#but this is still very precious to me 🥹

[tohruies]

a realisation that home was here. home was now. and it had been all along … 🥺💘

— ☆ 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐌𝐀𝐒

alhaitham x ryu. this is obviously a selfship piece for ryuhaitham and it’s in first person. canon au. comfort. fluff. read here if you want more context on us. 0.7k wc

I sat curled on the couch with a blanket drawn tightly around me, staring at the modest decorations I’d strung up days ago when Alhaitham first left for Akademiya business. The lights, the strings of ribbon—they felt out of place here, like foreign embellishments in a world that had no meaning for them.

Christmas. Once upon a time, it had been everywhere—woven into every light, every note of music, every breath of winter air. It wasn’t as though I’d celebrated Christmas extravagantly but the absence of it here made the ache of displacement settle heavy in my chest. Even if I’d only half-participated in the holiday back then, its laughter and warmth had always been a comforting constant.

Teyvat moved without pause. The winds of Mondstadt whipped across snow-buried plains, Sumeru’s ever-shifting leaves played on the breeze and Liyue’s lanterns flickered against a fading sky. It was timeless and unchanging, as if the universe was indifferent to the celebration I longed for. But like the decorations I’d strung up, Christmas had no place here. And in that knowledge, my homesickness deepened, the distance between my old world and this one stretching farther.

Suddenly, the door creaked open, and I startled, my gaze snapped to the figure entering. Alhaitham’s silhouette was outlined against the dim light of Teyvat’s evening and in his hand was a small neatly wrapped package, the paper a rich shade of crimson, tied with thin, silver silk that shimmered softly in the light.

“You’re back,” I mustered, rising slightly from my seat.

“I am,” His gaze swept over me, and a crease formed between his brows. “You look troubled.”

I offered a fragile smile, “Just thinking about… you know.” I trailed off, eyes drifting to the window where whimsy unbeknownst to me twinkled in the inky expanse above.

Without preamble, he extended the gift toward me. “Here.”

I blinked in surprise, looking from his hand to his face. “What’s this for?”

“Isn’t it customary to exchange gifts for… Christmas?”

The word fell from his lips tentatively, as though testing its weight. His eyes searched mine for any sign that he had mispronounced it. Then, a bittersweet ache unfurled in my chest.

“You… remembered?”

He remembered. Even in passing, even if I hadn’t explained it in detail, he had remembered. And more than that, he had acted on it.

“You mentioned it once,” he replied, the faintest hint of awkwardness colouring his tone. “I don’t fully understand the tradition, but it seemed important to you.” He paused, then added softly, “I thought it might remind you of home.”

My fingers brushed the wrapping paper, tracing its edges as a quiet laugh escaped me. “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

“It matters to you. If it makes this place feel less foreign, then it’s no trouble at all.” He spoke as though his sentiment was the simplest truth in the world.

I bit my lip, his words filling the emptiness in my heart like the flickering flame of a candle in the dark. Slowly, I unwrapped the gift, the paper falling away to reveal a delicate glass ornament, its shape a perfect, crystalline star. It caught the lamplight, scattering prisms across the room like a reflection of something celestial—like fragments of a distant sky.

“It’s not much,” he almost sounded apologetic, “but stars seem to hold significance in your world’s imagery for this holiday.”

I stared down at the gift, my vision blurring as the sting of tears welled unexpectedly. The ornament trembled in my grasp, held close to my chest as the first drops slipped free, unstoppable. “Thank you,” I whispered, so softly it felt like the words might dissolve and me with it.

Watching me closely, a shadow of concern crossed his face, as though uncertain whether he had made me uncomfortable. “You’re crying…” His voice wavered, caught somewhere between a statement and a question.

I wiped at my tears, smiling through them. “They’re happy tears,” I told him. “I really needed this.”

Alhaitham sat beside me with the same calmness that defined his every action. The silence now brimmed with a bubbling warmth, deeply felt like a steadfast anchor.

“If you’d like,” he started, “then we’ll celebrate it. Here, every year. However you wish.”

His offer settled gently. “I would like that,” I said, already untethered.

Alhaitham nodded, brushing his hands against mine, the touch so tender it seemed to carry a promise with a three word phrase hanging in the air. As the glass star shimmered between us, the ache of homesickness began to ebb. In its place bloomed a sense of belonging.

A realisation that home was here. Home was now. And it had been all along.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform

divider: @/adornedwithlight

[sttoru]

Aventurine with a virgin reader </3 guiding her and moving slowly and gently as he always gives her praises 🥹

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. soft dom!aventurine x virgin!female reader. smut. p in v -> protected. lots of praise. clit stimulation. breast play kinda. very soft and gentle sex. reader gets called ‘baby, my jewel, pretty girl.’ wc; 1.4k

aventurine is a gentle lover; never once having forced you into any acts of intimacy. you’re always the one leading the progress of your relationship. the control over the speed of how things go soothes your worries.

your comfort and consent is his number one priority. his little ‘may i’s before touching you are what reassure you. you’ve clearly chosen the right person to be your partner.

even now - when you’re finally beneath him, with your naked bodies indulging in a romantic session - aventurine makes sure to go slow. softly, gently and tenderly; like you’re a delicate flower. a delicate gem that’s threatening to break with just the slightest touch.

“you’re okay, baby,” aventurine mumbles quietly against your skin, his lips attaching to your neck. he gives you soft kisses all over in hopes to soothe you. he can feel you tremble when he pushes his tip against your tight entrance, “i got you, i got you—i promise.”

he does, in fact, have your back. you trust that he does. aventurine never fails to keep his promises, he always keeps his word even if it may seem impossible. perhaps it’s due to his luck—perhaps it’s due to his overbearing love for you.

“kakavasha..” you whimper his name. the blonde nearly chokes on his spit at the way you called out to him. he pats your head gently, that same hand moving down to collect the tears running down your cheeks. you sniff, “mph, h-how much more?”

aventurine kisses a tear drop away, sighing against your skin. you’re so precious to him and he wishes to convey that fact. he’s trying his best to keep calm, though he can feel his restraints fading each time your nails dig into his back. it hurts so good.

he doesn’t want to hurt nor scare you. therefore, aventurine takes a deep breath and flashes you his charming smile, blonde locks covering his magenta and cyan colored eyes. those eyes that were once devoid of life, now sparkling with affection for you.

“just a little bit. can you hold on for me?” aventurine asks in a soft tone. he places a quick kiss on the tip of your nose. his hands move to hold yours, fingers interlocking. he squeezes them when you answer his question with a nod, “heh, thank you.”

aventurine bottoms out after what feels like hours. he sighs in relief and buries his face into the crook of your neck. you’re tight, squeezing his cock like you’re begging him to stay—to stay connected forever. he gives you all the time you need to adjust to your insides being stretched and moulded to fit him.

your eyes are glazed over as you stare up at the ceiling. you feel so full. the stretch hurts a little, though you’re quick to accommodate to the intrusion. your fluids make it easy and more comfortable for both aventurine and you.

you’re grateful that your lover understands your position. you’ve been scared of sex since you were but a virgin, however it doesn’t seem as bad in the moment.

not when you got a boyfriend like aventurine.

“so precious,” aventurine coos and kisses your jaw. he eventually reaches your lips and gives them a quick yet passionate peck. his eyes roam over your naked, sweaty body that’s glimmering underneath the dim light of the small lamp, “you look stunning, my jewel.”

you tighten up around aventurine the moment he calls you by that nickname. he hisses at the feeling, his cock throbbing with the desire to move already. aventurine distracts himself from those urges by kissing your breasts.

his tongue rolls over your nipples, his hands still pinning yours to the soft mattress below you. he sucks on your chest and doesn’t think twice before leaving a hickey or two. you’re his and he likes to remind you of that fact.

aventurine slowly detaches from your tits, his saliva coating the plump flesh. he grins at the sight and hums in satisfaction. he looks up at you and watches as you say those words he’s waited on;

“it’s okay, you can move.”

aventurine nods after he makes sure you’re totally fine with it. he pulls his hips away, until his cock is halfway in before pushing back in your pussy. slow and gentle thrusts are the way to go.

you quickly get used to the rhythm of your lover’s thrusts. you can feel the love and passion behind them, each move done with a purpose. that purpose being to pleasure you and make you feel appreciated.

“is this okay? yeah?” aventurine pants, his pace quickening, yet also slowing down whenever he feels like he’s overwhelming you. your moans slowly fill his ears and your brain is visibly being taken over by the satisfaction.

your lover is entranced by the way your tits bounce in circles with each soft thrust. he can feel his tip hitting the deepest parts of your wet cunt, claiming you like he’s always dreamed of doing. the way you’re already drunk on pleasure is adorable.

he leans down and presses his lips against yours. this isn’t just mindless sex—it’s your first time and he strives to make it as romantic as possible. his tongue mingles with yours, the mixture of saliva running down your chin because of how sloppy you’re making out.

“just like that– fuck,” aventurine groans as his hips roll against you. he’s slowly drowning in the ecstasy. seeing you enjoy the moment as much as he does, is exciting him more than the actual act. he loves it when you enjoy yourself—gets off to it even, “let me hear more of that pretty voice.”

you let out little whines, blessing aventurine’s ears with your voice, just like he asked you. your boyfriend moans at the sound of you as his fingers reach down to circle your clit. he’s addicted to you—so in love. his hands move to your thighs, pulling them apart just a little more so his dick could reach further.

you get more sensitive by the second. especially when aventurine wraps your legs around his waist, his hands wandering all over your body. the pad of his thumb presses down on your clit, making you even more sensitive. your eyes roll back as you leave red scratches on his back, “feels good, s-so good!”

aventurine smirks at your moans. you’re beautiful in this moment beneath him, his cock filling you up to the brim. he feels the connection between the two of you deepening, your relationship reaching new heights.

the blonde male pants while he holds your body close—hips moving non-stop. he can’t get enough of you and vice versa.

“you’re so sensitive, baby,” aventurine chuckles as he feels your pussy spasm around his thick dick. it’s your first time, so he doesn’t blame you when you tell him that you’re close. he slyly increases the pace in which he rubs your clit, “gonna cum, hm? c’mon, you can make a mess on my dick, pretty girl.”

his smooth voice echoes in your mind and that’s all it takes to push over the edge. you hold tightly onto your lover’s biceps and your back arches off the bed, head lolling backwards against the pillow. your lower abdomen tingles and you feel your legs shake due to the impact.

you’ve never felt so good. it’s so much—the feeling is overwhelming you. your body shakes underneath aventurine. he reads your body language and easily concludes that you’re a bit overstimulated by your own orgasm.

“good girl,” aventurine pats your head and rubs your cheek with his thumb. he kisses the corners of your eyes before doing the same to your forehead. your little whimpers and incoherent babbles melt his heart. your lover nods, “shhh, shh, i know. i know.”

he doesn’t care about the fact that he didn’t get to cum. tonight is all about you, not him. aventurine hugs you to his chest and whispers sweet nothings into your ear while you come down from your high.

“i love you so much,” you whisper between shallow breaths. you can feel your lover smile against the skin of your shoulder before he kisses you there. he sighs in content, not yet pulling out.

aventurine wishes to stay with you as one. for as long as you allow him to. he tilts his head back and looks down at you, placing his forehead against yours.

he truly is a lucky man;

“i love you more. so much more.”

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Punish me.

Pairing: Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 5853

Summary: What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of Y/N, legal unspecified age gap, power imbalance, dom!Joel / sub!reader, degradation, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), initially dub-con but reader is very into it, risk of being caught, a little chocking if you squint, cream pie, squirting, reader has no description other than the clothes she is wearing, manipulation, slurs, pet names, reader calls Joel "Sir". This Joel is low-key inspired by Don Draper from Mad Men and the whole thing was also low-key inspired by Secretary (2002). Let me know if I forgot something important, I will add it right away. A/N: Written for Never Have I Ever challenge hosted by the lovely @yxtkiwiyxt , this was my prompt and I had so much fun working on it! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to join! 🥰 Thanks to @aurorawritestoescape for being the most precious beta and @joelmillerisapunk for being the best support I could ask for and for letting me yap about it for a month and half lol I love you so much 🥹❤️ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any. Thanks to anyone who will read! masterlist | Joel Miller masterlist

“Mr Miller wants to see you in his office at 3” When Pam called you to say that a shiver ran down your spine.

Your last client was the owner of a large brewing company, a self-centered rich asshole that you couldn’t stomach in any way.

He had been pressing you for weeks for you to come up with the most sexist and stupidest ad campaign ever, all while you were trying to present him with new ideas that didn't necessarily include 10 women in bikinis at the feet of one man or other such things that had been done 200 times already .

You hated the guy with every fiber of your being and you told him exactly what you were thinking about him when he called you a prude and argued that he could show you what a real man was.

Seeing his sleezy smile as he winked at you and told you that you needed to fuck more was your last straw.

You were glad to be rid of him but you knew well that your boss would not have the same opinion. 

Right out of college what you wanted was to learn the profession as soon as possible, and you wanted to learn it from the best in the business. 

Joel Miller owned the most famous advertising agency in town, so you did everything to get an internship there.

You understood why he was so successful from day one.

__________________________________

Pam was sitting at her desk as usual when you walked in. 

Her desk was a few feet from the door of Mr. Miller's office. 

A large, black, solid wooden door with a fine frame, one of those that seemed to lead to the rooms forbidden to poor commoners. 

She just looked up from the computer screen to tell you to come in, Mr. Miller was waiting for you, and then she was back to work.

Pam was a woman in her 60s, blond hair perpetually pulled back in an elegant bun, a pearl necklace around her neck, cachemire sweaters in all pastel colors, silk blouses and matching skirts.

She looked very neat, austere, you could swear you never saw her smile but heck, she was really good at her job and had been managing Mr. Miller's impossible schedule for many years.

You knocked on the door feeling your heart in your throat, thinking you were one step away from being fired.

Joel's voice bounced through the door, heavy and raspy, "come in.”

You entered trying to maintain a composure.

“Good morning, Mr Miller, you wanted to see me?” 

He put down the papers he was perusing on the desk and looked up at you.

“Oh, it's you,” he said in a very calm voice. “The one who made me lose a lot of money.”

“I...I'm sorry but the guy was too much of an asshole for me to take it,” you spat out.

You knew Joel appreciated people who were standing their ground.

“Excuse me, should I care? You just made a thousand dollar check disappear.” 

The silence that enveloped the room was unreal.

You stood in front of his stately mahogany desk, trying to keep your back straight and your shoulders high.

Of course, he didn’t care, he was an asshole too.

________________________________

He had conducted the interviews personally, without delegating it to his subordinates.

He hired you himself, without missing the opportunity to intimidate you in the meantime.

The first day you had come in you were shy, awkward, afraid of your own shadow. 

How did you think you could deliver a presentation in front of a client if you looked like a frightened little bird that had just fallen out of the nest?

Joel said he took a risk hiring you, the least you could do was to show him how much you really wanted the job.

Eventually you learned to fight. 

It hadn't been pleasant or even easy, Joel wouldn't let you get away with anything, criticized your every idea, sometimes blatantly mocked you. 

He had pushed you to work harder than you would have imagined and you were eager to let him know that you were worth something, that you were not just an honors graduate but could translate your knowledge into the practical field.

You also owed it to yourself. 

Your parents supported you but had always told you that you were not the type to work in advertising.

Too kind, too quiet, too sweet. 

“Honey, are you sure? Wouldn't you rather do some other job?” your mother always asked you. 

No, you didn't want to do anything else. And you were going to prove it to everybody.

You became a sucker for Joel’s attention in no time.

Whatever type he wanted to give to you. 

As you progressed and learned, he became gentler, too much so at times. 

Grazing your knee under the table at meetings, touching your waist way too much as you walked down the hallways talking about some projects, playfully slapping your ass once, after successfully signing your first contract with a client.

It was becoming a relationship that other colleagues didn't have to notice.

He was your mentor, your inspiration, the person who had taken you under his wing and taught you to fly.

Along with the desire to do well, however, something else grew in you over time.

Arousal, desire, need. 

It lingered in the air while you were trying to flap your wings and stay aloft.

_______________________________

“Furthermore…” his voice dropped and deepened, “we don’t tolerate this kind of language here.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the clear change in his voice. 

You knew what he was doing. 

And you liked it.

“Well, I’m sorry but there’s no other appropriate word to describe that person” you chirped.

You didn’t drop the asshole just to have this, you really hated the man with all you had, this was just a pleasant collateral damage. 

Joel being angry at you. 

Joel who wanted to punish you.

He ran a hand over his mustache, looking at you as if he wanted to devour you.

You felt your clit throb in anticipation.

He stood up from his chair, he was imposing, broad shoulders and awe-inspiring piercing eyes.

“Let me explain it to you properly. I don't care if he didn't meet your moral dictates, I don't give a damn if he was so obnoxious that he made you sick to your stomach, okay?” his voice was a thin, cold, steady blade.

“Yes, Mr. Miller” you swallowed, without breaking eye contact. “You acted like a whiny child,” he stated. “ And you made me lose a ton of money” 

His heavy step creaked faintly on the fine parquet floor. He was towering over you.

“Yeah, you said that already,” you rolled your eyes.

You would have sworn you were hearing Joel’s blood simmering in his veins and that was exactly what you wanted. 

“Do you think criminal lawyers like to defend murderers? Do you think they like their clients?” 

“No,” you muttered 

“Yeah, they don’t like them but they do it anyway because it's their job.” 

That was a little extreme example but he did make a point.

You were torn. 

Disappointing your mentor was the last thing you wanted but seeing him like that, ready to give  you a lesson was making you horny like nothing else. 

You craved it. 

“Do you know what they used to do to wayward children like you?” 

You could feel the warmth of his body with how close he had gotten.

“Yeah.” 

His eyes looked like onyx stones.

“Say it.” “They spanked them,” you finally let out.

“Yeah. You’re goddamn right, darling. They spanked them.” His words were a sheet of ice on which you couldn't wait to slide.

“Bend over the desk.” 

“No,” you tried to argue.

“I. Said. Bend.” He ordered, punctuating every word.

You raised an eyebrow, glaring at him, but finally gave in. 

You approached the desk, rested your elbows on it and jostled your ass out, poised on your heels. 

He positioned himself behind you, you turned to look at him, and he immediately hissed, 

"Eyes to the wall, missy." 

You huffed, returning your gaze to the large painting hanging behind the desk. 

His hands slid down your legs. 

It was the first time he touched you, the first time you felt his strong grip on your body, the first time his warmth penetrated your flesh.

“You really disappointed me today.” His voice was calm, low, but full of disgruntlement.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. 

“It's not enough,”

His hands had reached the hem of your skirt, raising it dangerously, pulling it up, exposing the edge of your thigh-high stockings and your panties. 

“Do you still think you deserve a place in this agency?” 

Panic welled up inside you, you felt your cheeks on fire and your hands trembling on the wood of the desk. 

You didn't want to lose everything you had worked for. 

Joel wouldn't sign any reference letters for you, you wouldn't get a job at any other agency, and your career would be over before it even started.

You remained stubbornly silent, trying not to be seen as weak, until he blurted out, 

“answer me.”

“Yes. I made a mistake.”

“You’re goddamn right, honey,” he replied wryly.”How will you fix this?”

That honey sounded like a mockery. Like you were still too soft to do the job and be successful at it. 

You hated it and it made your pussy throb at the same time.

“I will find a way, Mr. Miller.”

“We’ll see” he retorted “But you still deserve punishment, don't you think?”

“Yes,” you breathed reluctantly.

You didn’t like to admit that but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You wanted it too much. 

You wanted him too much.

You didn’t hear him fumbling with his pants, no zippers coming undone, no buttons slipping through the buttonhole.

You just felt his breath fanning over your back and his hand gripping at your hips.

You felt his gaze seeping into your flesh. 

You would have liked to turn around, tell him to get it over with and fuck you, but you didn’t. 

You stood still in your turn, feeling the tension bubbling in your chest while he seemed so calm and collected.

He was taking his time with you.

You sighed, just before you felt the air shift behind you and his hand landed deafly on your ass.

You gasped. 

Another slap had hit you. 

Harder than before.

Pain spread all over your butt, tingling, until it turned into a destabilizing pleasure. 

You had never done anything like that before and as disconcerting as it was to admit it, you liked it. 

You liked it like crazy.

You felt a slick of arousal wetting your panties while you moaned.

“Do you want some more?” 

You nodded eagerly. 

“Oh. You gotta use your word, I feel like I taught you that, right?” He tutted. 

“Yes.” You whispered “please” 

Instead of continuing, he walked over to the bar cabinet, poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey into a glass, sat back down on his leather chair and looked you in the eyes.  

“Get out of here.”

You stood there watching him, hunched over his desk, wood still pressing on your clothed tits, feeling like you were in a fever dream. 

Had it really happened? 

The heat still throbbing on your ass cheek told you it had.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, your darting gaze metaphorically stabbing him. 

He had humiliated you. 

How had you let this happen? And most of all, why did you want more?

You left without looking back.

Pam wasn't at the desk when you left, you slipped out as quickly as possible, with one fixed thought in mind. 

______________

The next few days he ignored you. He started following another girl who had just arrived and he was behaving the way he had with you. 

Jealousy had never been a vice of yours. Never. But seeing him chuckle at her jokes, praise her for her efforts, smile at her, start calling her by her name like he had done with you made you furious.

It squeezed your chest in a cruel fist.

You had worked on the presentation for a market-leading make-up client, and fortunately for you, the CEO had been enthusiastic about your ideas.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he was hurting you but despite the persistence with which you tried, you grew so hungry for him that all you were thinking about was finding a way to make him furious again. 

To get punished again. You hated having fallen for his game, but by now you were a fish seeking oxygen in the mesh of the fishing net.

You were trying to get his attention in every way without success.

At the peak of your desperation, you had passed an embarrassing number of times in front of his office in the hope that he would come out.

You kept meeting only Pam bringing coffee, folders or Joel's personal correspondence.

After a week she no longer seemed surprised to find you there, there was a kind of understanding in her gaze, a muted feminine solidarity, an ill-concealed displeasure.

“Honey, why do you do this to yourself?” she seemed to say.

You didn’t care. Your pussy didn’t care either.

______________

One day, when you saw Pam pass in the hallways during the lunch break, you decided to do something.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You had gotten up deliberately exclaiming, “Oh, I really need a coffee!” And you had pretended to head for the common room. At last you had turned the opposite corner and snuck into the hallway that led to Joel's office. You had to hurry.

You slipped inside in an instant and found yourself in front of the imposing door that led to the office of the object of your desires.

He was talking to someone on the phone, you could clearly hear his voice but none in response.

When he finished, you opened the door and entered, full of doubts and fears but the same moved by a disruptive urge you couldn't say no to.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Joel's rough voice greeted you. “I came to see my mentor,” you whispered. ”And to tell him that tomorrow we will sign the contract with the make-up company.”

You smiled, waiting for his reaction.

He demolished you immediately in response, 

“So? What do you want, a golden star? A kiss on the forehead?”

He raised an eyebrow mockingly staring at you.

“No, I just wanted to let you know,” you countered in a voice far too resentful for your taste.

You were turning on your heels to leave when you heard his voice say, 

“What is the real reason you are here?”

You turned again and looked at him. 

Elbows rested on the desk, the sleeves of the white shirt he wore rolled up to leave his muscular forearms exposed, rolling the platinum ring he wore on his middle finger around, his straight shoulders wrapped in the fabric that seemed to contain his broadness with difficulty, the first few buttons left open giving you a glimpse of a few freckles on his bronze chest. 

The posture of the boss judging you, sitting comfortably in his leather chair, a smirk plastered on his face, a defiant expression in his eyes. 

He was both sultry and irritating. 

You wanted to slap him but also take off your panties and sit on his cock. 

To be honest, you wanted to do both at the same time.

“You walked in here without asking Pam,” he noted amusedly, looking at you as if he could read your mind “What were you trying to do?” “Nothing,” you lied, fidgeting with a button on your shirt. “Just my job”

“I think you were trying to get on my nerves,” he suggested

You scoffed “You think you’re the center of my universe?”

“You’re the one in my office right now. Say what you want. Or leave. But I think you want to stay, am I right? Your pussy wants it.” 

You were speechless, totally caught off guard. 

“What do you need, darling?” He urged you, walking towards you. 

He raised a hand reaching for your cheek, brushing it with his thumb. 

His voice softened slightly, the knot in your stomach tightened. 

It felt manipulative. 

But also arousing when he gently pulled your lower lip open and grazed it with the pads of his fingers. 

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to face him. 

His gaze was authoritative, demanding but also sweet, like he was trying to get you convinced that he was a good guy, just eager to give you something you wanted so much that you showed up uninvited to his office. 

“Punish me,” you breathed as he was sliding his fingers down your neck. 

“See? It wasn’t so difficult. This was all I needed to know,” he chuckled softly, right after grabbing you by the waist, gentleness instantly out of the menu, pulling up your skirt to expose your ass. 

“You want me to spank you again, am I right?” 

Your voice came out husky and broken, you only managed to mumble a “yes”, the most desperate yes you’ve ever said in your life. 

“That's what I was thinking,” he groaned

His hands were roaming your thighs “Hold-ups. Of course. You’re the target for that Agent Provocateur campaign we launched last month, aren't you?”

You would have laughed if you could but you felt his fingers graze the wet, sticky stain spreading across your panties and you gasped instead. 

And then his hand crushed on your ass cheek, his ring marked your skin, pain spreading across your skin, immediately replaced by an unbearable heat. 

It made you feel alive. 

You had his attention again.

One, two, three spanks burned your flesh, you could clearly feel a trickle of pleasure flowing out of you.

“How dare you come into my office just to provoke me? Don’t you know who I am? Huh, little slut?” 

“Yes,” you muttered. “yes Mr Miller but…” 

You had started this, you would have liked to say. 

You were the one flirting first. 

You were the one leading me to want you, this, always. 

Another slap hit you and you said nothing instead. You just moaned. 

A knock on the door stopped Joel in his tracks.

He froze with his hand high up in the air. 

“Who is it?” He asked nervously. 

He still held you tightly by the waist, you tried to wriggle free from his grip without success.

“It’s Pam,” her voice came muffled from outside the door. 

“Fuck” you whispered, you instantly looked around in panic for a place to hide. 

Not the bookcase, or the bar cabinet or the nice leather couch and armchair that were placed in front of it.

There was only one option.

“Get off of me,” you hissed “now!” 

Joel let go of you and you quickly cowered under the desk.

He sat down and spread his legs just enough to give you room as he moved his chair as close to the edge as he could.

“Come in” he ordered, trying to regain his composure. 

Pam cracked the door open and entered the office. 

You couldn’t see her but you could hear her light footsteps approaching the desk and her voice saying “I brought Mrs. Jones’ presentation that you wanted to review, Mr. Miller” 

“Oh. Thanks Pam” 

You could clearly hear the underlying nervousness in Joel’s voice and it was starting to make you laugh. 

You decided that since he was playing dirty you would do the same.

Your hand slowly moved up his pants, grazing his ankle, then his shin, up his thigh, until it reached his crotch.

Joel was desperately trying to hide his squirming as he examined the work of his new protégé. The one he was trying to replace you with.

It was delicious to feel him like that, helpless, harmless for once, totally at your mercy as you moved your hand up and down over his clothed cock that was desperately straining against the zipper. 

Pam didn't move, waiting for him to finish evaluating the project, only her regular breathing told you of her presence.

You liked the risk, the thrill of being discovered that ran under your skin. 

You could do more. 

Slowly, your fingers closed on the metal tag of Joel’s zipper. 

You pulled it down, while Joel tried to hide the noise with a cough. 

You pushed aside the flaps of his pants, pulling down his boxers to free his cock. He was hard in front of you. 

Thick, pink and darker at the tip, pulsing veins ran along the shaft that was slightly curved to the right.

Little drops of pre cum dripped onto his skin, making your mouth water. 

It was perfect and you had to have it. Right there and then.

You kitten-licked the underside where a white pearly bead was sliding, catching it with your tongue. 

Joel squirmed visibly on his chair, you couldn’t see it but you imagined his eyebrows shutting up and his lips twisting. 

You smiled in the heavy and heated air under the desk.

You hoped Pam would go away, but at the same time you were intrigued by putting Joel through the wringer without him being able to make any fumbling movements to stop you.

You held his cock in your hand, it throbbed in your palm, and a musky smell filled your nostrils. The smell of sex. 

You didn’t resist and licked again, more greedily, its flavor spread over your tongue. 

It was driving you crazy.

You felt his whole body stiffen as he sent his secretary away 

“That's all for now Pam, thank you. Tell the team to refine the graphics and report to Ms. Jones that the idea may work but the slogan is a bit weak, I want more ideas for next week ”

He had tried to maintain a professional tone, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, and you could only be mischievously proud of that.

As soon as Pam came out he yanked up his pants and wrapped a hand around your wrist dragging you out of your hiding place. 

“You dirty slut, what were you trying to do?" he rattled off. 

He had you standing up and trapped you against his chest, his half-dressed erection pressing hard against your ass.

His hand closed on your wrist hurt but you didn't care, you liked being manhandled like that.

You weren’t even intimidated anymore, just feral. 

Unhinged, eager, completely drunk on him.

“I thought you liked some action under the desk, Mr Miller” you replied, sneering without shame. 

“Oh you’re so thoughtful, aren’t you?” He barked, shoving you on the desk again.

“Yes I am.” You have never been so cheeky before, you were quite surprised and proud of yourself.

“No, you aren’t, darling”

With that, he pushed you onto the desk, your breasts pressed against the perfectly polished wood and his hands running to your skirt to hastily tug it down. 

It was like Deja vu.

The best type of.

He moved to lock the door.

“Hands on the desk, darling. And you better not take them out of there” 

He took off his tie, placed it on the desk and walked over.

His authoritative voice sent a rush of arousal straight to your pussy. 

He pulled down your panties, making you walk out of them and throwing them on the floor.

His hand grazed your folds, lightly at first and then he covered your whole sex and squeezed, sending a rush of adrenaline into your system 

“First time doing it? Getting fucked by your boss? Mh?”

“Yes” you breathed “I’ve never done anything like this before”

”You think you earned it?” 

“Yes”

He had withdrawn his hand from your pussy and placed both of them on your thighs.

“Bold of you. And I've already told you, you have to learn to speak properly. Yes, what?” His hands were gripping on your flesh so hard you were sure you'd end up with bruises.

“Yes, please” you whispered. “You think you deserve me giving attention to your pussy, huh?” 

His voice was low and raspy, almost like a subdued roar.

“Yes, please. Sir.” You added, emphasizing this last word.

“That's the way I like it, you're starting to learn. Turn around” You got up from the desk and he pushed you to sit on the edge, your bare pussy leaking on the surface. 

He slipped his hands down your thighs, over your bottom, up your back, stopping at the sides of your breasts. His thumbs rubbed your nipples through your shirt and lacy bra while he held you trapped between his body and the desk, standing between your open legs.

Your naked pussy throbbed against his pants, you could feel it dripping over the fabric, making a mess. He slipped his hand between the two of you, touching your folds with the pads of his fingers, up and down gathering more and more of your arousal and spreading it all over on your lips and clit. You tried hard to stifle your moans but a low husky one escaped your lips as you were rocking your hips against his hand.

“Look what I’m doing to your pussy.” He ordered while he started flicking your bundle of nerves. You looked down at his hand moving obscenely over your pussy, two of his thick fingers sliding inside you, his ring right out that was getting wet with you. You gasped loudly at the sensation when he curled them up just right, reaching for your special spot. “Be quiet” he had warned you off “either that or I’ll stop immediately” “No!” You wailed. “No, what?” He barked grasping your neck with his free hand 

You looked at yourself in his pitch black eyes, losing yourself in that deep darkness.

A taunting smile curved his lips. “No, please” you were quick to correct yourself “That’s right” his hand lightly squeezed your pulse point. “Undo my shirt, now” Your fingers were moving awkwardly over the buttons, trying to unfasten them while he continued to move his fingers inside you.

His skin, unveiled before your eyes, was almost too much to bear: golden and dotted with freckles that you wanted to lick one by one.

He smelled like whiskey and mint and a distinctive something that was only his, filling your nostrils, awakening every molecule of that secret part of you that was a slave for him.

Once you reached the last one you were so worked up you were almost on your brink, Joel noticed that right away and stopped, taking away his hand from your pussy. You whined in disappointment and he retorted 

“You don’t get to complain, darling” accompanying his words with a slap on your right tit “we clear?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry” you breathed, feeling the pain spread all over your chest.

A rush of adrenaline made you quiver against his hot body.

He put his wet fingers in your mouth. “Clean them up, darling” And you did, you thoroughly swirled your tongue all over them, licking till the last drop, going feral for the taste of you and the way he pushed them through your lips, up to his knuckles.

“Good job”

He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He shifted, moving you in front of him.

“Kneel. Show me how sorry you are for complaining” You kneeled right away, moving your hand over his pants, stroking the underline of his cock. “What do you want?” “Your cock” you purred “Ask nicely” he told you, totally unfazed by your attempt to bribe him

“Can I please pull your cock out, sir?” You would have looked up to anyone, but the power it exerted over you at that point was unmanageable and devoured you.

His onyx eyes were fixed on you, pinning you down to the ground, like he was holding your entire being in his fist. 

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Go ahead”

You hastily pulled down his pants and boxers, he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

You took his shaft back into your hand, licking the tip first, coating it in your saliva, until it was glistening and pulsing right before your eyes again.

You slid it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, savoring his musky flavor, licking him like a lollipop, like the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever had.

“That’s what a good girl does,” he praised you “she fills her pretty mouth with a nice cock, just like that” You relaxed your jaw to take all that you could of him in your mouth.

His fingers reached for the back of your head, holding you possessively 

“Go on, miss, I know you want it, don’t you? You would like my cum on your tongue, huh?” You hummed against his shaft, even more eager for him.

You tried to brush your fingers on your clit, searching for some relief from the throbbing heated mess you felt between your thighs but he scolded you 

“Nuh huh, girl, don’t you dare. You don’t get to come until I say it” You whined, reluctantly moving your hand away.

You kept sucking on his cock, devouring every inch of him with purpose, messy and sloppy, thin trades of your saliva running onto his length to his balls. 

You swirled on the tip before sliding down to them and taking one in your mouth, greedily sucking on it. 

He was granite that crumbled slightly at your every touch, trying to hold back the grunts that vibrated in his throat, trying not to close his eyes so as not to get lost in every lap of your tongue. He tried not to give you any satisfaction but at the same time his body betrayed him, letting slip how much he wanted all of that. And you. 

At his brink, he stopped you, manhandling you back on the desk, tearing away your shirt making every single button pop out and yanking at your bra to expose your nipples. 

His lips closed on one of your hard rock buds and sucked it avidly. You were a whimpering mess, whining under your breath “please sir, fuck me” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth, running a finger through your folds. 

“Look at you, darling, so hungry for my cock your pussy is weeping,  your body is shaking…” 

With one hand he yanked the papers off the desk, a shower of paper clips followed the sheets to the floor along with a stapler and the golden tag with his name engraved on it.

“Lie down” he hissed 

You lay on the desk, obscenely open and throbbing for him, a raw uncontrollable heat flowing through your body. 

“Please” you cried. 

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders, holding you tightly by your ankles.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this” he said tapping his cock on your folds and sliding it through them, before starting to enter you agonizingly slow. 

“Mmm feel how good she’s stretching, darling, your tight little pussy’s all full of me” 

“Yes, sir” 

“Say: thank you, sir” 

“Thank you, sir” 

It was all inside you and your pussy was swallowing it hungrily.

He started thrusting into a steady rhythm, slowly at first, like tidal waves hitting you, ripples on a blank shore caressing your special spot, and then stronger, faster, like thunderstorm on the ocean, high dangerous waves making you see stars. 

His huge cock shifting and brushing against your drenched walls, sinking into you again and again. 

Your moans bounced around the room like an echo, mixing with squelching sounds of his dick slamming into you, making you his. 

“Yes, baby, you’re doing so good for me” he whispered “come here”. 

He grabbed you and held you close to his chest, making your legs parting some more, reaching for another angle that made you feel him even deeper. 

His moustache brushed along your jawline, lowering on your neck, his lips sucking on your pulse point.

“Look at you, dripping on my desk,” he muttered softly, his voice reverberating on your skin. 

The impossible pace became too much to bear when his hand moved from your hips to your clit, his thumb brushing on it. 

He looked you in the eyes, feral and assertively “you want to come, huh? Make a mess all over my cock?” 

“Yes.” You cried, seeing the wreck that you were reflecting in his deep brown eyes “yes, please sir I need it” 

“Then come, baby” he said, increasing the pressure on your clit and pushing into you like it was a matter of life or death. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

You broke the dams that still kept you anchored to reality and flooded his cock, squirting all over his desk, a complete and utter disaster disheveled and exhausted. 

The fine wood of his desk was probably ruined forever but he didn't seem to care in the slightest, he pumped into you, grabbing your neck and hair until he spurted all of him into your cunt. 

You felt it warm and sticky, painting your walls, making you full like you’ve never been before. 

He slipped out a moment later, caressing your cheeks and praising you.

You got up from his desk and clung to his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss, tilting your head as you felt his tongue play with yours.

“Thank you” you murmured against his lips, smiling softly “And by the way, I’m on the pill”

“I know. I saw you take it the other day in the conference room before the meeting started” he said, while adjusting his trousers and taking a clean shirt from a desk drawer.

“Get out of here, naughty girl” 

“Well, you destroyed my blouse…” you said, picking up the garment from the floor.

“Here, take mine” 

You put on his shirt, too big for you, trying to tuck it under your skirt so it was less noticeable how long it was. He helped you by rolling up your sleeves, barely touching your skin, but enough to make you feel a shiver down your spine. 

“mmm sexy,” he said when he stopped to look at you.

“Let’s try not to make this a habit” he smirked, giving you another playful slap on your ass cheek “We can't do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Why not?” You winked right before going out the door. 

You could smell him on you and it drove you crazy. You already knew that you would use his shirt to sleep that very night and for many nights to come.

Once outside the door, Pam looked at you over her glasses, raised an eyebrow, and for the first time you saw a little smile curve her lips.

tag list for this one: @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @gothcsz @harriedandharassed

archive tag: @pedrostories Let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away.

[harrysfolklore]

31st - hs

happy birthday to the one and only love of my life 🥹🥹 31 omg! i hope he has the best day ever <33

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You woke up early on February 1st, carefully slipping out of bed without disturbing Harry, who was still peacefully sleeping. The morning sun was just beginning to peek through the curtains, reflecting light across his face. At 31, he was somehow even more beautiful than when you'd first met him - a few more laugh lines around his eyes, his curls slightly shorter now, but still undeniably your Harry.

Making your way to the kitchen, you began the birthday breakfast preparations you'd been planning for days. You started brewing his favorite coffee and pulled out the ingredients for the banana pancakes he loved so much.

As you worked, you couldn't help but smile, remembering his 30th birthday last year - the big party, all their friends and family gathered together. This year, though, Harry had asked for something quieter, more intimate. "Just us," he'd said, "maybe dinner with family later."

The sound of footsteps made you look up, and there he was, leaning against the doorframe in his pajama bottoms and that old Rolling Stones t-shirt you loved so much.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," you scolded playfully, whisking the pancake batter.

"Bed was cold without you," he mumbled, voice still rough with sleep. His hair was adorably mussed, and he had pillow creases on his cheek. "Besides, something smells amazing."

"Happy birthday, love," you said softly, abandoning your cooking to wrap your arms around him.

He hummed contentedly, pulling you closer and burying his face in your neck. "Thank you, baby."

"Thirty-one," you mused, running your fingers through his hair. "How does it feel?"

"Honestly?" He pulled back to look at you, his green eyes twinkling. "Pretty much the same as thirty. Though I did find another grey hair yesterday."

You laughed, reaching up to touch the single silver strand at his temple. "I think it makes you look distinguished."

"Distinguished?" He raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a smile. "Is that what we're calling it?"

"Mhmm," you nodded seriously. "Very sophisticated. Very George Clooney."

"Oi!" He tickled your sides, making you squeal. "I'm not that old yet!"

The pancakes were momentarily forgotten as you both dissolved into laughter, play-fighting in the kitchen like teenagers. Finally, Harry pulled you close again, pressing soft kisses along your jaw.

"You know," he murmured, "this is already my favorite birthday."

"It's barely started!"

"Doesn't matter. I'm here with you, in our kitchen, and you're making me breakfast. What could be better?"

Your heart swelled with love for this man who could find joy in the simplest moments. "Well, it might get even better when you see your presents."

His eyes lit up like a child's. "Presents? But you said we weren't doing big gifts this year!"

"And we're not," you assured him, turning back to the pancakes before they burned. "Just a few small things. Though..." you paused for dramatic effect, "there might be tickets to that vintage guitar show in Nashville you were talking about."

Harry's gasp of delight made you laugh. "Really? The one with the '59 Les Paul?"

"Maybe," you sang, flipping a pancake. "You'll have to wait and see."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind, watching you cook. "Have I told you lately that you're the best wife ever?"

You felt your cheeks flush at the word 'wife,' still not quite used to hearing it spoken aloud. After nearly a year of marriage, it was still your precious secret, shared only with family and closest friends. The ring on your finger was usually hidden away in public, and you'd both become experts at careful wording in interviews.

"Shh," you teased, though your heart fluttered at his words. "The walls might have ears."

Harry chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "You know, I've been thinking about that actually."

"About what?" you asked, sliding the last pancake onto the plate.

He turned you around gently, his expression thoughtful. "About keeping it secret. Don't get me wrong, this past year has been incredible, having something that's just ours. But sometimes..." he paused, running a hand through his hair, "sometimes I just want to tell the whole world that I'm married to the most amazing woman."

You set down the spatula, studying his face. "Really? You want to go public?"

"Only if you're ready," he said quickly. "But yeah, I do. It's been almost a year, and honestly, I'm tired of not being able to call you my wife whenever I want to. Of having to take my ring off for appearances. Of watching you do the same."

Your heart raced at the possibility. "It would change things," you said softly. "The privacy we've had..."

"I know," he nodded, taking your hands in his. "But maybe... maybe it's time. And what better day than my birthday? We could post something simple, just us."

You thought about it for a moment. The past year had been magical, your private bubble of newlywed bliss protected from the public eye. But he was right - there was something exhausting about constantly hiding, about choosing your words so carefully, about slipping your rings off before stepping outside.

"Okay," you finally said, a smile spreading across your face. "Let's do it."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," you laughed as he pulled you into a tight hug. "But after breakfast! These pancakes are getting cold."

Later, after breakfast and presents, you both sat on the couch, phones in hand. You'd chosen a simple photo from your wedding day - just your hands intertwined, both wearing your rings, nothing too revealing but unmistakably a wedding photo.

"Ready?" he asked, his thumb hovering over the 'post' button.

You took a deep breath, nodding. "Ready."

With a click, your secret was out in the world. You both turned your phones to silent, knowing they would explode with notifications any second.

"How does it feel?" Harry asked, pulling you close.

You twisted your ring, which for the first time wouldn't have to come off when you left the house later. "Liberating," you decided. "Scary, but good scary."

"No more hiding," he agreed, kissing your temple.

"No more hiding," you repeated, then laughed. "Your mum's going to be thrilled. She's been dying to post those wedding photos."

"Oh God," Harry groaned good-naturedly. "She's probably already sharing them as we speak."

You snuggled closer to him, enjoying this quiet moment before the world would inevitably explode with the news. "Happy birthday, H. Sorry I kind of hijacked it with our announcement."

"Are you kidding?" He grinned down at you. "This is the best gift you could have given me. Now everyone knows I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Charmer," you muttered, but you were smiling.

"Your charmer," he corrected, then added with obvious delight, "Your husband."

"My husband," you agreed, loving how it felt to say it out loud, knowing you wouldn't have to whisper it anymore.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

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harrystyles Best birthday gift was marrying my soulmate almost a year ago. Thank you for keeping our secret. ❤️

February, 2024

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username1 WHAT THE HELL

username2 IS THIS A JOKE

taylorswift Finally!! 🥂 Keeping this secret was TORTURE. So happy for you both ♥️

gemmastyles Bbout time you two told everyone!! now i can finally post all the cute photos from the wedding 😭💕

lizzo YALL I WAS AT THE WEDDING AND HAD TO PRETEND I WASNT THIS WHOLE TIME 😭 CONGRATS AGAIN BESTIES

niallhoran The most beautiful day! Love you both!

yourinstagram Finally 🤍 Happy birthday to my husband (!!!) who makes every day feel like a love song. Thank you for choosing me, always.

username3 HUSBAND???????? MARRIED????????? IM SHAKING AND CRYING AND THROWING UP

username4 OH MY GOD THE SIGNS WERE THERE ALL ALONG. REMEMBER WHEN HE KEPT TOUCHING HIS RING FINGER IN THAT ONE INTERVIEW??

username5 not me zooming in on every detail of this photo 👀 THE RINGS ARE SO BEAUTIFUL IM SOBBING

username6 the way they kept this secret for a YEAR?? we love a private couple

username7 HARRY STYLES IS A MARRIED MAN. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. I REPEAT. HARRY STYLES IS A MARRIED MAN

username8 im so happy for them but also crying in the club rn 😭

username9 THE WAY YN JUST CALLED HIM HUSBAND IM SCREAMING

username10 not me thinking about how they had a whole secret wedding and we had no idea 😭 they're so powerful

username11 "best birthday gift" STOP IM CRYING THIS IS SO ROMANTIC

[norrisainz33]

golden || ls18

☆ summary: lance and his long term partner and actress, y/n, attend the golden globes

☆ pairing: lance stroll x actress!reader

☆ fc & warnings: zendaya & none

☆ a/n: shorter one bc i was inspired by zendaya and the big ring she was wearing last night hehe also lance has been moving me lately

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎���⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has posted a story

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user1: tuning in for you only

user2: i can’t wait to see what you wear!!! you are going to shine like always

lance_stroll: my beautiful gorgeous girl

ynuser: my sweet precious boy

lance_stroll: hoping on the plane now! should be there in a few hours.

ynuser: wonderful! thank you for coming all the way out to la baby - i know things are busy for you these days

lance_stroll: you are always my first priority y/n/n and this is a big deal ❤️

ynuser: i am so lucky to call you mine lancey

lance_stroll: i’m the lucky one 😘

yourbff: i’m so excited for you my love

ynuser: and i’m so excited to see you soon 🫶🏻

user22: people died!!! (me i’m people)

chloestroll: yayyyy!!! you’re my favorite superstar!!

ynuser: chloe 🥹

user3: MOTHER!!!

lance_stroll has posted multiple stories

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user2: the prettiest princess to ever princess

user8: when i show up to a who loves y/n most contest and ur there 🙄

astonmartinf1: make sure you send us all the pictures possible. can’t have our man stepping out without posting about it 😮‍💨

lance_stroll: don’t worry admin - you’ll get them before anyone else does!

user87: just casually showing up with bouquets and dior… oh to be a wag 😭

ynuser: reunited and it feels so good ❤️

lance_stroll: nothing beats being with you darling 🤍

user12: happy for you (i’m single and jealous)!

chloestroll: give my girl a hug for me

lance_stroll: you got it 😘

user9: your commitment to be at every event of hers is truly the sweetest thing

ynuser has posted to their private story

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yourbff: girl call me wtf

yourbff: DONT LEAVE ME ON READ IK YOURE JUSY GETTING YOUR HAIR DONE RN YOU CAN CALL ME

ynuser: CALLING NOW CHILLLLL

yourbff: OMG BESTIE IM SCREAING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS

ynuser: 😂😂😂😂 i can hear you all the way from la

yourbff: this is one of the best days of my life fr

ynuser: s a m e girl

estebanocon: mon ami what happened?

ynuser: lance will call you shortly my dear friend ❤️

lance_stroll: 🤭

ynuser: eeeeeeek i love you

lance_stroll: i love you to the moon and back

flavy.barla: cryptic? but also give your little puppy a kiss from me mon ange 😘

ynuser: are you and estie together? if so, expect a call sooooooonnn!!!! also puppy says they miss you

flavy.barla: omg yes we are together!

flavy.barla: y/n/n! i’m still crying im so excited for you two you have no idea

chloestroll: HEHEHEHEH

ynuser: sisssyyyyyyyyy

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user2: GORGEOUS????

user18: is it just me or are you showing off that ring in like a …… it’s more than just an accessory way

yourbff: how is it that everything looks perfect on you?

ynuser: stop ittttt 😭

flavy.barla: stunning, beautiful, perfect! not a single note

ynuser: thank you flavy 🫶🏻

f1gossip: now y/n/n…. is that what we think it is?

lance_stroll: genuinely speechless. how does one get so beautiful?

ynuser: lots and lots of makeup

lance_stroll: oh stop! its natural

user19: foaming at the mouth

madelyncline: begging you to style me. i wanna be like you when i grow up 😩

ynuser: your wish is my command 🙌🏻

user34: you never miss

user21: s2g that’s an engagement ring

mclarenf1: nice color dress 🤭

F1Gossip has made a post

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f1gossip: actress, y/n y/l/n, attended the golden globes last tonight with long term partner and our very own, Lance Stroll, sporting a rather large diamond ring on her left hand. when asked by a reporter if the ring on her finger was an engagement ring, all she did was give a coy smile and a shrug before changing the subject. looks like wedding bells are ringing for one of our favorite duos!!

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user2: first of all - y/n is radiant. second of all - i’m so glad these 2 are end game i love them

user6: how lance bagged this baddie will forever be beyond me

user28: he’s a good man savannah

user12: happy for them (i’m crying my eyes out)

user44: a little commotion for the dress my god

user33: all i can think abt is how it’s papaya

user9: now that is a ROCK! making my partner take notes

user4: my shot is with y/n is now GONE

user22: what do i have to do to get myself a billionaire to give me the biggest ring i’ve ever seen in my whole life

user35: no fr asking for a friend

user11: no lance!!!! that’s MY girl!!!

user9: i’d put a ring on that too if i was him

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lance_stroll: had the best evening with the most beautiful girl to have ever graced a red carpet. thanks for having me goldenglobes and thanks to hugoboss for the magnificent suit.

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user18: we got a lance post before gta6

user22: missed him dearly

astonmartinf1: that’s our driver 🤩

user34: that old money hotness is real

fernandoalo_oficial: looking good!

ynuser: magnificent suit indeed 😍

lance_stroll: maybe i should wear them more often

ynuser: yes please 😩

user3: don’t think i didn’t notice the big ring on y/n’s hand. care to explain lance?

chloestroll: two of my most favorite people 🥹

user24: seething with jealousy

estebanocon: cleaned up real nice mon ami

lance_stroll: merci esteban 🤍

user28: i am down so catastrophically bad. i cant decide which one of you i want more

ynuser has made a post

liked by lance_stroll, landonorris, yourbff, sabrinacarpenter, astonmartinf1, glenpowell, and 980,285 others

ynuser: it’s all in the details

view all comments

landonorris: cool papaya dress

ynuser: it’s orange mate

landonorris: close enough! thanks for being a fan 🧡

user99: this is all but confirmation honestly

sabrinacarpenter: i think i might be in love with you

ynuser: well thank god the feelings are mutual 😭

user12: there’s not a single red carpet where you don’t devour

lance_stroll: you have one new really good detail

ynuser: i do yeah! someone special picked it out for me

lance_stroll: well they certainly did a good job

ynuser: the best job some might say!

mclarenf1: currently fangirling! don’t mind us

astonmartinf1: back!!! back i said!!! 🤺

user13: the squeal i just let out

flavy.barla: reject me so i can move on already 😭

ynuser: i have no interest in rejecting you!!! lets run away tg instead

estebanocon: only if lance and i can run away together without you then

flavy.barla: fine by me!

lance_stroll: wow 🙄

user88: my 2 favorite people just got engaged no one speak to me

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thanks for reading!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[georgeclarkeys]

tiktok trend series - arthurtv x reader

summary: you make a tiktok asking arthur to turn around while you're changing - 400 words

y'all i have been loving arthur recently, he is just so precious. it's not very long, but i thought this trend was perfect for him. <3

-

“Are you almost ready, love?” Arthur called, walking through the door into your shared bedroom, completely unaware of your phone recording in the corner. 

You had been offered a TikTok brand deal by a new, fancy restaurant in London, and decided to make a date night out of it. With content being on your mind all evening, you thought it would be a great opportunity to prank Arthur with a trend that you had been seeing a lot of recently. 

Touching up your lipstick, you made eye contact with him in the mirror, “Just a few more minutes, I need to find my dress.”

“Which one do you need? I can pull it out for you,” he offered, taking a seat on the bed to wait for your response. 

“That’s alright,” you answered, while shuffling through your closet, “I think I remember where I put it…”

Your fingers brushed the fabric you were looking for. Grabbing the dress, you turned around and looked at Arthur, who was still sitting on the bed, with a small frown on your face. You almost broke when you saw his sweet smile.

“I love that dress on you,” he beamed.

You looked down at the dress in your hands and then back up to meet his eyes, purposely acting awkward.

“Arthur, I need to change… Would you turn around please?” you asked him shyly.

His eyes widened a bit in shock, barely noticeable, and he said, “yes, of course,” before rising off your shared bed and moving to stand facing the corner of the room.

You let him stand there for about half a minute before bursting into a fit of giggles.

Arthur perked up at your laughter, but kept his face firmly towards the corner, “can I turn around now?”

“Yes babe,” you replied, grabbing his arm to turn him around, “it was a prank.”

The relief on his face was almost palpable, “Oh thank goodness, I thought you were mad at me. I was over here in the corner trying to figure out what I did wrong.”

You leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek, “my sweet, respectful man.”

-

comments

user1: wow he is precious

arthurtv: my life flashed before my eyes

user2: what a respectable young man

user3: arthurtv you are truly the only man ever

user4: him offering to get your dress down for you 🥹

[russellsppttemplates]

Lando calling his wife "lovie" got me 🥹🥹🥹

And just the image of him cooing about a milk drunk baby is enough to send my ovaries into combustion!

Would you maybe write a little bit more about it, like maybe Lando posting or sending his family pictures of his milk drunk babies because he thinks it is the cutest/funniest thing?

Note: you and me both, anon!

"Tell me this isn't the cutest, squishiest face you have ever seen!", Lando groaned softly as he admired your babygirl while he walked in the Silverstone paddock, "I have to admit that's a pretty cute baby", Ted said into his microphone.

"Pretty cute? Tilly is the cutest", Lando stated, adjusting the hat on her head to shield her face from the sunshine that graced his home race weekend, "she has her tummy full and she was out like a light, nothing can bother her, she's in her own little world", Lando smiled, delighting everyone who saw the infections of the new father and his babygirl.

"It's extra special, no? Your home race, your family is here - the youngest Norris is here too - and a pole position that by the looks of it could get you a home race win", Ted wondered.

"Yes, it definitely is, we're not taking anything for granted until we race, obviously, but the spirits are definitely high", he smiled, kissing Matilda's cheek as she made a little noise, "I had another question to ask you but this little one made it fly out of my brain, actually", Ted chuckled as he shook his head.

"She usually has that effect on people, you can't really pay attention to anything else", Lando smiled proudly.

.

"Little man is down, was absolutely milk drunk and went out like a light", you said as Lando stepped out of the en suite bathroom, crawling up to you in bed and stroking the baby's soft cheeks, "He's so sleepy, look at him", you cooed, "he fell asleep with my nipple still in his mouth, I barely got a burp out of him before he was knocked right out", you smiled.

"We make really cute kids, don't we, lovie?", Lando said, resting his head on your chest and facing Fraser, and from your point of view, it was clear this baby would become a Lando clone soon enough.

"So far, they all look the most like you, so you're really just tooting your own horn", you scoffed playfully, "these cute cheeks and pouty lips, lovie? They're all you", Lando charmed, making you blush.

.

"Can you give her the bottle, please?", you asked Lando, "I need to make sure Matilda is not doodling instead of doing her homework", you kissed Lando's lips and baby Charlotte's cheek.

"Let's warm this up for you, babygirl", Lando said as he put the milk in the bottle and popped it in the warmer, "you're hungry, aren't you? And fighting sleep so I've heard - you gave mummy a full on afternoon", he giggled, pulling funny faces as she giggled at her father's antics.

"Off we go then, open up - there we go, Lottie", he smiled as she suckled, finally get her tummy full as he walked around bouncing her, "hopefully you'll sleep because you really need it, and that way you can also give mummy a little bit of a rest, just so enough me and her can have a cuddle, you know?", he playfully tsked, "you've been stealing all of my cuddles", he giggled as he looked at her precious face. Life had been generous enough with him - he had the woman of his dreams, a career he loved and their three little ones. Life was good.

After burping Charlotte, Lando rocked her to sleep, which didn't prove to be very hard as she was milkdrunk as ever, her little mouth opened as she rested on his chest.

"Tilly is doing fine and Fraser is happily playing with his toys", you said as you sat down on the sofa next to your husband, your daughter happily sleeping on his chest, "take a picture of this cute face and send it to the groupchat, please", Lando whispered as he gave you his phone so you could dot it.

Lando: Look at this cutie 🥰

Flo: Look at her chubby cheeks, I can't!

Cisca: She looks so out-of-it-milkdrunk, I bet she's having a good nap!

Lovie: Seeing her like this almost makes it look like she wasn't wide awake the whole afternoon - she never closed those big eyes, she was always staring at me!

Adam: look at our little girl 😍

"You're so loved, babygirl", you said, brushing the hairs on her head, cuddling closer to your husband.

"Finally I am the one getting a cuddle from mummy", Lando cheered, kissing your lips, "jealous much, handsome?", you teased, "just wanted a cuddle from you, woman! This one has hogged your boobs from me - I have to take what I can get!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[maxivstappen]

congrats on 1k again mel 🤍 i'm so proud of u!!

i'm requesting for ur event: the lyrics "you make me wanna fall in love" from "juno" by sabrina, and the driver is oscar piastri

౨ৎ MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE ‧˚. OP81

౨ৎ PART OF MY 1K EVENT & my short n' sweet series (not posted yet) ౨ৎ

summary — you said it was casual, but you both knew it wasn’t. he liked to tell people that he’s certainly not in love with you, so maybe you just had to make him fall in love.

a/n — thank you so much for your constant support ml🥹 im not too happy with how this turned out, but i hope you enjoy reading anyway <3 based on the song ‚juno’ by sab!

warnings — kinda smutty?? jealous!oscar, making out, very suggestive, hints of angst, english isn’t my first language, not proofread

It really wasn’t your fault.

You decided to keep it casual as to not get him into any drama, so that people know his focus was keen on racing - becoming a world champion and whatnot - and also for your sake, because the hate, if you weren’t used to it, really could become unbearable, and the last thing Oscar wanted was for you to have to deal with any of that, you were just way too precious to him for that. So the decision was made. No strings attached.

Stupid, right? No strings attached is something to settle on before being all the way into it. Because at that point of your relationship, there was no way to keep it casual anymore. The only way was to take a few things that had been said two or three times too often back. To leave it all behind and really only do those things for ‚urgent needs‘ . No more spending the night or cooking together or meeting up without the friend group or sneaking away from said friend group just so he could finally rip the dress you had been teasing him with all night right off of you. But he had other plans, he seemed to just keep going with it. Telling you how much he missed you every time he was back from the long weekends, repeating the same three words over and over again as he makes his way down your thighs, kissing every clothed and unclothed spot he could reach from under you.

The first time it happened it was simply an accident, at least that’s what you told everyone. At least that’s what you told yourselves. But your touch and perfume still lingered even after a week, so the next time you saw each other at a birthday party of one of your mutual friends, Oscar couldn’t keep his hands off you either. Confessions of being attracted were spoken out loud and the only thing keeping you from taking it farther was nothing more than a mental holdback. You were scared of the public. He was scared to see you hurt because of that.

After a weekend during summer break spent together you asked him to finally decide on where to go on from this. He blurted out that he’s not in love, so there was no reason for things to get complicated. Your breath hitched. Casual hookups was what he said. Friends with benefits, you chuckled, seemingly angreeing with him as to not make this situation any weirder, even if it hurt just a tiny bit. But he was right. You had a different idea of a perfect life than he had. Racing was his passion, being in the spotlight was part of the sport, and you couldn’t even handle having to hold presentations in class because you hated being the center of attention. You two were just too different.

So yes. It is his fault! Because if he’s really, after all these lovey-dovey moment shared, still not in love — like you admittedly were — then he should stop acting like he did. Why would he get you flowers every few weeks? Why would he gift you a whole vacation with your best friend including hotel, trips and things a sane person wouldn’t even ask for for your birthday, and the rest of your friends would only get a normal birthday card and occasionally whatever small thing they had wished for? If you were really just casual, then why did he treat you as if none of this was ever just casual at all? Why did he treat you like his girlfriend if he so confidently stated that he’s not in love with you just months ago?

He couldn’t expect you not to want him to fall for you too if he was the one who made you fall for him in the first place. As if the “casual” sex wasn’t enough already, he just had to do the most romantic shit for you as to not let you get over him at all. He wanted to play with your head, he made it obvious. Too many mixed signs, too many actions done but too little words said. Lucky for you and for him, two can play the game.

If he was sooo sure he’s not in love with you, which he just had to be, maybe you just had to make him realize his loss if he ever lost you. You had to make sure he knew that you were desired also by men who weren’t him, and since it‘s his fault you fell for him in the first place, he should be the one who has to face he consequences of not loving you back.

In other words, a little jealousy clearly wouldn’t hurt him.

You were getting ready in the bathroom of your apartment together with your best friend, “juno“ by Sabrina Carpenter playing in the background while you gossiped about whatever came to mind — including Oscar and you. It was a secret to everybody else, but not to her. She was the one you cried to after Oscar told you he didn’t have feelings for you.

You finished up your makeup with some lipgloss, and once you were final,y content with your accessories and outfits, you made your way over to your friend’s, jack’s, birthday. Everybody was there, including Oscar. And Lando. His only ally and his biggest rival. If that didn’t make him crack, then nothing would, but you decided to try, at least. Lando and you got along alright already when you had only just met, and he was the first man to point out that Oscar and you aren’t just friends, right?

So when you suddenly put your hand on his arm, slowly rubbing up and down his biceps, he was confused at first, and then caught up on your quick nod in Oscar‘s direction while holding eye contact with him. Lando didn’t mean to do him any harm, but as much as he loved his teammate, he would never be one to turn down an opportunity to mess with him like this, especially not if he knew it would, at last, make Oscar snap so he didn‘t have to listen to his hopeless whining about his relationship with you being oh so complicated. Just ball up and confess, man.

It was innocent at first. Just simple touches, your hand on his chest for just a tiny second because you needed something to steady yourself on as your reached behind him to grab your drink from the small table the couch stood in front of, or his arm around your waist when you all stood next to each other to take a round of shots. Lando was certainly amused and your best friend was winking and giggling at you the whole night, seemingly loving your plan, because Oscar was definitely reacting.

His blood was boiling and he wanted to punch that smug look right off of Lando‘s face. How dare he touch you when he knew that Oscar, his own teammate, loved you?

Oscar thought it was better like this. Playing pretend instead of facing the truth, and he was pretty damn good at doing so. He was sure you believed him when he said that he doesn‘t want your relationship to include anything other than moments of lust, he thought it was easier that way. He thought it would make things less complicated, thought he could live his life without having to put you in any danger, live his life without needing you by his side every second of his damned life if he just put some boundaries. Surprise! It only made things worse, plus apparently, guys seemed to think you were available now, thought they could have you like only he can. And it made him fucking furious.

So when you stood up to pour yourself another drink in the kitchen, he followed, of course not before shooting the other driver for McLaren a death glare. Lando sighed and leanded back in his seat, happy to see your man finally making a real move. He hoped so, at least. Oscar closed the door after entering. It was only you two now.

“Fancy another beer?“ You asked calmly, but the feeling in your stomach was far from calm. This could end in complete rejection, maybe he could see right through your façade and thought you were childish for doing this? But how could you not?! Oscar himself made you do it with his mix of signs every damn time you saw each other!

He shook his head.

The tension between you was palpable as he watched your every move, back turned to him. You felt awkward, but tried to ignore it. The light was dim, and you could still feel the bass vibrating through the floor and the walls coming from the speakers in the living room. Was music this loud even allowed at this hour?

You finished pouring yourself some more champagne when you saw him walking over to you in the reflection of the glass cupboard in front of you. You sucked in a breath, not daring to say anything, feeling slightly hazy from the alcohol you‘ve drunken in the past few hours already. His cologne became starker as he stepped closer to you, eyes closed as you let the familiar smell of him take over you completely. You only opened them again once you realized he caged you between himself and the counter, pressing himself against your behind. He started softly kissing down your neck behind your ear, almost tickling you with how light his lips felt against your hot skin. You wanted this, you wanted him. But his touch wasn’t nearly enough, you wanted all of him, and not just his body. Every yet so little interaction you had during the evening left you with butterflies going crazy in your tummy, yet he never seemed affected, not until Lando came into view. Did he really only want your body and not more?

“What were you doing with him, y/n?”

Nothing but a moan left your mouth as he gently bit into your skin, sucking on your sweet spot as you subconsciously rubbed up against him. You didn’t even want to reply, you just wanted him to keep caressing your skin with his mouth. “Tell me what you were doing with Lando, huh, baby? What were you thinking?”

“Oscar I-“

“Keep talking or I’ll stop,” he whispered as he made his way down your back and then back up your shoulder, kissing and mouthing at every spot. Thankfully your best friend had convinced you to wear the backless top, you thought.

You huffed. This felt so humiliating, but you couldn’t keep going like this, not when he makes you feel like this and then leaves like nothing ever happened. You lived a lie and it was time to stop.

“I was trying to make you jealous so that you would finally stop and do something!”

Oscar’s furrowed his eyebrows and stopped in his tracks, hands still on you. What were you talking about The tension came crashing down onto your body once again, his doing not distracting you anymore. You seemed to want to have this conversation, and Oscar could easily put some of his lust away in moments like these. You didn’t get a reply, the cue for you to turn around and face him. You were still caged between him and the counter, his hands steady on either side of you now as he leaned down to look at you. you couldn’t focus like this, not with him so close to you and with the alcohol running through your body like blood. You looked up at him with doe eyes, prettily batting your lashes even if your mascara was slightly smudged already.

“Stop what? Talk to me, please. I didn’t like seeing you with him,” he looked concerned. Worried even, worried about what he might have done wrong. He wanted to be with you, keep you as his, so why would you want to stop being exactly that?

“Why don‘t you love me?“ You whispered, tears forming in your eyes. You hated it, but it was inevitable. The confrontation was overwhelming you anyway, and being under the influence managed to make it a lot worse. Your hands were all shaky and so was your every breath as you anticipated his reaction, expecting rejection but still hoping for more.

“I- What? Why would you think that?“

“Maybe because you literally said so?“

“Uhm, okay fair point. Listen y/n,“ he sighed, and you could practically hear your heartbeat throbbing inside your chest. He thought for a second, but didn‘t say a thing. Instead, he grabbed your face and kissed you like never before, he kissed you with more than just passion, he kissed you with love. his fingers wiped away a tear that had rolled down your face, kissing and holding you as gently as he could. “Don‘t cry on me, y/n, please don‘t,“ he begged as he now kissed down your cleavage, leaving lovebites on your collarbones. “Was just being stupid, didn‘t wanna hurt you baby, thought long distance is too hard,“ he said something, anything to make you understand that the only reason he didn’t confess was because he was scared of his life not being compatible with yours, and not because he didn’t love you.

You smiled into the kiss once he reached your lips again. You‘d have to talk about it more tomorrow morning after taking some aspirin, you knew, after all, that you‘d go back home with him. It wasn‘t enough to make it official, you weren‘t boyfriend and girlfriend, but you finally had the guarantee that he felt the same way, that he loved you just like you did him.

Oscar swore himself at that exact moment, when he felt you smiling while his lips were dancing against yours, that he would never make you feel so unloved again. It wasn’t his intention in the first place, but seeing your beautiful eyes filled with tears because of him made his heart shatter, and he never wants to see you like that again, not if he was the reason for your pain. And even though you did have to make him realize through making him jealous, you certainly didn’t have to make him fall in love with you.

Because he already was.

౨ৎ general taglist / sns taglist ::

@norrisdriver / @1655clean

[mocchiixxx]

Jelousy, Jelousy

(Jeonghan X Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Comedy, Jealousy

Summary: You’ve been obsessing over Michael Kaiser from Blue Lock lately, constantly gushing about his confidence, charm, and most importantly, his platinum blonde and blue-streaked hair. Jeonghan, your ever-mischievous yet slightly jealous boyfriend, isn’t one to be outshined by a 2D character. The next day, he comes home with the exact same hair, a smirk playing on his lips, daring you to compare. But when he pulls you in for a possessive, jealousy-fueled kiss, it’s clear who the real winner is.

Spoiler: It was never a competition to begin with.

“You’re staring at him again.”

Jeonghan’s voice is laced with mild irritation as he watches you fawn over yet another Michael Kaiser edit on your phone.

“And?” you hum, still completely absorbed in your fictional obsession.

Jeonghan leans in closer, peering at the screen. “I don’t get it. What’s so great about him?”

You gasp dramatically, clutching your chest. “How dare you? Look at him! His confidence, his arrogance, his hair—”

Jeonghan crosses his arms. “The hair, huh?”

You nod eagerly. “Platinum blonde with blue streaks? It’s so cool. If I ever saw a guy like that in real life, I’d probably faint.”

Jeonghan scoffs, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.” Then, without another word, he gets up and leaves the room.

You blink, confused. “Jeonghan?”

But he’s already gone.

The next day, Jeonghan comes home and you almost do faint.

Standing before you, looking ridiculously smug, is your boyfriend with his freshly dyed platinum blonde and blue hair.

Your jaw drops. “W-what—”

He flicks his hair back, showing off the way the cool blue streaks blend perfectly with the blonde. “So?” he smirks. “Still drooling over that anime guy, or…?”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out.

Jeonghan steps closer, tilting his head. “Cat got your tongue?” His voice is playful, but his eyes hold something deeper, something both possessive and teasing.

You stare at him, taking in the unfairly good-looking sight in front of you. It’s criminal how well the new hair suits him, highlighting his delicate yet sharp features. The platinum blonde gives him an ethereal glow, while the blue adds just the right amount of dangerous charm.

Your fictional crush? Who was that again?

Jeonghan notices the way your gaze softens, and his smirk widens. “You said you’d faint if you saw a guy with this hair in real life.” He leans in, eyes twinkling. “Should I catch you?”

Your breath hitches. “You—”

Before you can finish, he cups your face and claims your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. It’s not just teasing; it’s hungry, full of jealousy and triumph. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he kisses you like he’s making a statement.

Like he’s reminding you exactly who he is.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Jeonghan brushes his thumb over your swollen lips, his smirk softening into something more affectionate. “Still think he’s cooler than me?”

You shake your head, dazed. “I—I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”

He chuckles, pressing one last lingering kiss to your lips. “That’s what I thought.”

Author's Note: I can't just get enough of that hairstyle and hair color of him. It suits him very well, (every hair color and style do fits him, though). Especially with that type of charisma Hannie have. He's just so precious🥹💗❣️

[bunny-jpeg]

can I pretty please get nanaimo bars,english muffin with the side of milkshake, frozen latte with Charles Leclerc 🥹🫶

bakery menu

the bakery is open and accepting orders! we're cooking up smiles every day! submit your own order! reblogs & comments are appreciated! thank you lovely anon for submitting this, it was something very different to write that i loved. size kink with charles is super interesting given how many people see him. but sometimes i forget he is close to six feet tall and built like someone who does f1. he may look sweet as honey, but there's probably something more sinister (sexually) going on in that brain of his, haha.

nanaimo bars ("who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it.") + english muffins ("aw, is someone crying?") + milkshake (size kink) + frozen latte (dumbification) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, size difference/kink, dumbification, teasing/dirty talk, crying kink, cry baby!reader, oral sex (charles receives), deepthroating, facials & cock slapping, safe words/signals, hair pulling

"mon cœur"

"la douleur dans ma poitrine."

"mon amor..."

"ma salope."

charles liked to make you cry. he loved when his mean words would curl up into your brain and make that waterworks come out. he was the prince of ferrari and of his home country. it's pride and joy. he was seen as effortlessly cool and could entice anyone. that smile, those green eyes. but even with all he had been afforded, nothing turned him on more than seeing his precious girlfriend's bottom lip wobble her eyes grow cloudy with tears.

he was running on high after monza, it was like everything was barking in the back of his head. even out of his driving suit and away from the track for the night, he could still feel the adrenaline. and while many would go for a run or spend the night with a drink in hand. he yearned for something different.

and when he saw you in his lavish hotel room, in one of his shirts and what appeared nothing else underneath. he knew that he was in for a treat tonight. with his bag down and his shoes off, he entered further into the room. he ended up by you on the couch and took you by the chin.

he smiled, "most take off the make up before they get comfortable." his thumb trailed under your left eye.

you replied, "i took everything off earlier and put on the mascara that runs easily." it was from a cheap brand at the pharmacy. perfect for what charles liked.

he chuckled, "you are just full of surprises, my love. you're going to be good for me tonight, right?" it was moments like these that you realized just how much bigger charles was. most painted him as short and frail.

he was just under six foot but built in a way to withstand the strain of racing. with large hands and thighs that could kill. his hand could easily fit around your neck as easily as his cock did to the back of your throat. there was a flicker in the greens of his eyes, the noble prince had stripped away into a hungry animal that yearned for you.

you swallowed, "i always am. always for you."

he tapped your cheek six times and you tapped his wrist once in response. even if these sick games where you cried and grew stupid on his cock, there were limits everyone had. charles didn't want to break your little world apart because he took it too far. he got on the couch next to you and undid his belt. your delicate hands helped him and dropped the leather to the floor.

charles held you face to look at him. he remarked, "you really are pathetic, so eager. i'm surprised you didn't stalk the halls looking for something to fuck your throat while i was out."

you frowned a little bit, "i'd never, honey."

he pinched your cheek a little harder than normal and leaned in, "right, right. because you're a good girl, my pretty girl. who's my pretty girl? c'mon say it." his words were enticing and it made your stomach flip.

"i am."

"you are pretty, my love." he said, "god blessed you with good looks because he knew you'd be stupid. add a dash of being a cock hungry whore and sometimes i get worried. i've never wanted to kill a man, but if another sank his teeth into you." his words were low and they made you curl in your gut.

if you wanted out, as a last resort. tap once then six times in rapid succession. charles liked to make your bottom lip wobble, but he wasn't a monster. he pulled you in for another searing kiss, his hand in between your legs. he felt panties as he rubbed his hand up.

he knew it was going to be a long night tonight. but first, he had his eyes on your pretty throat. after all his marks had faded over the week. while there would be press photos soon, they didn't mean he couldn't mess up the inside of your throat. even if you couldn't talk for the week, he was more than happy to do all the talking for both of you.

"stupid thing." he said, "you know that? i feel sorry for whatever school gave you your diploma." he acted like he wasn't at your graduation, "i bet you paid them off. or worse, sucked them off. little whore on campus, too stupid to actually learn anything except be on her knees and breath through her nose." he made a small noise of disappointment.

and charles got excited at the sight of you. that bottom lip was going, he could see the shudder in your shoulders. that struck a nerve, post-secondary was hard for you. you felt like people called you dumb without actually saying it. and charles' toxic words only added the fuel to the fire of doubt.

"aw, is someone crying? don't cry." he said, faking sympathy, "if you start crying then you won't suck my cock properly." he rubbed the back of your head as he watched the tears come down your cheek. he sighed once more, "silly thing."

soon your head was between his legs. he could feel your hot tears against the base of his cock as they streamed down your face. they weren't a rush of tears, but a slow trickle as charles' words clouded your head.

you started to work his cock and he felt the excitement in his body. it took a good while but eventually you learned how to deep throat him. he hissed and held onto the back of your head. you were both still clothed (or at least partially for you).

charles had a habit of running his mouth when your mouth was on him. and he rocked the blunt end of his cock up against the back of your throat, occasionally making you choke, he started talking. "i should throw you to the rest of ferrari. let them ruin you. then maybe you'll stop being so greedy for cock when you've had enough for a lifetime. i see how they look at you, my logo across your pretty breasts as you look so cute down at the paddock. if i waved my hand and told them to have their way with you, you wouldn't be getting far." he tugged on your hair a little and forced you up and down his cock faster.

you choked a little bit and sputtered, trying to catch your breath through your nose. it all was a deep throb in your head as you tried to cram as much of his cock into your throat.

"i'd say they'd make your ass ferrari red. but i think it would be closer to mercedes black. you wouldn't be able to sit right for months. maybe i'd be generous and let the other drivers have a chance too. crying on their cocks."

you sniffled, tears welled up in your eyes some more. while most despised having 'raccoon eyes', charles found it endearing. the poor little thing can't help but cry because she knows that he's right. you knew in your gut that you were at least a little cock hungry at all times. he watched you squirm in your seat at times while you let your imagination run wild.

he continued to use you to his liking. you were perfect. trained you from the ground up to be perfect on his cock. he caught glimpses of your face and your red eyes. poor thing, crying to much making a big mess.

so dumb, so small, so stupid.

he took his cock out of your mouth and rubbed it up against your cheek roughly. spit and pre-cum caught across your right eyelashes. his cock pushed your top lip up and he groaned at the sight. your tongue licked a bit of pre-cum that was dangerously close to your face.

"so small, i'm surprised you could take all this. i remember when i couldn't put it in without prepping you. then you spent all season training your cunt for when i got home. now you take me in every way perfectly." he licked his lips, "you know where you belong."

his words excited you as you put your mouth back on his cock. you whimpered as you felt it hit the back of your throat once more. he was big in a way that it made you squirm.

you continued up and down his cock, putting all your brain power (what little you had left) into taking him well. you coughed and panted, air felt in short supply as you got him to the base. your nose in his groomed pubic hair.

a picture perfect beauty, all for charles to devour.

he knew he was close. he could feel it in his bones and in the tension of his muscles. he then tensed up further with his hand in your hair and pulled your mouth off his cock (as much as it pained him to do that). with his other hand he stroked himself off quickly to the sight of your quivering, overheated body. you panted heavily and he finished all over your face. he streaked your skin white with cum up to your forehead. it dripped down your face as you coughed a little.

the debauched sight made him get a few more ropes up cum on your face before he settled down. he pulled your head back to look at you, you could barely have your eyes open. he wished he could take a picture. the white of cum and the mascara mixed tears created a sight that made charles run hot.

"now you look like a slut." he said as he got his jeans off. he rubbed his cock up against your soft lips before he slapped his still hard cock against your face, only making the mess on your cheeks more intense.

"charles." your throat felt raw from it. you looked at him and panted heavily, your tongue stuck out a little bit. and charles knew the night was far over. he fucked you stupid without stimulating your poor pussy. he wanted to see how stupid he could make you.

"we're not done yet." he said.

you tilted your head to the side, almost innocently as if your face wasn't a mess. you asked, "what?" your brain not capturing all the words properly.

he held onto you for a moment and said, "ten seconds to clean up your face. then i want you naked on the bed, or i'll fuck you on the bathroom floor." then let go of you and watched you scramble to clean yourself up. those words stuck in your blissed out brain even though you almost tripped over yourself.

charles chuckled and leaned further back onto the couch, his cock at full attention. even though the mascara was going to be gone, it was okay. you still looked just as pretty with just those tears streaming down your face. <3

[zepskies]

BETWEEN THE CITY & THE STARS - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: In the fall of 1945, Dean is having a difficult time assimilating back into civilian life after the War. He’s visiting his brother Sam in New York City, where he’s beginning to build up his law firm. At two minutes to closing time, you interrupt their evening to solicit a solicitor. Your request? You need help in order to divorce your husband.

AN: Before we tune back into some 1940s drama, I just wanted to thank you all so much for your wonderful responses on Part 1 of this series. 🥹 It’s my first time doing a story like this, so I’m very happy you liked the jumpstart here. 💖💖

Prompt for @jacklesversebingo: Historical Epic

Song Inspo: “I’ve Got You Under My Skin” by Frank Sinatra

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, hints of PTSD, flirting, dancing…

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Part 2: Devil May Care

After you got home from work the very next day, your apartment was entirely empty.

Predictable. Michael was still out.

This time, you counted it as a blessing. You rifled through every corner, cabinet, pocket, and drawer in search of evidence—anything you could use to prove, without even one shade of a doubt, that your husband was the unfaithful scoundrel you knew him to be. You knew it, deep in your gut. In your very soul.

You even rifled through Michael’s desk in his office, through every single folder, drawer, and booklet. You’d never done such a thing before because he was a particular man about his things, and you respected his privacy. 

That was done now. In your search, you found a useless ball of rubber bands and old coupons. You took his father’s old collection of fountain pens, which you knew Michael was precious about, and threw them haphazardly onto the desk to make room for your seeking hands through the rest of the drawers.

You even came across a small, crumpled photograph from your wedding day. This one made you pause.

You considered the picture, its bent corners and slightly grainy black and white lens. You’d worn your mother’s wedding dress, and you stared up at your new husband with the rosiest of smiles. He stared into your eyes then the way he always used to—like a man ready and willing to drown in them.

You sighed and let the picture fall from between your fingertips. It swayed onto the desk’s mahogany wood surface, and rested there. You shook your head and returned your attention to your task at hand, holding your hands to your hips.

The problem was, you didn’t see anything incriminating here…until an idea finally occurred to you. You went into Michael’s closet. You sorted through the suit jackets he still needed to get drycleaned and pressed again.

In one of the pockets, you found a receipt. 

You brought it to Sam Winchester’s office the following morning before work, along with some documents of your household expenses. Like you did the afternoon before, he identified the receipt as one for the Cotton Club, a nightclub in the Upper East Side. You had never been there in your life, but you heard it was one of the new go-to spots in town. It was the kind of place you used to wish Michael would take you to, once in a while.

“It could be a lead or it could be nothing, but I’ll check it out, along with these,” Sam said. He gathered the financial documents you gave him as well. 

“Okay. Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you nodded.

“You can call me Sam if you like,” he said, kind, but still professional. You smiled. Unbidden, it reminded you of his brother.

“Please,” you said, your eyes briefly closing. “Just…call me by my name. My first name.” 

Dean slowly smiled. “Perfect. I like your name better anyway.” 

This time, your smile in return was genuine, if tinged with amusement. 

“Goodnight, Dean,” you replied.

Biting the inside of your lip, you gave into the urge to ask the question.

“It was nice of your brother to walk me home last night…what is he up to today then?”

“Ah, well, he’s out to lunch with a young lady he met last night,” Sam replied, with a somewhat wry, but still amused tone to his voice. You frowned.

“Last night? Does your brother meet a lot of women after 9:00 p.m.?” 

Sam chuckled. “He’s not usually wanting for company.”

“I see,” you said flatly. You should have known. The devil-may-care grin on that man was too charming to be anything less than the mark of a shameless flirt. Maybe even a scoundrel. Lord knew you couldn’t take any chances either way.

Dean returned from his day out with Vanessa. She was a nice enough girl, a knockout blonde too. She was smart, studying to be a schoolteacher. But she also tended to twitter on about frivolous things, so much that he couldn’t really remember much of what she said. She did look good doing it though. Not to mention, she let him feel her up while they kissed in one of the alleys, between the ice cream parlor and a drycleaners.

He predictably found his brother whittling away life in his office. Dean dropped his coat and hat on the hanger with a flourish. Sam raised his head from his work with an amused smile.

“Had a good day, did you?” he remarked.

“I can’t complain,” Dean agreed. “Especially when a beautiful woman’s involved.”

Sam shook his head. Before September, he hadn’t seen Dean in three years. Yet some things just didn’t change.

“You gonna see her again?” Sam asked.

Dean made a noncommittal sound. “We’ll see. The day is young, brother.”

Sam raised a finger. “Speaking of which. Mrs. Milligan came by this morning. I’ve been looking through her husband’s finances.”

“Oh really?” Dean sobered as he approached his brother’s desk. “What’d you find?”

“Overall, things seemed to be in order, until I noticed something strange,” Sam said. Dean lowered into the chairs opposite his brother at his desk, and they went over it all together. Sam appreciated another set of eyes on this, with the understanding that Dean would keep the information to himself. 

Starting roughly eleven months ago, there was a check signed to a Mr. Johnson for a moderate sum. Three weeks later, another check, this time a bit larger. For the past few months, Michael Milligan had been making these payments at least once a month, sometimes as much as three, albeit in different amounts.

“He might just have a gambling problem,” Sam said. He rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“Or it could be what she’s worried about,” Dean pointed out. “The name could be an alias. Maybe Mike’s paying for someone’s services…or paying her bills, if you catch my drift.”

Sam slowly nodded. “That’s a possibility.” He checked the dates on the documents again and shook his head. “Mrs. Milligan told me they got married about a year ago, here in the city. It would mean this guy started stepping out on her a month after the wedding.” 

Dean both could and couldn’t believe it. He might not have been a saint himself when it came to the fairer sex, but if he went through the whole ordeal of marrying one, let alone a straight-shooting woman like you, beautiful, clever…

“Geez,” he muttered. “He could’ve at least waited until the ink dried on the certificate.” 

Sam nodded in agreement. He picked up the receipt to the Cotton Club, and he shot his brother a grin.

“Wanna go to the club tonight?”

A wall of sound. That was the Cotton Club—the band on stage playing jazz tunes, loudly, if skillfully; the clanking of glasses as drinks rolled past; the clamor of heels and leather shoes as couples swung on the dance floor; and the added layer of people raising their voices to compensate. The room was filled with the smell of cigarette smoke, fighting against perfume and cologne and musk and sweat.

It was a bit overwhelming for Dean at first. He tried to ease himself into the scene with Sam at his side, even if he did jolt at the cork of a champagne bottle popping open. Sam noticed, but he mercifully didn’t say anything. He thumped a hand on Dean’s back to steady him under the pretense of a brotherly pat, adding a smile for good measure.

Sam was there to keep a lookout for Michael Milligan. Dean would help, but it wasn’t like he was being paid for it. He was largely aiming to have some fun while his brother was all serious, focused on the work. Dean was here for the community nightlife. 

The beautiful, beautiful community. As a matter of fact, there were lovely ladies everywhere. One sultry blonde was singing an upbeat, jazzy tune at the mic. Dolores Daye, said the banner above the stage.

Dean’s attention shifted from the stage to the scattered round tables outside the dance floor, as well as the chair lined up at the bar. His gaze caught on someone familiar—on you, sat at a table by yourself. His eyes widened. He slowed to a stop while Sam went on ahead.

You were stunning, almost unrecognizable in a shimmering black dress that hugged every lush part of your figure, with sleeves that draped off your shoulders. His eyes drew down your crossed legs, the sheer pantyhose, leading to a pair of tall, shining black heels.   

You wore a hat and partial veil that covered half your face, but he knew it was you. Those lips of yours were familiar on sight. Now they were painted red, dark and luscious.

“Dean?” Sam questioned him. He’d turned back when he realized his brother wasn’t keeping up with him. Dean subtly pointed you out. Sam raised his brows, but then he noticed what you were doing. You had a glass of wine in hand, and you seemed to be watching someone.

Every now and then your gaze would travel across the room, where your husband Michael was sat at a table filled with other men and women. They were laughing, drinking, playing cards. 

Sam and Dean shared a conspiring look, one that said they had the same thought. They went over to you. 

Sensing you were being approached, you looked over and found the pair of tall, familiar men with a widening of your eyes. That pretty mouth of yours fell open in surprise. 

“What’re you doing here?” you whisper-hissed. You beckoned them to sit down so they weren’t standing out so much while talking to you. Both Winchester men were broad-shouldered and tall as oaks.

“The same thing you’re doing, apparently,” Sam said, once he and Dean were sitting across from you at the table. He showed you the camera he had hidden in his coat pocket. “I’m going to see if I can get a read on what your husband’s up to, maybe collect some evidence.”

You let out a rush of breath. “Good, thank you.”

“Until then, maybe you’d be more comfortable at home,” he suggested.

Dean knew what his brother was getting at. This wasn’t the kind of place for a woman to be hanging around…unaccompanied. Not a respectable one like you, who clearly wasn’t used to being in a roaring nightclub. Plus, if Michael did slip up here, it wasn’t exactly going to be pleasant for you.

You still shook your head stubbornly. “No. I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Sam almost sighed, but Dean shot him a nod. Right then, they had an understanding. Dean would stay and look out for you while Sam tried to get closer to Michael. Sam left you and Dean together at the table thereafter, and Dean ordered a drink for himself. You sipped at your wine.

Dean glanced at you in appreciation. You really were beautiful…and not just tonight. Though he had to smile at your “disguise.”

“You think that getup is gonna fool your husband?” he remarked, gesturing at your form.

Your lips pursed, but you kept your head angled towards him, so that your hat and veil continued to hide your face from Michael’s direction.

“It has so far,” you retorted. “And this isn’t a getup.”

You smoothed slightly self-conscious hands down the skirt of your dress. Dean smiled. 

“All right, I’m sorry. Poor choice of words,” he said. He dropped his chin and raised his brows, earning your gaze under the hat. “It’s quite a dress, sweetheart.”

I’d like to see you out of it, he thought, even though he immediately stamped it down. You weren’t exactly available, no matter how delectable you were. The interesting part was, you didn’t seem to realize it as you fidgeted in your seat, a little self-consciously.

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” you snipped.

His lips tugged at a smirk. He tilted your hat up a little so he could see more of your frowning face. 

“Want me to do better?” he teased. 

“I’d like you to leave me be. How about that?” you said, grabbing the edges of your hat and tilting it back down. “You’re distracting me.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

You met his gaze to give him a hot reply, but your words failed you. Just then, faced with his perfectly handsome, roguish face, you finally noticed how green his eyes were. Holding the gleaming reflection from the crystal chandelier above the bar, they briefly dragged over you again, like he was a starving man, and you were the very last morsel held in front of him.

It was indecent, you thought, but suddenly your mouth had gone dry.

“How about this,” Dean said. He finished off his whiskey and held out a hand to you. “Dance with me. You’ll have a better vantage point to spy on Mike over there.”

“Keep your voice down,” you shushed, glancing around.

Dean just smirked. He beckoned you again with a raise of his brows.

You hesitated, but you still eventually dropped your hand into his. He stood before you so he could help you to your feet. You allowed him to escort you over to the dance floor, and all the while you fought off your nerves. You were only doing this because he had a good idea; this would help you keep an eye on Michael without looking so out of place, a woman drinking alone at the table.

The band was playing a moderately paced song, which was good. You weren’t in this to be swept into the air.

“Relax,” Dean whispered, once he had you in his arms. His hands were respectably placed on your waist and in your hand. You knew you did have to relax though. Already you were too stiff while tentatively holding his hand, your other resting on his shoulder.

“I haven’t danced in—in a while,” you admitted. You were a little nervous as you began swaying with Dean, letting him lead you. He turned you about with ease, even twirling you under his hand.

“See? There’s nothing to it,” he said, welcoming you back into his arms. “When’s the last time you had some fun?”

You tilted your head as you thought about it. You and Dean shuffled about the dance floor in more complicated steps as the song increased in tempo. You were breathless in a good way. In a way that you couldn’t even remember needing to breathe as the golden lights sparkled in the corners of your eyes.

“He took me to a club like this once, about…I’d say month or so after we got married last year,” you admitted between spins. You had to hold a hand to your head to keep your hat on.

You were distracted enough by it all—the spinning, the laughter and tinkling glasses, the flashes of spotlight in between sultry dim shades, the heady smell of this man’s cologne, and his every touch, however brief on your body, but just as confident and measured. You actually told him the truth.

“I’ve been dying to get out more ever since, but…” you trailed as he spun you again, then winded you back into the growing familiarity of his arms.

Dean smoothly guided you even closer to him by your waist, until there was hardly any room between your chest and his, between your face and his. Your hand curled around the back of his neck on instinct, the edge of your nails just barely grazing through his hair. You wouldn’t know how it elicited a hot zing of sensation down his spine.

“Your husband really is blind, and even dumber than he looks,” Dean said, glancing down at your face. “I clocked you in five seconds flat, just by those pretty lips.”

You lowered your eyes, but not very far. They landed on his plush lips in contemplation. When your eyes met his again, Dean had a conundrum. He just didn’t think he cared all that much about the consequences.

His head began to bow towards yours, just when the song slowed to a stop. Almost without realizing it, he pressed his hand a little more insistently on the small of your back. You found yourself accepting that guiding pressure. Half-lidded eyes and heavy, mingled breaths in between…

“Let’s hear it again for Dolores Daye, everybody!” the host called out.

You snapped to attention and glanced over Dean’s shoulder at the singer. She waved goodbye to the crowd with a sensuous smile on her ruby red lips. Then she walked off stage in her glittering golden dress, and she grabbed hold of a man’s tie. That man was your husband.

Michael wore a wide smile on his face as she led him to his feet by his tie. He stood, his form looming over her, though she didn’t seem to mind—especially when his arm wrapped too familiarly around her waist.

It wasn’t the kind of embrace you would see between strangers, even for the sake of a good show for the crowd. Their faces became impossibly close, but it was just shy of a kiss as she laughed, a sound like fine crystal bells.

Dean noticed why you froze. He turned to look over his shoulder and his expression faded, becoming grim. He led you off the stage, and while keeping a discreet eye on the scene, he lingered at the bar in the center of the room. His arm stayed around your waist. He could tell himself it was to stay in character, but really, he just wanted to keep you grounded…that right now, you weren’t alone.  

Here by the bar, it was far enough that Michael likely wouldn’t notice you, but close enough that you both could hear what was happening.

The host stepped down from the stage and joined Dolores and Michael, laying a heavy hand on your husband’s shoulder. Yet another clue that Michael showed his face here all too frequently. The host waved over his entire table of friends, Sam included. He’d managed to get himself invited to sit with them.

“Come on. Join us out back,” said the host, gesturing behind the curtain.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“For a card game or two, a little smoke, a nice little drink,” Michael said, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. “You in?”

Sam nodded. He glanced over and found Dean across the room with his eyes. They shared a brief, but telling look, after which Sam followed Michael and Dolores past the curtain discreetly. Meanwhile, you were already pulling away from Dean’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to go,” you murmured.

You went back to the table to collect your purse. You left the rest of your wine there with a few bills on the table to cover it, and you were off, walking brusquely to the front doors. Dean followed suit, laying some money down for his own drink before he followed after you. The clerk at the front brought you your coat after you handed over your ticket, and Dean did the same.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home,” he said, having to raise his voice even here over the noise.

“No, thank you,” you said thickly.

After you had your coat on, you hastened to the closest bus stop outside the club. It was late, it was dark, and it was cold. You saw your fragile breath on the air as you stood there in your tall heels, and you held yourself for more than one reason as you fought off bitter tears.

You bit your lip and blinked against the burn, but you still had to swipe a few droplets quickly from your cheeks. You tried to even out your shallow breaths. It felt like someone had reached into your chest and started squeezing whatever they found. Whatever was left.

Dean sidled up to you with his hands in his pockets. You heaved a sharp sigh, recognizing him just by his shadow casting beside yours under the streetlamp. You kept your face away from him as you wiped at your tears.

“Why do you insist on watching me be miserable?” you asked. 

“Aw, come on, sweetheart.” He shook his head, carding a hand through his hair. “I know you’re upset. I just want to make sure you get home safe, that’s all. …You don’t even have to talk to me if you don’t want to.” 

You slowly shot him a glance, but you didn’t budge. Your frown deepened along with your furrowed brows.  

“Dean, please. You don’t have to do this just because you feel sorry for me,” you said.

“I don’t feel sorry for you,” he said.

It earned your attention, your confused and hurt expression.

Dean met your gaze steadily. “I feel sorry for him. Because he doesn’t have a clue what he’s just lost.”

Your breath stilled in your lungs. 

His words touched you, more deeply than he probably realized. Part of you still wanted to give a sharp retort, that you didn’t need a chaperone. You didn’t need him to swoop in and collect you like broken glass…but a larger part of you craved the company. You didn’t want to be alone.

Soon enough, the next bus pulled up at the curb in front of you. The doors opened. 

Dean gestured with a sweeping hand towards the bus’s steps. 

Ladies first.

With another small sigh, you climbed up without a word. You even accepted his helping hand as you did so. Dean stepped up after you, and the doors closed behind you both.

AN: Welp, Happy Valentine's Day! 😅💜 Quite literally an angsty ride here, but what should happen on this bus going nowhere...

Next Time:

You admired his hands as they rested casually in his lap. They were larger than yours, with long fingers. His hands look strong and capable, like the rest of him, even though they were always considerate when they touched you.

“Then you should do something you like doing,” you said. “Fixing cars! That’s good, honest work you can make a living out of.”

Dean looked over at you. “You think so?”

You nodded your encouragement, smiling bright. “I know so. You might be a bit of a flirt, but you also look like someone who can accomplish whatever you set your mind to.”

When those words slipped free from your mouth, you realized how he might take that little accusation, let alone how overeager you sounded. Your gaze fell away from him as you felt your face getting warm in a blush.

Dean’s smile slid into a smirk. “I’m a flirt, huh?”

“Well…” You bit the inside of your lip and tried your hardest not to look at him for a while. “At least you’re an honest one.”

Dean laughed freely at that.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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Pairing: Modern!Marcus Acacius x Curvy!f!reader Rating: +18, MDNI, NSFW Words count: 7135 Summary: Moving to Rome for work brings you to meet an unexpected next door neighbor. Tags: AU, modern setting, smut, neighbor!Marcus, curvy reader, 69, squirting, a lot of praise (Marcus is stunned by your curvy body, as he should!), use of a sex toy, Marcus is a gentleman but quite freaky in the bedroom (and I love that for him 😌), reader takes no shit, she is explicitly described as curvy but no mention of skin tone or hair, she understands Italian, use of Italian (translation in brackets) , Marcus can speak Italian, unprotected p in v and I didn't mention protection (this is not reality and no one gets pregnant in my fics, please do better IRL and use protection), cream pie, Marcus has a huge cock (of course, I mean, have you seen him?) nipple play, swearing, pet names, dirty talk, mention of a lot Italian things, a lot of self indulgent stuff, no mention of age, they're both grown up adults anyway (30 something in my head), let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: Written for @mushgloomz PPCU Smut Writing Challenge 2025, Kia assigned me this prompt that I loved very much, I'm sorry that it took me so long to write this but here we are. I hope it's decent, I haven't published something in ages and I'm very nervous to share this 🥺 - Thanks so much to @aurorawritestoescape for being my precious beta, your help is such a comfort to me ❤️ (Any mistake is still on me!!! English is not my first language- Italian is) - Thanks to the lovely @thedilfdiaries for reading through this and always being such a sweetie pie 🥰 - Thanks to @baronessvonglitter that made the mood board that you can see at the end for me. My idea has changed over time but she did a beautiful job and I absolutely wanted to share it anyway. Love you all so much 🥹 As always, comments and reblog are appreciated, I really hope you'll like it!

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Rome wakes up outside your window to an indistinct hubbub, vans unloading goods, horns, people walking to the metro stop. 

Rome is noisy, elegantly antique, a placid lady stretched out on a territory that extends more and more in a swarm of alleys, neighborhoods, suburbs, open-air works of art that arise in the midst of traffic, cars that move like in a crazy pinball machine. 

Rome is made of contrasts. 

Piss in the alleys and luxury buildings. 

Garbage trucks creaking on the cobblestones and unesco heritage sites.

Rome is chaos and wonder, a place where ancient and modern collide and coexist a few steps away from each other. 

When you decided to study cultural heritage restoration, it was at the top of your list of places you wanted to visit.

You roll over in bed as a timid ray of sunlight hits you, you hide your face in the pillow, basking in its comfort for a few minutes, before getting up and heading to the kitchen. 

You take out the moka pot that your Italian colleague gave you a few days after you arrived here. “You’re staying here for a while, you’ll see that you need it” he told you. And you did.

You needed it like oxygen now. 

The moka sputters on the stove like a symphony that promises to bring you back to life.

You pour some of it into a little cup and a few moments later the hot drink slides down your throat, reawakening your numb synapses.

After a quick breakfast and a shower you leave the house, ready to dive into this bustling hive you now call home.

_________________

It's late in the evening when you get home and while you're rummaging in your bag looking for your keys, your neighbor comes out onto the landing with a woman.

A very attractive woman, actually. Curly hair, gorgeous eyes and a booty that can stop traffic. 

He says “Buonasera” (good evening) in a low voice before disappearing down the stairs with her.

You roll your eyes as you enter the house, wondering if he'll ever ask you out again. 

Marcus lives right next door to you and your history with him has been messy since day one. 

__________________

You arrived with a huge suitcase and literally  bumped into him as you were trying to drag the goddamn thing up the few steps, leading to the entrance of the building.

He grunted, held you up for a split second in a strong grip to try to prevent you from falling down ruinously and helped you carry your suitcase to the elevator. 

You immediately noticed his strong forearms peeking out from his rolled-up shirt sleeves as he wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you standing.

You fancied him right away, he was handsome beyond measure.

Tall, attractive man, sporting the most gorgeous brown eyes you’d ever seen, salt and pepper curls so luscious all you wanted was to tangle your fingers through them and a body to die for, muscular in all the right places, strong neck and broad shoulders. He made your mouth water. 

And he was kind, always had been. 

He exuded a sense of security and the way he carried himself with so much confidence was extremely charming.

He asked you out about two weeks later. You thought you had a nice evening; he took you to see the Colosseum, smiled at you while you babbled on about everything you knew about it, amazed at the sight of the monument you had wanted to see all your life, and too nervous around him to just keep quiet. 

You had dinner together, talked a lot, and laughed. Everything was perfect until you got home. 

______________

You move down the hallway barefoot testing the coolness of the tiles under your feet and you head to your bedroom. 

The sun is still high even though it’s seven in the evening, which puts you in a good mood, it feels like the day hasn’t been lost yet. 

You jump in the shower to wash away the smell of the restoration products that still linger in your nostrils.

As you rub yourself thoroughly with coconut body wash, you think back to the fact that Marcus didn't kiss you that night.

He said goodnight and headed away, muttering that he'd like to see you again. Two months had passed since then.

No other invitation followed the first.

Sitting on the bed in your bathrobe, you curse yourself for thinking about him. 

When you first decided to move here, you considered the amazing food, landscape, art history, the fact that you would have come up against a not so pleasant language barrier. 

You hadn't thought about the fact that you might meet someone. 

Well, you did, but certainly not someone like Marcus.

And now you’re quite sure he won’t ask you out again because of the nice lady you’ve seen with him. 

Fuck. 

Your stomach rumbles noisily.

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge only to find it empty. 

There is a sad parmesan crust looking at you from the shelf in the center which makes you think you’re failing Italian cuisine big time.

You go back to the room and call Francesca, one of your colleagues.

She answers you after a few seconds and you hear noises in the background, it sounds like she's somewhere public.

You ask what she’s doing and whine about having nothing to eat and she simply replies  “metti il tuo bel culo su un taxi e fatti portare a Campo dei Fiori, ci penso io a te” (Get your nice ass in a taxi and go to Campo dei Fiori, I'll take care of you). 

You join her and her friends at a restaurant with outdoor tables and enjoy a pleasant evening filled with laughter, jokes, insights into Roman cuisine, an exquisite cacio e pepe and way too much wine.

Definitely a mistake. When you drink too much, your tongue moves faster than your brain, and before you know it, you find yourself talking about your attractive neighbor.

Francesca obviously encourages you to ask him out yourself. “Che ti frega?! Fallo. Non hai niente da perdere! Se davvero ha una relazione con quella ragazza ti dirà di no” (What’s stopping you?! Go for it! You've got nothing to lose! If he really has a relationship with that girl he’ll tell you ‘no’.)

“Unless he’s a piece of shit,” you try to say but it doesn’t feel like you have any power over her enthusiasm. 

She’s always like that, cheering you up, joking around, while she does the most important and delicate restoration work on a painting, keeping her hand super firm, having your back and helping you out every time she can. 

You have to admit that she's not entirely wrong.

Marcus told you he was an actor. 

He was mostly focused on theater, but he had been offered a role in an Italian series set in Ancient Rome, the pay was good and the script was interesting.

The end of his marriage and not having to provide for any children had given him the final push to change his life. 

Who knew how many women were pursuing him, gorgeous actresses who had the opportunity to film scenes with him all day long.

He had undoubtedly found someone else he liked better, which was why he no longer paid attention to you.

You are mulling it over in your head the whole way home, barely listening to the taxi driver who keeps talking to you.

Francesca wouldn't listen to reason, and her friends agreed with her. At least you would have cleared up your doubts once and for all and been able to move on.

You undress, remove your makeup, and as you’re putting on the oversized T-shirt you wear to sleep, you wonder if he's already home. It's quite late. Sitting on the bed, applying your hand cream, you strain your ears to hear any noise coming from his house. 

You hear nothing. 

You fall into a deep sleep, still a little tipsy from the wine, hugging your pillow. 

____________________________

Two nights later, when you return home, you head to the mailboxes in the lobby to check if a package you ordered has arrived.

The boxes are all lined up against the wall, and packages are usually left in a larger niche to the side of them.

You're rummaging through the boxes looking for yours when you hear steps on the marble floor and a voice behind you.

“You won't find it in there.”

You turn around in surprise and see Marcus standing there with a smirk on his face.

“How do you know?”

“This morning when I was leaving, I ran into a delivery guy, and he asked me about you because he needed a signature for the delivery. So I signed it for you. I have your package.”

You're stunned. The neighbor you have a crush on signed for your new wand.

You didn't even ask for anonymous delivery so that no one would know what was inside. 

Your relatives are not here, so you didn’t need to care, right? 

Wrong.

“You couldn't have left it in the mailbox?”

“Actually, yes, but I decided to bring it inside for privacy,” he chuckles.

“I don't think that's any of your business,” you stare at him, raising your eyebrow.

Damn, this guy is unbelievable. He hasn’t paid you any attention for two months and then suddenly decides he cares about your reputation?

“Sorry, I just didn't want Mrs. Rossi to see it. She's the worst gossip in the neighborhood.”

Marcus shrugs his shoulders with an innocent smile plastered on his face.

“Yeah, okay. Can you give it to me now, or do you think I have to get down on my knees and beg you?”

“Well…It doesn't seem like a bad idea.”

Again, he’s all smirks and lustful looks, but when it comes to facts? Nothing to register.

You never know if he's being cheeky on purpose or if that's just how he was designed, and he doesn't even realize it.

This man seems to have been created to make you yearn as long as you remain on Italian land and beyond.

You roll your eyes, “Oh my God, can’t you just give me the damn box and cut this bullshit, please?”

“Okay,” he grinned. “After you” and he gestures at the elevator.

You make the whole ride with your heart beating like a drum in your chest and your head so light you could swear you’re about to lose your sanity.

Growing up in a thick body made you used to people giving unrequited advice and pitiful comments, you learned to shake them off your shoulders.

However, the fact that he unexpectedly gleaned such a private part of you has made you feel vulnerable and you do feel nervous around him.

Besides he hasn’t made it clear what he wants yet and he looks like the most seraphic person while doing it. 

Once you are in front of his door he enters his apartment and you wait on the landing, fidgeting with your keys, breathing deeply, trying to regain your control.

“Here you go” he says, handing you your box. 

Fucking finally.

“Well…have fun I guess” he adds while you’re opening your door. 

You turn around, decide you’re done with this infinite teasing that leads to nothing and finally find the gut to speak.

“Just so I know, do you want to continue this charade forever?”

Marcus remains speechless for a moment. He wasn’t expecting that from you and you’re glad. 

“What charade?” He seems confused and a certain irritation starts building in your core.

“Oh, I don’t know, what about us going on a date and then you never asking me out again? And look, I would be fine with that, but what about today? Why did you even care to sign for me? And why are you all of a sudden so worried about my reputation among the old ladies in this damn building? I don’t know any of them, plus I doubt they’re remotely familiar with the internet and what this box contains…so what’s your motive? You want to be noticed? You want to ask me out again?” You say it all in one breath, while his mouth unconsciously parts and his eyes widen.

“Fuck, you have an attitude..Yeah, I mean…no, I would love to go on another date with you.” He babbles and your pride is growing strong.

“Ok, Friday at 8. Knock on my door,” you grant, mastering your most unfazed tone.

“I will,” he croaks, before watching you close your door after giving him a wink.

You’ve done it.

You secured another date.

All thanks to your new wand.

You will definitely put this bad boy to good use tonight. 

____________

By the end of the week you’re so worked up you’re counting the hours to your date.

Work helps you to dissociate from the horny little monster that lives inside you, restoration requires you to be focused, you certainly can’t screw up the Caravaggio you’re working on.

It's one of the finest work of art you've ever seen and you’re so proud that they trust your abilities enough to assign it to you.

You love Caravaggio.

Repairing those signs of aging in the painting makes you feel secure, in control of the situation and, by extension, of your life. 

Francesca is another great help. She hasn't stopped cheering you up, telling you that if he hasn't jumped on you yet, it's only a matter of time. She distracts you with her chatter about a guy she's dating, a new restaurant she discovered, and a beautiful sweater she bought at a bargain price at the flea market in Porta di Roma. 

You love her duality, the way she approaches restoration with such care and delicacy, in contrast to her exuberant, chaotic, and boisterous personality. 

You are grateful that she is here for you. 

Friday evening arrives tragically slowly, yet filled with so many expectations.

You haven't seen Marcus all week, there have only been a few messages saying that production was running late and he had been forced to stay on set longer than expected. 

“Anyway, at 8 o'clock on Friday, when you hear a knock at the door, it'll be me.” 

And you replied, “I can’t wait”.

Fortunately, Marcus is a man who keeps his promises. 

When you open the door, you are delighted by his broad shoulders enveloped in a nice jean jacket and a white t-shirt underneath, filling the doorway. His smile spreads beneath his perfectly trimmed mustache, lighting up his face. 

“Well…look at you. Beautiful,” he whispers, and it sounds like honey to your ears. 

He looks down at you with amazement, observing the body that took you a lifetime to love, making you feel as if the wide hips and your soft belly are your greatest assets and not something you need to hide. 

You’re glad you dared to put a silky dress on, that is hugging your curves just right, shiny material enlightening your skin and making you feel like a mermaid. 

Embracing your body took you years but it’s the best thing you’ve done besides curating your education. 

_____________

You’re walking down the street side by side along the Tiber as it flows gently in its bed like a placid, sleepy snake and you feel like a magnet he can't escape. 

His searching eyes look at you, studying your face as if trying to read your mind.

“Where are we going? Will you tell me this time?” 

He smirks, “Okay. We've already been to a fancy restaurant, so I thought it was time for a real Roman experience. Do you think you're ready?”

“Sure,” you nod, “I love authenticity.”

“Well, then you'll love where I'm taking you.”

When you arrive, Francesca's words ring loud and clear in your head: 

“If the restaurant looks like it's been there for a hundred years, you can be sure you'll eat the best Italian food of your life.” 

Now you understand exactly what she meant. The tavern you have entered has a faded sign and is furnished with straw chairs, wooden tables, and antique display cabinets. The furniture is simple, solid, and functional, just like it used to be.

No waiters in uniforms, just a big man in a wrinkled, grease-stained apron who welcomes Marcus as if he were his son, patting him heavily on the shoulder and saying, 

“Oh Marcus, bentornato! Ti dò il solito tavolo?” (Oh, Marcus, welcome back! Shall I give you your usual table?).

“Sì, grazie Vittorio” (Yes, Vittorio, thank you).

You sit at a small table in a corner, surrounded by other people talking loudly and pouring wine into glasses, in front of plates containing the most generous portions of pasta you have ever seen. 

The walls are decorated with paintings in the Arte Povera style, everyday objects such as funnels and old tools, next to your table there’s something that looks like a wooden cart wheel.

Scattered around are old black and white photos, signed. 

Marcus watches you as you look around curiously. 

“Does the waiter know you?”

“I've been here often with the rest of the crew. You know that girl you saw last week? She’s my scene partner and she’s Vittorio’s nephew.”

“Oh, I see.”

In a way, he brought you to a place where he feels most comfortable, and you find that adorable.

But then you wonder about her. Is she more than a scene partner? Has he ever kissed her? 

Her uncle didn't say anything strange to Marcus, you understand Italian well enough to be sure. That's assuming he knows, which he may not.

You feel a little stupid for asking him out without making sure she wasn't his girlfriend, but after all, you're here now, you're just having dinner, and there's no harm done. You're still on a friend territory, even if it's the last place you want to be.

“Do you like it?“ he asks almost shyly.

“Of course I do” you exclaim, “it's awesome! My colleague took me to similar places here in Trastevere, but this one is truly one of a kind.”

The buzz bounces off the walls like a swarm of crazy bees. You can't hear a single thought in your head, but it's all too much fun. Especially the way the big man takes your orders, commenting on your beauty, winking at Marcus, laughing cheerfully as he encourages you to speak Italian. He's loud and friendly, like the rest of the place around him.

He returns after a few minutes with a carafe of house wine and a basket of warm, fragrant bread that fills your nostrils in the most delicious way.

You and Marcus laugh a lot, chat about your week, and finish your pasta dishes quickly. You're not drunk, but you definitely feel intoxicated by him.

When he looks at you with those brown eyes, you feel like you're swimming in them, like in a lustful, sweet chocolate fountain.

“Who are all these people?” you ask, trying to shake yourself out of your stupor, gesturing at the photos hanging on the walls.

“Famous Italian actors, mostly. That's Marcello Mastroianni, have you ever seen La Dolce Vita?”

“I'm afraid not. Is that bad?”

“I forgive you. It just means that one day you'll have to watch it with me.”

His voice is low and confident and reaches you clearly despite the noise. Too clearly, even, the warmth in your chest intensifies.

His hand moves slightly over the table like he was about to take yours when you are interrupted by Vittorio bringing the bill, and Marcus insists on paying despite your protests.

____________________

You walk across a bridge over the Tiber, gazing at Marcus’ face illuminated by the streetlights.

You’re longing to feel his hand on you, so bad that you can’t even concentrate on what he’s saying right now, you just keep nodding mindlessly until you decide to let out what's been boiling inside you for a week.

The air is cool, and Marcus offers you his jacket.

You put it on and find yourself surrounded by the warmth of his body that still lingers on the fabric.

“So, do you think we should keep seeing each other?” you prod.

“Of course. Why not? Aren't you having a great time with me?” 

He's so confident that you almost feel bad objecting, “Well, I do, but...”

“But what?”

“What about the other girl? Vittorio’s nephew?” you say, mindlessly crossing your arms around your body, shrugging in the cool air, with a slight undertone of resentment that you weren’t supposed to leave out.

He laughs so hard, as if you had just said something absolutely ridiculous, gets in front of you and gently takes your chin in his hand making you look at him. 

“Hey. I am not in a relationship with her. I’m not her type.”

“And why is that?” you ask suspiciously, waiting.

Marcus leans toward you and whispers in your ear, “She likes girls.”

The realization hits you hard.

He exhales sharply and then his dimple is there, on his cheek, as he sweetly smiles at you. 

“Well, anyway, you didn't kiss me that night, and I know I hesitated on purpose at my door. And you didn't do it tonight either.”

“I was just trying to be respectful,” he simply retorts.

“Or maybe… you don’t like me that way.”

Marcus laughs again, a hearty, slightly hoarse laugh. 

“I like you a lot. Your smile, your voice, your personality, your attitude and your gorgeous body. I like everything about you” He takes your hands, makes you stretch your arms out along your sides, and moves closer.

“Okay then, good guy, go ahead and prove it,” you challenge him, raising an eyebrow.

He wraps his arms around your waist, and pulls you toward him. 

And there, in the middle of the bridge, with people walking and admiring Rome at night all around you, he kisses you.

And it’s a kiss you’ll surely never forget. It's hot and intense, his tongue pushes to get in, eagerly licks inside your mouth, searches for yours.

His hands slowly slide on your hips, while you wrap yours around his neck and cock your head to give him easier access.

You don't know how long it takes before you pull away, but you're out of breath. “Hey, that wasn't a nice guy kiss,” you whisper against his lips.

“I can do even better if you let me,” he tempts you.

“Take me home, then.”

_____________________________

As soon as you arrive, Marcus is all over you.

He kisses your neck, while you’re looking for your keys, hugging you from behind, his breath heavy on your skin.

As soon as you close the door, he takes the keys from your hands and throws them onto the cabinet in the hallway, followed immediately by your bag.

He pins you against the wall, taking your lips again, playing with your tongue.

Your hands run along the expanse of his chest, itching to touch his hot skin underneath.

He goes back down to your pulse point, whispering, “You smell so good,” leaving a trail of kisses along your neck, while his hands wander over your body, caressing everything they can.

 “Are you still convinced I don't like you?“ his voice is husky and hoarse.

“Mmm, I might need more proof, you know, just to be sure,” you joke, getting rid of his jean jacket.

His arms encircle your waist, his hands slide to your hips, then to your butt, wringing there.

You whine in his mouth. 

Marcus breaks away and asks you, “Where's your bedroom?”

“End of the hallway,” you breathe.

He takes you by the hand and drags you toward the room while you giggle at his eagerness.

He stops in front of your bed, taking your face in his hands and whispering, 

“You're so beautiful. I was such an idiot for not letting you know how much I like you sooner. Let me make it up to you.”

He pulls off your dress, letting it fall to the floor, leaving you covered only by your red lace lingerie.

You shiver for a moment, almost naked in front of him, before meeting his gaze again, which admires you like a painting.

He kisses you as your hands wrap around his still clothed broad shoulders, and his hand slides down your side, over your hipbone, slowly to the edge of your panties.

“I like this color on you, the contrast with your skin, so soft and sweet.” 

You're spellbound. By him, by his deep, husky voice, by the way his hands move over you, lingering on every curve, as if they had to memorize every inch of your body.

He brings his hand to your face again, his knuckles slide down your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your mouth and you open it, wrapping your lips around it and gently sucking the tip, while his other hand is on your soft hip, clinging, squeezing, filled with your flesh.

You look intently into his eyes as you softly warm his thumb between your lips.

Marcus smirks and groans, “you’re so good.”

He works his way into your panties, his warm touch making you gasp as he slithers further and further down.

His fingers brush against your folds, just grazing them, trapped in your panties.

“Mh, you’re wet, baby” he whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, I am”

“I think we can do better than this, don’t you think?”

“Show me,” you challenge him, already worked up just by his voice.

He could make you come just by his goddamn voice whispering tantalizingly in your ears.

“Sit on the bed for me,” he orders.

You sit down, crossing your legs, running a hand over your bedspread.

He takes off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, and you are stunned. 

His chest is even broader than it appears when he is dressed. Small freckles are scattered across his lightly tanned skin, some lost among the few hairs on his chest near his dark pink nipples, on his slightly soft belly, on the line of hair below his navel. 

He looks like a Greek statue. A work of Michelangelo.

The most attractive man you’ve ever seen.

He unbuttons his jeans, never taking his eyes off you. He hasn’t touched you yet, but a warmth begins to spread from the pit of your stomach. 

When he steps out of his jeans and your gaze drinks in his hips, so narrow in comparison to his shoulders, his strong, toned thighs and his tight boxers that definitely cover something big, he smiles mischievously, teasing you, “Do you like what you see?”

You bite your lower lip, unable to take your eyes off him, and whisper, “Definitely.”

“That toy you bought, where is it?” 

“In my nightstand drawer, why?” 

He doesn’t answer, he opens the drawer and pulls out your new wand.

He swings it between his fingers, a coy smile on his face

“Cute. Does it work?”

You feel your face heat up as you silently nod.

He approaches you, caresses your back, reaching your bra and expertly unhooking it with just one hand, then throwing it into a corner.

He gently lays you down on the bed and climbs on top of you.

He is kneeling over you, not touching you yet, his thighs on either side of your hips, the wand lying on the sheets next to him.

“God, you're beautiful,” he says, looking down at you, lingering on your lips, your breasts, your hard nipples, your panties that barely cover your sex.

He leans over you, stretching out his legs.

His mouth is on yours in an instant, devouring you, while his hand flies to your breast and starts kneading it. 

His body is warm, gently pressing you down, making you sink slightly into the mattress. He takes your nipple between his fingers, twisting and pinching it while sucking the delicate skin of your neck.

His erection begins to press against your panties, and you can clearly feel the dampness despite the two layers of fabric still separating you.

Marcus pushes one knee between your thighs, silently asking you to spread them wider. He lifts his leg and his knee goes straight to your clit, applying gentle pressure that makes you see stars.

You moan, instinctively rocking your hips to search for more friction. 

You cling to his back, your nails digging slightly into his skin, leaving small crescents.

Marcus grunts, his mouth lowers to your chest, licks your skin, while his hand cups your breast and after a moment his tongue arrives exactly where you want it, without you even asking. This guy knows what he's doing, even better than you could have hoped, and he loves your body in an insatiable way, judging by the way his hands squeeze and caress you and the way his mouth closes over your nipple, wrapping it with his lips, then sucking.

Your hand sinks into his soft curls, you moan and hold him close to your breast. “Don't stop.” 

“I won't, sweetheart. Your tits are incredible, I could do this for hours.”

His tongue slides gently over your hard nub, flicking it. 

He takes the wand with his other hand, the quiet buzz of the toy gets closer and closer until you feel it vibrating on your nipple on the lower setting.

It’s insane. 

The combined action of the sex toy and his mouth is almost too much to bear.

You’re soaked, babbling, your back tense like a violin string. 

He turns off the wand after a few seconds, making you moan at the loss.

“So you thought I didn't like you? You thought I didn't want every inch of this body? Baby, my mission tonight is to get that idea out of your head.” He whispers against your breast, moving the air over your nipple, a breath that makes you arch your back again.

Three big fingers move over your panties, caressing you through the fabric, which is now so wet that it's practically useless.

He teases you, brushing your clit, lingering on the slit of your folds with his fingertips, poking into your hole.

“More” you whine. “Please”

Your eyes, half-closed and clouded with desire, are reflected in his chestnut brown, deep and expressive ones.

They are intense and magnetic, adorned with small wrinkles, which you trace with your fingertips, descending down his cheek, feeling every curve of his face, until they cling to his strong jaw, and your thumb pulls his lower lip, revealing his pearly white teeth. His mouth curves into a smile as he hears you beg again, “Please.”

“You’re so pretty when you beg, baby” he mutters.

Your thighs are still tight around his leg, you're still absent-mindedly rocking your hips against his hand, dripping through the fabric.

He removes his hand and brings it to his mouth, closing his eyes as he slides his fingers between his lips, over his tongue, tasting your juices. He opens his eyes and a look of lust shines through them. “Delicious. I need more.”

He moves to pull down your panties, caressing your legs down to your ankles.

He squeezes your lacy underwear in his fist, smells them, spreads them out, his tongue sticking out to lick the wet spot right in the middle.

And then he looks at your pussy, exposed, begging, crying for him.

He licks his lips before asking,

“Can you do something for me, sweetheart?”

You nod insistently.

“Use your words, pretty girl, I know you can.”

“Yes,” you breathe, “yes, whatever.”

He smirks, brushing your ankle. “Okay, then sit on my face. I need to eat you out.”

You glance at his powerful erection in his pants and your little horny monster takes over your brain, pushing you to say, “Um... I think I have a better idea.”

He squints at you “Oh, really? Tell me what's in that pretty head of yours.”

His fingers run over your legs as he waits. You sigh, feeling your cheeks burn with excitement. “Well, we could...you could eat me while I eat you.”

He looks at you pleasantly surprised. “Oh. You're dirtier than I thought, I like that.”

You giggle nervously. “Maybe I am.”

“Mmm, I think you are. So you want this cock in your sweet mouth, huh? All right, princess, as you wish,” he grants, running a hand over his scruff. 

The moment you take off his boxers is when you stop giggling and start thinking that maybe you overestimated your abilities. 

It's big. Thick, already fully hard in front of your eyes, small drops of pre-cum glisten on the tip, a long pulsating vein runs over it. It's a huge cock. 

Probably the biggest you've ever seen.

Your mind decides that it doesn't matter whether it fits in your mouth or not, it was decided for you, it's like an out-of-body experience where you hear yourself murmuring 

“Fuck, please. I want it.”

You move instinctively as he lies down on the bed and urges you, “Come sit on top of me, princess.” You turn your back to him, straddling him, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock. He grabs your hips, sliding you onto his chest, leaving a wet trail on his skin, the friction further stimulating your throbbing clit.

You cling to his legs, moaning. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, baby, come here, show me that beautiful dripping pussy.”

His fingers sink into your flesh, pushing you down, and suddenly an intrusive thought strikes you.

“Am I weighing you down?”

Marcus laughs heartily, sending a vibration through your entire body and straight to your clit.

"Babe, are you kidding? I was made for someone like you.”

Marcus tightens his grip even more and pulls you toward him until his mouth slams against your pussy.

He licks a long stripe starting from the bottom and moving up to your clitoris, sinking his tongue between your folds.

“And you taste so good, you have no idea, it’s the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.”

Your cheek is resting against his cock as you’re trying to catch all the air you can, his hair tickling your chin as you feel it throbbing against your skin.

You take it in one hand, barely able to wrap your fingers around it, and lower your lips onto its tip, while Marcus's tongue continues to move across your slit, from side to side, deliberately avoiding your clit and stimulating everything around it. You're so wet that another touch on your bundle of nerves could send you over the edge.

You're trying to hold yourself back with all your strength because you really want his cock in your mouth. It's too tempting not to try. And Marcus is praising you so much that you want to give him something back at any cost.

You lower your mouth onto the tip, immediately tasting its bitter, slightly musky flavor, feeling a new wave of pleasure trickle out of your pussy.

It's thick and overwhelming between your lips, slapping against the inside of your cheek as you try to wrap your mouth around it as much as you can.

Marcus groans into your folds, his tongue thrusting deeper, nudging at your entrance.

“Take your time, you’re doing good. I know it’s too big for you to take it all in your mouth so fast.”

You let him out with a lewd pop.

“No, it’s okay, I want it, Marcus. I want it so bad”

You lower yourself again, sliding down even further, relaxing your jaw as much as you can to take him all the way down your throat, cupping one of his balls with one hand and gently squeezing.

“Jesus, babe, you’re fucking incredible,” he grunts.

You suppress a gag, holding it there, caressing the rest with your hand wrapped around the base. It's heavy on your tongue, you can distinctly feel its vein tickling your cheek, its taste spreading and clouding your mind.

Marcus parts your folds with two fingers, his tongue relentlessly drinking from you, every drop of pleasure dripping out, his mustache, soaked in your juices, pleasantly tingles your skin.

You focus on the tip, swirling your tongue around it, closing your lips over it and sucking.

Your hand moves up and down its length, its velvety skin thin beneath your touch, the room silent except for the sounds of your mouths exploring each other's most intimate parts.

Marcus' lips close around your clit as he starts to suck gently, while two fingers slide over your folds to wet them, and when you moan against his cock, he enters you.

He slowly stretches you, sinking into your wetness little by little, until another wave of pleasure trickles down to his wrist. The vibrations of your moans are getting the better of him as you glide your tongue over his length, from the base to the top, swirling it again and again on the tip and letting it fall back on the underside. Then, and only then, when he feels you so close to the edge that you could explode at any moment he curves his fingers, reaching that special spot that makes you see stars.

He turns on the wand  again and moves it over your clit, his fingers curling just right, tapping the spot where you most need them.

He alternates the wand with his mouth, eagerly sucking your nub between his lips.

“You like that, huh? Yes, baby, you’re so good. Come for me, pretty, show me this beautiful pussy gushing for me. Let her writhe in my mouth, I want everything, baby, every drop of this goddess nectar.”

The wand’s buzz stops.

And so, you burst.

An unquenchable fire spreads through your body, up to your chest, you can't breathe and you feel every inch of yourself trembling on Marcus' hot, sweaty body. Your nipples rub against his stomach as you convulse and moan. 

You feel pressure in your lower belly, a sensation you've never felt before, and a gush of pleasure sprays from your center straight into Marcus' face. He doesn't pull back, instead he’s moaning in surprise, and continues to lick, taste, and suck every inch of your pussy like a man starved.

You don't have time to feel self-conscious as you hear Marcus' voice calling your attention. “Honey, come here, I need to feel you on my cock.”

You're overstimulated, exhausted, yet you can't say no to him. Not when he asks you with that hoarse, deep, incredibly sensual voice. “I need to see you bouncing on my cock.”

You turn around, straddling him again, his face a plea for more pleasure, his chin, mustache, and beard glistening with your juices.

His eyes are even darker, thirsty, ravaged by lust.

He grabs your hips again, pulling you down onto his cock, and you take it in one hand, guiding it towards your entrance. It enters slowly, even though you've never been so wet, inch by inch. You lower yourself slightly onto him, resting your hands on the sides of the mattress, and Marcus wastes no time, one hand flying to your breast, pinching your nipple. When you finally manage to take him all inside you, a moan escapes from the back of your throat, so rough that it doesn't even sound like your voice.

“Fuck, I’ve never felt so full.”

“I know, baby, you’re doing so good for me, taking my cock so well. ”

He kneads at your tit, his mouth agape, while you are balancing on the verge of delirium.

He feels huge inside of you, you don't even know how it fitted but it's still the most delicious pain you've ever experienced.

You carefully begin to move your hips as soon as the pain eases up while Marcus continues to praise you, “Yeah, honey, just like that, you’re perfect for me.”

His grip is solid on your hip, his gorgeous curls scattered around your pillow, you put your hands on his chest which is rising and falling in long, deep breaths.

“I know you can give me another one, right? Come on, baby, rock these gorgeous hips for me, sink into me, come on. ”

It’s just incoherent babbling at this point but it’s hot nonetheless, and you do as he asks, arching your body a little more, moving harder, reaching this special spot again.

With every kiss of his tip against it you moan deeper and rougher, groping his chest with all you have, your fingers mindlessly brushing over his nipples.

With every clench of your pussy his eyes turn more blown and glossy, his voice just a hoarse rasp mixed with the squelching sounds of his stiff cock slamming into you.

You won’t stop.

You can’t stop.

No matter how aching you are already, no matter how exhausted you feel, Marcus’ voice is there praising and urging you— “more baby, come on, I know you’re close, I can feel it.”

With your last shred of strength you clench even harder on his cock, and a moment later a hot long streak of cum is filling you to the brim. 

Marcus lets out a deep ‘fuck’, arching his back, gripping onto the sheets underneath him, thrusting into you a couple more times before collapsing on the mattress.

You lie down on top of him, gasping for breath, taking his lips in a long, desperate kiss before burying your face in the crook of his neck, breathing against his sweaty skin.

“Jesus, fuck,” you whimper. 

Marcus wraps his arms around your middle, gently cradling you against his body. 

He’s still inside you as your pussy slowly relaxes and he covers your shoulders with kisses.

As he pulls out and you lay beside him, snuggling against his body, one leg loosely resting over his, you feel a trickle of his seed dripping from your slit and running along your inner thigh.

As soon as you regain some clarity, you press your forehead against his sighing, 

“God, probably the best fuck of my life.” 

Marcus laughs and kisses your lips softly.

“I hope it's the first of many, princess.”

You giggle, kissing him again and again until you fall asleep in his arms.

It’s morning when you wake up. 

For a moment, you don't understand where the warmth you feel is coming from. You blink a couple of times to focus your blurred vision and then you see him. Marcus is next to you, one arm still holding you tight, lying on his stomach, his head resting on the pillow as he sleeps peacefully.

He’s still here, disheveled and naked, the most precious gift you found in Rome. 

Adriana's gorgeous mood board:

Absolutely Np tag for some people that showed interest when I shared snippets in my Wip Wednesday: @iamladyp @milla-frenchy @whocaresstillthelouvre @arcanefox207 @cas-readsandwrites @604to647 @probablyreadinsmut @thundermartini @sizzlingcloudmentality Usual tag list: @harriedandharassed @almostempty @pedrostories (feel free to ignore and let me know if you want to be removed, I'll do it right away)

Thanks for reading!

[aphroditelovesu]

Yan!Husband Alexander the Great pretty please? 🥹

❝ 📜 — lady l: here! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! ❤️

❝tw: possessive behavior, mention of death and toxic relationships.

❝📜pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader.

Alexander had no thoughts of getting married anytime soon or, according to some sources, getting married at all. The rumors were always varied, some said he didn't want a wife and others went as far as saying he wasn't attracted to women.

This continued for some time until he met you and decided he would take you as his wife. Alexander found himself enchanted by the way you spoke, your smile and the look you had. He knew he would have to become your husband and so he did.

Although his generals were surprised and some even worried about his choice of bride, Alexander was resolute. He fell in love with strength and with an intensity that few could resist, making a point of showing his power and determination.

Alexander's marriage to you was a grand event, worthy of a King who conquered vast territories and accumulated immense power. The ceremony was held with all the pomp and circumstance expected from an event of such magnitude. Alexander wanted the world to know the importance of this union.

The preparation for the wedding was meticulous. From the luxurious costumes, decorated with embroidery and precious stones, to the sumptuous banquet that would be served to the guests. Everything was handpicked to reflect Alexander's greatness and the respect and love he felt for you.

As you exchanged your vows, Alexander spoke with a passion that touched everyone present. He has promised to love, protect, and honor you no matter what adversity may arise. His generals, although still surprised, could not help but feel the impact of that devotion. Any doubts regarding the choice of the bride were put to rest at that moment.

Alexander proved to be a very understanding husband, although authoritarian and possessive. He doesn't like being contradicted and, although he will listen to your opinions and desires, he is unlikely to change his mind when he gets one in his head. But with the right persuasion, he will do what you want.

He will spoil you without scruple, all the best to his Queen. Although, in the beginning at least, Alexander tends to maintain a more spartan style, the same will not apply to you. You will be showered in jewels, the richest fabrics, servants and anything else you could desire. You will have whatever booty you want.

Alexander is extremely possessive and this is very evident in the way he acts around you. He's always close to you when you're together in public, the way he places his hands on your waist, a dark look at anyone who looks at you for too long. He will not tolerate potential rivals in any way.

Quality moments with him are limited to reading, riding horses, bathing together and just exchanging caresses. Alexander, although he won't admit it, enjoys being spoiled by you and will happily accept any kind of affection you are willing to give him. And he will be happy to offer the same. And massages, he loves massaging you.

Alexander is also protective, although not overly so. He will make sure that you always have an escort wherever you go and that you are always fed and happy.

Even if he takes other wives in the future for political reasons, you will always be his favorite and his first. He will always be sure to remind you that you are the one who has his heart.

If anything were to happen to you, no matter how small, all hell would break loose. Alexander can become extremely violent and cruel when necessary and he will have no qualms about killing, maiming, or torturing anyone who poses a threat to you. He will destroy cities for you, kill the men and enslave their inhabitants. All for you.

Alexander's love for you, his wife, has become legendary. He is deeply devoted to you and will do anything you ask. You hold a great deal of power over him, one that he is only too happy to allow. After all, he is as much yours as you are his.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

Made myself tear up thinking about Girl Dad Sylus. He'd give his little girls the unconditional love he never had growing up, and (hopefully) in the process heal his inner child 🥹

And additionally...

Sylus' kids will be the first people in his life that'll love him from the very start. Everyone else has at some point wanted to hurt, use, or kill him. Or hated his guts/been disgusted by him 💔 (that part in the main story still wrecks me, his expression is so heartrending, you can so plainly see the devastation on his face. I genuinely think he cried afterwards, when he vanished for a bit. And now I am crying too from thinking about it 💔💔)

But his children will not once in their lives view him with fear, or disgust, or ill intent. Instead, they'll look at him with stars in their eyes from the very moment they begin to be aware of and recognize their surroundings.

Like everyone else, their little hearts will start pounding faster at the mere sight or sound of him. However, not out of terror, but elation, and the purest form of love, their short legs toddling towards him as fast as they can, chubby arms eagerly reaching for him. Not to do him harm, but to give and receive affection. A gesture which Sylus will always reciprocate without a second's hesitation, his strong powerful arms enveloping his babies with a gentleness and care that seemingly belies his imposing exterior, but which in reality is representative of who he is and has always been at his core: A warm and kind person who wears his heart on his sleeve, who loves with everything he's got, and whose soul smells like flowers. A man who despite his wealth and power never trampels on the weak, and who although "it may not look like it" is truly "very good at looking after people". Had society bothered to look beyond his appearance and his reputation, it too would have discovered this. Instead, it chose to cast him as a monster more terrifying than a wanderer, and that is the role Sylus has been more or less forced to play ever since, and how he has been viewed for most of his long life, even initially by the people that are now closest to him.

But never by his children. In their eyes, Sylus won't ever be a fiend nor an infamous criminal — Sylus will always be their Protector. Their Hero.

Their Daddy.

And to someone who has forever been labeled as a villain or a demon, these terms will surely be more precious than all the most valuable gems and stones in the Universe put together.

[yokumirumerafan]

Do you think you could possibly do a fic about how some of the my hero academia characters would react to their (usually energetic, chaotic, and stubborn) S/O being hit with a de-aging quirk that turns their S/O into a child and notice that their S/O child self is the complete opposite very quiet, meek, always alittle scared and antisocial. If so could it be for (bakugo, Denki, sero, tsuyu, kiri and Hitoshi) if that’s too many or you just don’t want to that’s also perfect fine.

WOOO YESS FIRST REQUEST OF THE DAY COMING IN HOT LIKE BAKUGO'S EXPLOSIONS 💥💥💥

💥 Bakugo Katsuki At first, he’s like “TF?! WHERE DID MY GREMLIN GO?!?!” Sees smol Y/N hiding behind a couch and flinches when he yells 👉😦 Tries to tone it down, crouches and goes: “...Tch. You scared or somethin’?” Y/N nods. He short-circuits. “Shit…” Ends up speaking in the softest voice you’ve ever heard. Kiri hears and teases him for months. Lowkey very protective. Won’t let anyone near you. Gives you his hoodie to wear, it drags to your feet 😭 Cooks you mini food and grumbles the whole time while actually enjoying it. ⚡ Denki Kaminari “YO YOU GOT TINY!!! WAIT… why are you crying 😭” Instantly softens when he sees you shaking a little. Sits next to you with snacks and a coloring book. “Hey… it’s okay. Wanna draw Pikachu with me?” Let’s you hold his hand the entire time, you cling to his sleeve and refuse to let go 🥹 Tucks you in bed and watches you sleep with the fondest smile. “Wow, you’re cute no matter what age.” 🕸️ Hanta Sero “LITTLE TAPE GREMLIN?? Wait, you’re like... quiet?!” Lowkey confused but gentle. Offers you gum and gets heartbroken when you say “no thank you…” with the saddest little face 😭 Bends down to your level and asks if you want to make origami or paper airplanes. Tells the class “Y/N’s fragile now. No loud noises. Or else.” Wraps you in tape like a burrito if you get scared and calls you his “tiny sushi roll.” 🐸 Tsuyu Asui Gently kneels down, tilts her head: “You’re a lot quieter like this, Y/N-chan.” Gives you a frog plushie for comfort 🐸 Carries you on her back, lets you braid her hair while she hums softly. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I’ll protect you until you’re you again.” Wraps you in a warm blanket like a little tadpole and watches over you with her calm, watchful eyes. 💪 Kirishima Eijirou “Woahhhh… you’re like, so smol now!! But why do you look scared, bro?? 😢” Reaches out, pauses. “Can I hug you?” You nod and instantly melt into him. He holds you like precious glass. “Don’t worry, I gotcha! Red Riot’s on full babysitting duty!” Takes you on piggyback rides, gently ruffles your hair, makes sure you always feel safe and seen. When you fall asleep in his arms, he whispers: “No matter the age, I’ll always protect you.” 💤 Hitoshi Shinsou Talks to you quietly while you draw in his notebook 🖊️📓 When you softly tug on his sleeve and whisper, “Do you still like me even if I’m not loud anymore?” 😢 → He FREEZES. Looks down at your watery eyes, heart completely shattered. He kneels down, gently pats your head and says in that soft, sleepy voice: “I like you in every form… chaotic or calm, loud or quiet. You're still you, and that's all I care about.” Refuses to leave your side. You fall asleep in his lap while he gently brushes your hair out of your face. 💤 Will genuinely lose it on anyone who tries to make fun of you or your timidness. When you finally go back to your normal age, he's like: “...You okay?” And you tease him: “Awww, you miss baby me?” He blushes. “Shut up.” (he 1000% did and still does)

[usahanamnesia]

gifts ᯓᡣ𐭩

pairing: myung jaehyun x reader synopsis: you celebrate jaehyun's birthday by having drinks with friends and at the end of the day you're finally left alone with him to give him his final birthday present. genre: smut content: drunk birthday sex, fem bodied reader, sub!jaehyun x dom!reader, also masochist!jaehyun x sadist!reader if we're being real here, usage of 'mommy' as a nickname for reader, puppy / baby boy pet names for jaehyun, edging, oral / handjob, riding, dacryphilia, slight overstimulation, no condom usage, semi-clothed sex word count: 3.8k a/n: I'm a little late so happy belated birthday 🎂 to jaehyun! 🥹 I hope he had a good one!!

it was the 4th of december, your precious boyfriend's birthday. you waited all day to finally get some alone time with him, after work you and the boys threw a little mini-party for him in your apartment.

and so, now you were here with jaehyun alone since the others already left, leaving the mess up to you to clean up later. although sungho would have probably been more than happy to help clean up, you wanted alone time with the birthday boy. jaehyun was laying in your bed as you greeted the very last person goodbye. you and the others don't get to drink much, so in the few times you do get to, you tend to over-do it a bit. although you could handle alcohol heaps better than your boyfriend.

you stood beside the bed, hovering over jaehyun as he scrolled on his phone. "so birthday boy, are you going to help me clean this mess up?" you asked, completely joking with your hands on your hips.

"but i'm too tired. i woke up so early for schedules and then I came straight here and it took forever to leave and I just wanted to be with you but I was also having fun so I wasn't going to tell everyone to leave," his drunken state left him rambling and pouty, "plus I want to just stay here and cuddle with you." he reached out his arms for you as an invitation to join him in bed, which you happily accepted. you crawled into bed and cuddled up against his chest.

the world felt a little dizzying to him right now and although he wasn't recognizing how much he would repeat the fact that he just wanted to lay down and be with you, that's truly how he felt and all he could think about. once you were in his arms he started getting all handsy, running his hand down your back and leading them to your ass and the other up your back. he was always so touchy but even moreso when drunk. he couldn't help it, he always claimed. you never minded though, as long as it was jaehyun you'd be fine with him touching you however he'd like.

"you can't possibly be tired though..," you looked up at him and started combing through his hair with your fingers. you hoped he'd be able to fight his exhaustion for what you had planned.

"whyyy not?" his drunken self consisted of drawn our words and a pouty voice. you truly could never get over how cute he was at any given moment.

"because I still need to give you your present," you spoke softly. he tilted his head at this statement, which made you giggle a little. he truly couldn't help being so puppy-like.

"then what was that present you gave me earlier?" as he spoke, his hands found their way under your shirt, playing with the hem of your bra. you swore he would unclasp it at any moment, he always wanted you braless. he was always so eager to touch your bare skin even if he couldn't go farther than that.

"that was just part one. you can cuddle with me afterwards."

"what's part two thennn?" he pouted, growing more impatient each second the longer he waited for an answer.

you start straddling his lap, leaning forward to sprinkle little pecks on his lips which started leading to proper kisses. he tasted like beer, which you usually hated but right now all you could think about was how much you had been wanting this. him working all the time and living with others gave you two such little time to have special moments like this.

"are you too tired for this part of your present?" you started unbuttoning your shirt, exposing yourself in only your bra with your skirt and your thigh high socks still on, "or am I not making it obvious enough at this point?" he smirked, his feelings were so much more easier to read when he was drunk, even when you thought that couldn't be possible. he was so eager.

truthfully, he had been hoping for this all day, moments with you alone were much more special to him when you guys were having sex but he never wanted you to feel pressured to. in reality you actually would love nothing more than to spend hours making him cum over and over again, as long as he's euphoric in the palm of your hands there's nothing else you'd rather do.

"noo.. I get it.. but I might be a little tired to do much," he teased although you could see the excitement grow within him, blushing and all. you knew he could never deny you, especially when he was so needy for you even when he wasn't drunk. he started letting his hands roam up your torso, fingers fiddling with the hem of your bra excited with the thought of what's underneath.

"that's fine then. I can take care of you, puppy." he seems a little shy and taken aback by the nickname, you felt him growing slightly hard at the statement.

as soon as you lean back into him to kiss, he indulges himself right away as much as he can. a kiss turns into full-out making out. it doesn't get much to rile up jaehyun, and he was already as hard as he could get.

he unhooks your bra and starts groping your breasts as he's kissing you. jaehyun really could never stop touching and letting his hands roam around your body. he adores your body so badly that it makes you shy. if it were up to him right now he'd be in-between your thighs right now, giving your thighs hickies and licking your cunt like it'd be the last thing he'd ever taste. but it was his birthday and you wanted to make him feel on cloud nine right now. you were sure that after today he'd want to return the favor when your birthday rolls around anyway.

in-between all the breathless kissing and small moans already leaving his mouth you grind down on his hard cock although his pants make the friction a little less satisfying. he still moans nonetheless, clearly wanting and needing you more and more.

"should we get these off of you, baby boy?" you breathe out as you tug on his pants. you drag your hand lower, teasing him slightly. all he can do is whine and nod. your heart swells, he's so adorable when he's like this. so needy and desperate that he finds it hard to speak, letting you do whatever you want with him. and yet, you still feel like torturing him.

"use your words," you continue to graze your hand over his bulge which caused him to jerk his hips up slightly.

"yes, m-mommy," you could see his eyes tear up a little, frustrated at the demand.

"yes what?"

"yes... please, mommy," he couldn't help but grind up a little against your hand. he loved the way your hand felt on his cock, even through layers of clothing.

you help him take off his pants and even his shirt, leaving him in his boxers. he was so fit and pretty, you felt so lucky that you have such a sweet and good-looking boyfriend. his puppy dog eyes looking up at you expectedly, his very pouty and oh so kissable lips, his skin that looked so smooth and ready for your touch, his stomach that was slightly toned and his cock that was already hard for you. every little bit of him made you want him more and more.

you start kissing his neck, even sucking a little here and there, intending to leave marks. usually he'd protest, always getting shy at the thought of people seeing hickies but he's already enjoying himself so much that he doesn't even think much of it right now. lick — suck. you pay special attention to his exposed collarbones, aiming to make him as sensitive as possible. lick — suck. you wanted everyone to know how good he spent his birthday. lick — suck.

you started to place small little kisses down his chest. his quickened breathing was so calming. he was completely at your mercy and you loved every bit of it.

when you get down to his nipples, you circle your tongue around them before sucking them off with a pop. his breath would hitch and his body would jerk slightly. they were one of his more extra sensitive spots. you continued trailing small kisses down his stomach after teasing his nipples for a bit longer.

when you reached down to his underwear, you lick his hard cock through his boxers. pre-cum leaked through them and jaehyun moaned a little, he was left already feeling so sensitive. he swore he could cum any second already but he wanted this to never end, so he was holding out as much as he could.

"I love how you're already so hard for me, my puppy," you lean in to kiss the tip. "always so good and ready for me." his breath shakes and he whines, feeling a mixture of impatience and pleasure.

you take off his boxers, exposing his dick and the cold air makes his breath hitch. you inch your lips to the tip of his cock.

"w-wait-" he says before your lips could make contact, "I want to cum in you."

"you'll get that if you can hold on long enough, do you think you can do that for me baby boy?" you wrap your hand around his cock, slowly stroking his shaft. his legs twitch, his brain getting mixed signals from being touched while also being told to hold back.

"I'll try-y" he says with an airy voice, clearly already struggling to keep it together.

you started by licking the base of his cock first. it felt so familiar in your mouth. the moans he had been holding in before started to spill out, pieces of "fuck" mixed in-between them. he reached out to hold onto your hair as you went down on him, fingers clumsily trying to clump together your hair together to grip onto properly. you swatted his hand away and pulled back. the sight of mix of saliva and pre-cum momentarily hanging off your lips before you wiped it off turned jaehyun on a little more if that was even possible at this point.

"not today, myungjae," you said before swallowing his cock again little by little, leaving no room for protest as you continued. jaehyun, a little confused, obliged nonetheless. if there was anything he knew how to do, it was to listen to you. he opted for holding onto the bedsheets, the pleasure being too good for him he felt like he was losing his mind.

"i-i'm gonna cu-um," jaehyun stuttered out, which made you pop off. all he could do was whine in protest, feeling frustrated from being suddenly pulled away from release.

you wrapped your hand around his dick and started stroking. jaehyun swore he was going to die from the way he knew you were going to do this to him and he knew better than to protest. he looked down at you, stroking his cock with your pretty hands and he has no idea how he had lasted this long. he's gotten off to pictures of regular photos of you, clothes and pure-looking, so not being able to cum at the sight of you stroking him while topless definitely has him frustrated more than ever at the moment.

every little stroke he became greedier, even resorting to lifting his hips and fucking himself into your hand. you resorted to sitting on his thighs in order to keep them down, which led to jaehyun's moans leading into whiney territory once more. he still wanted to cum in you, but right now all his horny brain could think of currently was the release he was chasing so badly the moment you two were left alone.

he grabbed your thighs and pulled you a little closer, making you yelp a little since his move was so unexpected. his hands gripped on them, he always needed something to hold onto when he was holding back. even if you weren't planning on getting your skirt dirty with his cum before, they definitely were now. it was definitely on purpose on his end though, jaehyun loved the sight of his cum on you, clothed or not.

it was a little masochistic on his end, the way he kept getting turned on by the smallest things but he couldn't help how any little thing could get him riled up once his dick starts getting slightly hard.

you had him right where you wanted him. the more control you had over him, the better. although him being underneath you moaning with that heavenly voice of his was more than enough to get you wet and wanting you knew this would pay off when he would finally cum. all you ever wanted to do was to make your boyfriend feel good, nothing could make you as happy as jaehyun did when he was melting in your hands.

you quickened your strokes little by little. sometimes he felt so good that he would shut his eyes and throw his head back, out of shyness or by being overwhelmed by pleasure you weren't sure but either way he looked absolutely adorable in this position.

as his release seemed close once again, he felt like he was smart enough to not say anything this time but you were smarter than that. you slowed your pace until you stopped, leaving jaehyun extremely frustrated. you knew his body better than he did at this point. you knew his breaking points and how much he could handle. you were definitely not ready not letting him have it yet. you started stroking him a few moments later, very painfully slow and carefully enough to make sure he doesn't orgasm yet.

"mommy, please," jaehyun whined. he was tearing up at this point. truthfully he thought you'd be more merciful on him than usual on his birthday of all days.

"please what, puppy?" you ask, still concentrating at the task at hand. you quickened your pace a little, wanting his next sentence to come out as pathetically as possible since you had an inkling of a feeling as to what he would say next.

"ple-ease... ngh... lemme... hngh... cu-um," jaehyun managed to string out words in-between his mixture of tears and moans. it was a sight you think you would never be able to get over in your lifetime. your pretty birthday boy, being held down, writhing and asking to cum. it was such a prideful moment for you and you couldn't get enough of it.

"beg for it, myungjae," you whispered as you slowed your strokes once again. jaehyun whined once more, which made you grin a little but it definitely just made him a little more frustrated. tears formed in his eyes as he looked at you once again. you cooed and caressed his cheek with your other hand.

"please please please," jaehyun whined in-between his moans. his eyebrows were furrowed and his jaw was slacked. "please let me cum, mommy."

it was a sentence that made you want to squeeze your legs together. you stopped stroking him leading to small cries coming out of him, you shh'ed him softly.

"you wanted to cum in me didn't you, puppy?" you asked and he quickly nodded, being unable to do more than moan and whine at the moment. he was so exhausted from the day then being played with for what felt like an eternity. you wish you had him all to yourself everyday, all the time just so you could hear his pretty cries all day. "then you'll do just that."

you wiped his tears and shifted yourself to be in a comfortable position. you moved your wet panties to the side, opting to keep them on as you were too impatient to get the rest of your clothes off at this point, especially your cum-stained skirt. you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock, moans coming out from you this time as well. it made your eyes roll back a little. you had been so focused on him the whole time, that you forgot how heavenly having his dick inside you would feel.

meanwhile, jaehyun was feeling so fucked out at this point he could barely keep it together. he had let out a stuttered "fu-uh-uck" as you had lowered yourself onto him. you moved up and down his cock, reveling in the way jaehyun's a sobbing mess by now. he held onto your waist, attempting to guide you but he's way too fucked out at this point to properly do anything but basically whimper and move his hips at this point.

you couldn't help the way your moans deepened, his dick felt so good and his grip was so strong it hurt. you're sure it'll leave bruises but you don't mind. he's so pathetic and pretty in this state, for a moment you were convinced you'd reach your high before him somehow with the way he was turning you on.

it didn't take him very long before he finally came undone. his moans had been so loud you were convinced you'd get a noise complaint. towards the end his moans were mixed in with a bunch of "fuck"s, "oh my God"s and you swore you heard an "I love you" thrown in there which was very adorable to you. he was always the type to get emotional and affectionate during release, it was one of your favorite things about him orgasming other than seeing a pretty boy cry. his face was so mesmerizing as he came, he looked so euphoric and at peace at least. he was hot and sweaty and he had tried his best to keep eye contact although it was hard for him to when the orgasm felt so good.

you continued bouncing on his dick as he filled you up with his cum, which in turn made your walls clench continously and helped drain him out more. it felt so good and dirty.

even after he was all emptied out, you continued to rock your hips back and forth. his cock was sensitive inside you and so he kept moaning softly, his body was slightly twitching from too much pleasure. you leaned in to kiss him, trying to reassure him through your moans that it'll be over soon.

"you did so good, pu-uppy," you moaned out.

he nodded and whimpered, "thank you, m-mommy."

you continued to chase your high and jaehyun attempted to help, but his drunken post-orgasm self struggled to do much for a while. he reached for your clit, trying to stimulate it but you ended up holding his hand in place and grinding against it.

somehow within the processes of trying to orgasm, jaehyun started to harden inside you again which definitely helped. having his dick inside you, hitting your g-spot while also having him touch your clit did wonders especially when you thought about the fact that his cum was still inside you.

when you finally orgasmed, your legs started shaking and your walls started clenching again in the process. it made jaehyun who was both sensitive and hard again moan very loudly once again. you leaned forwards, exhausted and satisfied. he wrapped his arms around you and thrust upwards into you a bit, overwhelming you a bit but managed to stop. you rolled over to your side to cuddle with his dick still in you, not wanting any of his cum to spill out of you.

"I want more," jaehyun pouted.

"mmh... do you think you can do this last part on your own, puppy?" you spoke softly, you wanted to satisfy him all on your own but you knew he wouldn't give you time to recover. even when jaehyun is tired and drunk you knew he'd muster up just enough energy to fuck himself into you so he could feel some satisfaction all over again.

"yes mommy," he quickly responded, not giving you much time to even think before he started chasing his own high once again. he shifted his body so that he was slightly on top of you and started rutting against you. he was sloppy and non-rhythmic, his drunken self moving up against you not caring for anything but his own pleasure. he lifted your thighs up and spread them slightly, wanting to go as deep as he could.

although you were the one who was always in control, he admittingly had more strength than you. you couldn't escape this situation even if you wanted to, a thought that excited you a little. him hitting your already sensitive spot hurt a little, which you throughly enjoyed as he kept thrusting in and out of you. he sloppily kissed you, all that could be heard in the room was the noise of skin slapping and his moans as he clashed his tongue against yours. again, you felt so good and dirty. you felt so used at the moment, doing nothing but taking in his cock and moaning softly as he kissed you.

as soon as he pulled back you knew he was going to orgasm once again, he filled you up with his cum once again. you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist and he let you, satisfied and tired out. his body gave out against yours. you let out small moans as you he thrust the last bits of his cum inside you. despite him still being inside you, you could feel his seed seep out of you. again, dirty, and there would be nothing you could or wanted to do about the sticky mess until morning (or even later if we're being honest).

for a few minutes, you laid there silently stroking the back of his head. you were convinced he had fallen asleep for a second, with his drunken breath against your neck. he had been so loud throughout the whole thing you forgot what silence felt like. that was until he hummed and softly kissed your neck.

"did you enjoy your last present, puppy?" you asked softly. he looked up at you nodded. you smiled a little, it's incredible how someone can seem do adorable before, during and after sex. he shifted himself off of you, you guys laid side by side with his cock still in you once again. he tried to get it out but you insisted on it staying in.

"you better give me it again next year," he slurred his words, his voice was deeper and raspier than usual. he was fighting sleep and it was noticeable.

"of course baby boy," you pecked his lips, "and every year after as well. now go to sleep."

"I love you."

"I love you too, myungjae. happy birthday."

© usahanamnesia