bud. he quickly started to remember why he fucking loved eating you out, your wetness like a sweet liquor that got him drunk every single time.

it almost felt perverted, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed upon tasting an acidic nectar on his tongue. he got off on your noises alone, the way you writhed above him, the way you cried out in pleasure, he drank it all in, too quickly. it filled his brain with a buzz, all his thoughts coming to a halt until all he could focus on was you.

well, kind of. he wasn't focused enough to hear your multiple pleads for him to slow down because you were close already. he was too busy devouring you like you were his first and last meal.

"c-cumming, fuck, ekko—i-i'm cumming, slow down," you moaned, white knuckling the sheets below you in attempt to keep yourself physically grounded.

his eyes squeezed shut as you shivered, your orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave.

you had to physically push him away from you because you were already overstimulated, pressing the ball of your palm into his forehead to push him away.

"f-fuck. holy shit." you gasp, barely able to catch your breath.

after a few moments of speechless panting, he looks up at you and sighs. "y'didn't have to pull my hair." though he was joking, you couldn't help but feel bad.

"i know, sorry baby. c'mere."

he stands up and lays down next to you, his lips and chin coated in a thick, clear layer of your arousal. you giggle, thumbing it off before kissing him.

"your turn?" you ask with lidded eyes. you can see his face light up, though he tries to play it off. he fails.

"yes. please."

__________________

"f-fuck, oh m'god, firefly please.."

you've switched positions, with you kneeling between his legs. you've been stroking his length and taking inches of him in your mouth for what has felt like a decade, taking your torturously sweet time with him.

the image was beautiful, a thin veil of sweat coating his mahogany skin, his tip angrily crying every time you slowly pump up and squeeze around the base of the head. his eyes were glossed over, looking down at you with pleading eyes. every movement you made had him twitching, his muscles pulsing with each wave of pleasure that crashed within his core.

"shhh, hol' still, y'know it'll feel good when i'm done. can you do that for me, ekko? stay nice and patient and pretty for me, like you..." you tightly gripped the base of his dick, hearing his breathy whine being ripped from his throat, "aaallllways..." you stroked upwards, watching how he struggled to keep his eyes locked with yours. "do."

he nods, but you can tell he's struggling because he's really fucking close, but you're proud of him for listening.

"words?"

"shit, y-yes, i can. i can baby."

"good."

you only give him a couple seconds to relax before his tip is touching your uvula, a shocked gasp tearing from him. it only takes 4 seconds before he's spilling down your throat, apologizing profusely through restrained moans.

"fuck, h-holy shit," he gasps. you smile.

"that's what i said earlier!"

he rolls his eyes, pulling you up to lay next to him.

"thanks baby."

"...i dunno why you thankin' me yet, i ain't done with you."

[stvrnioloslvt]

pretty like this - matt sturniolo

genre: smut / t.w: mdni. needy, sleepy, subby matt / inspo*

–☆–⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

the moon shined proudly through the curtains, illuminating the quiet room with a dim light. rain tapped against the windows in a rhythmic pattern outside, a pleasing background to the peaceful scenery.

you and matt were curled up in bed, soft snores leaving his mouth. you stirred slightly as your sleep was interrupted by the ping from your phone, waking you up.

yawning, you turned around to pick up your phone, trying not to wake up the sleepy boy who was hugging you tightly at your waist. you groaned annoyed, the notification that woke you up was just an ad that came in through your mails. unfortunately, you were one of those people who could not fall asleep right after waking up, so you just mindlessly scrolled through your social medias for a bit, hoping that maybe in this way you would fall asleep quicker.

matt murmured something in his sleep, changing position so that he was laying with his head on your chest, his leg wrapped around yours in a weird side-hug. you placed a soft kiss on his head, cuddling him like a baby, taking a sneaky photo of his pouty lips and puffy eyes. you giggled silently looking at the photo, knowing that if he ever found that out he would have you delete it immediately, thinking that he was “too ugly” or “too messy”.

suddenly, matt sighed and stirred, pulling you closer to him. you couldn’t hold back a gasp as you turned off your phone at light speed, fearing that he might have woken up. a quick glance at his eyes told you that you just got scared and that he was, in fact, still sound asleep.

you sighed, relieved at the constatation, relaxing against the plush pillows. just as you were going to turn back on your phone, you heard matt groan, the sound muffled by the fabric of your pyjama that pooled by his mouth.

“matt?” you called out in a whisper-like tone, not wanting to disturb him but wanting to check up on him at the same time. all you got as a reply was another groan falling from his rosy lips, eyebrows scrunched together. you lifted yourself up, worry gnawing at your insides: was he having a nightmare? was he not feeling well? did you have to wake him up or wait?

your train of thoughts was interrupted by a whimper, a desperate whimper, by the sleepy boy whose hips slowly started to rut against your side. realisation hit you suddenly, noticing only in that moment his hard cock poking your hip.

you froze for a moment unsure on what to do, while matt's movements picked up their rhythm, his grasp around your waist tightening. you watched hypnotized the scene, turned on like never before, your damp panties sticking to your folds like a second skin. at that moment matt's eyes peeled open, his fucked out expression turning you on even more. still sleep-drunk he released a frustrated whimper, his gaze meeting yours with a silent plea written all over his face.

"please," he begged while kicking aside his pants, hands gripping your hips. "touch me, please, it hurts."

a chuckle left your lips before you could even keep it back, enjoying your boyfriend's desperation to be touched by you, begging for you to help him get rid of his "problem".

"lay on your back, baby" you instructed him, watching as he scurried to roll back on the bed, laying comfortably on the pillows. "good boy," you praised him, stroking gently his cheek, pleased by the way he seemed to melt in your hand.

your nose grazed his neck, gradually travelling up his jaw, then coming back down while placing open-mouthed kisses all over his pale skin. as you did so, your hand landed on his hip, slowly making its way to his clothed dick. you palmed him through his boxers, letting your thumb stroke his tip as more precum leaked through the fabric, and his whines turned into desperate whimpers. his hips bucked into your hand, but you stopped his movement by holding him back against the mattress.

"do you wanna fuck my hand?" you purred in his ear, lightly nibbling at his earlobe.

"please," he exhaled sharply, looking at you with tears in his eyes. "whatever you say. just please, please, it hurts so bad."

placing a soft kiss on his lips, your hands hooked under his briefs, pulling them down and letting them rest just below his member, observing as a string of precum attached itself from his tip to the fabric, falling back on his thigh. your mouth watered at the sight, wanting nothing more than to satisfy your sweet boy who vibrated with desire.

his cock sprung out throbbing with need, waiting patiently for your hand.

and as matt whined one last time, lifting his hips to push you to do something, you wrapped your hand around his cock, eliciting a long moan from your boyfriend whose eyes rolled to the back of his head, mouth slightly open as you massaged his sensitive tip.

"c'mon baby," you murmured as your hand slid on his length, stopping right there. "be a good boy and please yourself for me."

matt nodded impatiently, thrusting up your hand even before you finished your sentence, his hips snapping quick and sharp. the squelching sounds of his thrusts and his moans filled the room, the sound of the rain outside long forgotten.

you observed delighted beads of sweat collecting at his temples, strands of hair sticking to his forehead. His hands gripped the sheets as pleasure overtook him, his abdomen muscles flexing and relaxing rhythmically as he continued to fuck your hand.

"so pretty," you whispered, pushing back the soft lock that were sticking to his face. "you look so pretty like this, you're such a good boy, aren't you?"

matt whined at your sweet words, eyes rolling to the back of his head. "yes-yes, i'm your-fuck-i'm your good boy."

you hummed, bending down to lick a drop of sweat that was running off the side of his neck. "do you think you can make yourself cum like this?"

"oh god-yes, yes, yes..." a broken cry spilled from his rosy lips as his hips rutted into your hand uncoordinated, so close to his release. you looked down to your hand, smirking at the sticky mess that he was making, more and more precum leaking from his reddened tip.

you decided to help him, meeting his thrusts with the strokes of your hand. "then cum, baby."

matt's body tensed as he came, legs quivering with the intensity of the orgasm. as the last spurts of cum landed on his stomach, his body went limp against the bed, face relaxed, his eyes closed in a blissful state.

"are you okay, baby?"

"mhm"

"you sure?"

"yeah, best orgasm ever." he slurred, rolling on his side to face you. his blue eyes peeled open slowly, a soft smile tugging at his lips. "can we do this again some other time?"

you smiled, placing a soft peck on his cheek. "whenever you want, baby. now stay here, i'll grab a towel to clean you."

© stvrnioloslvt

–☆–

*so, this fic is actually inspired by one of another creator. the problem is, I read their fic like a shit ton of time ago, and I can't find it anymore. if you are the original creator, please let me know so that I can give you credits! I remember the general theme of the pics was green if that can help

i believe that's the first time that i get horny by my own writing. is this tmi? hope not. anyway, hope you enjoyed this little fic🩷

as always, my inbox is always open for anything you want to tell me, and everyone is welcomed!

here's a cookie for y'all 🍪

love you all, bree <3

[sidneywasfound]

YOU KNOW I'M NOT YOURS ✷

★Pairing: Franco Colapinto x !Fem Reader

✧Plot: You and Franco broke up 3 months ago, but he's still looking for an excuse to see You.

☆!Warnings: angst and smut, this is very short actually (and sweet [NO] omg),Bad English writing

✯Contents: Angst Discussions,Insecure thoughts?) smut: Hair pulling/grabbing,sex without protection(don't do that please)

💋

★AUTHOR'S NOTE: i'm really Bad at English.I'm argentinian and i'm still learning English ...Since English is not my first language this could be written horribly,and it's very cringe too...So I totally accept advices and comments to improve it! ♡

You Heard that anoying sound again *Ring* *Ring*,why was he Even calling You to the house phone ? "we are not in the 80's,send me a message or something" You tought.You decided to get up and answer.

The next thing you remember was franco,He went through all the drawers in the house."The fuck do You want?" You said upset."I'm looking for My sunglasses,y'know they're are really important to me because they gave me those when...", And back again the whole story was repeated,Franco would go back to look for some another stupid thing that he forgot in your house when he was still with you,And you would eat up his entire stupid line,"it's really important to me...","If it bothers you so much, why don't you..blah blah...".you hated that part of the story...But the next one...

Of course, that whole verse was an excuse that was repeated like a routine that stays stuck in your head every day. But when the story turned to your pink slik bed,everything was different,everytime.

Your hands gripped the headboard tightly as you rode Franco. You loved to make eye contact with him while You maintain your hand on his chest,it went up and down with his agitated breathing.

He was grabbing your waist and pulling it down and up,your movement were becoming more out of sync and he noticed it,"What's wrong hermosa? Do you want me to fuck you by myself?" He said, running a hand over your neck and down to your tits. Without Even saying a Word he turned you over and put a hand over your head He put a hand on your head that was facing to the side and grabbed your hair tightly, pushing your head down. He started to thrust you while you let out some small moans from your mouth 'ah ah ah'. In that exact moment You tought "what am i doing?", You loved him,yes he was a dick sometimes but You apreciate that he would make some stupid excuses just to see you. And that's when the knot in your pelvis thought faster than your mind

" 'm gonna...ah mierda..", he said desperately thrusting you,with Your mouth wide open you let out a moan nodding your head,"i...ah...i..." Franco didn't understood what were You trying to said,and that's when both finished ,moaning and Clinging to each other."i love You...",You whispered as he collapsed on top of you, placing his face in the crook of your neck. He was frozen,"o-ok...babe i...i have to go...", he stood up and You watch him dressing up,upset,what the fuck is wrong with him?,"Franco why-",You couldn't end your prhase when he interrupted,"You know You...You can't just Say that..."You just stood there frozen, lying naked on the bed, staring at him worriedly,and god you looked gorgeous."Then what the fuck is wrong with You?...seriously franco why are You doing this?!" He stays in silence "i don't...love You" he says breaking the silence "then get out of My house." You said Indifferent"hey babe we can-" You put on your underwear and stood in front of him "No!,why would You treat me like that if nothing happened between us?! i don't understand why are You leaving me?,why would You change?!."

And then he just go,he doesn't want You You Guess,You Say to yourself that if in the future he ask for something he forgot You wouldn't let him go back. But You also knew that this was also the beginning of the same story and rutine.

This was horrible sorry 😔

IM NEW AT THIS OK

[bothoutsiders]

JayTim @ office au. bodyguard x boss. drabble. abo pwp.

His lips were red and swollen, and he was a complete mess. What used to be a clean, neat suit, was now wrinkled, and stained with blood, sweat and soon, come.

Tim tilted his head back against the hard surface of his desk, panting and moaning as quietly as he could. The wet sounds of his bodyguard’s fingers working inside him echoed in the office.

“I told you to be careful,” it was almost a snarl against his ear. “Why can’t you just obey me?”

His jacket was open, and some of his shirt’s buttons undone. He tried his best to process what the alpha on top of him was saying, but he couldn’t focus. Jason was too good with his fingers.

“You weren’t doing this on purpose, right, Timmy?” Jason licked his boss’ neck, but Tim only whined, moving his hips against Jason’s fingers. “No answer? I guess you think that risking your life isn’t something serious. I’ll have to teach you a lesson again.”

Jason pulled his fingers out, and showed them to his boss. There was a thick thread of slick connecting them, and Tim didn’t know what to say about that. He only stared, embarrassed, and desperate.

“Look at how wet you are.” He purred and leaned in, licking Tim’s blood clean from his nose. “I don’t even need anything else.” Jason moved the same hand down, wrapping his wet fingers around his hard cock, and stroking it a few times.

Tim moved his hips, wanting some attention once again, as his smaller hands clung to his bodyguard’s arms.

“What are you doing?” Jason stopped stroking himself, his cock completely coated with Tim’s slick.

He moved his hips again, guiding himself toward his bodyguard now that he wasn’t moving. Jason understood what his boss was trying to do when he felt the heat of Tim’s hole so close to him.

He stayed still, holding his cock from the base with one hand, and letting Tim do all the work. The boss whined and panted, his thin hands holding from the edge of the desk, pushing papers, pens and an organizer off, landing close to his underwear and trousers on the floor. 

When Jason finally felt him close enough, he pushed his hips forward in a single thrust without any warning. Tim immediately moaned and arched his back, savoring the moment, the way his bodyguard’s thick cock stretched and filled him completely.

The alpha hovered over him, hands resting on both sides of Tim’s head, as he began to move his hips in an erratic and desperate way, loving the wet, velvet walls that wrapped around him so deliciously tight.

Not caring anymore that both were in the office, Tim moaned wantonly, wrapping his bare legs around his employee, wanting him to go deeper.

This wasn’t the first time it happened. By now, the secretary was used to the sounds that came from within the locked office, and Jason was sure that Tim would risk his life, not only for the adrenaline, but also for the aftermath of those events.

--

it has been years since i've written smut and guess what? time to practice again because i'm way too rusty. :))))

[cutiechaser]

I love the casual intimacy when you sit close to me, you curling around me instinctively. Look into my eyes; let me see the fire of your devotion reflected back.

As I trace my fingers over your chest, I want you to lean in closer, your breath mingling with mine. Feel how my skin tingles under your touch, igniting a hunger I know you can’t resist. Let your hands roam, exploring the curves of my waist, moving lower ardently.

Worship me like I’m the sun; feast on my every inch. Your lips exploring the delicate skin of my neck, trailing down to my collarbone, taking your time — because I want to hear the soft growls of need escaping your throat as you savor me. Each kiss should be a promise, a declaration of just how much you crave me.

As you move your mouth down my body, let your hands follow suit. I want you to feel every inch of me, to taste the sweetness of my skin as you shower me with attention. With each flick of your tongue, I want you to remember who gets to experience your allegiance in such a primal way. I’ll teach you how to make me writhe under your touch.

When your lips find their way to my breasts, I want you to indulge hungrily, sucking and teasing until all I can do is gasp out your name. Let your excitement build as you lose control to the pleasure coursing between us. Each sound I make is a melody for you to decipher, urging you on as you worship me in ways that drive us both wild.

When your hands start to travel lower, pulling at my skirt to expose my thighs, don’t hesitate. I can see that delicious anticipation written across your face. Every time your fingertips graze my body, it sends a jolt to your core, doesn’t it? You’re practically vibrating with want.

Lean in again, your lips brushing against my neck as you breathe me in. Can you feel how your breath hitches, how your desire builds with every kiss? Each mark you leave on me is a testament to your yearning, and I want to hear you growl as you fight against that burning urge to possess me.

Take your time as you explore me, feel me shiver beneath your touch. I want you to relish the way I tremble, the way my body responds to you. I can feel your arousal radiating off you in waves, urging you to hurry, to take me, to indulge. Let your hands grip my thighs tight, leaving fingerprints, holding me in place, making me feel your ferocity for me with each stroke. You know what happens when you tease — it drives you wild, doesn’t it? The way my body reacts to you, aching for more, the way my brain immediately conjures up a sweetly sinful retaliation.

When you find your way back to my hips, I’ll pull you closer, guiding you between my legs. Oh, the way you look at me with that desperate fire! I want to drown in that hunger, wanting to feel you pushing against me, feeling every inch of you pressed against me.

Rock your hips against mine; let that rhythm build until we’re both gasping for breath. I want you to lose yourself, to feel how crazy I make you. Feel how you can’t stop yourself from thrusting into me, how you’re barely able to keep it together. You’re completely lost in the need to make me feel good, and it’s driving you into frenzy.

I’ll whisper your name, teasing you with my breathless moans, fueling that fire even more. You’re not just here to please me; I want you to show me just how helpless you are against the desire that takes over every inch of your body.

I’ll guide you in deeper, holding you close, allowing you to surrender completely to that wild urgency. Closer, harder, making every thrust hit just right until I can feel you trembling, holding back just a fraction longer until the very instant you can’t take it anymore.

And when your orgasm finally washes over us, I want to see the way your eyes roll back in pure ecstasy, how joy and relief wash over your features as you give in to bliss. I know you want to explode inside me, and I’m ready for it, craving that release.

Afterwards, as we lie tangled together, I’ll pull you close, wrapping my arms around you, enveloping you in warmth and safety. Look at you, still basking in the glow. You were incredible.

You’re so perfect for me, and I want you to know just how stunning you are — from the way your skin glows to the way your eyes shine with satisfaction. You make me feel so alive, and the connection we share is something truly special. I’ll brush a few strands of hair away from your face, looking deep into your eyes, whispering how much I love you and how good you are for me.

As I reach for the chocolate, I’ll offer you a piece, watching the way you savor it, a sweet treat to complement the benediction we’ve just experienced. I’ll fill a glass of cool water, bringing it to your lips, ensuring you stay nourished and refreshed. You deserve to be cared for after giving yourself so completely, and I want you to feel cherished in every way.

With each bite and sip, I’ll remind you how amazing you are — how your strength and beauty captivate me, how lucky I am to have you in my life. Together, we’ll drift into a peacefully sated intimacy, my fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin as I revel in the joy of having you by my side.

In this moment of quiet connection, I’ll hold you close, whispering sweet affirmations of my love, ensuring you know just how wonderfully perfect you are for me. I’ll cherish every part of you, knowing that our bond is deeper than just the physical — it’s something beautiful, tender, and everlasting.

[hsnlv]

lean on me | y.jw

you had always been independent. it wasn’t something you chose—it was ingrained in you from childhood. your parents weren’t neglectful, but they believed it was important for you to know how to handle things on your own. “it’ll be easier for you in the future,” they said.

and they were right. you grew up mastering the art of self-sufficiency, from fixing broken appliances to managing life’s curveballs. but this independence wasn’t always welcomed, especially in relationships. most of your ex-boyfriends had found it off-putting. they wanted to feel needed, to swoop in as the “man of the house.” but you hated that mindset.

so when you met jungwon, you thought it would be the same. but jungwon? he was different.

“babe.”

his voice startled you out of your focused trance. you glanced up to see him crouching next to you, his curious eyes scanning the scattered pieces of wood and screws on the floor.

“what are you doing?” he asked, though it was clear.

“building a bookshelf,” you replied casually, flipping through the manual perched on your lap.

jungwon reached over and took the manual from you, his eyes skimming over the instructions. then he plopped down beside you, sitting cross-legged like a mirror image.

“you could’ve asked me for help, y’know,” he said, looking at you pointedly.

you shook your head, brushing him off. “it’s fine, uwon. i’ve got it.”

but truthfully, the bookshelf was turning out to be a bigger challenge than you anticipated. the pieces were awkward to fit, and the instructions might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. you didn’t want to admit it, but you were struggling.

jungwon noticed, of course. setting the manual down, he cupped your cheeks with both hands, gently squishing them so your gaze was locked on his. his thumbs rubbed soft circles against your skin, his dimples making a brief but stern appearance.

“angel,” he started, his voice calm yet firm. “can you, for once, just lean on me?”

your lips parted, but no words came out.

“i love that you’re independent,” he continued, his tone softening. “it’s one of the things i admire most about you. but sometimes… i want to take care of you too. not because i think you need me to. but because i want to.”

you blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. you weren’t used to this—someone asking to share your burdens instead of trying to take control.

“you know what would be even more attractive than your independence?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

you shook your head, playing dumb even though you knew what he was getting at.

“if you let me be your boyfriend instead of just some random guy you live with,” he teased, his voice laced with warmth and just a hint of desperation.

his words struck a chord deep inside you. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust jungwon—you did, with all your heart. but letting someone help you, letting someone in, wasn’t something that came easily after years of being your own rock.

“baby,” he called again, softer this time. “let’s try this together, hm?”

he dropped his hands and picked up the manual, his fingers tracing the steps with deliberate care. you watched as he began organizing the pieces, his focus steady yet unhurried.

“fine,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but only because this bookshelf is impossible.”

jungwon glanced up, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “impossible for you, maybe. not for us.”

and just like that, the two of you worked side by side.

——————————

later that evening, the bookshelf stood proudly in the corner of your room, and you found yourself curled up on the couch with jungwon. your head rested on his chest, his steady heartbeat soothing you as his fingers lazily played with your hair.

“see? this isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you.

you traced little shapes on his shirt with your finger, a soft smile forming on your lips. “no. it’s… nice, actually.”

he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “told you. letting me help doesn’t make you any less strong. it just makes me feel like your actual boyfriend instead of your roommate-slash-cheerleader.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly. “you’re so dramatic.”

“oh, i’m dramatic?” he feigned offense, his dimples peeking out as he grinned. “this coming from the girl who wrestled a bookshelf just to prove a point.”

“hey, that bookshelf was—” you started to argue, but jungwon cut you off by leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“shh, angel,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “you’re cute when you’re flustered, but you’re even cuter when you admit I’m right.”

you groaned, hiding your face in his chest, but he only laughed, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“thank you, uwon,” you murmured, your voice muffled against him.

“for what?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“for being patient with me. and… for building the bookshelf.”

jungwon grinned, pulling you back just enough to cup your cheeks. “you’re welcome. but, angel?”

“yeah?”

“next time you need to build something—or anything, really—just call me, okay? i’ll be your knight in shining armor, or at least a guy with a really good screwdriver.”

you laughed, your heart feeling light in a way it hadn’t in a long time. “deal. but don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” he teased, leaning down to steal another kiss. “you already think I’m the best.”

and honestly? you kind of did. because with jungwon, you didn’t just feel cared for—you felt loved, completely and utterly. and that was better than anything you’d ever built on your own.

[deepestnightcolor]

✩⁺₊✩☽⋆Kinkmas - 2nd of December⋆☾✩⁺₊✩

ᴀ/ɴ: What's behind door two? Let's find out, shall we? thank you for your time and I hope you enjoy!

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sebastian x Fem!Reader (ᴀ/ɴ: I CANNOT believe I have written Sebastian. I can't write this man for the LIFE of me, but I hope you enjoy what I wrote nonethless :D).

ᴡᴄ: 1095 words

ᴍᴅɴɪ ✧ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: dirty talk, degrading, unprotected sex, kinda public sex, pretty much getting caught, cream pie, cursing.

Sebastian loved winter, and there were so many reasons for him to do so! The sun was really weak, the air was nice and cold which meant that he wasn’t sweating his balls off the moment he set foot outside (fuck that, he didn’t sweat his balls off from just lying in bed), and best of all? Society didn’t fucking expect him to go out just because the weather was nice. Quite the opposite! It was perfectly acceptable to stay bundled up inside of your fucking house, the most he had to do was to look out a window every now and then and sigh wistfully – that was his fucking jam!

So, now riddle him this – how the hell had he ended up on Ginger fucking Island, where the sun showed no fucking mercy, making him sweat his balls off? Ginger Island, one of the most crowded places to be, given that most people used this as an escape of the winter wonderland back home? Why the hell was he allowing the sand to burn his feet, even though he could be at home, in his bed, aimlessly scrolling social media, maybe, and he would never admit that, making himself some hot cocoa and admire the Winterstar tree his mom had set up? Well, the riddle wasn’t all too hard to solve – the reason he was on this stupid island was right in front of him, looking up at him with those glazed-over eyes, bikini top messily tugged down to reveal kiss-bitten, spit-covered tits that bounced with each thrust that he oh so cruelly hammered into your messy cunt. “That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it, baby? Dragging me out here? Cock stuffed in your dirty little whore cunt in a fucking changing room? Chose the busiest day of the week, too, it seems…Would be a shame if anyone heard how good I am fucking you, huh? Or maybe that’s what you fucking want…Oh, fuck yeah, you are clenching around me baby- that’s exactly what you fucking want, yeah? Letting them all hear who’s fucking you dumb, who’s making you a fuckin’ whore for dick,” He whispered, voice nothing above a dangerous snarl as his hips mercilessly kept up his pace, only fucking you harder when he felt your cunt wrap tighter, sucking off his cock oh so sweetly. You see, Sebastian hadn’t even planned for this to happen. Sure, he had let you persuade him to join you, but he had fully expected to sit in the sand for an hour, maybe watch you swim or play volleyball with you, and then get the fuck out of there again, settle back in his castle of ice (his basement, but don’t blame him! It was fucking cold down there).

Plans had changed as soon as you stepped out of that changing room in that new bikini, grinning at him proudly. “I got it on sale!” You had told him, letting that waistband of the colourful bikini bottom snap against your paling hips. And well, you had told him to have fun at the beach, hadn’t you? And this was his way of having fun – you impaled on his cock, head thrown back as you tried desperately to hold back those sweet, sweet sounds that were threatening to spill, sounds that would be revealing what the two of you were up to, pressed together with one of your legs hooked around his hips, allowing him deeper access in that gorgeous cunt of yours. Sebastian didn’t have the heart to tell you that you that your pussy was already doing a good job of betraying you, squelching loudly as he forced it to take his quick, hard fucks. “That’s it, baby. That’s fucking it, look at you. You look gorgeous on my dick, you do know that, don’tcha? And your cunt is just sooo wet for me, fuuuuck… You make even summer pleasant for me, baby. That’s right, squeeze my cock- Good. Fucking. Girl,” he snapped, cock seemingly trying to pound his words into you, making sure you would forever remember who you belonged to – him, and only him. He let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out inside of you again, hand digging into your plush ass to give you fast, little fucks, making your mouth hang open, eyes rolling back in your skull. Seb felt his heart swell in his chest, his cock throbbing numbly in your wet pussy. Yoba, you had him tied down and locked up, had him ready to bow to your every little whim, and he just wanted to fuck it into you how much you meant to him.

“That’s fuckin’ it, baby. That’ssssss it, cum for me. Cum all over my cock, baby, c’mon- know you can do it for me, sweet angel,” he growled, trying to bite back and swallow his own moan as you looked at him like this, so stupid, thoughts long gone, only concerned with getting fucked and being able to gush around him. Yoba, did you know that you were his greatest gift on earth? Whatever would be under the tree on the Feast Of The Winterstar couldn’t keep up with you. Couldn’t keep up with the way you broke down on his cock, letting that high-pitched moan slip. Couldn’t keep up with the way your nails dug in his back and dragged down, down, down. Couldn’t keep up with the way you silently mouthed “I love you” as you came undone on his dick, back arched in oh so prettily. Shit, he loved you too. Way more than you would ever know. Or maybe you did? He had come here for you after all – and not even to fill you up with ropes of cum like he was doing now, accompanied by a little groan of your name, breathed against your neck where he was hiding his face away, fucking his cum inside of you to make sure you would feel it all the way home. “I love you, too, my little raindrop,” he panted, kissing the sensitive skin of your neck, making you sob out quietly.

“Come on, guys! I wanna make it fucking home before the fuckin’ Feast, idiots!” A voice suddenly called, big fist slamming against the door, an obvious grump seemingly having waited long enough. Sebastian gave you a chuckle, looking down at your fucked out form, feeling that swell in his chest again. “Come on, let’s get outta here,” he whispered, helping you adjust your bikini. Too bad you couldn’t even get to the sea.

[cranberrydietcoke]

based on this request !

content: father charlie mayhew x female reader, sub!father charlie, bratty!dom!reader, oral (m receiving), head in the confession booth, whiny crybaby ass charlie, mentions of self-flagellation, kinda blasphemous

wc: 1.4k

thank u for the concept lovie !! @motherismotheringggg

“h-here? we can’t right now, i-i’m.-” his words spill out in a broken rush, tripping over his own feet as you press him into the mahogany confession booth with a firm grip on his shoulder, guiding your priest down onto the wooden bench.

“oh my god, literally shut up. you saw my text, you came.” you puff out in a light chuckle, rolling your eyes and smacking the glittery pink gloss smeared across your lips. “duhh charlie, why the fuck else would i be here?” you murmur with a flippant shrug, studying your fresh gel manicure.

blush streaked across his face, humiliation written in vivid red. you were right, and he hated it. in the beginning, he believed he could set you on the right path, undo the damage of your sin. he imagined himself as your savior. but now, he knew better. you were too far gone. and so was he. at night, when his whip flooded crimson from the muscle of his back, he thought about how depraved he was for allowing you this control over him. he broke every vow he’d made – for you. was there ever a choice? you weren’t like the other girls in the congregation- meek, eager to please, devotion laced with quiet desperation. they usually lingered after service, batting their eyelashes and asking questions they already knew the answer to in an attempt to feign his attention. he fucking hated them. your interest in him was hollow, never grounded in his wisdom or true affection, but rather in feeding the feral obsession he just couldn’t escape. with nothing more than a fleeting glance from the pew, you could have him hunched over the side of his bed, frustratedly tugging at his leaky pink cock. tears falling from his eyes to lubricate it further, wishing it was you.

lowering to the floor, you never allowed your eyes to meet his, gripping both of his spread knees in each of your hands. “why’d you come then?” you tilted your head, walking your dainty fingers up the crease of his leg. incense and cologne lingered on the fabric of his clothes.

“i-i just thought you wanted to t-talk, maybe?” the anxiety was evident in his shaky voice, going up octaves higher than usual, brow furrowing.

“bullshit,” you spat, flicking open the button of his dress pants.

“you’re sinful, father, y’know that? lying, giving in to the desires of the flesh…what are we gonna do with you?” you felt his desperate gaze following your every motion, but you couldn’t bring yourself to offer him the courtesy of eye contact. despite the protests that slipped from his lips, your touch unraveled him, shifting his body so you could free his thick inches from the confines of his boxers.

“spit.” you demanded, raising a cupped hand to his trembling lips.

he worked it around his mouth, squelching through his gums as it dripped, landing in your palm. wrapping your hand around his swollen red length, you began pumping it in your fist, the other hand holding the base of his shaft steady.

“f-fuck please, i-i,” charlie whimpered, back arching off the latticed wood. your temple lay on the warm muscle of his thigh watching him buck his hips into your hand. poor boy, you could tell he was celibate.

“please what?” you mocked, slowing down your pace with an emphasis on each stroke. “stay still or you won’t get anything,” he mewled in response, sinking his nails into the wood of the bench. rhythmic, wet slapping echoed through the empty chapel as charlie’s dazed eyes fixed down at you, face screwing with pleasure and disgust.

“p-please, ah! - please just put it in your mouth, i promise i’ll be good, fuck,” he cried, tensing up as pressure built on his gut. he was always so pretty like this - completely helpless and absent minded, chasing a high only you could give him. behind it all, everyone’s favorite holy heartthrob was just a greedy slut, begging for you to make him cum whenever you were generous enough to let him.

“charlie, come on,” dropping your head to look at him through dark lashes. “you think i’m gonna reward you for bad behavior?” you coo, planting hot, wet kisses on the skin of each inner thigh, still jerking at his tip lazily.

the air went still as you heard the chapel door squeak open, the tap tap tap of heels growing closer on the tile floor. charlie’s eyes went wide, buzzing with panic. your hand slapped against his mouth, silencing any whines or pants or complaints.

“father charlie, it’s maria! i’m here for confession?” the woman chirped as she wandered through the vast open space. he sighed breathlessly as your hand left his face, coaxing words out of him as you motion with your hand.

“y-yeah, in here,” he croaked out, the perverted curl of your plush lips sent a knot to twist in his stomach. as she stepped into the opposite side of the booth and closed the door behind her, your hands picked back up, massaging the stickiness into his needy cock. his eyes rolled into the back of his skull, wriggling his toes restlessly as you shushed him.

“forgive me father, for i have sinned. it’s been two weeks since my last confession.” the poor lady began, not a clue what her faithful priest was going through behind the screen. beads of sweat trickled down from his hairline.

“go ahead,” he hissed, watching as you craned your neck to lick a glossy stripe up the underside of his shaft. “may the lord help you confess - with true repentance.” he hiccuped, lifting his hands to brush the loose hair from your face. finally, he was gonna get what he wanted; on your terms, of course.

taking the twitching length into your mouth, the woman yaps on and on about how much she hates her cheating husband, her fuckass kids, her stupid minivan. he could hardly comprehend what she was saying, let alone say his own name, as you stuffed the remaining inches down your throat, humming sloppily against him. looking up from your kneeled position, you watched as his head rolled on his neck like a ragdoll, all blissed out. his whole dick was in your mouth now, working your tongue on its veiny underbelly. you tried your best to stifle your gargles and his simultaneous writhing by digging your nails into his skin, leaving tiny crescent indents.

a tiny ah! rolled off his tongue, so close to silent.

his eyes snapped open, wide with humiliation, locking onto yours with the vulnerability of a lost puppy. holding his gaze, you continue slowly and tortuously bobbing your head.  

“father? are-are you okay?”

“yeah, yes, i’m sorry,” he huffed, “pray the rosary for ten minutes each day, u-uhm, for your p-penance.” blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear the haze from his useless little head, chest rapidly rising and falling. “now go on, maria,” his voice was rushed and strained as your cheeks hollowed out, inner softness gripping around him, his seat now a puddle of spit. “recite the act of contrition.”

he could do nothing but squirm under you as you brought both hands to stroke the base of his length, suckling on the engorged head. from the way it pulsed and bobbed in your mouth, you could tell he was close.

“o my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee…”

white knuckling the edge of the bench, tingling sensations bled through charlie’s entire lower half, the woman’s desperate prayers concealing the sound of your throat being stuffed.

“i detest all my sins because i dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell,”

his body tensed, coating your throat with sticky warmth before going limp as you continued slurping at him, manipulating every last drop out of his thick, twitching pole. his hands shot up, pressing on your scalp, trying to shove your head away. but this is what he wanted, right?

“i firmly resolve, with the help of thy grace, to confess my sins and amend my life. amen.”

to save him the struggle, you pull your mouth from between his legs, wiping the slick that coated your chin. he should be embarrassed – ashamed even. his body sat slumped, head thrown back in animalistic relief. with a knowing smirk, you raise your fingertips, tracing the sign of the cross in mock reverence. pressing your palms together in prayer, purring and beaming with self-satisfaction.

amen.

[jam3sacaster]

Hey girl!

Rupert x reader where he helps her relax after pulling an nighter for a school project?

As always, thank you!

“I’m a great stress reliever.”

(Rivals) Rupert Campbell-Black x Reader

18+ FANFIC / soft rupert 🥹 Short Work. Reader character aged at 21 x

Hunched over a towering pile of textbooks, you temporarily halted from scribing in your notepad to take a large gulp of hot coffee. Glancing at the imposing grandfather clock in the corner, you read the time — 6:48am. You had almost been working for nine consecutive hours, slaving away at one of your last university assignments. Rupert had gloomily sloped off to bed some hours ago now, wanting to leave you to concentrate. You had desperately wanted to follow him, let his musk wash over you and show him a good time. But, you’d written over 300 pages in your time spent at the kitchen table, so your hard work had thankfully paid off.

Twenty minutes later, Rupert, dressed only in a velvety pearl-grey dressing gown and tartan-printed slippers, entered the kitchen, flicking on the kettle. “Darling, have you not been to sleep at all?” He spoke in that concerned tone that melted your heart like a pat of butter. “No, no I haven’t. But I’ve made good time with this assignment and I’m almost finished.” You reply, not looking up from your notepad. Your sentences were scrawled and jumbled, and your hands were tinted the most frightful inky blue.

“Well, I simply won’t let you continue. You’ve got weeks to finish, haven’t you? You can’t exhaust yourself over it.” He muttered, pulling the notepad from underneath you and placing it on top of the dusty kitchen cupboards, confidently out of your reach. “Rupert!” You exclaim, pushing yourself out of your chair and making your best attempt at grabbing the notepad, fingers barely reaching the handle of the cabinet. A righteous grin tugging at the corners of his lips, Rupert wrapped an arm around your shapely waist and pulled you into him. His strapping arm enveloping you promptly slowed your breathing, allowing you to exhale.

“I’m so tired. I’ve had seven coffees, none of them helped. I’m just so stressed.” You murmured quietly, resting your rouged cheek against Rupert’s chest, listening carefully to his steady heartbeat. “I know, angel. But… I’m a great stress reliever.” Your lover smirked, reaching his hand under your mauve dress and pinching your bottom firmly. Allowing his fingers to wander, he giggled frivolously as he took your lack of underwear. Relaxing your thighs under his touch, you were rather surprised when he removed his fingers, and held you at arms length. “Now, I’ll run you a bath, make you some cocoa and you… can stop worrying.” He buzzed, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead.

[meowzilla111]

ੈ✩‧₊˚ “ GIRLS NEED LOVE TOO ”

pairings;; TOXICboyfriend!Toji x fem!reader

summary;; you’ve been feeling beyond neglected recently for quite a while now and you’ve had enough of it. You decide to call it quits with your man but well he has other plans.

content;; NSFW, toxic!toji, pure filth, nipple play, pussy smacking, established relationship, degradation, praise, thigh riding, oral (f. receiving), fingering, lowkey hurt comfort fluff idk weird mix tbh & sweet talking

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ a/n;; icl this is the first ever smut i’ve written but I lowkey put my whole pussy into ts so hopefully yall like it LMAO nah but im a huge sucker for hurt and comfort type shih and lil toxic mfs soooooo here we r wat can I say a girl got fantasies mayn 🤷‍♀️ but if any of yall have any requests send em my way ill write em if it’s something I write.

♬ girls need love - summer walker (drake) ♬

“I wanna break up.”

You couldn’t even look into his eyes. For fucks sake how did you even manage to get to this point? From all the missed calls, the ignoring, rejecting your advances that came with a desperate crave of his affection, his attention, down to all the days you’d rub your legs together imagining what he could be doing not what he was doing.

Instead of receiving that oh so sweet loving that had you feining over this man you would now spend your days pondering if he even loved you anymore.

You knew he was a busy guy, you knew that better than anyone but you were sick of it, it was like you gave your 100% all while you sat there like a pigeon begging for a morsel of bread. Fuck was that about?

At this point you wondered the point of allowing you self respect to stoop so low like this for a man of all things especially one who seemed to give less of a shit if you lived or died, were you just another place to crash to him?

He looked up from the TV, sat on the couch, tendrils of smoke escaping his mouth, ribboning around you, his legs manspread open.

You didn’t know what he was thinking, you never really did but with how the air went still and the atmosphere shift you sure as hell began to regret your decision- wait no- you couldn’t take it back now what’s done is done.

“I want you to take your shi-“ “Fuck are you talking about?” swiftly cutting you off, you locked eyes with him, his heavy green eyes boaring into your soul as if he were evaluating your whole existence.

Your breath hitched. Your voice caught in your throat. Fuck your knees felt like they were gonna buckle right then and there why’d he have to be like this?

“You know what I’m talking about. You’re not incompetent now are you? I think i’ve been quite clear with my words I want to break up and I want you out my house.” you crossed your arms your feet flat planted on the ground you needed to show you meant business and that you would STAND on business, you weren’t just any woman, you weren’t to be messed with to be played with this man needed to know that.

He hummed tapping out his cigarette on the ash tray on the side table leaving the butt in the ash. He got up the man now looming over you. The tension was high.

He looked down at you his eyes refusing to leave yours “Where’s this shit coming from?” his voice was raspy. You took in his appearance his expression was unexplainable you couldn’t tell if he was mad or amused or a weird mash up of the two. You looked away what were you supposed to say?

He grabbed your chin with light force turning you back to face him your cheeks squished against his hand. “Look at me when i’m speaking at you.”

You wanted to speak you did but you were just putty when it came to him in the matter of seconds you felt yourself crumble your walls died down his face coming closer to yours, you really didn’t think this through did you?

“Cmon speak up silly girl where’s that bite from before?” he smirked his mocking tone riling you up and not in the way you wanted.

You felt a sudden jolt go to your clit, wetness pooling between your legs. He knew what he was doing. Stupid fucking toji.

“I’m waiting sweet one” that same mocking sarcastic tone still present god you were feeling humilated now, you needed to speak you couldn’t let this cunt belittle you, even if you were into it. He needed to hear your truth you needed to speak your mind.

“You never make time for me anymore toji.” He raised a brow moving his hand from your face crossing his arms letting you speak. “I’m fucking sick of it, I know you get busy but what about me! Don’t I matter? I dont think you love me anymore not like before you dont even say it anymore for fucks sake!” You flail your arms feeling genuine rage seep into your veins, all that bottled up annoyance spewing out of you like a waterfall.

“You barely even look at me anymore toji you dont even fuck me anymore do you find me ugly or something???? This isnt even the first time ive had this conversation with you, I need a man who can pay attention to me who can love me like I deserve and well you ain’t fucking cutting it no more.” You rubbed your temples, these stresses had been eating holes into you day in and day out you couldn’t do this shit anymore.

“I want to be loved is that so hard to ask?” your voice broke, you really didn’t want to cry but you felt a tear slip quickly wiping it away you looked down at the ground.

There was a second of silence until he spoke up.

“so thats what this whole big ass tantrums about, cause ya feel neglected huh?” Tantrum?? was he fucking skunked. Your head shot up as you glare at him as he raked his hand through his hair his veins prevelant throughout his buff arm.

“Its not a fucking tantrum toji its how I feel atleast im communicating its more than you’ve ever fucking done.” You snapped at him as he chuckled amused sittin back down patting his thigh

“c’mere princess sit down”

you kissed your teeth who did he think you were? “Im not fucking doing that”-

As you were close enough he tugged you down onto his lap. His arm around your hip as his thigh was placed snug against your heat intentional or not it sent shivers up your spine.

“Dunno who put all these stupid fuckin ideas in yer head” He poked your temple with his index.

“But I do love you okay? How could I find sucha pretty lady like you ugly hm? Don’t ever say that stupid shit to me again.” There were still a few stray tears falling from your tear ducks, he swiftly swiped them away with his thumb his hand wresting on your face “Then why dont you show it anymore ‘ji?..”

Maybe you were easy to please but it was like those four words immediately put your body at ease though the way he caressed your cheek aided at calming your psyche.

“Y’know I didn’t mean to be so busy ma” he hummed softly admiring your pretty face “All that time I musta forgotten to take care of my sweet wifey and we can’t have that can we hm.” His hand moved from your face as he leaned in moving to whisper in your ear. “cmon lemme take care of ya show you a good time hm what’dya say?”

His big hand wrapped around your throat hitting the right spot as he raised his thigh pressing against your clothed cunt.

you’re breath hitched you had no clue what you had expected out of this conversation, you knew there was no way you’d be able to leave him. He always knew how to reduce you to a bitch in heat. you looked into his eyes and bit your lip “Please me then fushiguro”

. . .

in an instant you felt your cami top pulled down, you flushed as he took in the sight infront of him licking his lips how had he gone this long without fucking his woman? Who knew, but he’d definitely make up for it “No bra hm? Dirty girl you were expecting this weren’t you” he mocked bringing his head down his breath cold on your nips, your nipples pebbled at the new found temperature. His tongue swiped over your left nipple as the hand around your waist moved your hips up and down on his big thigh “Let go mama rub that pretty cunt on me”

“hhhngh ji…” you whimpered as you began moving your hips picking up the pace chasing the friction whatever you were mad about was long gone right now all you were only focused on was feeling pure pleasure.

He took your tit into his mouth sucking it swirling his tongue around your sensitive bud lapping at it his right hand moving to your right tit his thumb tweaking your harden bud playing with it circling then swiftly moving to massage your pretty boobs.

He was obsessed.

You felt yourself coming closer to undone as he moved your hips faster bouncing his leg to aide your pleasure but you needed more it wasn’t enough your pussy was aching for skin to skin contact.

You pulled his head up his mouth still working on your nipple but now his gaze was fixed up at you. The sight pooled your panties. “Ji need more… please not enough hgh” you whined bucking your hips.

Your man smirked with a mouthful now unlatching a string of saliva from his tongue to your perky nipple following suit raising his head up he smacked your ass. “Is it, tell me what you need doll”

You hated when he did this you never liked voicing what you wanted finding it embarrassing too bad for you since he knew what he was doing, embarrassing you was his favourite past time.

You squeezed your eyes shut trying to angle your clit on his thigh a lil more “Need your touch please ji please” you whispered covering your face embarrassed.

he laughed at your state “Speak up silly girl can’t even hear ya.” he chuckled finding it amusing how he’d already coaxed such melodic pleas out of you. She covered her face with her hands embarrassed now shaking her head. He just chuckled deciding he’d be a little kinder today.

He pried your hands off your face “Lemme see that pretty face” you blushed now this was exactly what you were missing “There she is. You can do better than that come on i’m listening princess” he accelerated the speed of which he was boucing his leg moving you up and down your face animating more with the speed he had you going.

“ahhhhhh- Sir please please need your tongue on my clit wanna feel you licking me up” You buried your face in his shoulder biting into it. He could feel your clothed cunt pulsing on his thigh he was more than happy to fulfil your desire “See now was that so hard dumb little slut can’t even control herself look at you trying to hide those sweet ass moans we cant have that now can we.”

he grabbed you by the hair, chunks of your lush hair wrapping around his hand as he pulled your head up off his buff shoulder with a strong tug your neck craining back as tears welled at your eyes you were so overly sensitive your tongue flat on your bottom lip as you strained out moans “fuuuck haaa but the neighbours they’ll hear toji” you both knew how thin the walls were but fuck if he cared. He smashed his lips on your shoving his tongue in your mouth. His tongue felt like magic wrapping itself around yours taking itself on an adventure in your mouth exploring every nook and cranny as you moaned curses into his.

Pulling away he looked into your eyes “Who gives a shit what those old bags think I want them to hear” leaning in and nibbling your ear pulling you in by the neck he whispered “and aint this what you wanted dirty slut? Flip over whore”

you got increasingly wetter at his words.

he pushed you off his thigh your head hitting the cushion. You looked up at toji your elbows sinking into the couch as you hold yourself up “I told you it was a good idea to get this big couch” Remembering how much he nagged you for buying such a big couch and how it was a waste of money.

you giggled slightly as he pulled at your shorts and slipping you out your pink panties “Yeah yeah shut up and spread em”

he placed your leg on his broad shoulder looking down at your bare soaping pussy. He could feel drool accumulate in his mouth. “Can’t believe you thought id give up this pretty pussy.” Giving your cunt a quick slap “This is my girl my fucking cunt.” He rub his fingers through your slicked up folds glistening as the dim light from the ceiling bulb hit it. He spits down your cunt a glob rolling down to your pulsing asshole making you jolt a lil.

Giving your cunt a quick lick he looked up at you as you whined “Cmon tell me who this pussy belongs to”

you grumbled “Tojiiii just eat it already” you just wanted stimulation your pussy was twitching with anticipation and the lack of stimulus was driving you insane.

Toji laughed giving your cunt a quick slap again “I said who does this fucking pussy belong to slut?”

“You! It’s your pussy toji please just touch it make me feel good”

You bite your lip as he smirked at your response you hated stroking the cocky bastards ego but you’d do just about anything for his tongue to be nuzzled deep inside your cunt

Without hesitation his head dipped down his tongue circled your clit “haaa just like that tojii” You threw your head back bucking your hips.

Starting off agonisingly slow he began to pick up the pace abusing your puckered up clit moving down to your entrance to scoop up your nectar to quench his thirst.

“Dirty girl bucking your hips like that you want it bad donchya” he mumbled into your pussy slurping filling up the room as he shoved his tongue deep into your vagina feeling your gummy walls encase his tongue. You moaned “Soooo bad!”

he knew the language of your pussy and he was determined to speak it. You tugged at his hair while he tongue fucked you, your moans were his favourite melody. He moved his tongue back up to your bundle of nerves suctioning on it sucking it into his mouth using his tongue to carefully trace T O J I claiming what was already his.

While he worked at your clit he decided to take the opportunity to stretch you out a little, his fingers found a home in your cunt as he thrust them into you his long but bulky fingers curling.

You were a babbling mess at this point toji had a way with you he knew exactly how to make your mind go blank and dumb, times like this he would practically put you into a brain cell deficit.

. “Shes taking my fingers so well” He mumbled again against the slurps of your clit. He found your g-spot immediately knowing your body like the back of his hand as he repeatedly pushed into you,

you roll your eyes back your other leg thrashing about. he holds it still curling his fingers feeling your gummy walls against his fingers your cunt consuming them. “hghhh- ah ah ah toji fuck fuck” you cursed biting your lip

he finally took his mouth away from his feast moving his body upwards to look at you clearly. The way your face contorted at his own manipulation- it went straight to his dick. Fuckkk he was so turned on.

“thas it good girl lemme hear those dirty sounds” his fingers fucking you frantically chasing your climax your moans and pants becoming more erratic “Im gonna cum gonna cum so bad please lemme cum” you cried out squeezing your eyes shut.

“go on doll cum cum all over my fingers baby gimme it gimme that release” waves of pleasure eroded at your senses as you succumb to a mind numbing orgasm creaming all over his fingers.

You panted your eyes still shut trying to recollect yourself. You slowly opened your eyes slightly to see his lick up his fingers.

“You don’t think its over right? We just got started.”

———

[chrissturnsfav]

singer!reader riding rapper!chris thigh begging him to touch her but he won’t after she’s had snarky comments all day

I NEED THIS SJSJSJDJ

⋆.˚✮ rapper!chris loves to tease singer!reader after she's been bratty

"please," you whine, desperately trying to get yourself off on chris' thigh, the king size bed quietly creaking underneath both of your body.

your eyes are closed, your brows furrowed together as your panties stick uncomfortably to your slick folds, the scent of weed lingering in the air from the joint between chris' lips.

he's refusing to touch you. after dealing with your attitude and little bitchy comments all day? absolutely not.

hes sat beneath you as you straddle his thigh, his hands at his sides, a wicked grin on his lips, snickering to himself as he watches you through glazed over eyes. "so desperate, ain't you?" he taunts, making your fingers clench around his t-shirt tighter.

"just touch me...please...chris," you whimper, your voice laced with need, your expression pathetic as you ride his thigh faster, but you need his touch.

"you're wildin'," he chuckles, exhaling a large cloud of smoke, "wan' me to touch you after i've been dealin' wit' a brat all day. s'not happenin' mama."

"i need it," you whine, opening your eyes half lidded with a swirl of desperation and lust in them, rocking your hips in an uncoordinated, needy rhythm, your arousal transferring onto the material of his jeans.

"nah, you're good," he says through the same, wicked smirk. "why can't y'get y'self off, hm? looks like you're tryin' real hard."

"i need you, please, i need you," you whine, your tone getting more desperate and frustrated as you speak and tug at the collar of his shirt, "please touch me."

"i said no," he mumbles, the joint between his lips as he puffs out smoke between words, "only good girls get to be touched, not brats, shoulda thought 'bout speakin' to me the way y'did all day if y'wanted to fuck." he grips your hips tightly, stopping your needy motions.

"m'sorry," you whimper, a quiet whine of frustration and pleasure as you squirm your hips, trying to rub against his thigh harder but to no avail, "please."

"sorry f'what? use those words f'me," he taunts.

"m'sorry for b—mmph—being a brat...all day," you gasp out as his fingers slowly loosen on your hips, allowing you to continue just a little bit.

"y'think y'deserve it?" he hums, his tinted red eyes swirling with arousal and dominance up at you as he takes another drag from his joint.

"y-yeah...i'm...m'sorry baby," you whisper through heavy breaths tainted with desperation.

chris' demeanor shifts, his expression dominant and aroused. he places the joint back between his lips before flipping you over, earning a shriek of shock and relief from you as his hands grip your hips harder.

"look at the mess y'made on my pants," he scoffs, leaning up on his knees as he grips your chin, forcing you to look at your stickiness on his jeans. your cheeks flush as your eyes dart from his to the stain on his jeans, "sorry...sorry," you whisper.

he snickers under his breath, unbuckling his belt with one hand, the other swinging your thighs over his shoulders, "hope y'ready ma, cause i ain't gonna go easy on ya."

divider creds: @kyejiz

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: just wanted to say, the end dialogue is inspired by a fic written by @sturnioz in her fb!chris x shy!reader au!!

thank you for reading! <3

@chrissturnsfav ™

[passionwillow]

Burning Desire

I'd like to thank the sweet anon for this request because GOSH I have been wanting to write this desperately. Virgin reader who is kinda innocent, babysits Deacons kids and he finally snaps and gives in to his desires.

Warnings: Smut! 18+, age gap, soft dom Deacon (this needs its own warning he's so hot ugh)

You quietly closed the bedroom door as Victoria finally dozed off, letting out a sigh as you walked down the hall and back down the stairs. She was always a hard one to put down to bed, but it only took 20 minutes this time. Usually it was almost an hour.

You padded quietly down the stairs and started as you heard movement and the clicking of glass from the kitchen. You slowly walked through the living room and peeked into the kitchen, relaxing and smiling at the muscled back and silver hair you spotted.

You walked through the curved archway and cleared your throat, Deacon turning and smiling, his brown eyes tired but keen as they eyed your jeans and baggy sweater. "Hey. The kids down and sleeping?" You nodded and took a seat at the table, hands on the counter as you watched him open his beer. "Yeah, Victoria took some extra time." He nodded and sipped his beer as he walked over to you, leaning on the counter beside you. "I figured that's where you were. Didn't want to get her all excited if I stopped up there."

You smiled in understanding and ducked your head, his gaze bringing a heat to your cheeks. You loved working for Deacon , loved the kids, and he was always understanding if you couldn't make it somedays. Even let you stay over if his shift ran late and he didn't come home until the early morning hours.

But Deacon was also ridiculously attractive and you had hard time keeping your cool around him. The way he stared at you, always seemed to stand a little closer than necessary, it turned your legs to jello and your stomach to a fluttering mess. Not to mention you couldn't get a word out without being a stuttering mess.

You weren't experienced with guys, that was just a fact. You hadn't dated much, and hadn't had sex before. Ever. You were quiet, kept to yourself, went through college with your head down and got good grades. You knew what sex was, you weren't completely shielded from life. But not many guys looked at you and you were too shy to make any moves.

You were torn out of your thoughts as Deacon's hand found yours, squeezing briefly and raising his brows. "You alright, hon?" His nickname made your cheeks heat again, and you knew your face had to be tomato red by now. "Yeah, yeah. Sure. Just uhm- tired." You swallowed hard and cursed yourself in your head. Why couldn't you just relax?

Deacon smiled in amusement and nodded, hand lingering before he pulled away, nodding towards the living room. "Why don't you stay over tonight. It's already late, and the weather is getting bad. I wouldn't want you driving home in it." You gazed up at him and nodded, giving him what you hoped was a calm smile. You moved your hands to your lap and tried to hide the slight tremble, but Deacon could read your body language like it was written right there on paper.

He cocked his head as he studied you, brown eyes a shade darker than normal as he shifted his weight, leaning over you a little. "Do I make you nervous?" His question caught you off guard and you looked at him in vague alarm, licking your lips before speaking. "Nervous? I don't.. I mean. A little I guess." He slowly smiled and kept his eyes on yours, gaze flickering briefly to your lips. "Why?"

Your stomach clenched as your eyes stayed on his, too dazed to think about looking anywhere else. You didn't know why you answered him, but with his body so close you could feel his warmth, the smell of his cologne filling your nose, it drew the words out before you could even think. "I-I.. I don't know. You.. You're handsome. And older. And-.. Yeah." You finished lamely, your head finally ducking to look into your lap. Deacon's smile only widened as he gently reached for you, finger hooking under your chin to bring your eyes back to his.

"Me? C'mon, I can't have that big of an effect on you. You've been with guys a lot better looking than me, I'm sure. One's that aren't old, either." You obediently looked up at him as he spoke, his touch searing your skin as you shook your head, hair falling around your face as your ponytail fell loose. "No, I.. I haven't. I've never done anything, not like that." You swallowed hard and bit your bottom lip, his finger still on your chin. "And I don't think you're too old. If-.. If that's what you thought I meant because it isn't. What I meant."

Deacon's smile only grew wider at your rambling and he shook his head, thumb grazing over your bottom lip as he moved closer, your legs parting to give him room to stand between them, his pupils blown as you studied you. "So what if I told you I'd show you what it's like. To have a man.. Treat you right. Pleasure you." The drop in his voice at the last two words sent a shiver down your spine, and heat flooded to your core. Your lips parted as your breathing quickened, and all you could do was nod at his words.

He hummed lightly and reached behind your head, gently tugging the black hair tie that kept your hair pulled back from your face. Your hair fell down over your shoulders and he smiled, cupping your cheek and almost whispering as he spoke. "I need to hear you say it, beautiful. If you don't want this, I'll walk away and never ask again.. But I can't stop thinking about you."

The raw honesty in his words hit you in the gut, and the hot flush that ran over your skin made you feel like you were on fire. You nodded again but sat up straighter on your stool, voice breathless and soft as you spoke. "Please. I want you." Your words darkened his gaze and his hand that cradled the back of your head tightened ever so slightly as he leaned in, his lips grazing your jaw and moving in a slow line to your neck.

His lips were warm and soft, the stubble on his cheek scraping pleasantly against your skin. Your eyes drifted closed as he worked to your pulse point, teeth scraping against the heartbeat in your throat before moving to your ear, his soft, warm breath leaving goosebumps on your skin as he whispered. "I'm going to make you feel so fucking good, baby, I promise." You couldn't stop the soft whimper that left your lips, and he pulled back enough to press his lips to yours, one hand still holding your head as the other went to your hips, gently pulling you up from your seat and pressing you into the counter.

Your hands grabbed for the front of his shirt, and you held the fabric in a white knuckled grip. His lips moved slow and methodical against yours, the scruff of his beard tickling your skin as you followed his lead, your inexperience starting to make you tense. You were going to make an absolute fool of yourself, it didn't matter how badly you wanted it, wanted him.

Deacon seemed to sense your nervousness and pulled back, his hand moving to cup your cheek, his other sliding to your lower back, anchoring you to his solid form. "Hey. Look at me." His soft but firm tone brought you out of your fluster and your eyes met his, unable to look away as he spoke to you. "Just relax, let me do the work. Okay? I'll take care of you." His words soothed your nerves and you nodded with a slight smile, the nervous twist of your gut turning to something unfamiliar. He matched your smile and gave you one last peck before pulling away and taking your hand, leading you upstairs to his room.

You'd only been in here once or twice since you worked for him, only to put away some laundry he insisted he'd get to but never did. The cream colored bedsheets were crisp and neat, the soft glow of the lamp he turned on giving enough light for him to see you. You glanced around the room and chewed at your lip, Deacon's touch to your cheek bringing your attention back to him. He stood so close to you, you were sure he heard your heart hammering in your chest.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, nose gliding along your cheek as he whispered. "You sure you want this? You can say no. Walk right out of here, no hard feelings." You shivered and slid your hands to his hips, fingers sliding into his belt buckles as you nodded quickly, the wetness between your legs only increasing at the proximity of him. "I do. I want it, Deac."

You're consent caused a smile to curl over his lips, and he didn't waist time pressing his lips to yours, hands sliding down the backs of your thighs as he suddenly lifted you. He turned and carried you the short distance to the bed, setting you down and resting a knee on the bed beside you, hovering over you so he could deepen the kiss further, his tongue slipping in to taste you.

You opened up to him without a moments hesitation, the excitement and nervousness and lust coursing through you making your skin tingle. Deacon pushed you back further into the bed, making sure to handle you gently as he laid you back, toned body pressing into yours. He moved his lips to your neck and got to work marking you up, teeth nipping and lips suckling a hickey into your neck. You let your head rest back into the pillows, the scent of him all over the sheets as you arched slightly, a moan slipping out as he marked you. His rough, calloused hand slipped under your hoodie and cupped your breast, squeezing and kneading as he pulled back and looked down at you, gaze darker than it was before.

"Anyone ever touch you like this?" You shook your head as you breathed shaky and quick through your mouth, a smile ghosting over his lips as you watched you. "I think we'll have to change that, then." He sat up and grabbed the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up and off to reveal your bra, the only thing keeping you from being exposed. He didn't waist any time tossing your top to the floor and leaning down, peppering kissed over he top of your boobs, hands traveling over your thighs.

You gasped and shivered at the sensation, his warm lips leaving a trail that felt like fire over your skin. Your hand shook as you hesitated before sliding it into his hair, and he hummed in approval as his teeth nipped at the sensitive flesh, your back arching as you moaned. You almost didn't notice his hand that slipped underneath you, undoing your bra and pulling the straps down your shoulders, a blush heating your cheeks as he pulled it off and threw it aside.

He looked up at you and smiled as his hands kneaded your breast, gaze never leaving your face as he teased and pinched your nipple between his fingers, rolling the bud between them. He noted the way you arched and whimpered, leaning down and latching onto the other one as he continued teasing and pinching.

Every pinch, every tug, every kiss and nip went right to your core. Your nails scratched at his scalp as he continued teasing you, and you were trying so hard not to wake the kids as you whined and moaned under him. He pulled back after a moment and looked down at you, a smile on his face as he took in your blissed out face. "You are beautiful, you know that?" He didn't wait for a response as he sat up on his knees, fingers going to your jeans and popping the button, pulling the zipper down.

You could only pant and blush as he tugged your jeans off your hips, your panties going right with them. You knew you were a soaked mess, and you tried to close your legs, hide the arousal from him, but his hands grabbed your knees and spread them back open. He shook his head and crawled back over you, nose almost brushing yours as he whispered. "You have nothing to be ashamed of. Okay?" His eyes held firm to yours, and all you could do was nod, your eyes glancing to his lips. He smiled at your quiet request and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours.

You eagerly wrapped your arms around his neck, daring to let your tongue brush his lips in a silent plea. He opened up for you and let you explore his mouth, only pulling back once you were breathless and had a pleased smile on your face. He chuckled at your expression and sat back up on his knees, looking between your legs at the soaked mess waiting just for him. He licked his lips and reached down, his middle finger dragging through your slickness and collecting it on his finger, your soft gasp and whine going right to his cock. "Has anyone ever touched you here, princess?"

You shook your head and bit your lip, hips lifting in another plea for him, a plea for more. He smiled to himself and looked at you, finger circling your clit and teasing as he watched your body react, easing a finger inside you without warning. You gasped and moaned in surprise at the intrusion, your hands tangled in the bedsheets as he explored you. "Do you pleasure yourself, babygirl? Hm?" His question sent a shiver down your spine, and you nodded and clenched around his finger, cheeks hot as you closed your eyes, hips rocking as he slowly fingered you.

He leaned down over your body, one hand bracing himself by your head as the other moved between your legs, a second finger easing in as he purred. "You think of me when you pleasure yourself, baby?" His warm breath tickled your ear and you whimpered at the stretch of his fingers inside you, your hands moving to his hair and clinging to the silver locks. He pulled back just enough to see your face, to see you nod quickly to answer his question. "Yeah.. It's always you I think of." He grinned at your words and curled his fingers, letting them graze that sweet spot inside of you, as he growled. "Good. Because I think of you too, princess."

His words sent a hot flash to your core, and you cried out in bliss as his thumb found your clit, pressing on the sensitive bud and silencing you with a kiss, muffling your moans as he stretched you open for him.

He pulled back without warning and let his fingers slowly slip out of you, smirking in amusement at the weak whimper you let out at the loss. He brought his fingers to his lips and slowly sucked them clean, eyes glued to yours as you watched in absolute awe. He grinned at your reaction and got up, quickly removing his shirt and jeans, making quick of his briefs before taking his place between your legs.

Your eyes ate up the exposed skin like you were starving, and at the sight of his cock you actually moaned a little. It was a decent length but it seemed so thick, and the thought of it filling you made you inhale shakily. Deacon seemed to pick up on the nervousness, because his hands found your thighs and squeezed gently, thumbs moving in light circles. "We can stop, baby. We don't need to do this right now."

His concern soothed the tightness in your throat, and you quickly shook your head, sitting up and looking up into his eyes. He was still towering over you at this angle. "No, I want to.. I just.. How is that going to fit?" His shoulders relaxed and he laughed a little at your question, taking your hand that was pressed to his bare chest and moving it lower, until you were mere inches from his cock. "It will. Just need patience." You eyed his leaking cock and but your lip, hesitating before gently wrapping your fingers around him.

He inhaled sharply and closed his eyes, his hips twitching slightly as he started stroking him. You studied his face as you worked his cock, letting your thumb brush his leaking head every so often, noting the way his bows furrowed, the way his breath hitched and the low, throaty groans he made. You smiled to yourself and gave his cock a tug, and he growled out your name before grabbing your wrist, leaning down and pressing a searing kiss to your lips.

"Fuck, baby, I need to be inside you." His words went straight to your core, and you nodded quickly, laying back on the bed as he gently pushed your shoulder, shifting closer and gripping his shaft, lining up to your entrance and letting the head of his cock run between your folds. "It's going to hurt, okay? Just tell me if you need to stop." You nodded and bit your lip in anticipation, jaw going slack as he eased his tip in, leaning down over you once he was sure he wouldn't slip out. His mouth traveled over your jaw and neck, one hand holding your thigh that he guided to his hip, his other forearm holding up him up as he nestled into you, his body weight keeping you pinned as he nudged his way into you.

The burning between your thighs was a mix of pleasure and pain, and you whimpered and moaned as he stretched you open, his lips trying to distract you from the pain. Your hands gripped and clawed at his broad back, Deacon's panting almost as ragged as yours. He bottomed out and kept his hips still, kissing your cheek and murmuring softly to you. "That's it, baby, just relax. Breathe and relax, baby, that's a good girl." His praises sent a hot rush through you, and your walls clenched around his cock. He grunted slightly and looked down at you, eyes dark and full of lust as he purred. "Do you know how amazing you feel, babygirl?"

You looked up into his eyes and cracked a smile, letting your nose brush his as you whispered. "Move, baby- please, I need you to move." He smiled and obeyed your request, hips starting to move as he kept an eye on your face, trying to keep an eye out for any pain on your end. His hand slid lower to your cheek and kneaded at the flesh, helping to hold your hips at an angle as he thrust deeper.

The burning quickly subsided to pleasure and your moans filled the room, his own grunts and groans mixing with yours. Your juices soaked his cock, and allowed him to move smoother and deeper, your sweaty bodies pressed together as he stayed close to you, mumbling sweetly in your ear as he made love to you. "So good, baby, you're taking me so well. I'll take care of you, baby, gonna make you feel so good."

It wasn't long before you were reaching your climax, the unfamiliar and overwhelming pleasure bringing you to the brink. He kept the steady pace as you came undone, muffling your moans and cries with his lips as his nails dug into the soft flesh of your ass, breathing shakily through his nose. He pulled back and took in your blissed out expression, the tightness of you around him, your walls fluttering from your orgasm bringing him closer. "Tell me where you want me to cum, baby." His voice was trembling as he drew nearer and nearer, and your clawed at his toned chest as the aftershock of your orgasm made your legs tremble, clenching around him and whining. "In me. Cum in me, Deacon."

Your words made a growl slip out of him, and he gave two hard thrust before coming undone, his sweaty forehead falling into your shoulder as he filled you. The hot spurts you felt inside you made you whimper, and your arms went limp around his neck, the pleasure of the night making you weak.

Deacon had enough energy left to gently slip out of you before rolling over, lying on his back beside you and cursing softly. The sound of you both panting filled the room, and your eyes were too heavy to try and open. You felt the bed shift and a blanket being pulled over you, then a gentle arm pull you closer. You forced your eyes open as you rolled over and smiled as Deacon pulled you into his chest, a gentle kiss landing on your forehead as he mumbled. "You were amazing, baby."

You hummed lightly and hid your face in his chest, a smile stuck to your lips as you spoke quietly. "So were you.. Thank you. For taking care of me." He ran his fingertips over your bare back and nodded, his arms tightening around you. "Always."

[chrisgotitall]

“You should really start getting ready,” you said to him tapping his shoulder. You two were resting on the couch after lunch, he had his head on your shoulder.

He sighed, “I really don’t want to”

“I know you don’t but you’ll be back in just a couple of hours so… go” you moved your shoulder a little so that he would eventually get up and get ready.

After a half hour he came back to the living room, all dressed up and looking handsome as ever.

He was wearing a dark blue tuxedo with a white shirt underneath, his hair fell perfectly at the sides of his forehead and all the little hairs that covered his chin and cheeks just 30 minutes ago were now gone.

“For someone who doesn’t want to get out of the house, you got ready pretty quickly” you said, looking at him still from the couch.

“I’m not excruciatingly indecisive like you are when I pick my clothes...” he said jokingly but he still received the pillow you threw at him, that he caught with his hands.

“You should add a tie to that shirt…” you suggested since it seemed like something was missing on his shirt.

“You think?”

“Yeah… wait” you got up from the couch and went into the bedroom to choose a tie for him.

You got back and put the tie around his neck and made the knot. While you were focused on the knot you could feel his gaze on you. You tried not to lift your eyes to meet his and you didn’t till the knot wasn’t perfect.

“Mmh?” you hummed at him.

He smirked at you, “Come with me”

“What?” you said, stunned by his request.

“Come on… it’ll be less painful”

“I can’t… I don’t have anything to wear”

“Just wear one of your dresses… the new one I got you for your birthday” he suggested.

“Mh mh, no… plus, I wasn’t invited”

“You’ll be my plus one” he begged once more.

“It’s explicitly written in the invitation that you can’t have a plus one” you said, laughing at how desperately he was praying for you to come.

“We’ll get you in” he tried one last time.

You looked at him, “No…” you said softly, smiling at him.

He looked at you, jutting his bottom lip out in surrender. He took his coat from the coatrack and wore it over his tuxedo.

“See you later” he approached the door.

“Ehi! Get back here!” you got over to him and kissed him.

He smiled.

“I’ll make it up to you when you get back” you promised him.

He hummed hungrily on your lips and kissed you once again, before heading out.

[loomiseater]

Good Boy

warnings: smut ofc!, non gf ethan, sub ethan, pervy ethan, mommy kink, fem!reader, and oral m!receiving.

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

A/N: honestly surprised how fast I wrote this! I love writing pervy/sub Ethan because it fits him so well <3 !

Ethan Landry x fem!reader

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Written: December 1st, 2024

Published: December 1st, 2024

Summary: All Ethan wants do is cum with your panties.

wc: 646

If there was one thing about Ethan, he loved your panties. Especially the pink lacey ones. Sometimes he waits until after you use them and put them in your dirty laundry just to sniff them. He liked the smell of you, and the smell of your pussy.

You got in the shower right when Ethan just walked into your shared apartment. He had a stressful day in Econ, so he needed someone to relax. “Hey, babe!” He shouted to announce that he’s home. “I stopped and got some food on the way home today! There’s Sonic on the table!” You shouted back.

But Ethan wasn’t hungry..for food at least. He was hungry for you, for the taste of that sweet little pussy. While you were in the shower, he walked into y’alls shared bedroom and saw his favorite pair of panties in your dirty clothes basket. It was like his prayers were answered.

He peeked into the crack of the bathroom door to make sure you were still in the shower. When the coast was clear, he quickly snatched the panties and kicked of his shoes along with pulling his pants down. He laid on the bed started to sniff the panties.

The smell made his cock hard. He lowered his hand took himself out his boxers and started stroking himself slowly. Your panties had a little wet spot on it and thats where he started to lick it. He got off to the fact that these panties touched your pretty little pussy.

Whines started flying out his mouth as started to lick the panties while stroking his cock. He had pre cum leaking out his mushroom tip, and those pathetic whines getting even louder. Ethan didn’t care if you could hear them- he wanted you to hear them. He wanted you to hear what your pretty little pussy did to him.

He took the panties from his mouth and started rubbing them against his cock. “Oh fuck!” He moaned. The pleasure was increasing, your scent did something to him. He craved your scent, your juices, your taste.

The water to the shower cut off, signaling that you were getting out. You heard his whines and moans when you were in the shower and now you can hear them even better. Truth is, you knew Ethan jerked off to your panties, and you liked it. The fact that your panties could turn him on and make him cum.

You stepped out the shower, grabbing your towel from the hook and wrapping yourself in it. You opened your bathroom door and saw the sight of Ethan on your shared bed, whining pathetically with your panties.

He saw you and thats when he sped up his pace. He was stroking himself, desperate to cum. “Make me cum, mommy.” He whined as you walked over to him, letting the towel fall to the soft carpet floor. Your body was still wet, boobs covered in droplets of water, along with your pussy.

You straddle his legs and began jerking him off slowly. “Look at you, so desperate to cum that you use my panties.” You seductively say. “Yes-please!” He choked out. You smile at his desperateness, it’s so cute.

Before he could react, you put his whole dick in your mouth, deep throating him like it was nothing. And thats when he lost it. The warmness and wetness of your mouth made him cum on the spot. His hot white liquid coating the walls of your throat.

You took him out of your mouth, not swallowing his cum but instead letting the cum fall out of your mouth and own his dick.

“You like that?” The words fell out of your mouth smooth and softly as he quickly nodded his head.

With a kiss to his toned abs, he let his head fall back into the soft pillows.

“Good boy.”

[thehereticdiaries]

When Fantasy Becomes Reality

Summary: You're stuck in a stupidly tedious class during your final semester. The upside? The TAs are incredibly attractive. What happens when they catch you writing something very interesting during one of their tutoring sessions?

Warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! Reader gets manhandled, size difference, humiliation kink if you squint, fingering, oral (f rec), slight dumbification, dom!YunGi, sub!reader, one (1) spank to the thigh, praise/degredation

Pairing: Yunho x Reader x Mingi

Collab with @mingkismain ! Read her part here (it's a direct sequel)

Your final semester was supposed to be as laid-back as possible. You chose classes that you’d be able to ace with minimal effort. All of your core classes were finished at this point, so you had a bunch of free electives to fill up your last credits. For the most part, you succeeded. You could pass three out of your four classes in your sleep. That fourth class, however, proved to be much more tedious than you anticipated. Your friend insisted you take ‘Philosophy of Science Fiction’ with her. You only agreed because you figured the lectures would consist of watching sci-fi movies or reading sci-fi novels.

You were so incredibly wrong. Well, you were right about the lectures including sci-fi movies, tv shows, and novels. The numerous essays about said media were what killed you. In the 15 weeks of the semester, you had written eight essays. EIGHT. It was fun for the first two or three, but now it was just exhausting. There was only one perk to the course: the two very handsome TAs. 

Staring at Jeong Yunho and Song Mingi quickly became your number one pastime during lectures. You often attended their tutoring sessions even with your grades being near the top of the class. Which is what you were doing right now, in fact. They were holding an all-day tutoring session to help your class work on your final essays. You finished your paper on Iron Widow hours ago, but you stayed in the reserved study room and acted like you were adding your final touches. It wasn’t a total lie. You were writing, but it definitely wasn’t classroom appropriate. You were engrossed in perfecting the filthy words on your google doc. So engrossed, that you failed to notice Yunho looking over your shoulder.

“Oh, shit.” You jumped at how close his voice was, whirling around to gape at him. The study room was empty except for you and the two TAs.

“Yunho, it’s not what it looks like, I swear.” He smirked at the flush rising on your cheeks. Before you could attempt to defend yourself further, Yunho snatched your laptop from in front of you. He easily evaded you as you chased him around the table. “Give it back!”

“Mingi, give me a hand.” The other TA snaked his arms around your middle and lifted you off the ground. The height difference left your feet dangling by a few inches.

“Put me down, please! It’s not a big deal,” you pleaded, smacking his forearm repeatedly. You felt his chest vibrate when he laughed.

“Doesn’t seem like it from how hard you’re trying to get your laptop back,” Mingi teased while Yunho scrolled through your story. You wiggled to try and loosen Mingi’s grip on you, but he was definitely stronger.

“Damn, Y/N. You’re into this?” Yunho’s heated gaze fell back on you. He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. “Dirty girl.” You froze, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm subconsciously. 

“Dude, are you going to tell me what she’s been writing or not? I think I've waited long enough.” Shit, what did that mean? You narrowed your eyes at your laptop, willing it to explode on the spot. No such explosions occurred, to your horror.

“Elena rolls her hips against Luca’s thigh, desperate for relief after his relentless teasing. He splays a hand across her lower belly to keep her from moving. ‘Patience, sweetheart. Be good for me or I won’t let you cum at all tonight.’ Elena pouts up at her lover, tears welling–”

“Yunho! Shut up, please, shut the fuck up!” You hid your face in your hands. You yelped when Mingi swatted your thigh. 

“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they’re speaking,” you shivered at his breath fanning across your neck as he scolded you. “Keep going, Yunho.”

“Oh, this is a good line: Elena’s thighs tremble against Luca’s hold. She whimpers and tries to push him away, but he uses the hand not inside her to pin her arm to her side. ‘You wanted to cum, love. So now you’re going to cum as many times as I see fit.’ Elena whines as he licks another thick stripe over her clit,” Yunho paused to share a look with Mingi. His eyes looked darker than normal.

“Is that what you want, pretty girl? You want to be pinned down and forced to cum over and over again?” Mingi’s voice was low next to your ear. You swallowed down the whimper that nearly escaped your throat.

“Looks like it. Her character came three times on the dude’s mouth and fingers, then two more times on his cock,” Yunho confirmed in your silence. He skimmed through the next few paragraphs, grinning wickedly. 

“Any more interesting scenes?” You truly wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You were beyond mortified, especially since they seemed to relish in your humiliation. 

“Mmm, a couple lines here and there,” Yunho glanced up at you, tongue poking against his cheek. “She really likes to mix praise and degradation.” He set your laptop on the table, stalking forward to invade your space. You refused to look him in the eye.

“Does she?” The hand not supporting your weight gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at Yunho. 

“Some of her most used lines to use are full of it.” Yunho ran his hand up the back of your neck to grip your hair. You couldn’t contain your soft moan this time. “You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. You look so pretty taking my cock. Look at you, such a good little slut for me.” 

“I’m- I don’t…” You stumbled over your words, panting from their body heat pressing into you. “Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Yunho teased with an edge of condescension to his voice. His hand trailed up your thigh, fingers brushing under the hem of your skirt.

“Do you want us to stop?” Mingi’s hand released your jaw, only to rest on your neck. “Or do you want us to do all those filthy things to you?” A strangled sound at the back of your throat morphed into a gasp.

“We need an answer. A verbal yes or no, otherwise you’ll get nothing,” Yunho drawled, dragging his hand further up your skirt and pulling your leg to hook over his hip. 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath. You took a shuddering breath, goosebumps rising under his touch. “I- I want it.”

“Not good enough. What do you want, sweetheart?” Mingi insisted, hand slightly tightening on your neck. 

“I want you to do the things I wrote about. God, please do something,” you whined loudly, thankful for the sound dampeners lining the study room walls. Yunho stepped back so Mingi could sit, keeping your back pressed to his chest and holding your legs open over his knees. You’d imagined having Yunho between your thighs, but fuck the real thing was so much better. He shoved your skirt up to bunch around your hips.

“Shit, you’re already so wet and we haven’t even touched you yet,” Yunho smirked and pushed your thighs further apart. “Feel her, Mingi.” The man behind you dropped a hand down to stroke over the wet patch on your panties. Your hips jolted forward as he pressed down on your clit.

“Damn,” Mingi sucked a breath in through his teeth. He lightened the pressure from his fingers, tracing soft circles that offered little relief.

“Y/N, do you know the traffic light system?” Yunho tapped your knee to grab your attention. You nodded, head feeling fuzzy from their teasing. “Tell me.”

“U-um, green means I’m good, an-and to keep going. Yellow, fuck, yellow means slow down or change something. Red is a hard stop,” you stuttered, interrupting yourself with airy whines. 

“Good. Once we start, Mingi and I won’t stop until we think you’ve had enough. ‘No’ and ‘stop’ mean nothing, the only word that matters is ‘red’.” Yunho pulled roughly on your skirt, pulling you closer to him. Mingi lifted your hips so Yunho could drag your panties down your legs. You barely registered him pocketing them. He littered your thighs with open-mouthed kisses, avoiding where you really wanted him. Your hips bucked forward to try to get him to go faster.

“Sit still,” Mingi ordered. You yelped at the warning bite left on your inner thigh. You squirmed again, pulling an irritated huff from Mingi. He pinned your hips against his with one arm. You gasped at the feeling of his half-hard cock against your ass. 

“What do you think she should get, Mingi?” Yunho didn’t wait for an answer to finally run his tongue over your clit. Your hand shot down to his hair, winding your fingers in the soft strands. 

“She’ll take exactly what she wrote, and more.” The hand not holding you still moved under your shirt to cup your tit over your bra. You couldn’t even comprehend what he meant, too lost in the shockwaves of pleasure Yunho’s mouth sent through your core. You cried out when he thrust two fingers into your dripping cunt. You dropped your head onto Mingi’s shoulder, giving him access to suck dark hickeys on your neck and collarbones. 

“Fuck, fuck, Yunho please,” you panted heavily, pushing against the arm holding you in place. 

“You close already, sweetheart?” Yunho’s voice sent vibrations across your sensitive clit. 

“Yes! Please, can I cum?” You whimpered when his fingers curled to drag over the spongy spot you couldn’t reach with your own.

“Ooh, asking permission?” Mingi smirked against your neck. “Good girl, cum for us.” Another harsh suck sent you over the edge, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You clapped a hand over your mouth to muffle your scream. Yunho slowed his fingers, but didn’t stop licking your clit until your thighs trembled. He pulled back, mouth and chin shining with your release. 

“It sounded cheesy before, but fuck, you really do taste so fucking good,” he repeated the words you had written just before your laptop was taken. “Look at you, already fucked out before we’ve even fucked you.” He stopped thrusting his fingers, keeping them buried in you to continue curling against your g-spot. You clenched when Mingi circled your clit once before continuing down to prod at your entrance. Your back arched as two of his fingers pushed into you, right next to Yunho’s. 

“God, you’re tight. Can’t wait to fuck your pretty pussy,” Mingi groaned, unable to tear his eyes away from where their fingers disappeared in you. The stretch and Mingi’s palm brushing your clit had another orgasm quickly building. 

“Who would have guessed? Ms top-of-the-class is secretly a kinky little slut,” Yunho mocked, grinning when your walls clamped down on them. He sat up higher on his knees to leave his own marks on your neck. He bit into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pulling a pathetic squeak from your throat.

“C-cumming!” Was the only warning they got before you arched in another orgasm, inadvertently grinding down on Mingi’s hard-on. Your skin buzzed and you struggled to catch your breath. They continued to finger-fuck you through your high. 

“Too much, too much, please,” you whined, weakly pushing at their wrists. Yunho’s free hand grabbed your jaw to force eye contact.

“What’s your color?” 

“...green,” you answered after a beat of silence.

“Thought so.” Yunho crashed his lips into yours, immediately licking into your mouth. You tasted yourself lingering on his tongue. You whimpered at the emptiness left when they removed their fingers. Yunho pulled back, still connected to you by a string of saliva. “Mingi’s turn.” Your back hit the table before you could process his words. Your legs were thrown over Mingi’s shoulders as he dove in to lap at your swollen clit.

“Fuck! I can’t- how many more?” Tears gathered on your lash line. Blinking them away, you stared as Yunho palmed himself through his jeans.

“You get stupid when you cum, don’t you? Can’t even remember the scene that you wrote.” Yunho sat in the chair you occupied moments ago. He tilted his head at you sifting through your syrupy thoughts.

“T-three on your fingers and tongues, two o-on your,” a high-pitched moan cut into your sentence. “Fuck, oh my god. Two on your cocks.” Another rush of arousal shot up your spine when you realized that both of them were going to fuck you. 

“Atta girl,” the slight praise went straight to your head. Mingi stole your attention back by blowing cool air over your clit. Your hips jerked, overly sensitive from cumming twice already. He watched your face contort with pleasure, pupils blown wide. Three of his fingers pushed back into your cunt, walls fluttering around him. In the back of your mind, you realized that they were prepping you to take their cocks.

“You’re right, Yunho. She does taste good.” Mingi’s eyes flickered to his friend for a moment before returning his focus to your pussy. “She makes such pretty noises when we stuff her full of our fingers.”

“I bet she’ll sound downright sinful when she’s stuffed full of our dicks.” The way they spoke about you like you weren’t in the room made you dizzy. Your head floated in a cloudy haze. Mingi moved back to your clit, sucking hard.

“Fuck!” Your third orgasm hit like lightning, only lasting a few seconds but leaving you breathless and flushed. You nearly sobbed, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. You barely felt it when Mingi stood from his place between your legs. When you finally managed to open your eyes, they loomed over you, eyeing you up with a predatory glint in their eyes.

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re nowhere near done with you."

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