#every celebrity is pissing me off lately

[mythicalthing]

I fear chappell roan is becoming rather annoying

[rafesangelita]

hiii i was just reminded of this song & thought it was v angsty rafe coded so if you’re still accepting requests for your 5k celebration (congrats sm again btw!!!) may i req a 🍪 with sober by elita?

₊˚⊹ᰔ 𝐬𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫

pairing: dark!rafe x bambi!reader

summary: ❝when i'm with you i float on a cloud, but you cover my mouth and leave my legs bound. i'm scared that i gave you all of the control. i can't get up, i've dug myself into a hole.❞ — a back and forth match about rafe’s sobriety ends with him between your thighs.

warnings: dark themes, drug use, mentions of addiction and sobriety, arguing, yelling, rafe drugs you, dubcon (?), rough sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slapping, choking, crying, dacryphilia, no aftercare whatsoever :(

word count: 1.2k

a/n: this is out of the norm for me to write, pls read warnings carefully and don’t read any further if you’re not comfortable <3

“what are you doing?” you froze, eyes puffy and red from crying. rafe looked up from the small bag of blow between his fingers, his eyebrows knitting in irritation. “what the fuck does it look like?” he sneered, his knee bouncing as he itched for his next bump. you watched him take the white powder on his finger, wasting no time in rubbing the substance on his gums. your heart broke for him. “you said you were going to stop..” you stepped closer to him, the tears flowing once again.

“yeah? well, what else can i do?” he pushed you back, your hands catching onto his arm. “you promised me, rafe! you said it!” you cried, your boyfriend getting up before slamming you down on your shared bed. you released a breath, his manic eyes burning into yours. “look at you.” you whispered, his hand wrapped tightly around your throat. “how did we get here?” you croaked, panic settling in the pit of your stomach. rafe gritted his teeth, squeezing you tighter.

you started struggling against him, only being able to get out of his grip when you raked your nails down his chest. “you did this to yourself!” he shouted, punching the wall. “you choose to stay here, so i don’t ‘wanna hear shit.” rafe spat, turning around to shoot daggers at your crying form. “i just want you to be healthy. ‘n not high all the time.” you whispered the last part, your heart dropping when he narrowed his eyes at you. “what did you just say?” rafe stalked towards you.

“you know it’s true.” you scooted further up the bed, your heart hammering in your chest when he started laughing. “your eyes get so big, you scare me.” you flinched when he gripped the bedsheets, pulling them so he could get you close. “i scare you?” he laughed harder, “i’ll really give you something to be scared about.” you attempted to run, but he ultimately had the upper hand in caging you between his arms. “where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”

you shook your head, cupping his face. he looked like he was on the verge of going off the deep end. “no where! no where..” you were panting, afraid of what he might do. you had to be careful and watch your every move when rafe wasn’t in his right mind. any slip of tongue or the wrong movement would send him spiraling. “you trying to leave me?” his voice dropped a few octaves, his fingers shaking against your skin. “no. i could never leave you, remember?”

the fear in your eyes were as clear as day, and rafe knew you were lying out of instinct to stay on his good side. that only pissed him off more. swallowing thickly, rafe sat back on his heels, taking the small bag out of his pocket. “i didn’t want to do this to you, baby..” he took the tip of his finger and dipped it in. “but i promise you’ll feel so good.” with the powdery drug on his index finger, you started thrashing against him as he forced his digit inside of your mouth.

“no!” you screamed, but it was too late. rafe wore a wicked smile, popping the same finger in his mouth to get off the residue that didn’t smear against your tongue and gums. you stayed frozen underneath him, looking up at the ceiling as rafe got up from on top of you. not knowing where he went, or what he went to do, you laid there until you found it impossible to be still. getting up from the bed, you walked into the bathroom where you stared at your reflection.

your pupils were absolutely blown, a pang of hurt pulling at your heartstrings. you had given rafe so much control, that he did the unthinkable to you. speaking of the devil, you looked up at him as he emerged from behind the door, his eyes meeting your matching ones. he wore a smug look on his face, like he was proud of himself for corrupting you. “feel like you could run a marathon?” you were breathing fast, a thin sheen of sweat adorning your skin.

“how could you?” you turned around, his hands planting themselves on your hips. he felt hot, like his flesh was on fire. “don’t worry, bambi, you’ll be fine.” he kissed you, his taste just as intoxicating. if it wasn’t for the endorphins running through your veins at a million miles per minute, you would’ve pushed rafe away. instead, you felt like you needed to move, and fast. you kissed him back, the fervor between the two of you growing until he picked you up and carried you to your room.

nipping your bottom lip, you whimpered, the stinging sensation only making you cling onto rafe with more desperation. “gonna fuck you so good, baby. ‘have you coming down from that high around my cock.” he pinned you to the mattress, forcing your legs open as he slipped his shirt off in one swift movement. you gasped when he held both of your ankles in one hand, pushing down so your knees met your chest.

the sound of rafe’s zipper was the last thing you heard before he thrusted into you without warning, eliciting a piercing scream from your lips. he hadn’t got you ‘ready’ for him the way he normally did, your walls fluttering around the intrusion that was his throbbing cock. your back arched off of the sheets, your eyes watering as rafe merely used you to get himself off. he worked with precision, having no regard for you as he relentlessly slammed his hips into your own.

your nails dug into your skin, forming crescents as you cried underneath him. “rafe!” you tapped on his arm, which only agitated him. “shut the fuck up.” he said through gritted teeth, landing a slap to your cheek. holding your face, rafe looked down and groaned. he knew it was wrong to get off on you crying, but with lust and blow running through his system, he didn’t care. “you’re so mean.” you whined, your muscles aching as he started toying with your clit.

“i’m not mean. i’m the one who fuckin’ takes care of you,” he pressed a kiss to your calf, “so just lay there and take what i give you.” your eyes rolled back, your thighs trembling when his thrusts became sloppy. you hated yourself for falling into his ministrations, your orgasm ripping through you as rafe collapsed on top of you with a moan. “oh, shit.” he spilled inside of you, the thick ropes of his cum coating your velvety walls. he wiped your eyes before kissing your cheek.

you were coming down from both highs when he left you, the sound of the shower turning on in the nearby bathroom. you felt scared, not knowing what to think of your reaction to the drug you grew to hate so much. when rafe got out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he didn’t spare you a glance before changing and plopping down on the edge of the bed. “you make me lose my temper when you wanna argue about shit like that. keep your mouth shut next time.”

[talaok]

The carpet

pairing: Pedro Pascal x fem!reader

Summary: You and your husband Pedro prepare for a red carpet, but once you're there you have a wardrobe malfunction, luckily, he's there to help.

Warnings: just so much fluff for no reason

a/n: i havent written something for Pedro that wasnt a request in literally 9 months, but guess what the hyperfixation is hyperfixating lately and I just needed to write down what i've been daydreaming about all day.

"wow" he exhaled, closing the door behind him, his eyes trained on you.

You chuckled, looking at him from the mirror, as a choked "aww" escaped Linda, your make-up artist's, lips at the reaction.

You gave her a look and she just grinned, checking her work one final time before whispering "Seeing you two is better than watching any rom-com, I can't even remember the last time my Mark looked at me like that", making you laugh once more with a playful roll of your eyes.

"you look stunning sweetheart" Pedro breathed, right behind you now, his hands already on your waist

Another dreamy sigh fell out of Linda's lips before she decided it was time for her to go.

"i'll go wait downstairs then... leave you two lovebirds some time alone," she said, excitement piercing through her tone as if she was watching her daughter walk down the aisle.

"thank you Linda, we'll be down in a moment" You nodded, smiling sincerely at her as she started for the door.

But just when a foot was already out into the hallway, she turned around, a serious expression on her all of a sudden.

"And Pedro" she shot him a look "Just this once, try not to mess her lipstick up too much, will ya?" 

You couldn't help but laugh, loudly, wholeheartedly, but Pedro, ever so honest only answered with a "I can't make any promises Linda", before the poor woman groaned and shut the door behind her.

Just as the soft thud of the motion bumped from wall to wall, Pedro turned you around in one swift motion, getting to see your pretty face better.

"hi there" you smiled, placing your hands on his chest, softly playing with the hem of his tuxedo's jacket.

"hello sugar" he grinned, letting his eyes drink in all of you.

"You look handsome" you murmured, your right hand going to his face, feeling the soft stubble of his beard graze your palm.

"mhhh" he hummed, leaning closer already, much to Linda's disappointment "Well you know how it is... if my lady's gonna be the most beautiful woman on the red carpet I gotta step up my game"

You huffed out a laugh 

"'s that right?"

"need to at least try and look like you're not miles out of my league" he cocked an eyebrow, his hands on your waist pushing you flush against him.

"You're a bad man Pedo Pascal" you stifled a smirk "A bad, bad man" you whispered as his lips finally met with yours.

They were softer than usual, but heavenly just the same. 

His hold tightened on you and you melted right into his arms, whimpering weakly into his mouth, before after what was probably a good two minutes, he pulled away.

"we gotta go" you murmured

"I know" he groaned, half-heartedly leaning away.

And as you checked yourself in the mirror one last time, you couldn't help but chuckle, as your gaze fell to your lips.

"Oh Linda's gonna be pissed"

__ __ __

the carpet was booming tonight,

celebrities filled every inch of the crimson rug, and the flashes of the countless cameras pointed at you were so strong you swore they would have blinded you if you weren't so used to them.

You were posing to show off the gorgeous dress you were lucky enough to be wearing, and once you had exhausted all the poses you knew, you turned to your husband on the left as he offered you his hand, which you took with a smile, walking to his spot and leaving a soft kiss on his cheek the photographers seemed more than a little enthusiastic about.

But as you posed together, his arm on your back drawing soothing circles, an almost inaudible pop made its way to your ears, and all the sudden some pressure was gone from your chest, and when you looked down... when you looked down the button that was holding the two pieces of fabric covering your boobs had popped, and said fabric was starting to fall.

"oh my god" you blurted, but before you could do anything, your reflexes slowed down by the shock, Pedro's hand found your chest, salvaging the falling pieces of the dress.

"I-" you stuttered, not knowing what to say, or do as he moved in front of you, his broad build doing a hell of a good job of shielding you from the photographers

"I was about to flash so many people" you finally breathed, your voice faint.

"yeah" he said, trying, really trying to suppress the chuckle down his throat, but failing miserably "Yeah you were sweetheart" he laughed softly, his hand still holding your dress.

"are you- don't laugh!" you gasped, although with one look at your face, you could feel a bubble of laughter making its way up your thoat "It's not funny" you smiled, chuckling too now.

"no" he shook his head, sarcasm spilling out of his every pore " there's nothing remotely funny about this sugar, absolutely" he smiled, making you want to roll your eyes

"hold the dress for a sec" he said, having you do just that as he took his jacket off and instead, put it on you.

"thank you" you smiled, looking up at him.

"you just worry about keeping that jacket closed" he murmured, kissing your cheek "I've already seen too many men's eyes wondering a bit too much"

"oh shut up" you laughed, rolling your eyes as he escorted you off what must have been the worst red carpet of your life.

"Whatever you say flash" he laughed, obviously very proud of his own joke

"god I hate you so much" you sighed, smiling widely into his chest nonetheless.

[joelhoney]

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads. 

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.” 

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?” 

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past. 

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.” 

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages. 

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately. 

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts. 

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous. 

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained. 

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom. 

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on. 

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his. 

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight. 

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—” 

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him. 

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small. 

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.” 

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts.  The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever. 

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

[pinksturniolo]

Switch - Chris and Matt Sturniolo (Part One)

Chris x Matt and Fem Reader

Summary: Cherry Bomb - The largest underground BDSM club in Los Angeles, California. Its member list is extremely exclusive, only granting access to celebrities, influencers and the filthy rich. No one really cares who you are or what you do, they come for one thing and one thing only. Whatever happens at the Cherry stays at the Cherry….

Content warnings: smut, oral, fingering, protected sex, bondage, spanking, teasing, threesome

this story has heavy themes and descriptions of bdsm, so if you’re not comfortable with that pls don’t read <3

word count: 3,879

Neon lights bounce off the shiny black walls, loud music playing but not too loud that you can’t hear what the blonde guy next to you is saying. He’s been talking your ear off for the last 20 minutes, while you zone out, sipping on your lemon club soda. This was the only time you wished they served alcohol here so you could at least be tipsy enough to endure the men that have been approaching you tonight.

Your usual partner hasn’t shown up yet and you have already been here for almost an hour. You try to ignore the slight ache in your chest though, focusing your attention back to the man next to you.

“So, how long you been coming here?” He asks.

“About 6 months now.” You reply.

“Damn, I feel like an amateur." He laughs, “This is only my second time.”

Obviously.

You hated to think so rudely but every person you’ve talked to tonight just wasn’t the one you preferred. You were starting to get extremely impatient, wondering where he was. He was never late.

As if your internal monologue has been heard by a higher power, you feel a hand on the back of your neck and turn in your seat to see the same man you were just thinking of. He has a dark look on his face as he eyes the person next to you.

“I don’t think she’s very interested buddy, why don’t you go bother some other poor girl.” He says to him, his hand now curling around your shoulder possessively.

The blonde guy’s face reddens with embarrassment as he quickly scrambles up from his chair. “Sorry man, I didn’t know she was yours.” he says and quickly walks off.

You scoff as your partner sits next to you, ordering a water from the waitress.

“That was unnecessary.” You say, his face still annoyed as he relaxes into the chair, his arm still slung around the back of you. He takes a long sip of his water, avoiding looking at you. You see his jaw clench and he runs a hand through his hair before speaking.

“What were you doing talking to that loser anyways?” He finally asks, making eye contact with you and he looks pissed.

“Oh my god, are you jealous Matt? Maybe you should’ve been here on time before other guys had the chance to talk to me.” you reply, a teasing smile appearing on your face.

He then grabs the side of your chair, pulling it forcefully towards him, causing you to gasp out. Your thighs are touching, and his hand moves from the back of your chair to the nape of your neck, sliding up to knot his fingers in your hair and pull slightly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t entertain other men when I’m not around and wait patiently for me like a good girl. Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to? Hm?” He whispers in your ear threateningly. Your core pulses with arousal at his words, his warm breath on your neck causing tingles to shoot down your spine.

So of course, this leads to you replying with a smart remark, which makes him take you to the candy room and punish you until you beg for forgiveness.

There were numerous rooms in the club that members could use, their time limit being an hour. But the main rooms that were larger and you could reserve for however long you wanted (at a high price) were only four. The star room, the red room, the flower room and the candy room.

The candy room is where you and Matt spend most of your encounters together at the Cherry Bomb. However, there’s nothing sweet about it besides the name. Its walls are painted red, a black bed with silk sheets in the middle and glossy black floors. There’s a cabinet of floggers, ropes, leather and fuzzy cuffs, vibrators and anything else you can imagine.

There’s no particular reason why it’s your favorite but Matt has been reserving it for you since you met him here and it’s become a routine on a Saturday night, twice a month.

Cherry Bomb has been around since the late 80s and has done a particularly good job at keeping its participants a secret, mainly due to the NDA you have to sign upon your first entry, along with a recent STD panel and heavy entrance fee. They also prohibited alcohol and drug use.

You were referred by one of your friends, which made it easier for you to get in. The money was no issue for you, but the wait list was long and having a friend on the inside had its benefits.

You instantly loved it from the first time you came. The atmosphere wasn’t grungy or too dark like you would expect a typical sex club to be. No one seemed to care who you were here, there was no judgement, and it was a safe place to act out your wildest fantasies, with whoever you choose.

You had had experiences with a couple different men and women, all which were satisfying for the most part. Most people had a habit of choosing a particular partner and being loyal to them, while others constantly swapped, not staying with one person too long.

When you met Matt, you instantly clicked, and found something in him that you hadn’t felt with any other member. He approached you one night, his demeanor confident but also calm. The energy flowed between you two, and once he got you to the room alone, it was fireworks. He was very clear on consent being an important aspect and boundaries were established before anything else.

Matt was a switch, like you. While most of the time he preferred to be dominate, he could also be submissive which was heaven to you. You loved it when he took control, using your body however he pleased, and he knew the best way to handle your brattiness. Because as much as it felt good to submit to him, you also had a fiery attitude which only made the pleasure of his punishment better.

He made you beg till you cried, spanked you so hard you had marks for weeks, and would tie you to the bed and fuck you until your brain was fuzzy, and your throat was raw from screaming his name. Making you cum over and over again until you were numb.

But when he was the submissive for the night… it was a whole different experience. There was nothing better than the feeling of him begging you to please him, demanding him to do whatever you wanted. Edging him until he was whimpering for you, teasing him and seeing how much he enjoyed it. Nothing compared.

And the best part about Matt that you liked, was that he always took the time to make sure you had the proper after care after each session. Cleaning you up, getting you water if you needed it, and even massaging your body if he went particularly hard on you that night.

He was currently holding you after tonight's session was done, rubbing small soothing circles on your back, your head cradled against his chest. You can hear his heart beating at a relaxed pace, calming you as your own heart slows down to match his tempo.

He breaks the sweet silence, his velvety voice pulling you out of your trance. “Y/N… I have a question for you.”

“Mhm?” You mumble, your fatigue settling in.

“How do you feel about a threesome?” He says, his hand stroking over the top of your head.

You’re alert now, lifting your head to turn and look at him. His eyes are half closed, a lazy smile on his face as he waits for your answer.

“I think it’s pretty hot. Is that something you want to do?” You reply.

“Are you comfortable with that?” He asks.

“I’ve experienced them before, yes. Depends… who would it be with?”

His bottom lip is pulled in between his teeth, a contemplative look on his face.

“I know someone that’s interested. In you. He’s always wanted to come to Cherry but he’s hesitant.” Matt says and your heart rate picks up a little at his words.

“He’s interested in me?” You ask, surprised at the fact that Matt talks about you outside of the club. That would be breaking the NDA.

He strokes his hand over the side of your face, caressing your jaw with his fingers. His eyes are soft, like they always are at the end of the night, adoring you with affection.

“Sorry, princess. I know I’m technically not supposed to talk to anyone about this. But I trust him… and I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you would be upset.” He says.

You sit up now, fully facing him, and place your arms on either side of him, one hand resting on his chest and the other on his bicep.

“I know, I’m not upset. I’m flattered actually.” You say, smirking, the idea of what he’s proposing piquing your curiosity.

“Mm. Don’t get too cocky. But if you would like to try it out, I’ll tell him to come with me next time.” He tells you.

Your mind races at the thought of a threesome with him and another man, wondering how exactly that would change the dynamic between you two. Matt could be a little possessive and you were more than satisfied with just him as your partner but it made you think of how he would be able to share you. It excites you. He must trust this other person a lot.

“Who is it?” You ask him and he clicks his tongue, shaking his head at you with an amused look.

“It’s a surprise.”

✰✿

You return to Cherry Bomb two weeks later, more nervous than you had been any other time you’ve come. But your anticipation outweighs your nerves as you sit at the bar, patiently waiting for Matt. You’re wearing a skin tight black lace dress that’s basically see through, showing your matching black lingerie set underneath. Sleek red heels are on your feet, your hair falling in soft loose waves that frame your face and a light coat of mascara through your eyelashes.

You took the time to put extra effort into your appearance tonight, and practically everyone in the club notices, staring at you as they wander around. But you pay no mind, your focus on the soda in front of you. Matt would be fuming with rage if he knew you were entertaining anyone else tonight and usually you would play with fire but given the special circumstances, you decided not to mess with him tonight.

The waitress hands you a note, pulling you out of your thoughts. She smiles at you politely before walking off, attending to another customer.

Meet me in the red room.

It’s Matt’s handwriting. He’s never done this before, always meeting you at the bar and then escorting you to your usual room. Your palms sweat as you stand from your chair and make your way to the large room at the end of the hall with the red door.

The red room. It was the largest room in the club, and the only one you hadn’t been in before. You’ve heard rumors of how luxurious it was which is why it was so hard to book. How Matt was able to get it tonight, you’re not sure.

You take a deep breath and adjust your dress, pushing the door open. The cool air of the room hits you, tiny goosebumps erupting on your skin. Your heart picks up speed at the sight of Matt centered directly at the center edge of the bed. He’s also dressed in all black, his eyes roaming up and down your body in hunger as you saunter over to him.

Wait. Is that Matt? You pause in front of him, a few feet away. His hair is longer, and his face is extremely similar but with a slight difference. And his aura is arrogant. But when you make eye contact with him, you feel butterflies gather in your stomach, his blue eyes making you drown with attraction. It’s the same feeling Matt gives you but there’s something different about him.

You now realize it’s not Matt at all.

The smug smile on his lips that’s been growing since he noticed the confusion on your face only widens, his hands gripping the sides of the bed, making the muscles in his arm flex. He looks incredibly strong.

“Looking for someone?” He asks teasingly and you can already feel the pool of wetness growing by the second in your underwear.

“Where’s Matt?” You ask sweetly, tilting your head. Your arms are crossed and your eyes narrow, fighting the smile that threatens to break through.

Let the games begin.

The stranger in front of you chuckles, leaning back on his arms now, his legs spreading slightly in jeans. He licks his lips, looking you up and down again. You can’t help but do the same.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Don’t like what you see?” He says, his bottom lip stuck out in a fake pout.

You smile at him, mocking the tone in his voice. “I prefer princess.”

He laughs lowly, biting his lip and looks behind you. “You weren’t lying when you said she was a brat.” He says and you whip your head around, shocked to see Matt sitting in the love seat at the corner of the room.

You hadn’t noticed him at all when you walked in, given the darkness of the room and the fact he was so quiet during your exchange.

Matt has a blank expression, not looking at you. “Call her whatever you want, Chris.”

You can see that he’s dressed in a plain white shirt and black jeans. It’s simple, like the clothes he usually wears but he still looks incredible.

You’re still turned towards him, giving Chris a full view of your ass now, which you’re sure he’s appreciating.

“I didn’t know you had a twin.” You tell him, your eyebrows raised in amusement.

The corners of his lips twitch as he fights a smile, exchanging a look with Chris that you can’t decipher. “There’s a lot of things about me you don’t know.”

He gets up from his seat now and crosses the room to where you are. You’re about to respond with a witty remark but he’s suddenly gripping your arms, turning you around forcefully to face Chris again.

Your ass is pressed into his crotch, and you feel him harden against you. You gasp lightly as he places his mouth next to your ear, whispering lowly.

“That’s enough from you, Princess. I suggest you keep your mouth shut unless it’s a yes or no. Understand?”

You nod slowly, and Chris watches with fascination at the way Matt handles you. You can see how visibly turned on he is, his boner straining through his jeans.

You’re more aroused than you’ve ever been, the feeling of Matt’s strong grip on your arms, as he places soft wet kisses on the curve of your neck and the look in Chris’ eyes as they burn into yours, his pupils blown out.

“Are you comfortable? You know your safe word, right?” He asks you, his tone a little lighter. He wraps one hand around your throat, the other on your left hip and squeezes.

“Yes.” You breathe. “Good.” He replies, releasing you completely and you feel him back up from behind you. “Now get on your knees.”

Your heart races as you sink down, Chris’ eyes following your every moment. He hasn’t taken them off you since you entered the room and something in his eyes made you very nervous but incredibly excited at the same time.

Matt is now seated on the opposite side of the room, in a large leather chair. He’s directly in front of you now, to the side of Chris. You sit obediently on your knees, your eyes still focused on him as he speaks his next set of instructions.

“Why don’t you show Chris how you put that mouth to good use.” he says, nodding his head for you to continue.

You swallow and look away from Matt now, to see an enticing smirk on his brother’s face. He spreads his legs farther open as he adjusts himself on the bed, unbuckling his belt from his jeans. He places it on the mattress next to him and pulls his jeans down and off his legs.

You scoot closer to him, positioning yourself between his legs, your hands resting on top of his thighs. The look in your eyes is enough to get his heart racing like yours, and he curls a finger under your chin, tugging your face closer to him as he leans down.

“Let me taste your lips, sweetheart.” He says softly and connects his mouth to yours.

Now you can tell the real difference between them. Matt is harsh, yet caring. His energy penetrates you with a feeling of deep connection, a tie that binds you to him in one more ways then one. The trust you two have built over the past few months comes through when your bodies mesh with one another. He knows just what to say to please you and you in return, love to obey his every wish and command.

But Chris… he kisses you like he’s starving. He’s sweet, yet strong. It’s all new territory to explore, and you can almost taste the desperation on his tongue. His hands are soft against your face, warmth flooding your body at the feeling of his touch. You wonder just how much Matt has expressed to him, what secrets he’s revealed about all the sinful, delicious acts you’ve conceived with him in the candy room.

Chris is magnetic, his wet, hot kisses making you ache in your core. He finally pulls away from you, his jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed in a dark look. “Take your dress off.” He speaks.

You pull it off with no hesitation, up and over your head, now in your lingerie beneath him.

He drinks in the sight of your half naked body, your tits pushing against your bra, the hem of your black thong high on your hips and you slip your heels off.

He pulls his dick out, red tip leaking with precum already. He’s practically the same length as Matt, with a little more girth. It’s a little intimidating but your needs overpower, your mouth watering as you look at him.

You open your mouth, puckering your lips to let a pool of saliva drip down onto his length and you make eye contact with Matt, the look he gives you making a spark run through you.

Chris groans as you look back at him, spreading your spit down him with your hand before you wrap your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue. “Shit… feels so fucking good.” He rasps.

His chest is moving up and down as he breathes deeply, exhaling from his nose as he grits his teeth, and you take him further into your mouth. It’s a little hard to adjust to his size but you do, bobbing your head as he brushes the back of your throat, making you gag slightly.

He moans loudly, bucking his hips up slightly. He pulls your hair back from your face, holding it into a ponytail, tightly, pulling at your hair a little. This makes you moan in return around him, his eyes rolling into the back of his head at the pleasure. The air in the room is thick now, the sounds of Chris fucking your mouth and his groaning filling the space. You can feel Matt’s stare on you, and your knees dig into the softness of the shaggy black carpet, your grip on Chris’s thighs tightening.

“Fuck.” He pants, and moves his hands down your back, your body bending slightly so your ass poked out, allowing him access to feel you up. He caresses the flesh of your cheeks, massaging them before he brings one hand down to smack you.

You jolt slightly, not expecting him to do that, and hum around him, your thighs clenching.

“Yeah? You like that?” he says, smacking you once more, making it sting a little. You make another noise of approval, his cock still stuffed down your throat but then pull out, with a response you’re later bound to regret. “Not hard enough.”

You look up through your lashes at him and your heart races from how mad he looks. When Matt gets that mad, his eyes glaze over, and his face is cold. But Chris smiles. Even though his eyes are hard, there’s a grin on his face that says, ‘You have no idea what you just started.’  It’s insanely attractive.

He then reaches next to him, the metal of his belt clanking. He folds it, and you see the genuine leather thick in his hand.

He grabs the back of your head, knotting his fingers in your hair. “Did I tell you to stop?”

You glance at Matt and his hand palms over the hardness in his jeans, his other hand gripping on the arm of the chair.

Fuck.

You take Chris into your mouth again, your ass in the air for him. He sighs as he slips back down your throat, dragging the belt across you. He does this agonizingly slow, your head working on him. Finally, he slaps your it on your ass, hard. You moan loudly, your nails digging into his thighs. “How’s that, princess?”

You breathe out hard from your nose, the harsh sting of the belt lingering. Chris rubs his hand over your cheek, soothing the skin there, allowing you a few seconds of relief before he brings it down against you again, a loud smack ringing in the air.

You cry out, tears forming in your eyes and bring your head up slightly, gasping for air.

See, the pain… the pain sucked. You saw red each time you were punished like this but after the few seconds of hurt passes, you feel a rush of euphoria, and tingles of pleasure you just can’t get enough of.

“Hm? Don’t got anything to say now? Is this what you wanted?” Chris says, his large hands squeezing and rubbing you, before bringing his belt down once more against you. All you can do now is whimper, your actions on Chris at a complete stop, while you grip his thighs, tears now streaming down your face, mascara running.

You look up at him through your pitiful tears, his teeth sunken into his bottom lip so hard it almost draws blood. Your face is flushed, lips red and swollen. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.” He whispers and your heart flutters at his compliment.

You wonder if Matt heard and flick your gaze to him again. His jeans are unbuttoned now, his black boxers showing, his hand still on himself but not moving. He smirks, enjoying the fucked out look on your face.

Chris then grips your jaw in his hand, forcing you to look back at him.

“What do you think Matt? Think she deserves to cum?”

“Give her what she wants.” He replies.

a/n: soooo this one was supposed to be a full one shot but i had to split it into two parts or else it was gonna be too long lol i had this idea in my head i just had to write it out, so i promise i'll work on the final part of my matt series soon!!

taglist <3 :

@christhopersturniolo @sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @junnniiieee07 @junovrsmp4 @sturnsjtop @seahorsie11 @inveigledvex @honestlyjb @mattslolita @stingerayyy2 @glassesmattsbae @eryismum @sturncakez @sturnioloco @wh0resstuff @muwapsturniolo

[taylormarieee]

Dollar bills and love Billionaire!Miguel O'Hara

🎶I'ma take her bougie ass to Rodeo and then let her pick up whatever she want. CC, Gucci, hit Bottega, whatever she want She piss me off, somehow she still get whatever she want🎶

Summary: You were bratty all day, no matter what Miguel tried to do, take you shopping, buy you food, he even bought you puppies, you were still bratty so he decided maybe fucking it out of you would do the trick.

Pairing: Husband!Billionaire!Miguel x Fem!Entrepreneur!reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Dom!Miguel, sub!reader, annoyed Miguel, bratty reader, PiV sex, oral(f), rough sex, mentions of arguing, Miguel being considerate, Miguel being slightly mean, degrading kink, praise kink, pussy whipped Miggy, mentions of height difference (reader is 5'7 Miguel is a 6'9 kingggg!), established relationship(there married), kinda angst/sadness, animal awareness(please be kind to animals, there so precious and adorable, especially puppies.)

A/N: I'm in the writing mood lol, ENJOY!

Miguel was the best husband you honestly could ever ask for. He was kind and so loving and caring. He was the opposite of what you thought about him when you first saw him.

You own your own business called Size Flows. It's a business for making clothes for plus sized people. Many plus sized people don't get to have clothes like that.

They have to fit in clothes that don't define their curves and beauty properly because the clothes are made for skinnier people. So one day when you decided to throw a party for the celebration of your business being a success you didn't expect much.

Yes, you did send flyers out but you didn't think they were going to reach the higher-higher staff and people in the world. So when famous billionaires and Multi-billionaires and millionaires started showing up into your building, you were shocked,

One of those billionaires happened to be, Lord and Behold, Miguel O'Hara. You were intimidated by him for quite some time at the party. He was tall! That was a fact. He also looked annoyed and mean.

Not really engaging in a lot of conversation like the others did. I mean yeah, the party was at night but it wasn't that late and the party didn't go on for too long so people didn't start getting bored of each other in there.

Eventually you decided to make conversation with him because why not (though you did notice most people cowered and scurried away from him when walking by). So when you arrived at his feet it took about 3 looks to finally meet his eyesight.

He was staring down at you with a tight lipped smile and you looked at him with a wide, happy, inviting one. Your signature smile at most, as that's what your assistant Alexandria says.

"Hello! You must be Miguel! I've heard a lot about you and your work and I must say, I'm intrigued to know just a little at how your mind works.

Miguel had a completely different company from yours, obviously. Yours was about clothes, he built his own museum. It was about like history and about Aerodynamics. The museum was impressive and it was large. I'm talking like, really LARGE!

You honestly couldn't help yourself. You visited the museum about 13 times. A couple with your friends who were into that stuff and like twice with your family and other times with your co-workers who wanted to go on their lunch break. You introduced yourself by saying your name or at least trying to before he cut you off.

"I'm very pleased to meet you Miguel, my name is-" you start off.

"I know who you are hermosa. I've seen your face on the cameras at my museum every time you go." He says.

Your eyes widen. You were so shocked by the cameras bit you didn't even register the intimate name he gave you. 'He's in charge of the cameras. And he's seen me over and over again!?' you thought in shock.

"Your honestly probably one of my most frequent visitors besides a bunch of college boys." he says with a polite smile on his face that makes you feel the need to laugh. He chuckles and laughs with you.

"wow, so you're frequent with the cameras huh?" you ask in a playful tone. He chuckles as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

"Yea, if you say so. I like to make sure my museum is safe and the guests are happy." he responds with a seriousness in his tone.

"Well, I mean coming from number one guest, I must say... I'm extremely happy every time I see the front of the building. Just so eager to go inside."

He laughs again and for the first time, you see a twinkle in his eyes. You guys talk for the rest of the night to the point you're the only two left in the building.

He kindly walks you to your car, which you were forever grateful for and that night ended and more frequent ones with him in it began until you two finally got married.

You were more happy in your life now than you have ever been before. You have the hottest man in the world to wake up to every morning and to say goodnight to every night.

That was three years ago and now, your here dragging Miguel everywhere, looking and searching for stuff you don't need.

Miguel was pissed at you because you were being a bit bratty today. You weren't satisfied and you constantly gave him attitude and sass. He was slowly loosing his patience and his temper the more and more bratty you got.

It got to the point he yelled at you and told you to get in the car both of you arguing for a good 20 minutes on why you were being so bratty and why he was being so annoying and grumpy.

He took you to a pet store. He bought you a tiny little bedazzled blue collar and then told you, "Pick." he said just standing in front of the dog pen with a bunch of puppies running around your legs.

"w-what?" you ask quietly, some forms of your attitude gone. "Pick. One." he says sternly with his jaw clenched. You feel slight fear but get filled with excitement when you see the two puppies you've been wanting forever!

A Corgi and a Yorkshire terrier! They were the cutest puppies to you, well that's a lie, you wanted every puppy in this store but it's not that Miguel wouldn't buy them all, it's the responsibility and care you have to have for them.

The hours you work make it difficult to buy every single one. "Miggy," you start, batting your eyelashes at him, "Can I get them all?" you ask.

There were like 15 dogs in here and you wanted every single one. "mami, no. You can get 2." he negotiates. You pout and your bratty attitude comes back.

"no! I want them all! If not then how about like 8?" you argue the amount with him. He rolls his eyes, once filled with sincerity and love now filled with anger and annoyance.

He usually wasn't annoyed with you when you got like this sometimes but he had a really bad day a work and you arguing with him didn't make it any better.

"No, two. No more negotiating mama." he says as calmly as he can because the last thing he wanted was you flinching and crying at his temper and how scary he got.

He did that once and the last time he did it, you didn't utter a proper word to him face to face for a month. He made you so scared and for a second when he raised his hand you flinched.

You genuinely thought he was going to hit you. He immediately stopped raising his voice at you after that. You allow it sometimes when you're arguing but you don't raise your voice at him that much because you know his temper and his patience.

"ok, how about 4? is that ok??!" you ask with those puppy dog eyes and that cute little pout he loves to see in different circumstances if you know what I mean.

"ok mama, and that's it." You get 4 collars for their genders one pink, one red, one green, and one violet. You got a Dachshund, a Yorkshire terrier, and a French bulldog and a Shih Tzu.

-The Dachshund was a boy and you named him lucky. (he got the red collar.)

-The Shih Tzu was a girl and you named her princess. (she obvi got the pink collar)

-The French bulldog was also a girl and you named her cleo. (she got the purple collar)

-The Yorkshire terrier was the last you chose and he was a boy and you named him stripe. (the name is because he was black and had a brown stripe on his face and he obvi got the green collar)

"That'll be $1,375 sir. And would you like to donate to charity for dogs in need?" she asks with a smile on her face.

"Ok, and yes I would like to donate!" Miguel responds with a smile on his face matching hers.

"Oooo! No Miguel! Can I do it instead? Oh, please hermoso, lemme do it!" you beg you wanted to be part of that cause.

"Ok hermosa, go ahead but lemme pay for the doggy bowls and the food and all the beds and everything else ok?"

"Miguel that means i'll have to buy something! Leave the doggy bowls out, I'll buy them because you'll have to press decline." You explain to him.

"No, I'll pay some to charity and then you pay some." He says smiling glad that your attitude is over.

"If you both don't mind me asking, how much are you donating? I run the charity and I'm just curious." The lady who you now know her name to be Sam, asks.

"Oh I'm paying 500,000 dollars." Miguel says nonchalantly like it's nothing. Her mouth drops.

"And i'm paying 600,000." I add with a smile on my face. Miguel dips his head back down at me and narrows his eyes like it's a competetion.

"Never mind 700,000." he says eyeing me up and down.

"800,000"

"900,000"

"1,000,000" I say finally winning.

"I'll pay 900,00 Sam." Miguel says smiling at her. The lady is crying now and you rush over to hug her.

"Oh poor thing. I have just as much love for dogs as you do. My dog died a couple weeks ago and i've been dying for a new one. That's why we're here so i'm glad we were able to help." You reassure her hugging her.

She mutters a sorry for your loss as she's fighting back tears and you smile feeling tears run down you face as well. Animals were such a big part of life and they brought so many people happiness.

To see the way so many people mistreat animals really crushes your heart. You both pay and walk away with happy smiles and 4 happy puppies with a new home.

You wave to the other employees as they finally realize who you and Miguel were. They asked for pictures and hugs. You gave that to them and then bid them a farewell.

"Thank you Miguel, I really needed this." You say with more tears in your eyes. His face softens and he hugs you and kisses your head. "It's ok baby. I have one more surprise for you at home." He says with a smirk on his face.

You decided to be a tease. The entire car ride you acted bratty and all mad because he wouldn't let you get all the puppies.

You knew exactly what the surprise was so that's why you acted like this. The surprise was sex, you knew it was. That smirk he had on his face in the pet store showed it. He was horny and now frustrated so that only meant one thing...

ROUGH SEX! You loved rough sex with Miguel so much. He would always degrade you and then praise you. He was just so bipolar during sex but whenever you made him real mad and pushed his limits like you are right now,

It always led to hateful, angry sex, well maybe not hateful but really angry, rough sex.

"Get out." He says through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. Your eye's go wide still keeping up with the act. "No Miguel! This conversation isn't over." You say stubbornly sitting in your seat.

"Fine. Then I'm getting out and I'm going to feed the dogs you're neglecting right now." He says with an eyebrow raised and a shrug.

You gasp and cross your arms over your chest. Your body and the car slightly shakes with Miguels slam to the door.

"what a jerk." You mutter under your breath but sometimes you forget your husband has super hearing and you also have a trunk, that happened to be open...

SMUT INCOMING: MDNI!!!!!

"Hmm love? What was that? Oh. I'm a jerk? mhmm mami, I'll show you a jerk." He says in that sultry smooth voice that had your knees buckling, every. single. time.

You let out a sigh as you watch him go into the house( aka a big ass mansion.) You wait until he goes fully inside. He closes the door but you still wait a little just for good measure.

When you walk in, something pushes you against the wall and Miguels lips are instantly on you roughly. You whimper and he grips your throat.

Your hand rushes to his hand around your throat and he growls biting your bottom lip, drawing it back before letting it spring back to it's original place.

His grip on your neck only tightens as he pushes his crotch against you. He flips you around roughly and your face and front part of your body hits the wall hard, his hand still on your neck.

You moan at the feeling of his crotch pressed against your ass now. "You wanted me to be a jerk right? Your so fucking ungrateful baby but damn are you beautiful." he growls in your ear, clearly fed up with your bratty attitude.

"Guess daddy is gonna have to fuck that attitude out of you huh? ¿Es eso lo que quieres, puta sucia?" He asks you. You loved when he dirty talked to you in spanish, it turned you on so much.

"Mhmm, want you to fuck it outta me papi." you say in return, your voice low and seductive. He grins against your neck before biting it roughly. causing you to. cry. out.

He licks over the bite and you whimper, your legs clenching to find some sort of friction. "Nuh uh mamacita, no trying to please your self. Spread em open baby." He says in a soft voice he didn't have a second ago.

You hesitantly oblige and spread your legs. "Good girl, look at that, mi niña bonita es tan buena para mí." he says proudly.

you smile to yourself before he's picking you up over his shoulder and carrying you up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

"Miggy, i-i'm sorry, I won't be bratty again! I promise." You beg him with pleading eyes when he rests you in the bedroom, on top of the bed as he slowly climbs on top of you.

"No. Don't do that. That's what you said last week, and last month. Every time you beg, I have mercy on you and let it slide, not today baby. Me lo tomarás como una buena chica, ¿verdad?"

"Yes daddy, I'll take it like a good girl for you! I promise, i'm sorry."you respond. His hand trails up. and down your body agonizingly slow and it's making you anxious and needy.

"mhm, daddy, can you fuck me now, please?" you beg. He looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, mi amor. Shut up, and maybe I will." He says roughly. Your eyes start to tear up, not from his words but from his actions.

I mean, I guess you deserve it but he didn't have to be this slow. You stay quiet for the next 20 minutes? you don't even know anymore cuz you lost count.

He finally dips his head, kissing down your stomach, your clothes long gone. He finally reaches where you want him. His warm tongue flat against your soaking cunt.

You let out a relieved sigh, "mhmm thank you thank you thank you miggy." you chant out breathlessly.

his tongue dips inside of you and that alone has you winded. Your breathing his ragged and your hands immediately flying to his hair as you tug on it.

"What'd I say, hmm love? shut up or I stop." He says sternly, your cunt now feeling empty without his tongue. He licked and sucked and prodded at your entrance multiple times.

Soon making you come undone. Your legs closed around his head and you cried out as he licked up every single drop you had, not letting any at all go to waste.

Once he stood back up and met your teary eyes, he smiled. Not a genuine, happy smile, no. It was this smirk that he made when he knew he won, when he knew that he had your little mind wrapped around his finger.

He begins moving the belt to his pants and all you hear is a grunt. You don't even register his cock slipping and sliding through your slick folds.

"Joder mi amor, te sientes tan apretado a mi alrededor." he moans out as he slides his cock into your entrance. You feel so tight around him. Like virgin tight.

"Gonna beat this pussy real nice baby, No quiero que camines por el resto del fin de semana. No walking at all mama." He whimpers when your walls clench around him.

He's pounding now. First it was small, slow thrusts to ease you into it but your pussy is just too addicting. Miguel was so lost in your pussy, he doesn't even realize how hard he's pounding in to you.

His pace unrelenting, even after he made you cum for a second time. Your pussy feeling overstimulated and sore but Miguel is too entranced to care, constantly muttering out cure words and how good you feel wrapped around him.

You felt your orgasm coming as your walls fluttered around him again. He groaned at the feeling and roughly thrusted into you yet again.

"This pussy is all mine, such a fucking brat. Now look who's a mess over my cock hmm hermosa? Mierda, eres una jodida puta para mí, cariño." he says aggressively, enunciating his words with his thrusts.

You scream out and chant Miguels name over and over again while your orgasm rushes through you. you claw at his back and pull on his hair. You've left little tiny crescent shapes in his biceps.

He finally cums inside you at the same time and he releases this animalistic, primal groan and you shudder at the sound. You moan when you feel his hot warm load burst inside you.

"Fuck Miguel." you pant out before sleep over comes you. You were so weak and so tired.

It's a little later in the night, 12:32 to be exact. You look at the clock and then look behind you to find a sleep Miguel with his arm under your head and the other keeping you close resting on your stomach.

You turn until your face is in his chest. You had Miguels shirt on and underwear. He's so sweet, he must've cleaned you up when you passed out.

Your hands run through his hair lightly and you smile at his resting face. You kiss his face, then his nose, then his lips and the his neck.

You loved everything about Miguel and you hope he knows it. How tall he was compared to you, how he had such a sweet soul behind that mean facade. Everything about him was drop-dead gorgeous.

If you had the option to relive one memory with Miguel, It would be the first time you met him. So kind and such a gentlemen.

Taglist: @oharaslover @ribbonprincess @willyoubemycherryy @cherryredstarsreblogs /@cherryredstars @versatilehater @dustbunniess / @evbunnie

[lemoncrushh]

I Miss You

Summary: You've grown frustrated and lonely because Harry is always busy.

Warnings: angst, light masturbation, oral - 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 1949

A/N: Another old blurb from my 2016 collection. Similar to Too Long. Famous Harry x reader.

He was late. Again. Harry had missed dinner. Again.

It was the third time this week, and though he'd called to tell you so, you were tired of sitting alone at the dining room table, or resolving to bringing your plate to the sofa with the TV just so you'd have some company. A couple weeks ago when he'd had to work late, you were already asleep when he'd come home, climbing into bed behind you and pulling you flush against his body while he whispered his apologies in your ear. That time you'd forgiven him, as you'd rolled over onto your back, getting a glimpse of his face in the moonlight through the curtains. He'd made love to you then, every resentment you'd felt stripping away.

That was the last time you'd had sex. And now the resentments were flooding back.

He was a celebrity, you got that. And you weren't angry at him for that really. His work demanded a lot from him, and you were proud of him. But you had to admit you wanted your own time with him too. Time that was yours and yours alone, where you didn't have to share him.

You'd just finished cleaning up in the kitchen, had turned off the lights and were headed upstairs when you heard the front door unlock. You stopped on the middle step, clutching the banister so hard that your knuckles were white.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice low, shutting the door behind him. "Good, you're still up."

"I've already eaten, sorry," you muttered. "Dinner's in the kitchen."

"That's okay, love," he replied, crossing the room to stand at the bottom of the stairs. "I didn't expect you to wait for me."

"Didn't figure," you said with a frown.

When you turned around and continued to ascend the stairs, Harry called your name. You reached the landing before you turned to glare down at him. He could certainly sense that you were perturbed.

"Something wrong?" he inquired.

"Nope," you shook your head. "Just tired. Think I'll get ready for bed."

"Oh," Harry mouthed. "Alright then. I'd say I'd be joining you soon, but I still have some things to work on and phone calls to make after I eat."

You ran your fingers through your hair, your frustration rising with every breath you took. Dropping your hands by your side, you were about to say something, but held your tongue. Turning on your heels, you headed for the bedroom.

"Y/N," you heard Harry call after you.

You ignored him, but taking two steps at a time, Harry caught up to you as soon as you entered the room. You walked over to the bureau, placing your hands on it with a sigh.

"You need to talk about something, baby?" Harry asked from the doorway.

You didn't turn around, and although he used a term of endearment, you could tell he was less than sympathetic. He knew you'd been aggravated about your time together being stolen.

"Not really," you said.

Finally turning to face him, you saw that his brows were furrowed, his eyes squinted to slits. You knew what he was doing. He was trying to pry it out of you, to confess how angry you were. But you weren't about to convey your feelings. It would only cause problems, telling him you were unhappy. You'd end up feeling guilty and have to apologize. So, you bit your lip and walked around the bed toward the bathroom.

"You're angry," Harry pointed out, stepping further into the room.

"I'm fine," you argued.

"Clearly you're not. Talk to me."

Continuing your silent treatment you pulled your hair back into a ponytail, prepared to wash off your makeup.

"Please," you heard Harry add.

Slamming your hands against the vanity, you let out a breath, followed by a frustrated growl.

"Okay, fine, I'm pissed off!"

"About tonight," he said.

"About every night!" you yelled. "Every fucking night you have something to do, or some place to be."

"Babe, I told you I'd be busy for the next month-"

"I know you did!" you glared at him. "But I didn't know it would make me feel this way."

Harry blew a breath through his nose, leaning against the door frame.

"I'm lonely, Harry," you whined. "So fucking lonely. And I hate it. I hate feeling like this."

Harry pursed his lips. "Come downstairs with me. We'll watch a bit of TV while I eat this delicious meal you made."

"I'm not in the mood," you scoffed.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "I've got a lot going on right now."

"I know," you held up your hands. "And it's not really your fault. It's me. It's always me."

Your last sentence was said in a near whisper as you turned on the faucet and splashed water on your face. Your resistance to talk was understood, and Harry shook his head before leaving the room.

You scrubbed your face hard, making sure every trace of of makeup was removed. When you splashed water on it again, you noticed the tears. You leaned over the sink crying, your shoulders shaking. You silently wished you'd hear Harry's footsteps, returning to the bedroom. But when you heard noise of the television downstairs, you knew he wasn't coming.

Clearing your throat, you crossed the bedroom again to the dresser. Pulling open a drawer, you grabbed your swimsuit and put it on.

When you came down the stairs, Harry was stretched out on the sofa, his legs propped up on the ottoman, a plate of food in his lap. He pulled his gaze from the television long enough to see you walk behind him, heading for the glass doors that led to the patio.

"I thought you were going to bed," he said, muting the TV.

"Changed my mind," you muttered. "Going for a swim."

You gave him no chance to retort before you flipped on the switch and shut the door behind you. The lights outside illuminated the deck, giving it a warm glow. The pool lights shown under the water, making it look inviting and serene.

Dipping your toe in, you tested the temperature. It was warm, but not too warm. You stepped into the pool, sinking down until the water covered your shoulders. Then dunking your head under, you swam to the other side, not lifting your head until you'd reached it.

Back and forth you swam, the tension in your body releasing with every stroke. Taking a rest, you bobbed in the water, turning your head to see Harry standing on the other side of the glass doors. He was watching you, his forearm pressed against the glass above his head. If you weren't so mad at him, you would have found it erotic. Licking your lips, you were prepared to smile at him, but instead he backed away from the glass, turning back toward the living room.

Your frustration returning, you swam a few more laps until you were nearly out of breath, stopping at one of the jets near the steps at the side of the pool. You ran your hand in front of it, allowing the pressure to push it away. Then moving your body next to it, you let the jet blow against your chest before rising up so that it hit your pubic bone. With one gentle movement, it hit you between the legs and you bit your lip, your eyelids fluttering closed.

Gripping the edge of the pool, you lifted your knees, allowing them to balance you against the side of the pool. Bouncing gently, the jet stream hit you in just the rhythm you wanted. Leaning your head back, the water wetting the back of your hair, you began to move faster, small gasps of air rising up from your throat.

"Oh!" you exclaimed, the sensation building in your core.

Wanting to feel the friction raw, you pushed your bikini bottom to the side, letting the water hit your clit.

"Oh...Harry..." you moaned. "I miss you so much."

"I miss you too, baby," you heard a voice say.

Alarmed and embarrassed, you adjusted yourself, lowering your legs. Harry stood in the door frame, his swim trunks on, his chest bare.

"Wh-what?" you stammered. "You were watching me?"

"Yeah," Harry licked his bottom lip before closing the door behind him and stepping to the side of the pool. "Don't stop. That was really sexy."

You shook your head, grateful that the semi-darkness hid the color on your cheeks. You pulled yourself out of the water, dripping wet.

"Shit, I forgot a towel," you muttered, trying your best to squeeze your hair dry.

"C'mere," Harry insisted in a low tone.

You blinked, looking up at him. When you didn't budge, he raised his eyebrows and gestured for you to come to him. Standing a few inches from him, he grabbed your hands pulling you closer.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he declared, looking into your eyes.

You lowered your head. "It's okay."

"No, it's not. You're not okay. I've been so busy, I've forgotten how important it is that we spend time alone."

"I don't want you mad at me, Harry," you whispered. "I just miss-"

Harry stopped you, pressing a finger to your lips. "Shh. I know."

Sliding his hands under your ears and drying a drop of water from your cheek with his thumb, he kissed you tenderly. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your wet body getting his damp, though he didn't seem to mind in the least. Melting into the kiss, you pressed into him, dipping your tongue inside his mouth to meet his. His fingers finding the ties of your bikini bottoms, he tugged gently. You giggled against his lips before pulling back to look at him.

"What are you doing?" you asked.

"Thought I'd finish what you started," he remarked with a smirk.

"Here?"

"Why not?"

Biting your lip, you shrugged. Harry took your hand, guiding you back to the pool. You stopped at the top of the steps, watching him dive in. When he came back up, he swam to you, circling his arms around your legs.

"Sit down, my love," he insisted.

With a hesitant grin, you sat at the edge of the pool. Harry gingerly opened your legs, completing his task of untying your bathing suit. It fell loose beneath you on the concrete, exposing you completely. Looking up at you once more, Harry lowered his body into the pool, threading his arms around your thighs and pulling you against his mouth.

You cried out as soon as his tongue met your clit, still aroused from your solo activity. You tried to catch your breath, grabbing hold of his hair. He moved in circles and other various shapes, up and down, side to side. You moaned his name several times under your breath, not wanting to come just yet, but equally wanting to come so badly it hurt.

Capturing your clit between his lips, Harry hummed against you, making your entire body quiver. Then ever so gently tapping you with his tongue, you began to feel the tremble in your stomach. With one more lick up your slit, you couldn't take it any longer.

"Holy shit!" you cried, grasping at his curls.

Harry didn't lift his head until your orgasm had completely ripped through you and you were left shaking. Licking his lips, he smiled at you, releasing your thighs and running his hands down your legs.

"Still miss me, baby?" he asked.

You nodded, your breaths slowly evening out. "More than ever."

Harry chuckled, lightly kissing the insides of your thighs. "Good."

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[running-with-kn1ves]

Congrats on 5k!!! Can we get the possessive facetime bf and "you should have known better than to cheat on me" please :D

A/N: Thank you! And tbh I made this a smutty smut smut as well b/c i feel like this is how possessive bf would handle the situation. Aka poorly.

CW: dubcon NSFW, gagging & bondage, penetration (GN Reader), reader flirts w/ someone else, reader & possessive bf originally both intoxicated

It was too late for this. Or maybe, too early. You lost track of time long ago, glowy green numbers on your alarm clock reading 1:45 AM when you first stumbled back home with the pissed drunkard beside you, dragging you inside by your arm. You were practically sober now, your headache screaming as you felt the blissful simplicity of being tipsy leave your throat. You wish you drank more, did something more outrageous than give some stranger your number. Maybe you should’ve kissed him, should’ve stuck your hand down his pants instead of batting your eyelashes. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have to face your boyfriend’s wrath-- he’d have been too heartbroken to even think of reprimanding you. 

But it didn’t matter now, not when he decided to deprive you of your senses while pumping round after round inside of you. It was a form of white torture, he hystericaly answered when your arms were jerked behind you, tied with what you thought might’ve been a makeshift restraint or a necktie, but was instead harsh braided rope meant for cattle or ransom victims. It scratched your wrists as he pulled your head back by a fistful of hair, promising that “you’ll be begging for his forgiveness by the end of this.”

With the blindfold he seemed much too prepared to have wrapped around your eyes, Malachi ripped off your skimpy underwear meant for the club, stuffing it in your mouth and narrowly avoiding your biting teeth. 

When you both went to celebrate his cousin’s birthday party at a nightclub, you had partly decided to ignore him for treating you so possessively the past month, logic being thrown out the window with the sudden accompaniment of lemon drop shots and a handsome stranger showing you more interest than your jealous, pissed off boyfriend had in ages. You felt wanted, desired. It was nice, even when you felt daggers in your back, and a tugging hand on your shoulder every five minutes. The last straw was when you wrote your scribbled, illegible phone number on the strangers’ arm. 

Saying Malachi was enraged was an understatement. You were jerked away, stumbling and laughing as you blew a kiss to your midnight affair. Did you want more? You didn’t know. All you knew, is you wanted a fun night out without having to cater to your obsessive boyfriend’s every need. You wanted to feel sexy, lusted after. 

But maybe you should’ve pulled that stunt at a time when Malachi wasn’t around. Then, you wouldn’t be sobbing behind the gag, hearing the wet squelches of cock being bullied inside of you. Your insides felt bruised, nipples tugged and bitten as Malachi slamed in, in, in from below. 

Normally, you’d have the power when sitting on top of him, grinding and allowing him to lay limp. But with your thighs spread apart on his flank, hands against your ass and every sense blurred, he thrusted into you as you barely held yourself up. 

“This.. is.. what.. you get--!” He huffed, snarling as he slapped the growing welt on your ass cheek. You heard his gasped gag, hips stuttering with his broken orgasm splaying inside of you. 

Which orgasm was this? You couldn’t remember, the vibrating toy milking out your sweet spot still going as a mixture of clear-white came to coat Malachi’s dick. He hadn’t eased you in, hadn’t given into the foreplay he’d usually tease you with, even when he normally hate-fucked you. 

“You know better..hng, been taught, time, and time again… hah,” You tried to squeeze your legs shut to keep him out, but the hands keeping you lifted moved to violently pull your knees apart. You fell onto his chest with a choke, the sweat dripping from your cheeks mixing with the caked layer on his chest. “You’re just making it too easy for me to punish you, huh?”

You muffled through the gag, prating incomprehensibly as the painful overstim of your lower half was worsened by this new, weak position. 

Malachi lazily rutted up into you while coming off his high, pressing your hips down each time to enter deeper. He always went to the hilt of his cock, so deep inside that it made your walls ache and splinter. 

“I’d almost say you’re a masochist fr’me,” He panted, lifting you by the jaw to look into his eyes. “ Wanna be pounded by me for flirting with other guys, cheatin like a common streetwalker, mm’?”

You shook your head, unable to see him but knowing those green eyes were boring into you. 

“Seems like you still don’t fucking get it then. Well, we’ll be here until you do.” 

The gag was pushed deeper down your throat with his thumb, hips rising as he let go of spreading your cheeks to stabilize you. Skin smacked against skin as he pounded up, letting your poor hips fall each time he burrowed out. 

“I can’t!” You muffled, the tight pain of another rising orgasm coming beginning to blind you. You couldn’t take this one, your body wouldn’t be able to handle it. 

Attempting to slide off, you tried to maneuver your legs away, arms still bound as you struggled to inch off of him. If he was as tired as you, maybe you’d get a chance away. 

“Oh no you don’t,” He growled, digging blunt nails into the fat of your thighs with one hand, while the other tugged at your scalp. “Think you get to rest? Get a chance to relax after cheating on me?”

The encircling vibrator was turned up tenfold with the sudden drop of your hair, fingers moving to tug at your ear. “No way, not leaving until I THINK you’ve suffered enough.” 

Malachi got close, licking a long stripe inside its canal as he jutted into your weeping entrance faster. The squeaks of the mattress made you cringe, hearing the wetness of his cum layering between your ass and thighs, falling to the sweaty sheets. 

His heaves for air grew louder, pushing your shoulders back to force you upright again. You still slouched, even with Malachi’s arm tugging your restrained hands down backwards. 

“Gonna take my cock like the.. Hungry whore you’ve been..take it till you’re sorry. And even then, Hah…” He laughed, a pissed and out of breath laugh that made him work harder to bruise your furiously drenched hole. “--still won’t stop cumming inside of you.”

You could only crack a groan each time his hips snapped up, in rhythm with his movement as you felt the vibrator bring you to the brink of another painful, consuming orgasm. Tears and drool dripped from your face alike as you prayed for him to nearly have his fix, lest you pass out from the ecstasy and suffering of another round. Atleast it wasn’t another painful edge session, your hazy mind tried to comprehend. Though at this point, you wondered if that’d have been better. 

“Waz.. Mnph, Drunk..” You tried to choke from the bundled up gag, hoping maybe he’d offer you some sympathy out of your previous lack of inhibition. 

“Sorry, baby. Doesn’t matter, still actin like you wanna fuck other guys n’ front of me,” He circled his hips upward, watching as your already open mouth created a sweet ‘O.’ You couldn’t help the noises you released anymore, not when he used what you liked and abused it--  but your moans seemed to satisfy Malachi.  “But you ready to say you’re sorry? Make it up to me, yeah?”

You nodded your head erratically,, wanting this to end no matter what you had to do. You were exhausted, the lessening vibrator making you sigh in relief despite the aching bruising still inflamed by the plunging cock hilted inside of you.

“Awe, you’re so cute. It’s not enough, though. Say sorry all you want, I wanna hear you.” The evil trick of the calming vibrator had snuffed your awareness, making you jolt when it was snapped back to a level 10. “But I’m not letting you off the hook when you still got so much left to pay for.”

[footiecent]

not your fault

(emily fox x reader)

in which you're obsessed with your girlfriend (especially her jawline)

warnings: slightly suggestive? almost all fluff

word count: 1.1k

It's not your fault. Really, it's not.

“Baby, don’t you have to get up soon?”

You hum in reply, half asleep. 

You’re so comfortable. Your head is tucked protectively into the crook of your girlfriend’s left shoulder and neck while you lie almost entirely on top of her, the covers burying the both of you into a warm, delightful cocoon. Emily’s left hand is slowly moving up and down your back, and everything is just perfect.

“You can’t be late for work again.”

You open your eyes at that, but at the first moment you start to untangle your arms from her waist and feel her body heat dissipate, you realize that maybe you can stay for just another minute.

So, you decide to flop back down. Though, you’ve at least managed to roll your upper body partially off of her, giving you a perfect view of her side profile as she closes her eyes, not having to get up for practice for another half-hour. 

You can’t help but to reach out your hand and run your thumb along her sharp jawline—mind assaulted by memories of the night before when you see the marks littered below it.

Damn. She’s gonna kill me, you think. She’s told you so many times that covering hickies up before practices is a bitch, and looking at these marks—ones that might be a few too many shades past concealable—you realize you’re fucked. 

You start to analyze the best plan of action, landing on one that has you placing a gentle kiss onto her jaw before springing up from bed and hurriedly walking to the bathroom to wash up. All you have to do is leave before she gets up. Easy work. Easy peasy…

You’re so close—you’re at the door, knelt down with one shoe on when you hear her.

“Y/N! Come on!” she yells. 

Yikes.

You manage to put your other shoe on right as she appears in your vision, very clearly ticked off. 

“It’s not my fault?” you try, walking towards your very beautiful, and very pissed girlfriend.

“Oh, so it’s my fault I have to cover these up?” she says, pushing your shoulder when you stand in front of her.

Looking at her face, you decide that telling her you literally just look so incredible at every moment it’s not my fault you’re mine and I can’t help it would not exactly help your case. So, you decide to resume your quick exit, quickly kissing her cheek and saying, “Have a good practice babe, I love you!” as you grab your keys and leave your shared flat. 

You do make a mental note to buy Emily’s favorite chocolates after work. 

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

Like really, it's her fault. Who gave her the right to look that good after a game?

You’re reminded that you’re always completely in the right when you’re sitting at the Emirates two days later, watching your girlfriend wrap up a defensive masterclass against Chelsea. For the first time in a while, London is sunny, and the beautiful weather only adds onto the incredible mood in the stadium as the full-time whistle blows and cheers thunder throughout every corner.

You can’t help but stare at her while she celebrates with the rest of the team. Lotte likes to joke that the two of you could melt taffy with just one of your lovesick glances, but you can’t help it. It's her fault for looking so good after a game—sweaty, smiley, and positively glowing after helping her team to a win. 

She spends time walking around the stadium, signing autographs and taking pictures, while you chat absentmindedly with Alessia, who came to greet you before starting her rounds of the stadium. But when Emily finally makes her way towards you—lifting her shirt up to try and wipe some sweat off her face—you start thinking about your plans for after. Alessia catches your change in demeanor, rolling her eyes and walking away while muttering something under her breath. 

“Did you enjoy the game?” your girlfriend asks, stepping in front of you, grinning from ear to ear. You both look disgustingly in love as the sun shines down and highlights her vibrant smile. 

“Of course I did. How could I not, superstar?” 

Being in the stands means you hover tall over Emily, enabling you to comfortably wrap your arms around her neck as she looks up at you. You ignore the few stares that direct their way towards you two as you relentlessly press kisses onto her jawline and cheek. She’s laughing as she playfully tries to shove you away, but you can’t help but hold her a little tighter and whisper just how excited you are to get home. 

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

So, she should stop getting annoyed. She should know that you’ll never truly be satisfied. 

Your watch reads ‘8 P.M.’ as you cuddle up to Emily’s side on the white couch in your living room. The two of you had rushed home from the afternoon game, unable to resist the allure of enjoying each other’s company for a few hours.

And now, after redressing yourselves, cooking and eating dinner, washing the dishes, and tidying up the kitchen, the two of you are sitting together, more innocently enjoying each other’s company. She has a book out while you scroll mindlessly through Twitter, poking her side every few minutes to draw her attention to a funny tweet. 

After thirty minutes, however, Emily is deeply immersed into her reading and you’re bored. So, you resort to beginning your favorite activity: staring at her. You look up at her while your head rests against her arm, and you’re still mesmerized by her beauty even years into your relationship.

“What?” she asks without looking away from her book.

“You’re hot.”

She dismisses the comment with a small snicker, but places a kiss onto your forehead regardless. 

“We already fucked today, let me read in peace.”

You huff, but the both of you are well-aware that you aren’t deterred by small obstacles. So naturally, you begin to press a few open-mouthed kisses right below her jaw. She indulges you for a moment, closing her eyes and letting her book rest on her lap. But when a kiss turns into a stinging bite, she opens her eyes and grabs your shoulder. 

“C’mon, stop it. I have to go in for recovery tomorrow, you know that,” she whines. “I already stopped you from leaving marks once today!”

But she should know that you simply can’t help yourself. She should’ve known that you were going to toss away her book from her other hand, grab her wrists, and straddle her lap. She really should know that the stern look she sends you—with her jaw clenched, almost sharpened—while sitting underneath you only makes her hotter. 

She should’ve known that she was going to wake up the next morning with quite a few more marks. 

After all, it's not your fault. 

[f1amour]

✧˚ · . 𝐒𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆, 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐍

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 27 lewis is 39), italics are flashbacks, angst. no happy ending

authors note: not spell checked sorryyy. based off this request. heavily inspired by the song so long, london. hope you all enjoy this fic and cry as much as i did writing it <3

─────────────────────────

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

“Flight 444 from London to Mexico City will begin boarding in ten minutes please have your passports and tickets ready.”

Even a number reminded you of him. It was good you’ll be leaving this place that reminded you so much of him. You didn’t want to leave but you had to.

“I just don’t understand why you didn’t come to me and talk about it. You said you’d retire with Mercedes then we would start a family. Now I’m finding out through social media that you signed with Ferrari for 2025?” You call after Lewis who had walked into the house with you standing in the living room with a pissed off look on your face.

“I don’t understand why I need to discuss that with you. It’s my career not yours, you don’t have one.” He says and immediately regrets it.

“Because I gave it up for you! To be the happy and proud girlfriend who went to every race and stays behind the cameras. The one you go home with. The one who supports you through every thing. Who celebrates your big wins and the smallest ones. I’m not taking this disrespect from you, Lewis.”

I saw in my mind fairy lights through the mist

I kept calm and carried the weight of the rift

Pulled him in tighter each time he was driftin' away

My spine split from carrying us up the hill

Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill

I stopped tryna make him laugh, stopped tryna drill the safe

Lewis had convinced you to give him a year with Ferrari and after you two would get engaged and have your family like you both always wanted.

He still had the 2024 season with Mercedes and was going to make the most of it. You stopped going to every single race deciding to stay home and figure out what you’d be doing with your career. You had met lewis when you were 22 and he was 33. The age difference didn’t bother you but you never thought it would actually get in the way.

It was the opposite as most age gaps are discussed the older one wants a family by now and the younger one still wants to make a life for themselves before having a family.

You were ready for the next step you wanted to marry Lewis after five years together but he was still focused on his career and trying for his 8th championship title.

“I’m gonna be late. I’ve got a meeting with the team and I don’t know how long we will be.” You read the text message from Lewis and sigh deciding to get out of your dress and into some comfortable clothes.

Your usual date nights you had at least one time a week had dissipated to almost none at all. Even when it would be long distance you’d have face time dates with Lewis but recently it’s just been distant with rarely any calls or texts.

You weren’t sure if you could keep going on like this.

Thinkin', "How much sad did you think I had. Did you think I had in me?"

Oh, the tragedy

So long, London

You'll find someone

Ticket purchased for Heathrow airport to Mexico City April 18th, 2024. One way.

You had decided it was now or never to leave the relationship. You loved Lewis but feeling like a second choice was no longer the healthy thing in your life. You’ve felt so unloved for awhile now that it was messing with your mental health.

London was your home for so long. He was your home for so long. But it was time to say goodbye.

I didn't opt in to be your odd man out

I founded the club she's heard great things about

I left all I knew, you left me at the house by the Heath

I stoppеd CPR, after all, it's no use

The spirit was gonе, we would never come to

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

“I’m a bit confused…why am I dropping you off at the airport? I don’t have to leave until a few more days.” Lewis says pulling into the private parking lot.

You get out of the car and grab your suitcases out of the trunk with his help, “I’m done, Lewis. I’m done waiting for you. I’m done being the second choice.”

“No, no, no. You cant do this, y/n!” He shakes his head while you let one of the airline workers grab your suitcases.

“I can do this actually. Just like you can decide our future for the both of us I can break up with you. I’m 27 years old, Lewis. I want to marry you. I want to have your children. I want to support you at every race while being the supportive wife. I’m so in love with you that I would give up everything including my career to make you happy.” You look at him, sadness in your eyes.

It was a realization you both were finally coming to terms with…it wasn’t a healthy relationship anymore. To give someone hopes of a family and marriage one day that may never happens wasn’t right. And to give up your career for him didn’t settle right with him either.

It was the end now.

“I’m so sorry, my love.” He whispers wiping your tears away but they just keep on flowing.

“I’m sorry too. For believing you everytime. I gave up most of my 20’s for you. I gave up the time where I should be enjoying my life and figuring out what I want to do with my career. But I blame myself too because I was so in love that I would look past all our flaws.”

For so long, London

Stitches undone

Two graves, one gun

I'll find someone

“We’ve done so much good for each other. The last few months haven’t been the best but you gave me some amazing years filled with love. I won’t ever forget that.” You tell Lewis kissing his cheek.

His eyes know welled up with tears, “I love you. I know I didn’t show it enough lately but I love you. I always will.”

It was sad to think of but Lewis was your first love.

But you would be his last.

And you say I abandoned the ship

But I was going down with it

My white-knuckle dying grip

Holding tight to your quiet resentment

And my friends said it isn't right to be scared

Every day of a love affair

Every breath feels like rarest air

When you're not sure if he wants to be there

THREE MONTHS LATER.

“Eight times we’ve said it before, here’s a ninth for you. Lewis Hamilton wins the British Grand Prix!” The crew you were with cheer watching the race while you sit there with little to no emotion in your eyes. It was nothing out of the ordinary for them seeing as you told them you didn’t know much about the sport and had no interest in it (all lies).

They had known you for three months now and for that time they have seen you only smile for guests who were on board and when they weren’t you didn’t show much emotion.

They loved your personality when you would show it at times so they assumed it was just some personal problems at home that had you so sad sometimes.

He had finally won after two years of no wins and he had done it in his home. A home that was once yours.

You wanted to cry and shout for him but you felt nothing, your soul had been so empty since leaving him. You hated him for it.

So how much sad did you think I had

Did you think I had in me?

How much tragedy?

Just how low did you

Think I'd go 'fore I'd self-implode?

'Fore I'd have to go be free?

“So we’ve got some guests coming on board later on today they’ll be here for three days. The primary is very well known I am told to not disclose his name until they are here so please as always treat our guests as usual and minding for autographs.” Your captain tells everyone and they all nod in agreement but then start conversing with each other about who it could be.

You were just ready to get back to work and not hear about Lewis’s win for the 100th time today.

It was time to welcome the guests on board and while the crew waits as they walk on board you can’t help but feel some nerves which you never get while on the job.

And as they all come in you realize why you were feeling that way as Lewis now stands right in front of you followed by a group of people (half of them models) which you’d never met before.

You give your fakest smile to them all shaking their hands until it comes to Lewis, your hand only lingers on his for a quick second before you pull away.

One of the models clings on him while you show them around the yacht.

Was it so easy for him to move on? Did he ever really love you?

You swore that you loved me, but where were the clues?

I died on the altar waitin' for the proof

You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days

And I'm just getting color back into my face

I'm just mad as hell 'cause I loved this place for

It had been a day with Lewis and his friend on board and you’ve successfully been able to avoid being in a room alone with him. He was shocked how much you’d change in just a short amount of time.

Your eyes no longer holding any emotion in them. Your smile now only held up when attending to guests. You were a completely new person. He wasn’t sure if it was for better or worse.

You’d been setting up the dinner table when you freeze smelling the familiar cologne you’d gotten so used to for five years.

“How did you find me?” You turn to Lewis, him knowing exactly what you meant by the question. He had all the money in the world and chose to travel to Mexico to enjoy his break? His own yacht sitting in Monaco but he chose to go on a different one?

“I…I hired someone to find you. I needed to see how you were doing and you weren’t answering my messages, y/n. What happened? You changed.”

“I changed? Fucking hell I mean what do you think? The person I thought I would marry and grow old with refused to show me any commitment. He failed to love me the last few months we were together. I gave up a career I loved for him and now I’m here attending to other people and their needs…it’s like I never got out of our relationship the way I care for others but myself.” You chuckle, your eyes no longer filled with tears as they usually would have by now.

You felt nothing but at the same time felt everything looking at him.

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

Had (Had) a (A) good (Good) run (Run)

A moment (Moment) of warm sun (Sun)

But I'm (I'm) not (Not) the (The) one (One)

So (So) long (Long), London (London)

Stitches (Stitches) undone (Undone)

Two (Two) graves (Graves) one gun (Gun)

You'll (You'll) find (Find) someone

“I’m not gonna tell you this again but please let me go. I need you to let me go because if I stare at you any longer I will go back. I’ll be yours again. But I’m already lost enough within myself, Lewis. I’ll be okay one day it’s going to take time but I’m grieving. I’m grieving us. Our dreams. You. I’m learning how to live again and it’s not easy but I’ll be okay. But you need to let me go. Please just do that for me?” You beg him. You’d be on your knees begging just so this pain in your heart would finally leave. You loved him so much it hurt but the stars weren’t aligned for both of you.

“Maybe in another life we could have made it?” Lewis says, his hand on your cheek.

You lean into his touch knowing it would be the last time you’d feel him close, “In another life.” You whisper quietly where he barely heard it.

Why not in this life?

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none <3

➴ word count: 2.5k

➴ author’s note: this is pure fluffiness, the calm before the storm, the hughes being the best family in the world and jack making my heart MELT (i literally wrote him). i hope u guys enjoy this too. let me know what u think of this one:))

“AND that, my loves, it’s a wrap on ‘rip to my feelings’!” Grace yelled, and everyone yelled too.

You were in your studio with all of your producers and song-writers, plus Grace, and you had just finished recording the last song on your album.

You were beyond happy. Finishing this meant getting over everything Harris did to you. It was like closure. It was like restarting again.

“Guys, I’m so fucking happy, I love you all so much I could kiss you on the mouth right now,” you said, hugging John— the main producer.

“Don’t think Jack would appreciate that,” Grace mumbled when you hugged her, and you smacked her butt.

Jack.

You had sent him the demo of the album as soon as it was sent to your phone, not really sure why. You just wanted his opinion, that’s all.

Not much fuck buddy of you but whatever!

“Fuck off, Grace Morgan,” you fake whispered, laughing.

You all celebrated and laughed for hours, the time passing quickly whenever you spent it with the people you loved. You were grateful for having so many amazing people in your life, helping you to make your dreams come true.

Your phone rang, and you picked it up, unlocking it and smiling when you saw who had texted: Jack.

It was funny seeing how he complimented you in his own little, weird way. It made your heart beat in the wrong— right— way all over again.

“Did he just ask you on a date?” Grace whispered, probably reading your texts over your shoulder. Everyone else had already left— it was late, after all— and only Grace was left. You were sure she was probably going to sleep at your place anyway.

“I guess? We never just ‘hanged out’ before.” You sighed, replying to Jack’s texts.

“Woah,” she whistled, sitting back on the couch, looking at you funny. “Are you in love?”

“What?” You laughed, locking your phone. “What do you mean, we’ve been fucking for six months only. Chill.”

“Girl, like time matters to you!” She raised her arms. “You fell in love with that piece of shit in like three weeks, imagine with Jack, who fucks you every other week and treats you like you’re the most precious thing ever.”

“Excuse me? Are we talking about the same Jack?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Jack doesn’t treat anyone differently. Besides his family, that is.”

“Like the shit he does for you isn’t anything special, right? Like knowing your Five Guys order, or your favorite movies, or how you eat apple pie before your concerts,” she started listing those things on her fingers.

“He doesn’t know those things!” You raised your voice, trying to convince both you and her.

“Girl, I love you but stop playing dumb. He knows and you know he does! Why are you pretending that he doesn’t care about you? He just asked you on a date, for fuck’s sake.” She rolled her eyes.

“First of all,” you started, mentally listing your reasons. “We don’t know if it’s a date. He just said: dinner. He didn’t say ‘I wanna take you out on a date’. Second of all, I’m not denying anything, but I think I would know if I was in love with him, wouldn’t I?”

Actually. The answer was probably no. Harris fucked up your perception of love, and even though it’s been more than a year that you broke up with him, you still feel like you can’t really trust anyone anymore.

So you wouldn’t exactly be able to tell if you are in love or not. At least, you don’t think so.

But talking about love with your fuck buddy? Hell. No.

“You piss me off.” Grace bickered, turning the TV on. “Go change to your little date. I’ll be here, all alone and sad.”

“Pff, shut up. You’re just alone because you and Nico are dumbasses.” You said like it was a matter of fact and left the leaving room, leaving a very pink Grace behind.

Changing didn’t take long, and applying a light makeup didn’t either. You weren’t going to do anything special because, let’s be real, if you and Jack decided to be reckless and fuck somewhere, that makeup wouldn’t last long. So, why bother?

You left your house, saying goodbye to Grace and kissing her cheek. Jack’s fancy ass car was in front of your garage and you smiled, entering it.

“Hi, Jackie boy,” you greeted him, noticing how fucking good he looked, wearing his burgundy suit. Thank god to whoever created the suit rule in hockey. You’ll forever be grateful.

“Hey.” He greeted back, and did something surprising. He kissed you. Softly, and not like any other kiss you’ve shared in the past.

And that didn’t do anything to help the little cardiac arrest you had every time you were around him.

“Are we ready to rock our lasagna?” You asked, half embarrassed and half confused with what you were feeling. Food always made it better though.

“We sure are.” He smiled before starting the car again.

The silence was comfortable but your thoughts were too loud so you took the liberty of turning the radio on, scaring yourself with how loud the music playing was. And, shockingly, your music. Already Over was blasting through the speakers.

You looked at him, and he just shrugged, cheeks red.

“Were you listening to my music on the way to my place?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s good,” he blushes so cutely you find yourself wanting to chomp a piece of his cheek.

“You’re so cute, Jackie. Thanks, means a lot,” you had a feeling you were blushing too, and you thanked God he wasn’t looking at you. “I’m excited to release it.”

“When are you doing it?” He asked, making a U turn.

“Beginning of the next month. Now I have to take pictures and set up the concept for it. It’s my favourite part.”

“Are you doing any music videos with a guy dying?” He asked and you stared at him, once again surprised. Had he been watching your music videos? All of them? “What?”

“Are you a fan?” You giggled, genuinely happy. Harris hated to talk about your work, and he never listened to your songs for more than ten minutes.

“Nico forces us to listen to your songs and watch your music videos,” he answered, nonchalantly. You smiled, nodding your head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You played dumb.

“Like that. You have this little minx stare that you do whenever you’re plotting something.” He smiled this time, and God if the sight didn’t make you feel full.

“You’re no fun,” you sighed, looking at the view. “Also, where is this restaurant? We’ve been driving for at least twenty minutes and nothing in Jersey takes more than that.”

“The restaurant is actually my parents’ house.” He says, like it’s nothing.

“What?!” You yelled, turning your head in his direction. “What do you mean you’re taking me to your fucking parents’?”

“Yeah. Ma’s making lasagna for you.”

Your cheeks were burning hot and you had this bubbly feeling inside of you. You were feeling something really weird and you started to wonder if Grace was right and—

“Soph?” You heard his voice, gentle and soft. You looked at him, noticing that he wasn’t driving anymore, and that the car was now parked in front of a big, beautiful, colonial house. His parents’ house. “We can go back if you want to, baby. Ma won’t be angry or anything like that.”

Stop making me want to trust you, Jack.

He caressed your cheek, and you snapped out of it. “No, it’s fine. I just… you could’ve said something, y’know? I’m wearing sweatpants.” You tried to make a joke, smiling. He smiled too.

“I’ll put on some sweatpants too, so we’re matching,”

“Right.”

You left the car, taking a deep breath. It was just his parents. You weren’t even dating so it would be fine.

Wait.

“What did you tell them? That you’re bringing one of the girls you’re fucking home?” You asked just before you walked in their property.

He raised an eyebrow at you, scowling. “First of all, I’m not fucking anyone else. It’s just you. Second of all, I told them I’m bringing a friend.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to do anything else.

He’s not fucking anyone else? Jack Hughes? The man whore of the NJ Devils?

Yikes, sure.

You both walked into the house, Jack not bothering knocking before entering it. A delicious smell of fresh tomato sauce and herbs reached your nose and you could swear your mouth was watering.

“Ma, we’re here!” Jack yelled, making you jump a little bit. You eyed him before facing the woman in front of you, who was absolutely gorgeous. She looked so fucking young and pretty, and you were biting your tongue, trying not to say something stupid. “Hi, Ma, this is Soph. Soph, that’s Ellen, Ma Hughes,”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. Nice to meet you.” You said, certain that your cheeks were on flame.

Ellen took a step closer, smiling. “Hi, darlin’. No need for formalities, dear, it’s just Ellen. I would hug you but,” she pointed at her apron and shrugged. “A bit dirty.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“No, thank you for making this guy over here visit me,” she slapped Jack’s shoulder, both of them smiling together. “He only called because he said you wanted to eat lasagna and he loves mine so that’s why he’s here.”

If your face wasn’t going to melt before, it definitely was now. You were going to kill Jack. For real this time.

“Come on, Ma, I can’t be worse than Luke and Quinn. They don’t even remember your address anymore,” was Jack actually pouting? Jesus. Your heart was not ready to see that.

“Stop throwing us under the bus, dickhead.” Luke’s voice was heard and you and Jack both watched as both Quinn and Luke entered the room. “‘Sup, Soph.”

“Hi, Luke. Hi, Quinn,” you greeted them with cheek kisses, not even wanting to acknowledge that you had actually missed them. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Soph,” Quinn quietly answered, not a single thought behind those eyes. “Great to see you.”

“I hope you’re all hungry because your mom outdid herself tonight,” Jim, the dad, said, smiling when he noticed you. “Hello there. I’m Jim.”

“Hi,” you whispered, mortified with all the attention you were getting. Some would think that performing for big crowds would make you less anxious to meet people. Nope. “I’m Sophia. Thank you for having me.”

“It’s fine, as my baby was saying, we do need our son to visit more.”

As they discussed why Jack didn’t visit them more frequently, you felt Jack’s arms around your waist and his mouth on the tip of your ear. You froze. “Yeah, they call each other baby and honey. Sorry about that.”

You managed to smile, trying not to get his family’s attention. They certainly wouldn’t understand why he was this close to a friend.

“I think it’s cute.”

The dinner went awesomely well. The lasagna was amazing and Ellen and Jim were the cutest couple ever, you could see how they’ve raised three amazing men.

They asked questions about what being a postar meant nowadays, and what was it like during your tours, and how could someone sing and dance at the same time, and have you ever met Adele?

They’re great people. Even Quinn and Luke, who had talked to you before on different occasions, made sure you were included in every topic, and Luke even asked for a signed cap so he could wear it at UMich.

“Do you guys know what we should definitely do?” Ellen started, after forcing all of the boys to organize the kitchen and do the dishes, while you sat with her drinking wine. Yeah, you loved her. “Karaoke. Let Soph here show us how good she is.”

“Maa,” you could hear Luke whining, while running his hands through his beautiful curls. “You do this every time.”

“You’ll make her work on her day off? That’s wild, Ma.” Jack joked, putting his arms around your shoulder. You froze again, looking at the expressions of his family, trying to picture anything out of place.

No one was looking at you weirdly, besides Ellen who plastered the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen, which made you smile too.

“I don’t mind singing…” you said, softly.

“Perfect!” Ellen stood up from her seat, pouring more wine on her glass. “Jim, set the karaoke thing on.”

“It’s called YouTube, Ma.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Leave your mom alone, ugly face,” Jim called him out, on his way to do exactly what Ellen asked. “Sophia, can you sing some Elvis?”

“Yes, ‘course.” You also got up, discussing with Jim which song he wanted you to sing.

“Tell her to sing our song, honey!” Ellen yelled from the dinner table.

“Ah, yes, yes.”

Turns out that their song is Can’t Help Falling in Love, which was so freaking sweet. You sang the romantic lyrics while Jim and Ellen danced with each other, swinging slowly and delicately.

Quinn and Luke were recording themselves with you singing in the background, while you waved happily to the camera.

Jack was sitting on the couch, watching you sing. You could feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, smiling whenever you’d hit a high note or change the song’s rhythm.

It was nice. So, so nice. The Hughes were such nice people and you felt so safe and adored around them. They asked you to sing more songs and when you noticed, you were singing an upbeat song with Jim and dancing between Quinn and Luke while Ellen filmed everything. Until Jack grabbed you again and made you sing in front of him, for him. And boy, how you wanted to kiss him. His blue eyes were shining brightly and he looked just as happy as you felt.

You ended the singing when it was around midnight, everyone exhausted and sweaty— even if it was winter.

You started saying your goodbyes and thanking Ellen and Jim for the best lasagna you’ve ever eaten and for the hospitality too.

“I hope you come back soon.��� Ellen whispered in your ear when you were hugging her, and you held her slightly tighter.

When you left the house with Jack, you couldn’t contain your happiness inside you. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him until you were near his car, and standing on your tiptoes, you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, both of you moaning inside each other’s mouth. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, pillowy and so soft. You were finally melting into Jack’s arms and nothing could be better.

Until you realized what was going on.

You had just had dinner with Jack’s family, sang and danced with them, and now you were in the middle of the street of a fancy neighborhood, with Jack Hughes holding you close to his chest, while devouring your mouth.

And instead of not feeling anything, instead of keeping things casual, you were feeling everything. Each tiny part of every emotion there is in this world were making their way into your heart and, unfortunately, you didn’t want to take them out.

Because for the first time in more than one year, you wanted to feel.

[gracieheartspedro]

Somewhere With You

Part 4 of How Long

pairing: f!reader x brother-in-law!joel miller

FIND Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 HERE!!

description: sleeping with your exes brother is one thing, but envisioning a whole life with him? that's a dangerous game. but you did it. now you're here, and tommy is fucking pissed.

word count: 5.3k

warnings: MINORS DNI! this is 18+, pre!outbreak joel, there is smut in this part!! fear of being caught by sarah?, unprotected p in v, oral sex (f receiving), joel is a CONSENT KING, dirty talk, overstimulation, titty fucking (yw caly), light violence, tommy is literally evil.

author's note: jesus christ i'm so glad I am finally here with this. I feel like finishing this is my greatest success in life lmao. I will probably continue this series but this is the last part for a while. I appreciate everyone's love on it and I can't wait to get more stuff out to y'all!

“Are we going to have a celebration when we get home?”

Joel laughs, “Yeah, we can. What did you wanna do?”

You just listen to Sarah list off all the possible ways to celebrate winning the tournament. The movies, going to the mall for new jeans, going to the local ice cream parlor every night of the week. Joel shakes his head at that one as he turns the truck onto the highway. You have your knees up to your chest, the zip up Joel let you borrow hanging off your shoulders. You had complained about how cold you were all weekend, so Joel shut you up by tossing you his zip up. You haven’t taken it off since. 

The sun was setting over the horizon, drawing the Sunday to a close. You had to work in the morning and you were dreading concluding the weekend you spent with Joel and Sarah. 

Everything with them seems natural. It felt like family. 

You did not want to face tomorrow, especially when there was no set plans as to when you would be hanging out with them again. 

Luckily, Sarah has not mentioned much of anything about what she saw early Saturday morning, so there was no awkward tension. The only time it came up was when you all were tired from Saturday’s events and you arrived back to the hotel room.

“You two sleeping together tonight, too?” She asked, her eyes heavy with exhaustion. She wasn’t even trying to be rude or demeaning, she just wanted to know if she could fall asleep in one of the beds without being stirred. 

“Yeah, you can have that bed hun.” Joel answered. 

Sitting on those horribly uncomfortable bleachers and cheering Sarah on had taken a lot out of you, so you were ready to throw yourself into the plush mattress, too. 

You watched Sarah throw herself onto of the comforter, sinking into the pillows face first. It makes you giggle while you grab your pajamas to change. 

Joel nudges you while you dig through your duffle, “No funny business tonight, ma’am.” 

You shake your head, his comment making your stomach turn upside down with nerves. You smack his chest with the back of your hand, “No duh, asshole.”

Sarah puts her headphones on, drowning out Joel’s humming to an old country song. You just stare ahead, watching him speed pass car after car. His truck revs every time he does it which makes you clench your knees a bit tighter. 

“In a rush, dear?”

The nickname makes his heart race.

He taps his fingers, trying to act like that nickname doesn’t drive him insane. “Want to make sure to get you home so you can be rested up for work in the morning.”

“That’s mighty sweet of you, but take your time. I’m in no rush.”

He eases off the gas a bit, taking your advice. 

“You talk to your Mama lately? She still likin’ Maine?” 

It wasn’t a question you were expecting coming from Joel. You had told him about your mom around the time that she moved away, however long ago that was. You truly didn’t expect him to even remember.

“We talk every week, she likes it there. Wants me to come experience a winter there, so I may go up for Christmas,” You explain, remembering back to conversation you two just had last week. She wanted you to feel what fluffy snow felt like and maybe go skiing with her. 

It makes Joel’s heart sink a bit. Not because you would be visiting your mother, but instead you would not be here to spend Christmas with him and Sarah. He had already planned on making a spot for you at the dining table. 

“That’d be nice,” He licks his lips, contemplating if he should say what he really wants to say, “‘M bettin’ she misses seein’ your beautiful face everyday.”

You smile, your cheeks burning hot at Joel calling you beautiful. You knew you had to throw him off and give him a sarcastic response to keep him on his toes.

“Gonna freeze my ass off there. May have to borrow some of your flannels.”

He chuckles, tilting his head towards you, “You already havta’ have about four of my t-shirts, now that hoodie. You wanna raid me some more?”

“If I’m remembering correctly, you said I just had to “get with you” to get clothes,” You’re whispering, leaning into him. You don’t want Sarah to hear the words you’re speaking to her father, “How many times do we need to go at it before I get one of those denim jackets you own?”

He peers over at you. You smirk, quirking one eyebrow up.

“You with me to get my clothes or somethin’?”

“That and other things,” You tease, pulling away, leaning your back against the seat again. 

Joel peers into the rear view mirror. Sarah is asleep, her headphones blasting her favorite pop album. He tilts his head towards you, his eyes not leaving the road, “You’ll havta remind me of those other things when we get home.”

He could get used to always having you in his passenger seat. 

-

Sarah was dead asleep in the backseat, so you both decided to get all the stuff from the back inside before nudging her awake. You quietly shut the door, grabbing Joel’s one bag from the driveway and slinging it over your shoulder. 

You follow close behind him as he unlocks the front door and places Sarah’s stuff on the staircase. 

The idea of having to leave made you want to scream. You didn’t feel like driving home and laying lonely in your own bed. You didn’t want to resume your boring life at work. You just wanted him. 

This weekend made you realize that you really couldn’t live without him. You’re not only comfortable around him, but he’s exciting. He cracks jokes and compliments you when you don’t expect it. Those couple of months without him were still months he was plaguing your mind, even though he wasn’t physically around you. 

You snap out of your thoughts quickly. You start watching Joel’s muscles restrict over his gray t-shirt and it’s enough to send you to your knees. You didn’t even realize how crazy he was driving you. His messy curls that were trapped under a hat most of the weekend are finally loose and curling up his neck. And the way his jeans hugged his ass while he walked away from you? You didn’t know how long to could refrain from telling him you needed him, right this second. 

“I may call out tomorrow. Too tired to sit on my computer all day and run reports,” You say while he wonders back to you from his bedroom down the hall. You’re hoping it leads to an offer.  

He nods, tossing his keys on the entry table next to you,“Yeah, I am off tomorrow. Have to get this house in order and make sure Sarah actually wakes up for school in the morning.”

No offer. Maybe you could propose it?

“Maybe I could just spend the night.”

The air is thick instantly with tension. You can hear the hitch in his throat. Once you say it, you realize how desperate you must sound. But you want to be able to lay next to him again. You want and need him. 

“If that’s what you wanna do, sweetheart. I don’t mind none. Love havin’ you here.”

He grabs your waist lazily, pulling you into his chest. The connection sends chills down your arms. 

“Are you sure? I don’t want to you to think I’m being needy.”

He doesn’t even hesitate, he just bows his head to capture your lips with his, giving you a slow sensual kiss. You move your hands up to his neck, pulling him down further into you, eager to be close to him. 

When he realizes that’s where it’s going, he pulls up for air. 

“Lemme go get the last couple bags and get Sarah inside.”

As he says that, the door flings open behind you. A sleepy Sarah blinks at both of you, shaking her head instantly when she sees her Dad’s arms wrapped around you. You push back, flinging yourself backwards and away from Joel. 

“Can you lovebirds do that somewhere else,” She groans, while rubbing her eyes, “Don’t need another sibling created right in front of m-”

“Sarah Jane!”

-

You smile when Joel drops onto his mattress with a huff. 

“So…” You drift off, crawling onto Joel’s lap, “You come here often?”

He chuckles, his hands beginning to trail your waist.

“Come here quite often, actually,” He jokes, his hands resting right under your shirt and on your hips. “How about you?”

You hum, “Not really. Maybe a couple times. Would love to come around, more though.”

“That so?”

You lean down, using your fingers to pull back his brown locks and pivot his head upward. You kiss him gingerly, smiling at his small groan.

You pull away, “I’d love to come to your bed every night, Joel Miller.”

The guttural moan he makes sends a rush to your core. He grabs the nape of your neck and brings you back down to his lips. He takes control of your movements, switching positions by gently laying you back. He leans over your body, his lips carrying the weight of his emotion. You’re scrambling though, tugging at his shirt, trying to rid it off his body. He pulls away to throw it off his body, motioning you to do the same. Soon, you two are completely naked.

“I never get sick of this view,” He rasps, his eyes raking your body. 

You smirk, “Back atcha, babe.”

He positions himself on top of you, his lips lingering on your neck and collarbones. 

Joel’s kisses are always intentional. It’s like he knows every pressure point on your body. His lips are always wet and supple, dragging across your soft skin. 

When his mouth reaches the skin around your breast, you start to arch up for more contact. He grabs your stomach, pushing it softly down onto the bed. 

“Patience, baby,” He mumbles, kissing the same area on the other breast. You jerk up again, absentmindedly.

“Can’t help it,” You whine, trying not to sound so desperate. 

He clicks his tongue, “You can and you will.”

His lips wrap around your nipple and you just watch with hooded lids. His eyes are closed, so focus on teasing every inch of your body. You can feel the slick pool between your legs at the sight. 

“Joel, please.”

He releases the pink nub, “What, baby? Use those words.”

“I want you all over, Joel.”

“Yeah? Where? Here?” 

He grabs your breast roughly, making you mewl. 

You finally gesture down. Your hand slides between your legs, dragging up and down your own slit. You gather as much slick as you can, bringing it up to Joel’s surprised expression. 

“I see…” He brings your fingers up to his lips. You gape at his next actions, amazed that he’s so filthy. He takes your two fingers and licks them like a popsicle. You audible sigh as he sucks on your fingers like a man starved. 

“You goin’ to be extra good for me?” He asks when your digits escape his mouth. 

“Always am.”

Your voice is shaky when you say it. It makes Joel smirk. He loves when you sound ruined.

“Love hearing those words come out of your pretty little mouth.”

He crawls down your body, peppering kisses from your stomach down to your thighs. You watch him closely as he props your thighs over his shoulders. He does not waste time, diving straight into your divine center. You try to refrain from screaming his name, knowing Sarah may not be asleep yet. You clap your hand over your mouth while he licks your sensitive clit. He lays his tongue flat, pressing into you as he shakes his head back and forth. When he does that, you yelp into your palm. 

“Mmm, baby girl wants to be loud so bad,” He chuckles darkly, using his fingers to spread your lips, “You wanna be loud for me huh?”

“Yes, please, God,” You pant, “Need you in me, Joel.”

“Yeah? Lets stretch you out a bit,” He doesn’t even give any warning when he sinks his fingers inside your pussy. “Gotta make sure you’re nice and ready, baby girl. Want you to cum before I stick this cock in ya.”

You swallow, letting him take the lead like usual. You liked it this way, when he ravishes you with his abilities and you get to cum several times. You never had sex like this in your life, especially consistently. 

His fingers curl inside you, pumping in and out. You can hear how wet you are, the wetness sequelching against Joel’s fingers. Your pussy is graced with his tongue again while he fucks you with his digits. It’s like it’s pulled out of you. The orgasm sends white hot flashes to your vision. You know you’re saying something, but it’s no word in the English language. 

When you come back down from euphoria, Joel’s ontop of you again. He’s kissing your cheeks, mumbling something about how beautiful you are when you cum. 

“Joel, please,” Your hands grab onto his biceps, “Want you inside me.”

His cock drags along your navel, as he situates himself between your legs. 

“Yeah? Always so eager,” He grabs his cock with his free hand, “Wanna try something a little different?”

Your stomach drops, “Like what?”

He toys with your nipple with his pointer and thumb, “Always wanted to fuck these.”

You smirk at the thought, your stomach finally at ease.

“You want to fuck my titties, Joel?”

“If you’ll let me,” He squeezes your boob gently, “Think these things are perfect. Want my cock right between them.”

You nod, “Fuck ‘em then, baby.”

He pulls you up, practically shoving you on the ground beside his bed. He wasn’t being aggressive, just guiding you to follow his lead. You sit on your knees, watching up at him as he pumps his cock over you. You use both hands to push your tits together. He grins as he touches the head of his cock to your hard nipples. 

“So good for me,” He groans, slipping his cock between your cleavage, “Obeyin’ me and doin’ everythin’ I want. My fuckin’ dream girl.”

He starts to fuck your squeezed together tits as you stare up at him with a completely spent expression. You dribble some spit down between the break in your breast to lube up the area. Your pupils are blown and you feel the wetness of you slit soaking the skin of your legs. You can tell by the look on Joel’s face that he could cum at the sight of you. 

But he stops and instead, grabs your bicep and tosses you back on the bed. You watch him crawl up between your legs, his face untamed and filled with anticipation. 

“Need to cum in that pussy,” He pumps it a couple times before slipping in between your pussy lips, “Do you need me to put on a condom or anything? I don’t have to fuck you raw every time.”

You bite your lip, “I like feeling every part of you, Joel. I promise.”

“Mmm,” He hums, sinking his cock head inside you, “Love to hear that, baby.”

You circle your hips, practically fiening for him to sink all the way into you. He takes the hint, plunging into you with one snap. Once he’s finally sheathed in you, you groan out which only instigates him. He draws out and back in, his pace painstakingly slow. You grip onto his forearms, digging your nails into them. Maybe he will take the hint that you need it faster. 

But, no.

“Words, darlin’. Tell me what you need.”

You choke out the words, “Faster. Harder.”

He kisses your lips, shushing you as his tempo picks up. He wants to feel the vibrations of your moans. He knows if you’re too loud there may be listening ears, so kissing you will hush the sounds of pleasure. He sits up and repositions, grabbing the back of both of your legs, practically folding you in half. You smirk in delight, watching his furrowed expression focus on your body’s reactions. 

“This pussy is mine,” He huffs, watching himself plow into you, “All fuckin’ mine. Ya know that?”

“Yes,” You manage to peep out, “It’s yours, Joel.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” He spreads your legs, opening you up nice and wide. His thumb finds your responsive clit, circling it with the momentum of his hips, “Cum for me, baby. Soak this fuckin’ cock.”

Your body reacts in the way he finds so satisfying. Your hips lift up as the climax takes over, your whole body shaking at the ecstasy he brings you. He doesn’t let up, chasing his own bliss. You are so overstimulated, you are just gasping for air. He starts to falter, his pace slowing as he coats your insides with his cum. 

You start to chuckle when his body practically collapses onto you. His sweaty curls stick to your perspiring cheek. You find yourself kissing his temple, practically thanking him for fucking you so good every time.

He stands up, his half-hard dick slipping out of you pain-stakingly slow. You whimper at the feeling, still a mess from your orgasm. 

“God, you are perfect,” He mumbles, his hand slipping down your bare thigh, “Could fuck you every day for the rest of my life.”

You are still awestruck by the interaction, you don’t even know you’re saying it, “Why don’t you?”

He smiles while he helps you sit up, “I will. Now let’s get you all showered and ready for bed, huh?”

“Yes, please.”

-

Luckily for you, your body naturally wakes up at 5:30AM. You creep out of the bedroom, making sure not to stir Joel awake. You find the house phone and call your boss, letting her know you were “sick” and needed to use a sick day. She just mumbled a “whatever” and you hung up, heading back to the warmth of Joel’s bed. 

Joel wakes up as soon as you crawl back into bed, but he knew he had to get up and make sure Sarah got ready and off to school, anway. He cuddles you for a bit, watching you nod back off to sleep. He let you sleep in while he cleaned up the house a bit. He tries his best not to much too much noise, not wanting to rattle you awake. 

You did wake back up when you heard the vacuum. You pull yourself together, putting your hair up into a bun as you stumble out of the bedroom. Joel stands in the living room, not even aware you’re behind him. He jumps when he notices you in the threshold, turning off the vacuum. 

“Mornin’ sleepin’ beauty,” He laughs as he wraps up the vacuum cord. 

“Mornin’ handsome.”

You watch him roll the machine back into the hall closet before taking note to how nice and clean the house looked. 

“Looks good in here,” You mumble, noting how every surface looks dusted, “It’s missing one thing. You have a vase?”

He silently nods, looking at you confused.

“Go fill it with water, I’ll be back.”

You walk towards the front door, swinging it open as you begin tip toeing to Joel’s side garden. He had started it with Sarah years ago, and for the most part, it was completely overgrown. Some flowers still bloom in the Texas sun, so you pick the prettiest from the dirt. Once you have a bundle, you practically jog inside to show Joel your bouquet. 

“Hmm,” He smirks, “Didn’t think we needed flowers.”

“Well, you do.”

He shows you the vase on the coffee table, letting you take on the responsibility to make it pretty. He watches you carefully, your tired eyes trained on the task. 

You were his dream girl, truly.

Once you’re satisfied with your arrangement, you make a grand gesture. 

“Beautiful, baby,” He beams, wrapping his arms around your waist. He drops down onto the couch, pulling you into his lap. 

“Who me or the flowers?” You joke.

“Both.”

You give him a lazy kiss, smirking into it. 

This part of life with Joel is so domestic and perfect. You two could create this little world and live in it forever. He appreciated your silly antics, knowing how neglected this side of you must have been with Tommy. He didn’t care about the small gestures like Joel did. 

It was so reassuring being with Joel. He praised you like you had never been before. 

As you pull away from his lips, you hear a door slam outside. Before you could even react, the front door swings open into the house. You sit on Joel’s lap, turned away from the front door, completely dumbfounded.

“What is going on here?”

His voice scares you. You don’t even want to turn around in Joel’s lap to face him. Joel slowly helps you out of his lap, his eyes never leaving Tommy’s. 

When you finally turn to face Tommy, his eyes are wild and bright red. He looks like he hasn’t showered in days, his longer hair greasy and standing in all sorts of directions. It’s not his appearance that scares you, it’s the energy he’s brought into Joel’s living room. It’s the same scary tension you experienced when he lashed out on you before. 

Joel finally speaks up, clearing his throat. “What do you mean?”

But Tommy isn’t talking to Joel. He’s looking at you. 

“Are you fuckin’ my brother?”

He’s pointing at you, his finger waving at you like an adult who’s scolding a child. You open your mouth, but you can’t say anything. Your throat is dry, the shock and terror taking ahold of your vocal chords. 

“Tommy, we aren’t doing this.”

Joel puts himself in between Tommy and you, ensuring he doesn’t creep closer to you. You want to believe Tommy would never get physical with you, but the way he looks now, you’re not one hundred percent positive. 

“That’s not what I fuckin’ asking, Joel. Are you two sleepin’ together?” 

His voice is booming, bouncing off every corner of the room. It makes you shrink three sizes. 

Joel places his head up, warning him silently not to get any closer, “Tommy-”

“Answer the fuckin’ question!”

You want to curl into a ball. You knew this would fucking happen. You knew he’d go insane. 

You look at Joel finally. You realize your eyes were trained on Tommy in terror, unsure on how to console him. Joel licks his lips, rolling his eyes a bit. You just nod, trying to answer Tommy’s question without saying anything. You didn’t want him to realize how shaky your voice was. 

Once he gets confirmation, all hell breaks loose. He’s pushing on Joel with his chest, screaming expletives at him. You stand in the corner of the living room, your body practically wedged between a lamp and the couch. You want to become one of the dustbunnies on the floor boards, not wanting to be apart of this situation.

“You’re a fuckin’ asshole! You fucked my girl-“

Before he can even finish the statement, Joel becomes a brick wall. He’s staring down at Tommy now, all the while snot is running down at his little brother’s face. He looked pathetic. As he nudges Joel’s chest, he hardly moves a milimeter. Joel doesn’t even hesitate when he says the next words. 

“Not your girl.”

You truly cannot believe the words coming out of Joel’s mouth. You knew what he was insinuating and it brought chills up your back. Tommy’s movements completely halt and he stands there in a stunned silence. Joel’s jaw is slack, his eyes trained down at Tommy. It’s a stand-off. 

Tommy crooks his head to the side, like he’s stretching it. “You want to pull that shit now, Joel? I knew you wanted my sloppy seconds the moment you told me she was at your house that night.”

Being referred as “sloppy seconds” makes your blood boil. It’s so dehumanizing. 

“Stop talking about her like that,” Joel warns, his voice a whole octave lower. 

“No,” Tommy growls, his gaze finally falling on you again, “You’re a whore. Just like your stupid sister.”

You swallow hard. It’s finally your moment to shine. The burst of adrenaline chorusing through your veins finally propels you forward, pushing Joel out of your way. 

“You’re the town whore, Tommy Miller. You fucked your way around Austin and then came home to me every night,” You are shaking. Luckily, your voice isn’t wavering, “You lie. You cheat. You are a decietiful little shit. And I’m so glad you are because if you hadn’t slept with my sister and told me, I would have never realized how terrible you were to me all these years. I wasted so much time on babying you.”

The vein in his forehead is bulging and it makes you smile a bit. 

“If I could go back in time, I would’ve saved my fucking tears and ran the other direction.”

He has the audacity to giggle, “Instead you ran right into Joel’s arms.”

You don’t hesitate, “You never gave a damn about me, he actually did. I should’ve taken the hint the moment he brought me flowers for my graduation, and you showed up with a flask.”

“You graduated college! Big fuckin’ deal! Get over yourself!”

Now you’re laughing. 

“Bite me, Tommy,” You reach out and grab his t-shirt, pulling him into you. It makes Joel super nervous how close he is to you. He knows Tommy’s temper and how easily he will snap. He doesn’t know the next words about to come out of your mouth. 

“You cheated on me, you fucking loser. I told you then we were done that night, did I not? What I did after that point is not your business. I’m not yours anymore. And your brother, he treats me real good. Way better than you ever did. He can actually last, unlike you,” You smack your lips together, “He can fuck me better than you, that’s for sure.”

Joel’s eyes widen at the words. Tommy looks completely dazed, but as soon as the last line leaves your mouth, he pushes you backward, right into Joel. You squeak at the contact, your brain registering that he actually put his hands on you. Joel quickly grabs you from tripping over him, and places you behind him quickly. Tommy reaches out for you, but Joel stops him meer inches from your face. 

“Fuck you!”

Tommy tries to throw his hand at Joel’s head next but it’s quickly stopped by Joel’s forearm. Instead of Tommy continuing the fight with you two, he takes it out on the new flowers and vase you just put out on Joel’s coffee table. He uses all his force, grabbing the vase and launching it towards the wall. The glasses shatters, water splashes on the wall, and pieces of flowers litter the floor. 

The action sends Joel pushing Tommy backward and against the wall. You want to yell out for them to stop, but all that comes out his Joel’s name. 

When he pins Tommy to the wall, he finally turns to you. 

“Don’t.”

It’s the only word you can say. You’re shaking, your eyes welling with tears. Joel knows you don’t want to see him demolish Tommy with his fists, so he thinks quick. He grabs Tommy’s collar, dragging him out the front door. 

You follow far behind, not sure what Joel’s gameplan is. 

Tommy is yelling, telling Joel to unhand him. Joel just tightens his grip. 

“Coming into my house, talking to my girl like that. Fuckin’ disrespectful little shit.”

“Fuck you, Joel,” Tommy yells, his voice probably waking the neighbors. Joel launches Tommy’s body into the front yard, right near the flower bed. You watch from the doorway, wanting to keep your distance from the confrontation. 

“Remember when you had temper tantrums when Momma told you no as a boy? Nothings changed. You’re an immature little brat.”

Joel reaches down into the flower bed, grabbing the hose. Tommy is still on the ground, scrambling to get up. Joel does something so unexpected, it makes you yelp. He starts soaking Tommy with the hose. 

“Yeah, like the girl said before,” He aims towards Tommy’s face, “bite me.”

Tommy starts to spit up water, jumping up and away from the stream of water. Instead of tackling Joel like you anticipate, he just shakingly wipes his hair out of his eyes. 

“You two are sick. Fuckin’ sick. And everyone will know about this.”

It makes your heart sink to your stomach. You don’t really care if anyone knows anymore. You knew this was going to be the worst part, but its the way he makes it sound like a threat. 

“I bet they will, I just don’t give a damn.”

Joel sprays him while he stands up, making Tommy groan and yell out in annoyance. Joel just smiles, sickly. 

Tommy storms off to his truck, dripping wet from the shower Joel just gave him on his front lawn. Joel tosses the hose back into the garden, satisfied with his work. You two stand there, watching Tommy do a burn out and speed off down the road. You breathe out loud, your hands finding your face. Joel glances between his neighbour’s houses, ensuring there is no one outside watching the events unfold. He did not care if they did watch, but he knew you would probably care. 

He grabs ahold of your shoulders, guiding you back inside the house. Your eyes instantly fall on all the shattered glass and flowers as you walk inside. Joel ignores it and brings you into the kitchen. 

Your mind is racing. You knew every word you said to Tommy was right deep down. But the girl you were, she wouldn’t have instigated his rage. She would’ve sat there and took every word he said to heart and believed them. 

But the girl you are now, that girl is completely ruthless. You are petty. You are harsh. You are angry. 

You kind of scared yourself. 

“Joel-”

“No baby,” he mutters, “You better not say what I think you’re gonna say.”

“Joel, we can’t d-”

“We can. Because fuck Tommy. Fuck everyone,” He grabs your hips, letting his hands settle softly on your curves, “I want you. I want you so bad. I am not lettin’ you get away. Tommy can tell everyone in the fuckin’ world about us, and I won’t fuckin’ care. What he says doesn’t reflect you. You did nothin’ wrong. Okay?”

You swallow. You know he’s right, but you’re so scared of all this fallout. You don’t want it to scare you away from Joel, but it’s nervewracking to wait around and anticipate all of the chaos that will follow this incident. You did not want to tear apart a family. It’s the same feeling you had the morning after you first slept with Joel.

You’re scared to have him because of what it means for him. It means weird holidays and weird stares at grocery stores. It means you will be known as his brother’s ex girlfriend never just his girl. 

You don’t realize it, but you’re staring past Joel. He tilts your head towards him, making your eyes connect. 

“I love you, okay?”

His words make your heart flutter with relief. Maybe that’s what you needed. You needed him to finally say those words. Because those words were hanging in the back of your mind, simmering, waiting to be said.

“I love you, too, Joel.”

[bloodibambiidoll]

Hiii I love your account! 🐇 with Rafe please and “You’re so annoying” and “you look pretty like this” if I can pick two hehe

Omg thank you so much!! Of course you can pick two! I hope you like it! Thank you to my angel @babygorewhore for beta reading🖤🤭

This is for my 1.6k celebration🎀🖤

Warnings: Reader is Topper’s sister, enemies to fucking?, blow job, hair pulling, face fucking, cum swallowing, a lil bit of degradation. 18+MNDI!! W.k: 1.7k

Rafe has been driving you nuts since, well, as long as you can remember, but he’s driving you especially insane today. All you wanted to do was lay by the pool with your fruity little drink and read your dirty romance novel. But no, apparently Rafe didn’t want you to have a moment of peace while you were home from college for the summer. Why your brother had to choose him as a best friend and then also choose to stick with it for this long is beyond you. So he was just always around and it seemed like lately you couldn’t escape him no matter what you did.

The minute they got to the house with beers you asked Topper if they’d fuck off and chill inside but Rafe insisted they hang out in the back.

“It’s nice out, and I just can’t pass up this view.” He smirks at you as he leans back in one of your mom’s plush patio chairs, his eyes drinking in your barely there bikini.

“Rafe, that’s my sister man, how many times do I have to tell you that she’s -“ Rafe cuts Topper off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“She’s off limits, yeah, yeah, I know the fuckin’ drill Top.” That doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you every ten seconds. Sending you subtle little winks over Topper’s shoulder, practically fucking you with his eyes and you hate how much you like it. You can’t stand how much your body betrays you when it comes to Rafe fucking Cameron. He makes you want to rip your hair out, he’s arrogant, rude, and a classic spoiled preppy frat boy in every way. But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s so god damn sexy.

“The fact that you guys are being so fucking loud that I can hear you with my music on full blast is actually insane to me.” You slam your book shut as you dramatically pull your headphones off your head.

“Maybe you should stop being so fucking boring and come chill with us then.” Rafe blows out a hit as he holds the bong towards you. “Wanna hit?”

“You? Never.” You scoff, crossing your arm as you glare over at him.

“You think you’re reaaal clever, huh? I know you’re lying, you want me so bad.” Rafe snorts, setting the bong down on the table before leaning back in the chair with his arms behind his head and his legs spread. Fuck.

“You know what? I’m over this. Bye.” You shake your head as you grab your things, making sure to send Rafe a death glare on your way inside the house.

You’re inside for maybe five minutes when there’s a knock on your bedroom door.

“Fuck off, Top! I’m changing, I don’t wanna hear how sorry you are for how much of an asshole Rafe is for the millionth time!”

“Exactly how big of an asshole am I? Huh, princess?” The sound of Rafe’s voice on the other side of your door has you practically growling as you storm towards it and rip it open.

“You’re so annoying, Rafe, you know that!? You’re like a fucking fly or some shit, always buzzing around with no real thoughts in your head!!!” You glare up at him as your eyes meet his own, stomping your foot in frustration.

“You look pretty like this, ya know?” He rests his hand on the side of the door frame as he smirks down at you.

“Like fucking what, Cameron!?”

“All pissed off at me n’ shit.” He chuckles, leaning down further so his face is only a few inches from your own. His breath smells like weed and beer but his lips are so fucking kissable that it actually just pisses you off more. “I think you’re just mad because you wanna fuck me and you’re in denial about it.”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” You scoff and roll your eyes but you don’t even know if you believe yourself because you sound so full of shit.

“I mean, yeah. It also doesn’t hurt that you still have on that tiny little bikini…” He wets his lips with his tongue as his hand reaches out to cup your cheek. He drags his thumb across your glossy bottom lip before releasing it with a pop. “I don’t hear you denying it, baby.”

“I - You know what? Fuck it.” You practically lunge forward to lace your fingers into the material of his shirt using the grip to pull his mouth down to yours in a bruising kiss. He grips onto your hips, pulling you until you’re flush against him. He slips his tongue into your mouth and practically devours you before pulling away with a fucking smirk painted on his face.

“Fuckin’ knew it, knew you wanted me.” He bites his lip while he looks down at you like he won the fucking lottery.

“Shut up, don’t be a fuck boy about it or I’m not letting you anywhere near my pussy, Cameron.” You glare up at him with your lips set into that irritated little pout that makes him want to shove his cock between them.

“Your pussy? Shit, baby, you gonna let me fuck you? I’ve been wanting to wipe that bratty fuckin’ look off your face for years.”

“Yeah? Well maybe I wanna wipe that cocky fucking look off of yours.” You grab onto his hand, pulling him through the doorway, practically slamming it closed behind him. You push him up against it before dropping to your knees and making quick work of undoing his shorts.

“Shit, been fuckin’ dreaming about that pretty little mouth around my cock nonstop.” You pull his cock free and you can’t even hide the shocked look on your face at the sight of it. He was fucking huge. Long and thick and so fucking hard, god you can’t stand him.

“No wonder you’re so fucking arrogant, you would have a fucking monster cock.” You roll your eyes as you look up at him and you can tell by the look on his face that he’s about to say some smug bullshit so you grab onto his shaft and spit on it.

“Oh fuckkk, yeah, get it all fuckin’ wet.” He laces his fingers through your hair with a groan when you start to jerk him off. You pump him a few times before smirking up at him and taking him all the way down your throat in one motion. “God damn, baby, knew you had a mouth on you but shit.”

You pull almost all the way off of him, just sucking his tip as you swirl your tongue around it, flicking it along the slit. You work the rest of him with your spit slick palm as you look up at him. And god. He drives you insane in every fucking way. He looks so hot, you hate him for looking so hot. His mouth is hanging open as grunts and profanities leave it. Those ocean blue eyes keep rotating between boring down into your own and rolling in the back of his head, that stupid ass button up he’s wearing is riding up a little and showing a sliver of his waist and his shoulders fill it out so perfectly.

“Take this shit off.” Rafe uses the hand not in your hair to grab onto the top tie of your bikini top and pull the knot loose. “Fuck, fuckin’ knew you had perfect tits.”

You pull off of him with a pop, a string of drool still connected to your lips from his cock. When it breaks it drips down onto your chest between your tits and the sight makes his cock twitch in your hand.

“Yeah? Bet you wanna touch them sooo bad.” You mock pout at him as you bring your free hand up to fondle your tits.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, princess.” Rafe’s grip on your hair tightens and it causes you to let out a breathy moan. “Oh? You like it rough? Open your fuckin’ bratty little mouth.”

You stick your tongue out for him and he uses his grip on your hair to pull your head back down to his cock. He glides it across your tongue a few times, hitting the back of your throat, causing you to gag. You wrap your lips around his cock and swallow causing your throat to constrict around him. He starts to thrust into your mouth while you continue to practically swallow his cock, swirling your tongue while you finally take what he gives you.

“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ it, little brat, your mouth feels so fuckin’ good.” When you reach up to fondle his balls he throws his head back and his free hand flys to his hair, tugging at the strands almost as hard as he’s tugging on your own. “God damn, keep doing that - fuck - you’re gonna make me fuckin’ cum.”

“Yo Rafe, where you at!?” Topper’s voice travels up from downstairs and Rafe’s grip on your hair loosens as his thrusts abruptly stop. But you’re not having that, you start to bob your head up and down, giving his balls attention as you deep throat him.

“Baby - shit - I’m gonna cum down that slutty little throat, don’t stop.” You don’t, you suck him off like your life depends on it, drool dripping down his balls, down your chin, all over your tits. God, your tits, they’re bouncing so deliciously and you look so fucking hot with your mascara running down your eyes like that, it has his cock twitching in your mouth. His cum spurts down your throat and you swallow every drop. “That’s it, good girl, fuckin’ swallow that shit.”

“Where are you man? You better not be fucking with my sister again dude!” You hear Topper’s footsteps coming up the stairs and Rafe turns to lock the door.

“Yeaaah, it’s a little too late for that, Top.” Rafe chuckles as he grabs you by the hips and throws you on the bed causing you to giggle. “I suggest you fuck off if you don’t wanna hear her screaming my name though.”

“Dude!”

“Goodbye, Topper!! Get away from my fucking door!!” You hear him scoff before his footsteps recede back down the stairs.

“Now, where were we?” Rafe smirks at you while he wraps his hand around your throat. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

[queenendless]

🔞🌃Nights (Adult!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)🌃🔞

A/N: This is a short smut piece, serving as the follow-up to Moving Day.

CW: MATURE 18+ CONTENT INSIDE. NSFW, P in V, P in ass, double penetration, MMF, threesome, throuple, polyamory, short smut.

I'm no master at writing smut so sorry if it's not longer and stuff but writing short pieces means more often posts.

All credit for the characters/show goes to Gege sensei.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope whoever reads this enjoys.

Gojo boastfully laughed as he regaled with tales of pissing off the stingy higher ups, Geto whisking his drink about in his hand with a wry grin and invested eyes, and you sitting in between them.

Sushi dinner with your two loves. What a way to celebrate this newest chapter in all your lives.

You resting your face in your folded arms as their banter rang richly to your ears, lulled by their shared warmth. Feeling cozy, at ease, and entranced in ways you didn't think you'd ever receive. With them, it was like you three were in your own little world.

It had gotten late. Leaving the sushi joint with leftovers in bags, you three were heartily full, light-headed and happy. Driving back home in your five seated cozy car with Geto at the wheel. Gojo leaned his head back in the passenger seat while you kissed them both on the cheek, making small talk with Geto while Gojo zoned out to nap.

Honestly … you felt on top of the world.

Like right now.

In the comfort of your newly shared bedroom.

As your soaking cunt gobbled up Geto's shaft with such ease as he lowered you down slowly enough to slide it in; his giant hands squeezing you from your hips to your thighs.

"Fuck~" His raven hair fanned out beneath him, panting heavily already. "Honey, you are heaven sent~" Geto's lovesick smile made your bud tingle at his girth stuffing.

"Aaah~!" Your erotic moan made Geto swell up even further. His cheeks turned more red, sweat trailed down his enamored face and his flexing muscles; his veins popping out in the process.

Scratching your nails down Geto's ribs elicited rough hisses from him that made you carefully lay down atop him so you could smooch him. "Sugu~" Your shortened nickname for him made Geto smile further as he opened his mouth to let you two French kiss sloppily.

The moment you felt Gojo's lean warm presence lay atop your back, his girth throbbed as he jerked off in his hand whilst rubbing his dripping head in between your peaches.

"Nngh!" Geto grinded his hips forward just to get friction stroking his balls against Gojo's.

"Mmph!" Your lips broke off, head reeling as your arse swayed in the air, just begging to have Gojo's girth stretch you out. And that's what he did, your scorching wet caverns sucking him up just as greedily. "Ha – Aah … Toru~" Your shortened nickname for him, panting needily, had his hips jolting into yours, kneading your cheeks roughly, leaving scratch marks in their wake.

"Fuuuck~! Tight as ever, sweetie~ You've really missed me, huh~?" His head plopped down on your back as his hand fondled your right tit from behind simultaneously with Geto massaging your left tit.

"Missed us both, honestly~" Geto drawled, flitting his tongue along your neck, suckling your collar bone, grinning at the red welt marks now imprinting you. "The feeling's mutual~"

With Suguru's left hand gripping your right hip, and Satoru's own left hand grabbing your left hip, you felt somewhat anchored through your heated mindset. Your hands dug into Geto's broad shoulders for steadiness, your hips rotated upwards as they together lifted you up only to pull you down to take them in further, striking every nerve ending ingrained inside.

When they thrusted upwards, you jolted forward. When they pulled back, your walls fluttered, squeezing their cocks desperately.

This addicting pattern was quickly escalating as neither man was not even close to fully truly releasing. And so, their now frenetic rhythm had you a moaning yelling mess as familiarity of times before began racing through your memory. Them pounding into your soaking tightness specifically.

"God, this feels right~!" Gojo buried his face in your neck, kissing and biting you insistently enough to leave marks as much as possible in every inch of skin there. "So fuckin hot~!"

Geto took in a mouthful of your bountiful breast that he was just twisting your nub with his fingers, now tracing patterns with his sizzling tongue as he nibbled on your bud starvingly, his lips curling on both ends up at you. "Agreed~ Such a fine tasting angel~"

God, their teething, their burning mouths, their firm-built hands fondling and rubbing your skin, everything drove you up the wall. Their touch. Their taste. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

Dopamine jutted through all three of you.

FWOP!

Pushing yourself off Geto as you raised your hips frenzy in tune with them pulling away just as swiftly.

FWOP!

Only to SLAM yourself down on them both, earning lustful swearing yells from them, amorously smiling looking at their squeezing eyed, panting, sweating flushed beauty. Up and down you went, rewarding you with unreasonable pleasure and their deep enriching symphony of moaning.

"Horny little lady~" Gojo hissed as his hand released your abused red boob to grab your chin and turn you around enough to kiss you savagely; your surprised mewls mingling with his growls as he won supreme exploring every inch of your mouth.

SCHLICK!

Pulling your hands off his shoulders to intertwine with his, the squelched sounds of Geto popping out your breast heard loud and clear; a line of drool connected his tongue to your drool covered hill as he pushed up on his elbows, dark lust coating his eyes. "Satoru, let me take the lead here."

"Aw~! But taking her from behind is heaven~!" Gojo's whine as he parted from your swollen slick mouth was accentuated by thrusting in one fast thrust up said ass, having your loud squealing self lean back against his front; your horny tongue out expression had their dicks twitching.

"So is this." Geto's devious smirk was your only warning as he quickly pushed off the bed, situating yourself straddling him, when his hand released yours to grab your right thigh and heaved it high enough and far apart to stretch your pussy to go with another angle had you crying out. "Well~?"

Pulling your left thigh enough apart to drape over his hip from behind, Gojo followed his lead, earning him the same result, seeing your wanton crying self hugging Geto around the neck.

"Huh … not bad Suguru~" Gojo chuckled before leaning over your curling whimpering self to kiss Geto deeply.

"I try~ Now Satoru, shall we~?"

"W – wait~!" Your breathless plea had both men watching and amazed that you turned around to tug on Gojo's black blindfold, pulling it off to let his hair down and his eyes be free. "Beautiful~"

Gojo blushed darker, his heart felt struck harder by Cupid's arrow, and his eyes brightened with unbridled love before he kissed you his thanks, smiling cheekily as he rubbed noses with you. "Kawaii~!"

Holding your legs up from under the knees in one hand, lifting you higher off the bed, you were blown away by their sheer strength electrifying your nerves in this new angle, taking turns thrusting in and out, tugging your legs further apart in tune to their spasming pegs.

Burying your face in Geto's thick neck as your boobs aligned against his boob like pecs, you chewed on them luscious builds before biting hard enough to leave teeth marks. "Goddess~!" Geto gushed, dazedly smiling at you marking him as yours.

Shaking the bed insistently enough had the headboard smacking the wall a lot as one slid in and the other slid out, shaking you back and forth between them as they sucked and bit every inch of you they could reach, further claiming you.

The cacophony of profane, raunchy yells and screams served as the melodies to your ears, bouncing off the walls from the overwhelming sensations rendering you unable to spot when blue and brown gazes made eye contact.

Both slid out until only their tips remained inside. Then they struck in unison. Your tender flesh stretched to its limits until they reached that right spot. You then saw blinding white, popping off Geto's pec to breathlessly gasp. Your cunt and a-hole slick and swollen enough for another double pining.

Grinding as one, their composure long lost, all that mattered now was carnal release. Your breath hitched at the overwhelming high, your nails dragging down Geto's back; his pained growl giving you goosebumps before devouring your open mouth, swallowing your cries.

Blood rushed to your core chaotically. The air between you all got so smothering hot, difficult to breathe calmly. You barely able to pull free from Geto's swollen wet mouth before Gojo's head swerved around to entrap you in a deep tongue fuck.

Your hair stuck to your forehead, gleaming from sweat, you were losing composure. You felt muscles tighten as you were literally pressed in between their built chests, bruising left on your knees from their grip digging in painfully.

"T – Toru! S – Sugu! I – I'm – !" You struggled to utter against Gojo's perfect lips as you felt yourself about to reach the precipice.

"S – Same! Sh – Shit!" Gojo gritted through his teeth before going back to sucking and nibbling roughly at the back of your neck.

"Come, love! C – Come for us~!" Geto croaked out as narrowed brown eyes blazed with vigor; his furrowed brows and set jawline evident signs of him barely keeping it together.

The same was said for you as your continued insatiable clenching around their lengths had them pegging you in their hardest drive. Combined, it all drove you over the edge.

All you saw and felt was that same white hotness, wailing out loud as you unraveled. Drenching their abdomens, their thighs, the bedsheets covers. A lot really.

Your obscene wail was what set their beings spasmodic; the trigger warning, as their guts tightened in unison as they convulsed hard, roaring out loud, bursting the dams, painting your insides with their essence, leaking out of you, down their lengths and mixing with your own.

Dissolved into pleasure, you all came undone, the highs coming in waves of heaven. Wanting to chase that high, the chaotic duo kept at it, their cream coated loads still hitting your deepest crevice just to get the rest out, grunting whilst you were an exhausted mewling wreck.

Finally, their own highs in the clouds faded off, leaving their once stiff dicks now softened up. They lowered you down, releasing your knees, setting your legs draped against the soiled sheets.

Gojo collapsed against your backside, resting his sweaty warm face against your right shoulder while Geto draped himself over you up front, his face buried in your tits. You shuddered as one hand draped through Geto's ruffled raven locks while your other hand brushed back Gojo's snowy locks stuck to his sweaty forehead.

"Y/n-chaaaaaan~" Gojo cooed teasingly despite the fatigue, no doubt smirking. "Hands on practice, success~"

"Quite the memorable lesson, indeed~" Geto's soothing voice also teemed with wry humor as he looked up at you with his nose lodged between your hills.

Of course, they'd be smug about making you cum hard.

"J … Jerks." Your halfhearted jab was overshadowed by you nearly fainting sideways, instinctively triggering their sudden boost in reflexes, having them grabbing you before laying you gently down on your side.

"Maybe we pushed her too far." Gojo hinted at.

Geto raised a questioning brow at his crazy bestie lover. "Maybe?"

Still, they chuckled weakly at the night's events as they laid on their sides, keeping their shafts inside your comfy self; the bump in your tummy being sheer physical evidence of them in the womb. Their arms encased you, flushed between their glowing drenched selves, their legs entangling with your own.

"Love you two." Your nearly silent murmur added to your overall allure as your hands balled up against Geto's abs, your cheek pressed up to his scar covered chest as your own pillow for the night, dozing off leisurely to la-la land.

Gojo kissed your free cheek, using your shoulder as his pillow, whispering into your ear, "We love you too, beautiful~"

Geto kissed your forehead, smiling looking at your precious self snuggling into him. "Always."

As the iconic sorcerer duo kissed each other goodnight, they too conked out, leaving cleaning up to the morning.

For now, three being one, in their own little world, was like and will be like many more nights to come.

Literally.

[eva-of-the-sea]

Y'all ever notice that Fujiko receives a disproportionate amount of hate in the fandom? I'm sure it's something we've all seen, especially if you're a fan of her, but I don't really see it discussed.

I'm bringing it up now because for the past couple of months, I keep running into new fans that are very vocal about disliking her. And while I understand that everyone has their preferences, the reasons they give for why they hate her bother me the most:

"She's a bitch, she's so awful to the poor guys and especially to Lupin."

"She's a slut. She's constantly using her body to get what she wants."

"She betrays the gang so much it's annoying how she always does the same thing."

"It's the writers' fault for making her so unlikable."

While I partially understand one of these points, some of these other ones confuse me.

Fujiko is a character that looks out for herself. She goes into every heist with the thought of "what can I get out of this?" And despite this, she's been shown many times to care about all of the gang. Yes, even in part 2 where folks usually base their hatred of her off of. This is because she is a multifaceted character that isn't just driven by a single motivation.

"But Jigen and Goemon hate her!"

Do they? Because while they do get mad at her shenanigans, we also see them going out of their way to protect her and comfort her. Hell, Fujigoe is a common canon occurrence! Do you really think Goemon would be dating her if he didn't like her? Or that Jigen would be pushing her out of the way of bullets or shielding her with his body if he didn't care about her? Being mad or annoyed with someone's actions aren't the same as hatred. No one ever points out how they get mad at Lupin, and I'd argue that happens more often!

And on the point of her being a slut...where? I'm genuinely confused with this one. Fujiko does use her beauty and charms both to manipulate rich men into giving her treasure and to get out of dangerous situations. That's kind of the point of her being a femme fatale. But how often does she sleep with the people she manipulates? Most instances I can think of, she knocks them out when she gets that far. In fact, I would argue she doesn't seem to be that interested in having sex at all. Do they count her flirting as being slutty? If so, c'mon. And even if she did sleep with her targets, why would this be a bad thing? Are women characters not allowed to have sex? And again, how come Lupin doesn't get the third degree for HIS sluttiness. In fact, I see people joke about it and celebrate it if anything.

On the point of her betraying gang, yeah it is very one-note and does get old. You know what else is very one-note? Literally the actions of every other character in the show. I don't see people complaining about Zenigata chasing the gang getting old. Or about Lupin flirting with every woman he sees. Or about Jigen and Goemon using the same weapons in the same way to get out of every situation. Y'know, maybe this is just a repetitive show! And tbh, the writing lately has been shaken up. The modern series doesn't really have Fujiko betray the gang much anymore. She's either off doing her own thing or she's working with the gang as a member of the team. A lot of people complain about parts 4-6, but I think this is one of the elements it does right.

And finally, on the note of "poor Lupin", I think this one pisses me off the most lol. The fuck y'all mean "poor Lupin"?? I think fans either forget or don't realize that Lupin is a pretty smart guy. He knows Fujiko is most likely going to betray him if he does something for her, the bastard LIKES IT. This is foreplay for both of them. In case you haven't noticed yet, both of them are kind of freaks lol. There's a reason that most of the time, Jigen and Goemon are mad at HIM. Lupin is not a poor sweet baby that needs protection from Fujiko. He specifically loves the chase, the constant push and pull of their relationship. She's an exciting challenge for him, he's a stable home for her.

While I agree that Fujiko has not always been written great in the past, and I'm sure a lot of that was due to misogyny, I think fans need to reevaluate why they criticize her more harshly than the rest of the gang. There's a lot of things she's done that the fandom deems unforgivable, yet the boys have done some of the same stuff without so much as a slap on the wrist. Lupin constantly puts them all in unnecessary danger. Jigen has made some really unsavory comments about women. Goemon has betrayed the gang more than once. And I don't see nearly enough discussion about how Lupin really used to push himself on Fujiko, to the point of it being uncomfortable sometimes. Like damn I'd sell his ass out too😬.

I think it all boils down to Fujiko being a woman. And as a woman, she has to work harder to please the fans. If she's too nice, then she doesn't really have a personality or a reason for anyone to like her. If she's too selfish, she's a mean bitch and everyone should hate her. What if people saw her as a character first? Because no she's not a good person, but neither are the rest of the gang. Their morals are all on a sliding scale of what works best for the plot. But damn she's a great character. She stands out on her own and really makes you remember her. She's so much more than "the girl" character, and I'm so grateful for that. I hope more fans come to this conclusion too.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Carpenter Sisters Headcanons

Sam Carpenter & Tara Carpenter

Notes: Just some headcanons of my favorite sisters (aka my beloveds). Wanted to give you something since I've been pretty inactive this month partly due to the Christmas special I'm planning (which is coming soon) I also just love Sam & Tara sm, they will forever live on no matter what

Sam Carpenter

We should all already know this but, Sam is all the above when it comes to Tara. Big sister? Check. Dad? Check. Mom? Check, check, check

Makes Tara carry around a bunch of self-defense weapons like a taser, pepper spray etc

Texts like an old man. She doesn't know a whole bunch of "text lingo" so Tara uses that to her advantage. She'd text you "Kys" thinking it meant "keep yourself safe" because that's what Tara told her. She definitely uses these emojis: 😂 🙂

Is completely lost when it comes to "slang terms" and abbreviations. Tara: "You ate that Sam." Sam: "Ate what? I'm not even eating." Tara's laughed/made fun of her for it while Sam remains confused

Hates being called Samantha. It reminds her of how her mother would scold and ridicule her. When Tara started calling her Sammy, she couldn't be any happier with the given nickname

Never got Tara's love for Horror growing up, but tried to understand for her. In her opinion, it's illogical how most of the characters act, but Tara likes it so she doesn't mind giving it another try

Definitely introverted. She's more outgoing with people she's comfortable with; Tara, Mindy, Chad. Growing up, she never socialized a lot

Will always set everybody else's plate before her own

The Core Four have game nights and it can get... intense. Let's just say on multiple occasions (whether that was Tara buying her out during monopoly or Chad and Mindy giving her yet another +4 in Uno) she has been extremely close to flipping the table

Could laugh to the point where she's gasping for air, I can imagine her and the Core Four just wheezing over the dumbest things

Definitely had "the world doesn't understand me so I cope by blasting music very loudly in my room, not gaf who I piss off" phase. One of the songs she would blast was Creep by Radiohead (canon event. I can't interfere.)

Tara Carpenter

Could sleep anywhere, and always sleeping any chance she gets. I'd say she's a night person, and hates being woken up so early in the morning. And I can imagine she's a sleep talker too

Growing up she had a favorite stuffed animal she carried around everywhere with her and refused to sleep without it

She was a thumbsucker growing up, which she was teased for

Never learned how to ride a bike

She's always hated needles. Whenever she was forced to get a shot when she was younger, she refused to take it without Sam being in the room with her. Sam would let Tara squeeze her hand as tightly as she needed to

Cannot drive for shit. I just know this woman is a bad driver, Sam and the others just hold on to dear life and cross their fingers when Tara gets into the driver's seat

Her car is a complete mess, like you'll just find the randomist stuff in there. There's probably no limit to what you could find if you just try hard enough

She wakes up in the weirdest positions and thinks, "How tf did this even happen-"

Bullies kids on roblox (I don't make the rules)

If someone messes with Sam, they better count their days

She can get soo competitive. If she's winning, you'll know. Can get cocky when celebrating, chanting and everything

Her, Chad, and Mindy would put together one of those "performances" when they were little in order to convince Sam to let them stay up late or have a sleep over. Sam said yes every time

Tara's a shark defender. She believes they're extremely misunderstood creatures

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A/N: I need a Sam & Tara for Christmas