#friday is back day saturday is legs and thighs day

[spicyvampire]

Horny! at the Phadetseuk Boxing Club

WANDEE GOODDAY (2024) EP. 3 // EP. 8

[lowkeyerror]

Help With The Curriculum pt 2

Agatha Harkness x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: Smut, strap, dry humping, choking, fingering, 2x use of daddy in non-sexually explicity context, dirty talk, lap-sitting, mentions of edging, mentions of exhibitionlism, mentions of overstimulation, Rio Vidal 😩

Summary: You sit in on one of Agatha’s lectures and enjoy some time with her during passing period... however that time with Agatha might have attracted the attention of someone else.

An: Not promising a fully fledged fic but ill keep posting parts of this until I lose interest. Also couldn't help but add Rio... eventual Rio x Agatha x Reader smut but idk if it'll just be one part or permanent in this fic 🙇‍♀��

Previous Part | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

You end up spending Saturday and Sunday at Agatha’s. It wasn’t planned, but it was hard to leave. You already felt so comfortable with the woman. The only reason you found yourself back at home had to do with the papers you were supposed to grade Friday.

You spent most of your Monday grading the work. Images and thoughts of the other professor poked at the back of your mind, but you tried to stay focused. You figured that you could text her as a reward for finishing the grading.

Your phone dings as you’re on the final paper. You think about letting it wait, considering you’re almost done, but it dings again. The impulses get the better of you and you pick it up.

Agatha: I have an 8am tomorrow

Agatha: If you want to sit in on my lecture

You smile, knowing that you’d be in her classroom bright and early to watch her teach.

Y/n: I’ll be there

Agatha: Your class starts 15 after mine ends. It’d probably take you 5 mins to walk over…

Y/n: Probably, why?

Agatha: Well you said you wanted to fuck me in the lecture hall. You think you can get me off in 10 mins?

Y/n: I can do it in 5 ;-)

Agatha: We'll see about that professor

You now had a better reason to look forward to your Tuesday. After those messages you didn't have it in you to further grade the last assignment. You opted to just give that one lucky student an A.

For the rest of the day your mind wandered to how you were going to use those 5 minutes to get Agatha off. You couldn’t help but smile as dirty thoughts filled your head.

You’d be playing mind games from the second you stepped inside of her classroom. Your usual casual classroom attire was being quickly abandoned for something that better fit your title of professor. A grey 3-piece Herringbone suit. You wore your hair back, out of your face.

You had a pocket chain clipped to your pants, while a watch sat on your wrist. There was something special packed in your pants that you planned on using to tease the other professor.

You filed into her classroom with the other students. Opposite to her approach in your classroom, you sat in the back corner of her lecture hall. You wanted her to see you. With your legs spread open and a hand tentatively resting high up on your thigh.

Your other hand held up your head as you locked your eyes on her. When her eyes met yours, you could see them narrow at your appearance. You sent her a polite smile, which you could tell she was fighting not to return.

She briefly welcomed her students back and then  immediately got into the lecture. There was an assertive flip to her character that intrigued you. You could get lost in her tone of speaking. She hardly looked at you, but when she did, you were always readjusting the crotch of your pants.

“Your exam is tomorrow; multiple choice and 3 short answer questions. All of the answers should be in your notes, I’d study them thoroughly. You are dismissed.”

Her classroom cleared much faster than yours had the previous Friday. You had waited for the last student to leave before rising from your seat. You took your time locking the doors to the room, before heading down to Agatha.

You could tell that she had a sly remark on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t get a chance to speak as your lips attacked hers. You were rough as you kissed her, complete disregard for pleasantries.

You pressed her up against the desk. Enough to where she could feel the strap through your pants, she moaned as you slowly rocked your hips. No words were necessary, only the sounds of your breathing.

Your hand reached around her front, eager to plunge into her wetness. Once you make it past her waistband, you have to hold yourself back from taking her bottoms completely off. Her panties are ruined.

“Fuck, I made you this wet, just sitting there? You saw my hand on this big fake cock, and couldn’t help but make a mess of yourself, professor?”

She throws her head back as you rub her clit, “Look so sexy baby, I want you inside me.”

You chuckle darkly into her ear, “All weekend wasn’t enough huh? You just want me to fill you up every day.”

You keep your thumb on her clit and easily push 2 fingers inside of her. Your free hand loops around to rest on her neck. She tilts her head back to be able to meet your lips. You can feel her clenching around your fingers already.

“Desperate fucking slut, so needy for me. I’d take you like this for hours, till that puddle in your panties becomes a fucking ocean. Make you cum enough to coat my strap in your juices. Have your filthy mouth suck it off, just to spread you open and shove it in that hungry hole. The way you’re sucking up my fingers, fuck I know you need my cock buried inside of you.”

She begins to pant, “I want it. I want your cock, please. Please I’ll do anything, just let me have it.”

You pout, “Aww we don’t have time right now Aggie. I need you to cum on fingers so I can shove them in your mouth and go teach my class.”

She whines and starts moving with your fingers, “Y/n.”

You kiss her forehead, “I know baby, I know. You have to be good for me. Do what I say and I’ll make it worth your while, professor.”

You squeeze her throat a little tighter and pick up the pace with your fingers. Agatha lets out a shrill scream, causing you to cover her mouth quickly. You feel her slump against you, causing you to slow your pace before fully removing your fingers from her.

Before you can move away from her, she grabs your wrist, guiding your fingers into her mouth. She allows the tips to hit the back of her throat while keeping eye contact with you.

Your fingers fall out of her mouth and you delicately grab her by the chin. You peck her lips sweetly.

“You owe me one hell of a reward, Professor L/n,” she mumbles.

Her hand trails down the front of your suit pants until she finds what she’s looking for. She squeezes the toy lightly, palming it with her hand.

“I keep my promises, Professor Harkness. I still have a few to make good on, but in the meantime, I have a lecture to teach,” you wink at her.

She steals on last kiss from you, “Don’t be late.”

Agatha playfully smacks your ass when you turn around and you laugh at her antics. As you reach the exit of her classroom you turn back for a second, “Oh, and Professor Harkness. I really enjoyed your lesson.”

You leave her lecture room with a smile on your face. On the way to your own class, you find yourself walking in stride with fellow history professor, Rio Vidal.

“You’re getting awfully cozy with Professor Harkness.”

You shrug, “She needed some help with the curriculum, wanted a fresh new perspective.”

The brown eyed woman hums, “Hmm, I’ve never known her to ask for help.”

“Well, maybe you just don’t have much help to offer her these days,” you match her tone.

“I heard she sat in on your lecture, mind if I do the same?” She disregards your last statement.

Again you shrug, “Feel free, Professor Vidal.”

You feel her gaze trail up your side profile. It lingers on your pants, and you have to stop yourself from readjusting.

“You can call me Rio.”

“Y/n,” you say curtly.

Once at your classroom, you already have a few students waiting outside. You let them in and head to the front of the class. Rio takes a seat in the front corner of the lecture.

As promised before break you spend the whole class reviewing. The last thing you do is hand out the assignments you graded yesterday. You sit at your desk, eyes drifting over to Rio.

“Well, I can see now why everyone is so enticed by you. You’re charming, smart, and well-dressed. No wonder students and professors alike are always muttering about you,” she walks to stand in front of your desk.

Your face heats under her gaze, “I’m hearing about my  reputation more now than ever before.”

She stares at you like she could devour you. Her hands rest wide on your desk and her head drops to look at you.

“I don’t think she could handle what you have to offer, cupcake,” Rio leans into the desk.

“What are you talking about?” You sit back straight in your chair, keeping a calm attitude.

“Oh, now you want to play dumb professor,” she leans in further to whisper in your ear, “I heard you two early. Trust me kid, I know what Agatha sounds like. There’s only one reason I’d hear her making those kind of noises.”

“Jealous or something?”

She smiles widely shaking her head. She walks around to the side of the desk, “Not of you. Like I said, I’m very familiar with Agatha. I’m less familiar with you."

She gets on her knees and crawls over to you. Her hands wrap around your leg to rest on your knees, “ I need to know you better.”

“Don’t even think about it Vidal,” you scoot back away from her.

“I'd listen to her if I were you, Rio,” Agatha’s voice echoes across the room.

Rio only smirks and stand to her feet, “Hello, my love. Long time, no chat.”

“And I’d like to keep it that way,” Agatha quickly makes her way to the desk. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she stares at Rio.

The brown eyed woman frowns, “How long are we going to play this game, Agatha?”

“Play time is over Rio” Agatha says.

Rio shakes her head, “You fucking some hot, younger, girl, doesn't mean shit. She only fucked you as a rebound Y/n.”

“You’re only saying that because you wished you fucked her first,” Agatha shoots back at Rio.

“If I had 5 minutes alone with her, she would’ve taken me over the desk,” Rio glares at Agatha.

“You always did have a thing for sloppy seconds,” Agatha returns.

“I take it you two have a past,” you interject.

“Present, and a future, cupcake,” Rio winks at you.

You stand up, “I’m not your cupcake, Professor Vidal. I only plan on saying this one time, so I hope you’re a good listener. I. Don’t. Like. Sharing.”

“Oooo daddy runs a little hot I see,” Rio teases you.

You can feel your jaw twitch, “You’re a fucking brat.”

Rio bats her eyelashes at you, “You going to tame me, daddy?”

Agatha cuts in her tone stern, “Rio, leave now.”

Rio whines the blue-eyed woman’s name, “Agatha.”

“Out,” Agatha reinforces.

The woman huffs out an air of irritation before leaving the classroom.

“You know I figured you hooked up with Professor Vidal, but I didn’t picture her being such a brat,” you sit back down when you address Agatha.

The woman sits in your lap, facing you. Her hands play with the hairs on the back of your neck. She can feel the dildo pressing against her, but refrains from moving.

“She’s untamable,” Agatha says dismissively.

You scoff, “No one is untamable.”

Agatha rolls her eyes, “Trust me, Rio lives for the thrill of the punishment.”

“You punish her a lot?”

“I suppose I did,” Agatha meets your eyes.

“Tell me about it.”

Your hands found purchase on her hips. You guided her slowly back and forth across the length of the strap in your pants.

“One time I made go out with a toy inside of her and no panties. I spanked her for every wet spot she left when she was sitting,” Agatha says and you guide her a little faster.

“More.”

“I slapped her cunt until it was nice and tender and then I made her bounce on my strap until she came 7 times.”

You press Agatha down firmer on you, “Another.”

You were pulsing at the thought of Agatha dominating Professor Vidal. Her bratty attitude had upset you, but it had also turned you on. You wish you could put her in her place.

“I edged her for 2 hours until she nearly collapsed after squirting harder than I've ever seen anyone squirt in my life. Seeing her face down in her own juices, eyes fluttering, tongue out trying to taste herself on the floor. God, that was my favorite.”

You groan wanting more than fuck Agatha right here on your desk. She’s about to cum again while haven't came once today. It feels you are torturing yourself.

It's as if Agatha had read your thoughts. She sticks on of her hands down your pants. She slips it past the harness to feel your clit.

“You want to cum with me, professor,” Agatha smirks as she rubs your clit.

“Fuck yes,” you moan, laying your head on her chest.

It didn't take much more for you to cum together. Your breath was ragged, and your hunger for each other was only partially satiated.

“Listen up, ‘Mrs. I don’t like sharing’ if you’re going to try to become brat tamer of the year, you aren’t doing it without me,” Agatha says placing a kiss on your cheek.

She attempts to get up, but you hold her place, “Fine, when she comes to see you,  call me. I want us both to have fun with her.”

Agatha laughs, “She’s irritating in the way you just want to fuck it out of her, isn’t she?”

You nod, “But you can’t let her know that. Her ego is too big, that’s why she’s bratty now.”

Agatha agrees with you, “Good point, I have to go teach my next class, but I’ll see you tonight. Your place, for my reward.”

She kisses you sweetly, once more  before exiting your classroom.

Now you had two things on your mind. Agatha’s reward and your opportunity to punish Rio. Both things that you were very much looking forward too.

Next part

[mickandmusings]

something in the orange

pairing: jake seresin x f! southern! reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: when jake is back home in texas for football season, he tries to spend as much time as possible under stadium lights enjoying his season tickets. his girl, a loyal fan of her own state's team, begrudgingly trades in her own home colors for his gaudy orange.

warnings: fluff, simply just flirty hangman, reader is referred to as 'honey' by everyone, little knowledge of the university of texas at austin (born and raised in mississippi, msu fan by proximity, lsu fan through my dad, i'm just a sec baby) purely self indulgent for me, i'm obsessed with southern boy jake, author has limited knowledge on football

based on this request from the always lovely @fraaaaankiiiiieee i'm so in love with all of your ideas <3

**please note: since this is an extended series the love interest is referred to as 'honey' just because Y/N didn't seem right.**

-

Honey was used to this routine after all these years of being married to Jake Seresin. Monday through Friday were for the Navy, while he was on a mission at least, or for working on the farm when he was home. Most Sundays were reserved for the Cowboys, but Saturdays, oh Saturdays, were reserved for the UT Longhorns. Game Day Saturdays were proper nouns among the Seresin's, which Honey had adopted as soon as she took his last name. She didn't mind it much, truthfully, she was passionate about her own home state's teams, almost equally as excitable as Jake.

More often than not his missions took him far from their home in Texas, which didn't allow him to enjoy the full extent of his season passes. It was rare for Jake to be home long enough to swing into Austin to watch a game, so most of the time the couple opted to enjoy it from the comfort of their living room couch. Jake would sling his arm around her, pulling her around by the waist, making comments about this year's lineup, which players would be starting, simply making small talk about the game. As the game progressed, however, he'd coach from the couch, sitting on the edge of the cushion, hands folded as his green eyes watched the players in either pure elation or complete disdain. His well-worn orange Longhorns cap would sit backwards atop his blonde locks, stationary, until he got frustrated, then the cap would come off for him to run his hands through his hair. It was one he'd owned since high school, well-loved, partially sun-bleached, and the fabric was starting to fray around the bill. His Grandpa Seresin had given it to him after he'd joined the high school football team, and he'd worn it ever since. It was his favorite, and he wore it with pride. After football season, the cap lived on the dash of his truck. He'd sometimes throw it on if he was running errands on a particularly sunny day, or if he was in a dire need to cover his windswept hair, but it seemed more often than not that the hat had become part of his otherwise spotless truck.

Today, however, Jake was finally home for the first time in several months, and there was nowhere else he wanted to be than under stadium lights on a beautiful, albeit warm, Texas afternoon. He was sitting in the living room of his and Honey's farmhouse, already dressed in his burnt orange polo with the little white longhorn on the corner, his aviators hanging loosely from the one button he had fastened at the top. He had been ready for nearly half an hour, and had made his home on the couch as he waited for Honey to finish getting ready. Jake was scrolling mindlessly through his phone when his wife's voice sounded from their upstairs bedroom.

"Jake?!"

His eyes looked up, laying his phone face down on his chest as he shouted back so she could hear.

"Ma'am?!"

He received no response, but her footsteps were heavy as she stomped down the stairs, one of Jake's many orange UT shirts tied on her torso, a little oversized. Denim shorts covered her legs to mid-thigh, a comfortable pair of shoes on her feet. Jake stands as she enters the room, as he always does, noting the unamused expression written across her face.

"What's the matter, baby?" His calloused hands reach to rest on each side of her hips.

"I look ridiculous, Jake," her voice is deadpan and serious. Jake's green eyes scan her frame, a sly smirk forming on his face.

"Nothin' wrong with what you got on. In fact, I think you look smokin'." He pulled her closer by her hips. Honey rolled her eyes, smiling up at her husband despite his cheesy flirtations. He leans down to kiss her, only taking a few seconds to deepen it before she's pushing him away from her lightly.

"Don't start that, Seresin," she bats her eyelashes. "Or we'll never make it out of here, and I'm not wearing this gaudy orange for shits and giggles."

"I don't know, darlin', orange might be your color."

She scoffs at her husband's statement and she grabs her bag as Jake ushers her out the door. She stands in front of his truck, already knowing Jake's insistence of opening her door. As he finishes locking the door Honey speaks.

"I look much, much better in maroon."

Jake knew his wife was right. As much as he loved her in his burnt orange, there was something about her in her home colors, sitting in the blistering southern heat as she cheered on her beloved bulldogs. He'd pay attention to he game, but never as much as he paid attention to her. His heart would nearly beat out of his chest as he watched her standing in front of him in the stands to get a better view, the anticipation in her eyes as the players lined up for the next play. He'd laugh as she jumped up and down for touchdowns and field goals, loving it most when she gave him a celebratory kiss.

Jake rolls his eyes, opening her truck door, nudging his head to motion her to get in, closing the door behind her before moving around to his side. He slides in and starts the truck, his usual country music station sounding through his speakers. He backs out and heads down their long driveway. Honey looks out the window, surveying the acres and acres of farmland, noting the livestock grazing and the scenic landscape. Once out of the country and onto big city roadways, her focus turns to her husband in the driver's seat.

Jake is leaned back in the seat, his aviators now perched on his nose. His left hand drums against the steering wheel to the song playing, his gold wedding band shining in the sunlight. His right sits on her thigh, his thumb drumming on her skin. His golden hair and tanned skin gleam in the Texas sun. She smiles, his time stationed in California had done him well.

"You're starin' sweetheart," his southern drawl is thick, completely prominant from his time back home.

"Can I not stare at my husband?! I didn't realize it was a sin."

"It's not, look all you want, baby, but the sight of you in my shirt sure is making me want to sin."

He turns his attention from the windshield of the truck to his wife for a split second, his green eyes staring her down over the tops of his aviators.

"You're stunnin', but I think I know what the outfit's missin',"

Honey's eyebrows raised at her husband, her own eyes cutting at his frame, his eyes now staring back ahead at the roads getting busier with traffic.

"Missin'? Didn't realize my outfit needed more. It's a football game, baby." Her voice is laced with humor as she speaks.

Jake's arm reaches towards the dash, his calloused hands grabbing the infamous orange hat, and tossing it backwards onto her head.

"Perfect!"

Y/N shakes her head at her husband's actions, straightening it so the longhorn emblem is facing the front, adjusting the strap in the back to fit her head. She rolls her eyes as she looks at her reflection in the small visor mirror, Jake's hand returning to her thigh. As he turns to look at her in his cap, Jake's grin is wide on his face, the kind of shit-eating grin only a man completely in love would have.

"No matter if the boys win or lose, baby, I'm still taking home the best looking trophy tonight."

[vivwritesfics]

(Oh My God) They Were Roommates

Chapter Eight - She Breaks Her Own Rules

Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.

1.5K

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap)

okay so im skipping ahead in the timeline but, by this point, they've done a lot and slept together a lot. If you guys want to, you can send in asks (like we've done with nnta) about it

Series Masterlist

The Spanish Grand Prix. It was their first grand prix since they started fucking and it felt like they'd done nothing but that. They'd spent almost every night together since that first time they slept together on the couch.

At first, Lando did what he had done that first time. He left her as soon as they had both finished, or he rolled away and let her leave.

But there was one time, one time where Y/N just laid there, too fucked out to move. Lando still got up. But this time he walked to the bathroom and started running the water.

As it ran, he made his way back to his bedroom, where Y/N was still laying. "Hey," he said, crouching down beside her and brushing the hair away from her forehead. "I've got the bath running for you."

Lando stood up straight. He brought her into his arms, picking her up and walking her into the bathroom. Gently, he placed her down in the water. He grabbed the loofa and the soap and began scrubbing at her skin. "Feeling better?" He asked, gently cleaning between her legs.

She hissed and Lando pulled away, cleaning the sweat from her thighs instead. "Thank you, Lan," she said softly, eyes closed as she leaned back against the tub.

He smiled, smoothed down her hair, and left the room.

Y/N closed her eyes. She just laid there, enjoying the feeling of the water against her skin. But then the door opened again and Lando returned, holding a clean pair of her pyjama shorts and one of his hoodies.

After climbing out of the tub and drying off her body. Y/N pulled on the shorts and Lando's hoodie. She followed him out of the bathroom and made her way back to her own bedroom, falling asleep alone.

But now they were at the Spanish Grand Prix. It was incredibly warm, but Y/N was still wearing a hoodie. She had thought nothing of it, of the hoodie she was wearing as she walked through the paddock on the Friday, orange hat on her head.

She thought nothing of it as she walked into the garage to prepare for free practice. She went into her drivers room and got changed into her fire proofs and racing overalls. Before she left her drivers room, she checked her phone and took a sip of her energy drink.

If this was a movie, the scenes would have cut between Y/N racing around the track and her phone notifications blowing up. It seemed like the only things the fans cared about wasn't the free practice, at this particular moment, but it was Y/N's attire as she arrived at the track. Or, who's clothes she was wearing.

It was no secret in the Formula One community that Lando liked to wear his hoodies. His fans knew all of his hoodies, knew how easily recognisable they were. So, when Y/N L/N, his teammate, came walking into the paddock wearing his hoodie, nobody could believe it.

F1 social media was blowing up, and she was none the wiser.

She and Lando didn't have much interaction that day. He didn't seem to notice what she was wearing, having gotten used to it, gotten used to seeing her in his clothes.

On the Saturday, things were a lot hotter. Y/N wore her McLaren top as she walked around the paddock, saying hello to her friends and doing a little bit of media with her teammate.

Interviewers loved to ask them how their living situation was going. Y/N and Lando loved to watch the excitement drain from their faces when they said that things were going well and that they enjoyed living together. Clearly, interviewers wanted gossip, tea, to hear how much they hated living together. But that wasn't what they had to say.

Qualifying was insanely good for Y/N. It was the best qualifying of her F1 career, starting second on the grid. Max qualified just ahead of her, but there was no way she was going to be able to overtake him. Second place would be good, if she could hold onto it, but she was hungry for the win.

If she had qualified ahead of Max Verstappen, she would have wanted to celebrate, to pull Lando into her bedroom for a sleepless night. But she hadn't qualified on pole and she needed to be able to concentrate, needed sleep before the race tomorrow.

On Sunday she was anxious. Of course she was, it was race day. She woke up, so much earlier than she needed to, and got dressed.

When it was time, she and Lando headed to the track together. It wasn't suspicious, they told themselves, they were roommates and friends and it was perfectly normal for them to go places together.

(When fans noticed this, they couldn't believe it. They had to be dating. First the hoodie and now this? Dating was the only explanation, they thought).

Before the race began, the drivers stood on track as the race day opening ceremonies happened. She was between her teammate and Ferrari's own Charles Leclerc as the national anthem was played.

Since they got to the track, Y/N and Lando hadn't had a moment alone. They hadn't had a moment to wish each other good luck. Were they even supposed to do that now? Just because they were having sex, did that mean they should say good luck to each other?

They didn't get much time to worry about it. Before they knew it, they were on the starting grid, waiting for the lights to go green.

***

Y/N was on the podium. She wasn't just on the podium, she had won. She stood proud as her countries national anthem played behind her. Her first win in F1 and she got to share the podium with her friend Max and the living legend that was Lewis Hamilton.

She sprayed champagne over them as they ran around the podium, the crowd staring up at them. The feeling of her first win was incredible, addictive, and she wanted to celebrate.

Max invited her on a night out, to go clubbing and celebrate his win. But Y/N turned him down, she had other plans.

Getting back to her drivers room, she did things quickly, got changed out of her fire proofs quickly. She then snuck her way out of her own drivers room and made her way over to Lando's driver room. She knocked gently and pushed the door open.

"Congratulations," said Lando as she walked in and shut the door behind her, he was incredibly proud of her.

Y/N was silent as she walked over to him, her hips swaying from side to side. Lando was still as he watched her walk over to him. As she threw her arms around his neck, Lando's hands settled on her waist. Still saying nothing, she pressed her lips to his.

The rules they had set out played in the back of his mind as Y/N pushed him back towards the white couch in his drivers room. She sat on his lap, immediately grinding against him.

Lando continued to kiss her as he pulled off his shirt. He pulled his own over his head and dropped it onto the couch beside them. Y/N continued to kiss him as she opened his jeans and pushed them down his legs, doing the same to her own.

Lando unclasped her bra as she freed him from the confines of his boxers. She pushed her panties down and sat back on his lap, his cock stiff and proud between them.

Y/N grabbed him and pumped her hand up and down. She kept her fingers wrapped around him as she placed herself above him, and sank down, throwing her head back as she filled him.

Fuck, she'd never get used to this. She never wanted to.

Lando held onto her ass as she bounced on his lap, riding him. He continued to kiss her, unwilling to pull his lips away as he began thrusting up into her, helping her to move. His hands gripped her skin, leaving bruises.

The way he held her, the feeling of his skin against hers, was addictive, almost as addictive as winning. "Lan," she whispered against his bruised lips.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered, continuing to fuck up into her.

Her eyes closed as she let out a weak cry.

Her orgasm was close, but still just out of reach. But then the door to Lando's driver room flew open and Max walked in. "Hey ma-"

Every in the room froze, just staring at each other. Lando tightened his grip on her before his brain kicked into gear and he grabbed his shirt from the couch and pulled it over her body.

He pulled out of her and pulled his boxers up, pushing Y/N behind him to shield her from Max's view. "It's not what it looks like," the McLaren drivers said at the same time.

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[1d1195]

Thursday

Read Tuesday and extras here | 2.8k words

From me: based on this ask/suggestion

Warnings: fluff, a bit of angst

Summary: A lot of things are back to normal. Like coffee dates, movie nights, and sharing a skin routine with Niall. But some things are a little uncharted. Like onions, bookmarks, dishes, and exes.

“What’s your favorite day of the week?” She asked.

“Friday of course,” Niall rolled his eyes. “What else would it be?”

“Saturday, obviously,” Harry stared at his friend as he brought a glass of water from the kitchen. He held it out to her. “Here, kitten.”

“Thank you,” she said softly, taking a long sip before Harry took it back from her and placed it on the coffee table in front of them. “Thursday is my favorite,” she told the pair. Harry fell into the seat beside her, his hand immediately resting on the inside of her leg, squeezing her thigh gently.

“Thursday!?” Niall’s eyebrows pinched together. “You still have a whole workday left! Why would you like Thursday?”

She shrugged. “Just... it’s a good day, you know? It’s anticipating for Friday. It’s nice.”

Harry stared at her dreamily. She could feel him look at her in her peripheral. It had been a while since someone looked at her the way he was looking at her. It hadn’t been long since they admitted they still loved each other. Only a few months. They settled back into the same normal routines they had when they dated the first time. “S’cute, love,” he squeezed her leg. “What movie are we doing tonight, Ni?”

“What number are we on?”

Harry shrugged. “Oh, I haven’t a clue. Think Mitch is keeping us on track.”

Since they started seeing one another again, she hadn’t come to one of their weekly movie nights. It made her feel better about not being overbearing and needy. But Harry invited her every week. Niall too. You don’t have to be here because of Harry. I want you here just as much as he does—maybe more because I’m ready to tie you to a chair to stay, Princess.

So finally, after countless invites, she finally caved. Not that it was hard. She was excited to be there. Their group of friends had been making their way through the Best Picture Oscar winners since the award’s beginning. It was cool to see how things changed over time, and it was really adorable to hear the way Harry talked about it. “I don’t have to stay for movie night,” she reminded Harry quietly. “If you want time with just your friends without—”

Although his mouth opened to protest, it wasn’t Harry that answered. “Princess, don’t be ridiculous,” Niall rolled his eyes. “Course we want you here. Help us pick out food.”

Niall cast his phone to the TV screen and was scrolling through the nearby places that would deliver to them in the next hour when their other friends arrived. “M’feeling pizza I think,” Harry suggested.

“Pizza it is,” Niall selected their favorite pizza place and began selecting way more pizza than seven people could ever eat.

“Make sure there’s one without onions.”

Her heart fluttered that Harry remembered that about her after all their time apart. Part of her thought about just going with it, never admitting the change in her palate. But she didn’t want to lie. “Actually,” she cleared her throat. “I like onions now,” she admitted almost shyly. Like she wasn’t allowed to change her mind.

“Y’do?” Harry blinked and turned fully toward her. A delighted smirk on his lips. It made the dimple in his left cheek pop through prominently.

She nodded. “Not sure how it happened. Think I accidentally ate something with onions in it and didn’t pick them out like a five-year-old. It actually tasted good. I like French onion soup now and everything,” she explained.

Harry’s smile grew, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if it was a bigger to do than it was; like winning an award or something. “I told y’that y’would like them,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and buried her face in his chest. “So brave,” he teased.

“Oh, shut it,” she laughed. “Did you at least warn them that I would be here?” She asked.

“Sarah is really looking forward to seeing you,” Niall once more took the lead in explaining. “She is tired of being the only girl around.”

While it wasn’t fully said, she knew Harry had been seeing a girl. In one way or another. It wasn’t a bad thing, she wasn’t judging. But Harry got exceedingly cagey about it whenever she tried to broach the subject. “What about—”

Harry squeezed her thigh again. A silent directive to stop her question. Niall smirked as Harry cut off her inquiry (and Niall’s impending quip). “Y’could bring a girl home, y’know,” Harry reminded him.

“She’ll be so jealous of our princess here,” Niall winked making her laugh. It really felt so easy. So simple. Just being back where she was supposed to be. Like nothing had changed at all. “Holding out for the one, Harold. You should know something about that,” he said knowingly and finished placing the pizza order. His phone screen disappeared from the TV, and he left the room.

She didn’t want Harry to feel like he had to hide part of his life from her. They were adults. He was allowed to see anyone he wanted. “You know...you can talk about someone you dated—”

“We didn’t date.”

“—pardon, fucked,” she smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes, his cheeks turning a shade redder than she thought he needed to turn. It didn’t bother her that Harry had a life outside of her. He was unbelievably handsome. Unbelievably sweet. He deserved to be happy. She wasn’t jealous of someone else in his life when she had no claim to him in any way. “I jus’ don’t think s’polite t’talk ‘bout her t’you,” he shrugged. “S’rude.”

“Okay,” she nodded encouragingly. “If that’s how you feel, I just wanted you to know you could if you wanted to.”

Harry seemed a little less on edge about it after that, but she noted his grip on her thigh loosened. Even though she kinda liked how his fingers felt pressed into her skin. She figured she could tell him later when they were alone... and her clothes weren’t in the way.

*

They sat in the very coffee shop she used to work in. It was nice to get out and have an inexpensive date—even with two grown up jobs it was smart to sit and relax in the comfy seats and sip coffee they loved so much. It made her heart flutter that Harry still knew her order after so much time. Or maybe that was a comment on her stubbornness to change. “You should try the hazelnut drink they just got,” she smiled at him as they stood in line, holding hands. “It made me think of you.” The overlap of seeing him after two years and the new drink reminded her of all the things he loved and all the things she remembered loving about him. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek.

Once seated, Harry stretched his legs; they invaded her space beneath the table. But it didn’t seem to bother her. He admired her concentration on the book she was reading; the little furrow of her brow, the way her lips pursed together. She was so adorable, and Harry didn’t think she even knew. Beneath the table he nudged her leg with his knee, and she glanced up at him. He could tell she didn’t want to look up from her book. But he smiled at her. A smile that made her heart and stomach twist because he was so Harry, so perfect. It made her smile back.

“Harry!”

Both their heads turned to the voice. But after a brief moment, she turned to look at Harry. Trying to piece together the recognition. She came up short, but Harry stood and greeted the girl with a hug politely. There was a little flutter of jealousy that pinched her heart and she waited patiently.

“Kitten, this is Hailey,” his voice was neutral.

“It’s nice to meet you,” she cleared her throat and stood.

Hailey was beautiful. There was no question about it. When she left, she was going to ask about a thousand questions. Starting with if she was a model. Then asking Harry if she knew what kind of hair products she used.

“Same to you,” she smiled politely. Her voice took on a new tone as she turned back to Harry. It was obvious her problem wasn’t with her, for which she was grateful. “Hadn’t heard from Harry in a while.”

“That’s my fault,” Harry’s voice was low. As if he was exhausted. She could tell Harry wanted out of this conversation. Curiosity was getting the better of her as she tried to imagine if she had ever met Hailey prior or heard the name in any stories Niall had told.

“How long have you been seeing each other?” Hailey asked. She noticed her tone was getting harsher by the second. Her glare bored into Harry’s face.

She opened her mouth to say, ‘a few months,’ and get her attention away from her boyfriend. But Harry beat her to the punch. “Two and a half years,” he told her.

Hailey quirked an eyebrow up and she tilted her head at him curiously because while true, technically, there was a large two-year gap between the ‘two’ and the ‘half’ part of his sentence. But it did make her heart happy that he was willing to let the gap slide into oblivion. It would definitely require explanation, but it was nice.

Hailey looked at Harry for a long moment. “That’s news to me.”

“Hailey,” he said quietly.

“I can let you guys talk if—”

“S’fine, kitten,” he said quickly.

Hailey looked irritated beyond belief. She wished she fully knew why because right now the only thing she felt was overwhelming uncomfortableness. Quietly she sat in her seat and folded the page of her book down. Harry did a double take and shook his head before turning his attention back to Hailey.

“You ghosted me,” she said.

Harry closed his eyes. “I did,” he admitted. “But we were never...”

“I deserved more than that.”

“You did,” he agreed. It clicked. The girl that Harry wasn’t dating. The girl he was fucking in some arrangement that she didn’t know about. Her cheeks felt warm just knowing what happened. Hailey looked pissed. Her eyes were fueled with anger. “But we weren’t exclusive.”

She continued to glare at him. “You’re an ass.”

“Yes,” Harry nodded in agreement.

It almost seemed like Hailey was mad Harry was agreeing with her. Not that she could fully look at the scene unfolding in front of her to truly gauge it. She was taking extreme interest in her coffee cup. Hailey grabbed Harry’s cup of coffee, pulled the lid off and she closed her eyes as Harry braced for the cold liquid to cover him. “Good luck,” Hailey said in her direction then marched off to the exit. Once out of the shop and everyone was watching Harry drip from head to toe, she jumped into action. She asked her former coworkers for some towels, and she felt her face heat with embarrassment on behalf of Harry. If she wasn’t there, maybe that wouldn’t have happened. Perhaps Hailey would have had a conversation with Harry that she fully deserved and she wouldn’t have felt the need to dump coffee all over him.

“Kitten,” Harry murmured as she dabbed at his clothes and cleaned up the puddle at his feet. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

She smiled weakly. “It’s okay. Are you alright?”

“M’so embarrassed,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “Let’s get out of here,” she squeezed his arm.

“But our date...”

She laughed quietly. “I mean, I wanted you out of your clothes anyway,” she teased.

Harry chuckled, his cheeks turning slightly pink with her flirtatious joke, and looked at his feet. “Yeah? You’re not mad?”

“Mad?” She asked. There was a long pause as she gathered their belongings, returned the towels to the front where she thanked them profusely. Then she held the door open for Harry, sticky with coffee. He shrugged.

“I didn’t...” He sighed. “I didn’t want to tell you about her.”

“Why?”

“Because, kitten. If I knew y’were fucking some guy for the last two years without any strings attached I would be jealous out of m’mind,” he explained. “I’d be jealous if there were strings.”

She made a mental note to keep her ex to herself. “Well... I’m not mad. I wish you had told me so you could have ended things—”

“She was getting attached. I didn’t want a relationship. I started cutting it off weeks before I heard from you. I had only seen her once or twice in the months prior. She texted every now and again. I didn’t want a relationship,” he repeated. She got a jacket he had left in his backseat to lay over the driver’s seat so he wouldn’t have a car that smelled like sour coffee for the rest of time. They could always wash the jacket.

“No?” She asked. Harry took his seat and waited until she was in the passenger seat to continue.

He shook his head. “Now that I have y’back... I don’t know why we broke up,” he tapped his hands on the steering wheel. Her heart fluttered. “S’obvious now. M’not... I don’t know, kitten. Dating didn’t make sense after you. I tried. Really,” he assured her. “S’jus’... you were... you are special.”

She bit the inside of her cheek and felt the heat warm her skin with adoration and embarrassment. “You don’t have to pretend like you didn’t have a life while I wasn’t around.”

“I know. And I was wrong for how I handled Hailey,” he assented.

“Maybe, yes. But she didn’t need to pour coffee all over you.”

“At least it was iced,” Harry chuckled. She smiled. “Are we okay?”

“Of course,” she giggled.

Harry sighed with relief and grabbed her hand. He kissed her knuckles. Turning the car on and backing out of the spot. “Since when d’you fold the page of y’book like a serial killer?”

*

Harry always sucked at doing dishes. When she stayed at his house in the beginning of their relationship it drove her nuts to no end. He used too many and piled them high. Then he would leave them without soaking for so long it was miserable. It wasn’t even her responsibility to do the dishes but she felt like it was after he did all the cooking.

Which was why when he finished making dinner for them on a night in, she was floored to see him doing the dishes right away. Soaking and scrubbing them as she had done so many times over.

“You don’t like dishes,” she mumbled in surprise putting leftovers in Tupperware and condiments in the fridge.

He smirked glancing over his shoulder. “Didn’t realize how much I was torturing you all the years ago.”

She gaped. “What?”

“Niall went t’do the dishes after me shortly after we broke up,” he chuckled. “Said, ‘no wonder she broke up with you; I don’t even want t’be your roommate right now.’ Y’should have said something, kitten.”

Her cheeks felt warm. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“No,” he nodded firmly. “It was pretty bad, baby,” he nudged her with his hip.

She giggled and took the large pan that Harry had used to make stir fry (something that she had forgotten he made so well. It was delicious) and began drying it. “I don’t know, seemed like a bitchy thing to say ‘hey, I know you just made dinner for me and it was delicious and a lot of work, but I kind of want to strangle you for how difficult it is to wash the dishes.’”

He flicked water at her making her wrinkle her nose. The expression was adorable, made her look even cuter than she normally did so that Harry’s heart skipped a beat. “Y’can’t hide stuff like that, kitten. Y’do that and I won’t know m’gonna lose you so I can fix it,” he winked.

“I hope you don’t lose me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled. “Whatcha say, love?” He wrapped his arms around her waist. His hands were still wet and he avoided her shirt as much as possible, holding her slightly awkwardly but it was cute. “Think m’gonna be stupid enough t’lose y’twice?”

She giggled and shook her head. “Not if I have a say in it,” she draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. He seemed to melt into the kiss—forgetting his hands were wet and getting the back of her shirt wet as well.

Which was fine by him.

He wanted her out of her shirt anyway.

—

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[safetycar-restart]

HOME [CHARLES LECLERC X READER]

NOTE: This is an NSFW Charles Leclerc x reader writing with sub!Charles and dom!reader. If you are under 18 or if this is simply not your vibe, scroll past. Alternatively, if you like what you see here, feel free to stop by my blog for more :))

The Monaco race weekend has never been kind to Charles. He has always poured his heart and soul into that race, for both himself and for his family and fans, yet each and every time it has ended in disappointment.

Charles's fears and worries start to manifest the weekend before the Monaco GP already. He's standoffish and aloof, not accepting the attention he usually craves. He tries to resist falling into your arms, tries his best not to show how badly he wants to just curl up in a ball and wait for the weekend to be over.

No amount of comfort and gentle coaxing can get him to share what's on his mind, which is extremely strange. Normally, you serve as a sounding board for Charles. He adores laying with you at the end of each day and reflecting on things, telling you everything as though he were writing in a journal. But in the days leading up the Monaco GP, he never shares what's on his mind, just remains silent and looks away when you ask.

At first you give him his space, allowing him to process whatever it is that he's feeling. But when Thursday night rolls around and Charles has to be in the car the next day, then you make him talk to you.

You sit him down on the couch, taking his hands into yours and softly whisper how much you love and support him, how the rest of the team and the entire country might have expectations for him, but not you. You love him, his performance would never impact that.

Charles says nothing in response to this. But, he gently slides off the couch and kneels at your feet, his head rested on your thigh. He looks up at you with tears in his eyes and you rest a hand in his hair, allowing him to relax against you. He doesn't say a word, but you know he's letting himself feel all those emotions while he kneels for you, while he trusts you to keep him safe and protected.

He holds your hand walking into the paddock on friday, and he asks that you remain close. He doesn't say anything more but you understand. Everyone else around wants something from him, he wants the one person who just wants him to stay close.

When he gets pole on Saturday, he's ecstatic. He celebrates with the crowd and with the team and does his post qualifying interviews with a smile, but the moment eyes are off him, he's diving into your arms.

That night, he rests against your chest. You're just beginning to think he's fallen asleep when he speaks. He's scared. He's glad he got pole, of course, but he's scared. He knows that now even more pressure will be on him. He's not sure what to do.

You can't help him with the race or with his car, but you can kiss him on his head and give him a little squeeze, promising to stay with him no matter what happens.

When Charles wins the next day, he stands on the top step of the podium and looks down at you while he sings his anthem. He doesn't look at the crowd or his team, just you. This victory couldn't have happened without.

You expect him to go out partying that night, but he refuses. He goes home with you, kneels between your feet again but this time nuzzles higher and higher up your thigh until you get the message and him permission for what he wants. He opens your legs wider and tastes you, keeping his arms folded behind his back because he knows the rules. You know part of his begging for this was because he wanted to show you his love and appreciation, but also because he wanted to be on his knees, to be away from it all.

You drink champagne in bed and sneak a hand down his pants until he's whining and shaking against your shoulder and when he's done, letting him lick your hand clean before offering him more Champagne.

He's no longer afraid.

[pure-smut]

Hello, it's me again :3

I want to ask you if you can write about Sako, Togame and Suo's love language.

Maybe both smut and sfw or when it's too much you decide :3

love languages.

featuring: Togame Jo, Hayato Suo

contains: established relationships, mild somnophilia from Togame, cunnilingus, implied multiple rounds, fingering and nipple play

word count: 800

note: all characters are aged up to 21+!

MDNI | 18+ content

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a/n: ty for this request!! i tried to do Sako but i rly struggled with his character, i think i need to rewatch windbreaker lmao im sorry but i hope you enjoy togame and suo!!

Togame Jo // quality time

Togame’s favourite time of the week is when he gets to spend time with you.

He’s usually busy during the week but he always makes sure to carve out his weekend for you, dedicating his whole time to being with you. It means when he comes home late when you’re already asleep or when he sleeps through most of the day, you don’t mind so much. Because you know at the end of the week, you’ll have him all to yourself.

Togame comes home late on a Friday night but he’s always up before you on a Saturday morning. He wakes you up slowly, taking his time with you as he drags his tongue across your clothed pussy. His grip on your thighs is soft as he nudges your panties to the side, getting his first real taste of you. Your eyes flutter open as his tongue is buried in your cunt, his strong nose bumping against your clit.

“G-Good morning, Jo,” you breathe, reaching down to run your fingers through his hair as you grind back against his face.

Togame hums in response, tongue lapping at your hole. You’re still sleepy, your pleasure building slowly even as Togame deftly eats you out, but neither of you mind. Your weekends always consist of this – of slow, languid sex as Togame spends as much time as possible prolonging your pleasure. He’s never in any rush, knows he has two full days to draw multiple orgasms from you, knows you’ll take as many loads as he gives you.

Togame pulls himself away from between your legs, crawling up to you with a lazy grin on his face. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. Togame lines his throbbing cock up with your entrance. You feel it nudge past your puffy lips, teasingly close.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” Togame asks, smile still playing on his lips.

You know he doesn’t mean just now. He means for the whole weekend. By the time Sunday evening comes around, you both know you’ll be a limp, breathless mess, a familiar ache between your legs as Togame’s cum paints your body.

And you’ll both treasure every second.

“I’m ready,” you whisper back as Togame sinks himself inside you.

Hayato Suo // acts of service

Suo knows you’ve had a long day. You dragged yourself through the door of your shared apartment and sat down with a huff on the couch next to him. So, without asking, Suo’s made you a cup of your favourite tea and brought your favourite snack over. He places them both on the coffee table before sitting back down with a smile.

“Thank you.” You press a grateful kiss against his cheek. “You’re the best.”

Suo hums happily and pulls you towards him.

“Only the best for you,” he replies.

Your couch is large and L-shaped so Suo sits in the corner section, his legs outstretched before him as he manoeuvres you to sit between his legs. You do so, feeling your back flush to his chest as you lean back against him. He’s solid and warm behind you and you already feel your sore muscles loosen slightly.

“That’s it,” Suo whispers soothingly in your ear. “Let me help you relax.”

Suo presses featherlight kisses against the crook of your neck as his hands run up the sides of your arms. You close your eyes and tilt your head back against his shoulder, melting into him.

Suo loves doing this for you. Loves taking care of you with little regard for himself, although he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enjoying touching you like this.

He uses his knees to hook under your legs, spreading them for him. His hand travels over your stomach and down under the waistband of your shorts while the other slides under your top to cup one of your tits.

You moan lightly, reaching up behind you to card your fingers through the hair at the nape of Suo’s neck. He keeps up the gentle kisses against the skin just under your ear as he tweaks one of your nipples, making a jolt of pleasure surge through you. His other hand uses your slick to trace frictionless circles against your clit.

You have the urge to turn around, you return the favour to Suo but you know from experience he won’t let you. For Suo, this is the same as making you tea or planning your dates – he wants to serve you.

So you relax back into him, letting Suo slide his long fingers between your folds as he buries them inside you. You moan and tighten your grip on his hair as he fingers you, finding the sensitive spot inside you that has you gushing down his palm.

Because you know this is how Suo shows you how much he loves you.

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[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Pressing

Jack Daniels x F!Reader, dude ranch AU

A Palomino oneshot, but can be read on its own

{ Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: Jack marks you as his in an unexpected way.

Warnings: PWP, Jack's belt leaves an impression on reader's skin, unintentional branding, unprotected sex, long-distance relationship, desperate and feral cowboy, no physical descriptions of Reader, very lightly edited, written as part of the Palomino universe, set after the end of the series, but can be read as a oneshot on its own

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: This little story came from an ask sent in by 🐴 anon in December 2022, which I have long lost, about a song that mentions a guy’s belt buckle leaving marks on his girlfriend's inner thigh while fucking. Naturally, they thought of Jack’s belt. 🐴 anon, if you’re still here, thank you for the inspo and for your patience ❤️

Also thank you to @lola-lola-lola for getting me horn knee about our cowboy again 😘 Writing Palomino smut first thing in the year was not on my 2024 bingo card, and I’m not mad about it!

Cutest dividers by @firefly-graphics.

It’s been two and a half months. Week after wretched week of phone calls on stolen time. Day after day of aching to reach through the phone screen and the distance between you to touch him.

It’s hard being hundreds and hundreds of miles apart. It’s even harder on weeks when he’s in the mountains with no reception. Harder to find time to call when you have to work late and he has to get up at dawn.

But you endure it all - for days like this. 

It’s a rare weekend off in the high season, with Teak pulling back-to-back pack trips to cover for him, joking that he can’t take all his sighing and pining for his Darlin’ anymore.

Jack takes the last flight out on Friday night, arriving first thing on Saturday morning, before the city - or you - wake up. You’re half-buried under the duvet when the jingle of the key in the door jolts you from shallow slumber.

On unsteady feet, you wobble out into the hallway, crashing into the walls as you go, balance off-kilter from sleep.

But it’s ok - he catches you, all white t-shirt and tight blue jeans. Incognito, if you will, in casual sneakers, but the cowboy hat is on as always. You knock it off post-haste, burying your face in the side of his neck in a desperate need for contact, his warmth seeping into your skin and wrapping you up in the deepest of comforts.

His hair is longer than he usually keeps it, and your fingers twist into his tousled curls when you pull back, taking in the stubble on his sharp jawline, and his tired eyes. But before you can say anything, he leans in and slants his lips over yours.

The taste of airplane coffee is sharp and bitter on his tongue as he kisses you deep and messy. You startle when he suddenly slams the door shut behind him, not realising it was still open, and his beat-up weekend bag is tossed carelessly behind him somewhere in the doorway. 

The legs of the kitchen table scrape jarringly against the floor as he crowds you onto it, big hands cupping your ass and pulling you against his straining erection through his jeans.

‘Fuck, it’s been too long, darlin’.’ His voice is gravelly from an apparently sleepless overnight flight, and hearing his voice finally on the shell of your ear has you whimpering needily.

‘Can’t wait any more,’ he growls, desperation thick in his voice.

With a flick of his wrists, he shucks off your ratty sleep shirt, eyes hooded as he gazes down at your tits, like he can’t believe he’s actually touching you. Cupping them, soft and heavy, with reverent, rope-worn palms, he sucks one nipple after the other between his lips, making you squirm against him and leak wet and sticky between your thighs.

Strong hands hold you in place easily as you buck, the scrape of his moustache almost painful on your over-sensitive skin, nerve endings on fire after being deprived for long weeks. 

Too impatient to wait, you tug your pyjamas shorts down your hips and kick them off clumsily, panties tangled in your damp folds as you writhe under him. 

You feel the breath catch in his broad chest at the peek of your pussy, a rapidly growing damp spot darkening your cotton underwear. Hooking his thumb under the fabric, he tugs it unceremoniously to the side, baring you to him. 

‘Look at all this,’ he marvels, tracing the fleshy pad of his thumb through your folds, making you arch clean off the table. ‘So wet for me and you’ve barely woken up.’

‘Been thinking about you the while night,’ you admit, hips twitching as you chase his touch. ‘Couldn’t sleep.’

‘Did you touch yourself, darlin’?’

You shake your head vehemently. ‘No. Wanted your fingers. Your cock.’

His nostrils flare at your answer, unabashedly possessive in the way he looms over you. 

‘Good girl,’ he murmurs into your throat, nosing the side of your neck while thick fingers thrum against your clit. ‘I was so hard for you the whole fuckin’ flight.’ 

As if to prove it to you - not that you need it - he rolls his hips into your inner thigh, the hard bulge undeniable.

You mewl, hooking your ankles around his waist. ‘Fuck me now, Jack - please.’

There’s a wordless fumble for the solid sterling flask bottle of his belt buckle, his usual level-headed composure nowhere to be found as he pushes down his jeans with shaking hands, just enough to pull his cock out of its denim confines - 

And then he thrusts home inside you.

After months of only your fingers, it’s a stretch. But what a delicious stretch it is.

You feel him throb deep inside you, feel the thunder of a pained groan in his chest, pressed up against yours. Your cunt is all slick and give to his determined strokes as he begins to move. 

There’s no finesse, hardly any awareness, when he fucks frantically into you. His solid weight pins you to the table, and it rattles precariously under your back.

Your legs are splayed obscenely wide and bent at the knees while Jack pounds into your wet heat, eyes wild and mouth hanging open, watching your tits bounce as you take him, your nails digging into the cotton of his white t-shirt. He never did take off your panties, and the fabric rubs your clit just so with every one of his thrusts, rapidly sending you to the edge.

In the back of your mind, you’re aware of the coarse scrape of his jeans against your inner thighs, and something digs hard into the tender skin, the repeated motion dulling the sensation to an almost numb pressure. 

When you cum, you’re crying out before your head catches up, your body convulsing with blind bliss as your pussy clenches around him in a hot rush. The blood pounding in your ears is drowned out by your chants of his name, and then his hips start to stutter and his whole body tenses, frantic eyes on yours as he teeters on the edge. 

‘Where, darlin’?’

‘Inside me.’

The words have barely left you and he’s coming, broken pants against your lips as he comes and comes and comes - spilling inside you, filling you to the brim until he’s empty, turned inside out.

Slumped, boneless on top of you, humid pants pressed into your shoulder, his fingers tangle with yours, squeezing as if to let you know that he’s here.

You almost doze off, the gradually slowing rise and fall of the cowboy’s broad chest a comforting anchor, when he rouses you with gentle lips along your jaw. You giggle, feeling him softening and sliding out of you, making a mess of your kitchen table. 

‘Mornin’ darlin’,’ he says somewhat belatedly, warm eyes crinkling as he smiles at you.

‘Morning,’ you grin back, and when he shifts, you wince at the ache in your joints from being pinned to one spot for this very vigorous wake up call. His hands smooth over your legs in apology, and you jump when his fingertips brush over somewhere at the juncture of your upper thigh that is surprisingly sore.

‘What’s that?’ you ask, puzzled.

Jack doesn’t answer, curiously quiet. You look down to where he’s bracketed between your legs, watching him trace his index finger over the unmistakable imprint of his distinct belt buckle on the inside of your thigh, where it’s been digging into your skin the whole time. 

He glances at you. ‘I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘No, you didn’t,’ you give him a knowing grin. ‘And are you really sorry, cowboy?’

He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish. Gently pinching your swollen folds together, he groans when a milky bead of his cum dribbles out of you, running down the inside of your leg and smearing onto the flask-shaped impression.

‘Ain’t sorry about somethin’ that looks this good on you, darlin’.’

‘Could’ve asked me before you branded me, you know,’ you half-joke, running your own finger along the deep lines carved into your skin, for now.

‘Beggin’ your pardon, I tend to forget my manners when I’m balls deep in a pussy as sweet as yours,’ he retorts, one eyebrow arching when he feels you shiver at his words.

You huff in jest, ‘Doesn’t sound like much of an apology if you asked me.’

‘Whatcha want, darlin’? Me on my hands and knees for you?’

Heat flashes under your skin, from your cheeks down to your toes, and Jack’s eyes darken as his tongue wets his bottom lip. ‘Alright. I hear you loud and clear, ma’am.’

Slowly, he sinks onto his knees in front of you, his joints creaking endearingly as he goes, and you can’t help but tease, ‘Easy there, cowboy.’

The wicked tip of his tongue peeks out, and you bite your lip in a moan when it cleverly traces the outline of the belt buckle on your skin, ending in a playful nip that pulls a gasp from you.

With an unapologetically smug grin, Jack winks. ‘I’m only just gettin’ started, darlin’.’

Note: Thank you for reading ❤️ I’ve missed these two, and if you’re new to Palomino, I hope you’ll give the series a chance!

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Eddie's rejection made you question your own hopes and dreams, but the consequences were even more dire for him. (3.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, homelessness, depiction of alcoholism, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter three: turn the lights back on

Eddie left during Dad’s shift on Friday. Over the years, there were more than a handful of guests who’d put up a fight when check out day arrived, but he wasn’t one of them. 

When you’d inquired about his departure, as nonchalantly as you could, Dad only said that Eddie had signed the log and walked off without any formal goodbye. 

“What time?”

“Six-thirty, or thereabouts. No later than seven.”

Almost as if he’d waited for you to clock out. Purposely avoiding you.

You shrugged off the thought, chastising yourself for taking a harmless coincidence so personally. Maybe he had to be somewhere early or wanted to beat the rush hour traffic. Maybe he didn’t even take your presence—or lack thereof—into consideration. 

He did, however, swipe the blanket from his bed, leaving behind just the pillow and a rumpled sheet. Disappointment wove its way through your veins at its finality. He was simply another guest, another face stored in the depths of your memory with some many other one-timers. 

Making a mental note to replace the blanket before the summer crowd arrived, you stripped the remaining sheet and pillowcase and made the bed with clean ones. The fabric was so worn that it was nearly transparent, barely concealing the litany of stains that decorated the old mattress. 

Eddie didn’t appear to have added any to the collection. That was something, you supposed. 

Your Friday and Saturday evenings were always spent the same way: watching groups of friends traipse up and down the boulevard, laughing at jokes that were only funny because everyone was on the right side of tipsy. Rain or shine, teenagers could always be counted on to frequent the local bars and liquor stores that didn't bother to check for identification.

Sundays brought the usual sense of existential dread; the week ahead was daunting and the week prior was a blur of exhaustion. A new guest checked in, an older woman who’d missed her flight out of LaGuardia and needed a place to stay until the next plane took off in the morning. You almost put her in room four, the key temptingly dangling from its hook, but you plucked the one for room three instead. 

And then Monday arrived, baring its ugly teeth in a menacing grimace. It exhaled a rancid puff of morning breath, the same smell that belched from the bus’s tailpipe. 

Backpack sagging low with the weight of overpriced textbooks, you dragged yourself towards the bus stop. Your only reprieve is that today marked the last week of classes. All that remained after that was finals week, and then you were done. 

The typical small collection of commuters greeted you in traditional New York City fashion: tired half-smiles with a respectful lack of eye contact that you reflexively reciprocated. One of the older men sat on the bench, but the normally empty spot next to him was occupied by none other than Eddie Munson. He kept his guitar case safely clenched between his thighs, his garbage bag suitcase leaning against his left leg. 

Curiosity nudged you and wormed its way into your thoughts. Where was he going? Was he staying at a different motel, one that had cable so he could watch MTV whenever he needed? 

Or maybe he was en route to Port Authority so he could high-tail it back to not-New York, to his hometown where people considered it polite to strike up conversations with strangers.

Wherever his destination was, it was no longer your problem.

If he noticed you, he gave no indication. His vacant stare never left the ground, vaguely looking up one time to light a cigarette. He cupped a hand around the flame, blocking his view of you. 

It was probably better that way.

The bus hissed as it pulled up to the stop and the doors hinged open to let passengers board. Would he sit next to you? Would he position himself as far away as possible? Or was he wholly indifferent, regarding the exchange as out of sight and out of mind?

Taking a seat towards the back, you searched for him in the sea of faces. You could apologize, explain you were only trying to help and never meant to embarrass him, and the two of you could part ways knowing that you didn’t look down on him. 

But there was no sign of the frizzy curls that he wore like a crown, no guitar case inching into the aisle. For all intents and purposes, this bus was an Eddie Munson-free zone.

A disappointed ache settled in your chest and you massaged your sternum in hopes of alleviating it. When the driver turned the wheel away from the curb, you caught a glimpse of Eddie through the fingerprint-smudged window, sitting on the bench just as he had since you’d arrived. 

Except this time, he was looking directly at you. It was intentional; he’d seen you waiting at the stop and waited until conversation was an impossibility before daring to glance your way. 

He averted his gaze the moment your eyes locked onto his. It was so fast that you worried that you’d imagined it. A sleep-deprived hallucination, even. 

You didn’t stop looking even as the bus left the stop. You watched him toss his cigarette butt to the ground and crush it with the sole of his sneaker. You watched him take another one and place it between his lips. You watched trembling fingers dig into his jacket pocket and take out the lighter once again. 

He was out of sight before you could see a spark. 

Excitement hummed through campus, a live wire that electrified even you. It was hard to ignore the end-of-semester buzz, especially with the sun warming the air in a soft spotlight. 

Other students sat on the quad, blankets tucked underneath them as they ate lunch with friends. Their mouths moved in conversations about exam cramming and upcoming parties and post-graduation plans. You wanted to bottle their lightheartedness and carry it around with you, dipping into it when life got too serious and dabbing it on your pulse points like perfume. 

Fluorescent bulbs replaced the natural light as you walked the hall towards the classroom. You slid into your usual spot and placed your bag on the adjacent chair to reserve it for Nora. Until she arrived, you’d be left alone with only your thoughts to keep you company. 

Great. 

The memory of the other night, of Eddie’s sullen expression and the way his lips hardened into a frown, was a stone in your stomach.

How could he think that you pitied him, looked down on him for his circumstances? Wasn’t it obvious from the motel’s disrepair that you weren’t exactly living in the lap of luxury either? And yet, he’d perceived your attempt at an alliance as some sort of enemy threat. You wanted to shake his shoulders and yell, “we’re on the same team!” but it would probably just bounce off of his MTV-obsessed brain without him ever processing it. 

Eddie’s reaction wasn’t the only part of the confrontation that bothered you. No, what really drove you to the brink of insanity was that the confrontation bothered you at all. 

How many guests were snippy or even downright mean to you over the years? How many had raised their voice over the most trivial matter? You had lost count of the number of times someone had spat the word ‘bitch’ in your direction because of low water pressure or a lightbulb that needed replacing. 

And yet, this is the instance that grated at you, had you wondering if he’d looked away from you this afternoon out of disdain, guilt, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.  

It shouldn’t have even mattered. So what if he hated you? He was out of the motel, which meant that his problems were no longer your concern. 

The click of the door being wrenched open forced you out of your thoughts and back to reality. 

“Last week of classes!” Nora trilled with a wide grin. She practically skipped to your side, slinging her backpack over the wooden chair back. “Then we have finals,” she contorted her face in disgust before resuming her excited disposition, “and then we graduate!”

She plopped down in her seat, adjusting her body to face you. “That reminds me; we should probably figure out where we’re going to meet before the ceremony, because I am not sitting through that alo—what?” She frowned when you flinched, the realization setting in. “Nonono, don’t tell me you’re not going.”

“Sorry,” you offered half-heartedly. The pen markings on your desk suddenly became incredibly interesting, and you rubbed your forefinger over them in a feeble attempt to end the conversation.

As usual, Nora refused to accept defeat. “Still haven’t told your parents?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, you’ve got two weeks.” She clapped you on the back a bit too harshly, her lips pinched with an edge of impatience. “Time to put on those big-girl panties.”

She meant well–she always did, doing everything in her power to encourage you to pursue the career you wanted. But she just didn’t understand the mounting pressure to be what your family needed, or how you were constantly towing the line between selfishness and dignity. One step in the wrong direction and you would either crush your parents’ dreams or your own. And while there had to be some gray area there, it was overshadowed by the polarizing categories.

“I’ll try.” 

You won’t.

You spent the class forcing yourself to listen to the professor, jotting down notes every so often when you could remember to do so. 

Paying attention to lectures, final papers and exams, the graduation ceremony–it all seemed asinine when you considered your failure to help people on the most basic level. Like with Eddie: as hard as you tried to emphasize the mutual benefits of him working at the motel, you’d still inadvertently offended him.

When were you going to learn to stop extending help to people who weren’t asking for any? In these situations, you tossed logic aside to make room for emotion. It had been that way since you first began to understand that answers to life’s problems were seldom clear-cut. 

There was one day in particular, where rain fell in sheets and your only option was to play indoors. You were jumping rope in the lobby, excitedly counting along with each skip.  

“Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty—”

The rope smacked against your ankles, but you were too distracted to feel the sting. Your eyes were glued to a man who was stumbling towards the front desk. He wobbled in his whiskey-drenched cloud, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before collapsing to the ground in sudden hysterical sobs.

“Everything okay, sir?” Dad asked. His inconspicuous hand motioned you towards your room, but you froze in place. It wasn’t fear so much as shock that a grown-up was having a temper tantrum. 

The man didn’t answer; instead, he took a swig from the brown paper bag clutched in his hand. Amber liquid trickled out from between his lips as he cried, and he slowly pushed himself up and out the front door without acknowledging anyone else’s presence. Raindrops pelted down on his head and matted whatever hair was left on his head

“Why was he crying?” You’d asked Dad, the jump rope now all but forgotten. “And what was in the bag?”

Dad gave you a small smile and did his best to explain the adult situation to a child. Even now, you remembered him talking about how drinking alcohol can make people feel happy, sad, or angry. He omitted the fact that all three emotions could occur in the same person, in the same moment, but your eight-year-old mind wouldn’t have comprehended that anyway.

Ever inquisitive, you continued asking questions. “But if it makes him sad, why doesn’t he just stop?”

“It’s not that easy,” Dad said with a tight grimace. 

You’d considered his response for a moment, eyes lighting up when you conjured up a brilliant idea. “What if we go in his room and throw out all of his alcohol!” You tugged on Dad’s hand, expecting him to reciprocate your enthusiasm, but he’d stayed where he was and shook his head. 

“Afraid it doesn’t work that way, kiddo. He’s gotta want to stop drinking first.”

It hadn’t made sense to you then, and though you’d learned about the nuances of addiction as the years crept by, it didn’t do much to quell your frustration. Any solution being beyond your control was a piranha ripping into your ambitions with its razor-sharp teeth.

The Eddie situation gave you that same helpless feeling. If you could turn back the clock, you would have done something different. You weren’t sure exactly what would be different, but it would almost certainly be better than your spur-of-the-moment offer last Wednesday. 

But since time travel was out of the question and Eddie was no longer one of your guests, both he and his problems were out of your hands.

If only your heart could accept that.

A reel of your shortcomings played in your mind on a continuous loop; it still gnawed at you as class was dismissed, the professor calling out a reminder about final paper submission while you and Nora walked out the door. 

“Are you okay?” She frowned and put out a gentle hand to bring you to a stop. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

She wasn’t falling for that lame excuse, not when something heavier than sleep marred your face. “Seriously. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Do you ever feel like you’ll never actually help anyone?” 

The words came out in a rush before you could curtail them. Wincing, you allowed yourself a peek at your friend’s expression. Confusion knitted her brows together, but her arms stayed at her sides. 

“What do you mean?” Her words were soft and careful, distinctly absent of judgment or condescension. 

A monologue of response was lodged in your throat. It was a thought you held inside, silently rehearsed but never dared to speak aloud:

Are we really going to make a difference? Or enough of a difference that it even matters? Like when you see a homeless person and you give them some money, or buy them something to eat. And you feel good for a split second, because now that person isn’t going to be hungry for a little while, right? But then you pass by another homeless person. And another. And you realize that, to them, it doesn’t matter that you helped someone else. Because those other people are still hungry.

You said none of it, swallowing the words and replacing them with a, “never mind, I’m too in my own head today.”

Nora nodded, not wanting to push too hard, but you knew she was teeming with questions. She offered a small smile that told you the conversation wasn’t over, just paused temporarily. 

A nod of your own sealed the compromise. 

The rest of the afternoon played out without a hiccup. Lunch was your usual greasy sandwich from Niko with a side of his irritated banter, this time about the price of gas. 

“You girls think it won’t affect you because you take the bus,” he warned, finger wagging between you and Nora, “but just watch them hike up the fare. It’s only a matter of time. Especially with those new card things you gotta use.”

His fears were unfounded, at least for the moment, and you and Nora each dropped $1.25 into the coin slot. 

“About what you said earlier,” she started, finding space to wrap her hands on the pole, “we don’t have to talk about it—”

“Please.”

“–but I need to tell you one thing.” Her eyes held firmly onto yours. “If anyone’s gonna make a difference in this shitty world, it’s you.”

The compliment should have illuminated you from the inside out; instead, it was a firefly’s light, barely bright enough to cast a shadow with its pathetic flickering. You ached to believe her, but it was impossible to imagine that the same person who wouldn’t tell her parents a simple truth could also change the world. 

“Thanks.” One word compounded with a forced smile, and the truce snapped back in place. Weighing potential conversation topics, you settled on the most neutral–the final paper for your class–and launched yourself into it with as much enthusiasm as you could summon for the remainder of the ride home.

There was no overt sign of Eddie when your bus pulled up to the stop. Not at first. The only indication of him was a familiar mint-colored blanket tightly wrapped around a lump laying across the bench. 

It wasn’t until you stepped off of the bus and got closer that you could make out the curly brunette tendrils peeking out from the top, the blanket rising and falling with each breath he took. His face was hidden and his eyelids were screwed shut in fitful sleep, allowing you to hold onto the false hope that it wasn’t him, just someone with a similar build and hair texture. Even the frayed hems of his jeans and his scuffed sneakers sticking out from the other end of the blanket could have been a coincidence. 

But there was no denying the truth once you caught a glimpse of the guitar case being hugged to his chest.

Just keep walking. Stop trying to fix things that you didn’t break. Things that didn’t ask to be fixed.

Your conscience trumped logic once again as two fingertips gently pressed against his blanket-wrapped shoulder.

“Eddie?”

His eyes flew open in an instant, revealing the delicate red lines that scarred the whites and meandered towards his brown irises. He clenched the guitar case even tighter as he jolted upright, protecting it like it was his child, and the sudden movement sent a handful of empty beef jerky wrappers floating to the ground. 

Sunlight streamed through the glass panes, fragmented where it had been shattered by a rogue baseball or perhaps the crown of someone’s head, though you would have heard about it if it was the latter. It backlit him in an angelic glow, a halo comically contradicting his bitter expression.  

“Fuckin’ shit–don’t scare me like that!” 

The gentle, rhythmic inhales and exhales were long gone, replaced by a frantic fight-or-flight panting that flared out his nostrils. His hardened jawline softened a bit once he’d fully clawed himself out of his sleepy haze and realized that the person in front of him wasn’t a threat, just a nuisance. 

“I told you; I don’t need your charity.” His lips set into a scowl and he laid back down on the bench, tugging the blanket back up to his chin.

That’s it. Conversation over. Go home. 

“You certainly need my blanket, though.” Raising one eyebrow, you thumbed at the thin material to make your point.

Eddie only doubled down, sitting up once more to ball up the blanket and toss it in your direction. “Here ya go. It’s all yours.”

You caught it with one hand, the loose threads tickling your forearm. 

“That’s not what I meant.” A hiss of air passed through your teeth. This was the perfect opportunity to leave him behind, to go somewhere you were needed and wanted. He had been making it abundantly clear that he’d rather live outside than spend another second with you. 

And yet.

“I’m not just gonna let you sleep out here.” Tone thick with insistence, you mustered up all of your determination. The blanket was now tucked beneath your underarm and sopping up the pooling perspiration. “And it’s only a matter of time before you get mugged. With that thing,” you gesture to the instrument still in his grasp, “I’m surprised it hasn’t already happened. So you can either stay at the motel and re-wallpaper the lobby or you can kiss your precious guitar goodbye.”

Fire burned behind your eyes as you spoke, each word adding kindling. You couldn’t tell if you were doing this for his safety or your own pride, but both led to the same outcome.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just scraped his top teeth over the dead skin on his lower lip, drawing a speck of blood that went unnoticed. You stayed silent, too, the weight of his impending decision anchoring your tongue.

Finally he nodded, slowly at first, then faster as desperation seeped in, but he remained steadfast in his refusal to meet your eyes. 

“Fine.” Eddie’s breath was shaky, teetering on the brink of tears, but none fell. “Just until I find a paying gig.” 

He grabbed the neck of his guitar with one hand and pressed on his knee with the other. Fixing his posture, he stood tall in hopes that no one walking by would equate him with the pitiful mess who had been sleeping at a bus stop in a stolen blanket.

“Okay,” you agreed with a quiet breath, a cautious smile playing on your lips as the two of you walked back to the motel. You stayed two steps in front of him, leading the way. 

He could turn heel and run. He could back out at any moment and you’d never see him again. But when you unlocked the door to room four–Eddie’s room–he was still behind you.

“I can take the blanket back,” he said, motioning to the bundle under your arm as he stepped over the threshold and into the room.

Like a phantom appendage, you’d forgotten it was there. “No. I’ll get you a fresh one.” You shook your head, finalizing the matter. 

“Okay.”

No hesitation. No argument.

Maybe there was a chance you could actually help him. Maybe you didn’t ruin everything you touched.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[imistyou2]

Nipple piercings. c.sb

pairing: sub!Soobin x Noona!reader

warnings: nsfw under the cut. boobie worshipping. unrealistic piercing healing time I know yall but #forthesakeoftheplot um ya that's about it soobin juss luvvvs yo titties hahaha. Gyu cameo as alwaysss

summary: Soobin is sweet and simple as vanilla and you're like a bottle of hot sauce! To spice up your sex life, his dear dear Noonim surprises him with nipple piercings.

This is part 2.2, you can read it as a stand-alone too

series masterlist

-

Soobin's never been much of an experimental man. He likes to keep things simple and follow a routine. He's been contempt of that too, he likes to think. It is rather easy to figure out that the younger man likes to stay in his little bubble of soobin-ism.

Eat, play games, and talk to friends, now a new addition is hanging out with his noona dearest and then sleeping. Simple, clean, and neat.

This pattern is reflected in many aspects of his life, including his sex life. In the many months you have been involved with Soobin, you've taken note of his quirks. How his body trembles when he's about to climax, what overstimulates him enough to cry, that he has an oral fixation (with your tit's specifically) and so on and so forth.

It always brings in great pleasure to 'make love' (a replacement for using "fuck" since he apparently doesn't like using that) with him but who are you if not trying to rile up the pliant man till he weeps at your mercy?

So, you've been devising, and planning! You even startled yourself with how much effort you were secretly putting into getting to know about Soobin's kinks and preferences. Yes, the sex was exceptionally good but it was very much vanilla ice cream! A classic for sure but could be spruced up. Stumbling on his Twitter by accident was what you considered to be a sign from God himself that you need to do something to take it to the next level.

It was no surprise Choi Soobin is a boob man, he might as well have a huge poster hung up on his walls saying "I LOVE TIDDIES" or something. This man did NOT play about boobs. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and Sunday- call him jungkook the way he was gonna be loving that thang seven days a week. He was serious about worshipping your breasts like they were sent by a messiah to unlock spiritual awakening.

And so it happened, for the past 3 weeks you have been avoiding getting down and dirty with him. Instead, the time was passed with Cafe dates and late-night movie marathons. The lack of dick was slowly getting to you but you persevered none the less. Some quote about the fruits of your labor or something but instead it was his reaction.

Soobin returned back to his dorm after a long day, not even flinching when he see's you laying on his bed reading one his mangas.

"Hey Soobs, how was class?"

"Ugh, don't get me started, Noona. My TA is the biggest B-word ever! This internship is not easy."

"She's a bitch?"

"Yeah, thats what I said."

"No, you said b-word!"

"You know I don't like to cuss at women like that...", you giggle as you get up from the bed, swinging your arms around his neck to pull him in. "Okay Mr. Nice Guy, what can I do to make you feel better?"

"Maybe watch Jujutsu Kai-"

"I have a better idea. How about we have some fun...?" You say, spreading your legs ever so slightly to reveal your exposed thigh.

His eyes widen tenfold, head darted up with excitement, "Really! I'm thinking we play League of Lege-"

You roll your eyes, pushing him off of you, he lands softly to your side on the bed. "No- baby, fun!"

He looks blankly at you, not a single thought rummaging his mind. "You wanna get food or something, Noona..?"

Losing patience, you grab his hand folding the sleeves up to his elbow. You bite your lips with a smirk, he looked the best in white shirts for sure. You take his hand and guide it under your shirt, fingers ghosting over your bralette. Something small pokes through but Soobin doesn't say much. His attention was stolen away the moment you took his hand. "I wanna do this kind of fun. Soobie...don't you wanna make you noona have fun? Hm?"

He gulps, Adam's apple bobbing deliciously, nodding.

"Take my bra off, will you?"

"Yes, Noona!"

He struggles a little with the hook of your bra, you honestly don't blame him since you're without a bra around 90% of the time with him. He noted that today was one of the rare days you wore a bra. Once the bra finally came off, the cold air conditioning of his room hit your breasts, perking them up even more.

Suddenly, Soobin jerks back with a muffled gasp. A finger raising slowly, one hand cupped in shock, he points at the two barbell rods that are sliding through your nipples. On the two sides are heart-shaped gems. Soobin peers closer, almost in a cautionary way, and as his eyes narrow in on the gems, he can make out a distinct S letter in each of them. He blinks twice.

Your heart speeds up in anticipation, his facial expression unrecognizable. "S-surprise...?"

"Y-you got them pierced?"

"Yeah... Do you not like it? I thought you liked pierc-" Your expression drops.

"Mmmph-" he kisses you deeply, a soulful exchange. His fingers dig into the sides of your waist, rubbing circles. "I love it-I love it- Noona, how did you even know?"

You chuckle, relieved. "Hm..just have my ways!"

He raises his brow. "Okay fine, I asked Beomgyu for your twitter and basically did a little stalking from there."

His lips curl into an adorable smile as he pecks your lips again.

"C-can I.. Y'know... touch?"

"You can do alot more just touch, Soobie."

"Really? Do they hurt? I don't wanna hurt you, Noona."

"Aw, my baby. Always worrying for me. They're almost healed. You can have it, just be gentle." your fingers twirl around your nipples a little, hissing slightly.

"No, Noona that looks like it hurts..."

"I like the pain hehe." He has a scandalous look on his face before finally giving a kitten lick to your hardened nipples. He looks intensely at the gems. "What does the S stand for?"

Your eyes look away, face turning slightly red. "What the fuck do you think it means?" you yell out, a lot more aggressive than you had intended.

"I-I I didn't wanna assume.."

"Sorry, yeah no, um, wanted to surprise you Soobin. Do you like your initial on me?"

Soobin will melt. Fuck, he wants to turn into putty. He has more important things to focus on right now, your tits to be specific. "Noona...they're beautiful." His fingers pinch on a nipple very softly, you whimper as the bundle of nerves get played with again and again. The piercing has started to heal pretty soon but it still felt a little raw and fresh.

Soobin's pink tongue flashed as he licked meticulously all around your breasts, from the sides to the piercing. The cool metal hit his tongue and he will not deny that it was weirdly satisfying especially when contrasted with your warm body.

He is still yet to suck on your nipples, you can tell he's nervous to do so since the piercing is still so new. The sting of pain is there but it transforms into pleasure when you see it's Soobin who is doing all these things to you.

You never really thought you'd get turned on by pain but I guess you live and learn, Soobin definitely is.

The very obvious tent in his pants was an indicator of how much he really liked these piercings. "Fuck, so good yeah, good job baby, making noona feel so good. You like making me feel good?"

He looks up from in between your breasts and nods before continuing. He could spend hours on end here if you let him.

"Noona I could be here the whole day just making you feel good. I love you...r tits noona!" Your eyes roll back in pleasure and pain, whimpers coming out.

He slowly backed up, a thin layer of sweat covering his face, eyes admiring your breasts once more. You look down and gasp at what you see. Red and blue bruises everywhere, littered throughout the expanse of your chest. "Soobin! I told you to go easy on that"

He smiles sheepishly, scratching his neck in feigning innocence. "You know I can't stop myself with you Noona.." he nudges you playfully.

Oh he wants to play dirty, you'll show him dirty.

"You're on Choi Soobin. I'll make sure you leave this room crying." you claw at his sweatpants.

"AH!"

Outside, in the living room, Beomgyu sits with a stoic face, dark circles, and some noise-canceling headphones which don't seem to really cancel much noise at all, wishing that you guys gave him a heads up so that he didn't have to spend his whole afternoon listening to you two canoodle and do the dirty.

"fuck my life."

-

a/n: uneditied

hiiiiiii my pookies

a lil surpise chapter cuz ive been feeling extra good lately and my school work is going well. that being said, part 3 will be out in feb so stay tuned ill tag the people who wanted to be in the taglist from part 3 as well.

stay sexyyyy

[truetogaia]

"𝙍𝙊𝙊𝙈 𝙁𝙊𝙍 𝙏𝙒𝙊" dbf!roomie!könig x fem!reader

✩ pairing: dbf!roomie!könig x fem!reader

genre ✩ smut, 18+

warnings ✩ explicit and mature themes, depictions of wet dreams of: dbf!könig, pussy eatin', age gap (reader is of legal age). poor little perv!reader who uses königs stuff to get off.

When you enrolled in college, money was tight. You had the costs of education to pay, food, transportation and rent for a place to live. It quickly got too much for you and you had to run to daddy for help. Luckily, your college was located in the same town where your dads best friend had an apartment. He wasn’t home much considering his unusual amount of working hours, and that was perfect for you. 

Essentially it was like living alone, but despite the huge and luxurious apartment, it became kind of boring after a while. The apartment was close to your college, but it was still some thirty minutes away with public transport. And at the end of the day, you were too exhausted from all the studying and the long lectures to invite any friends over. 

Most weekends were spent the same, alone in the huge apartment. Sometimes, König would be home during the Fridays and Saturdays, but he’d mostly keep to himself. Occasionally he’d come out to the kitchen to make himself some food, always shirtless and in sweatpants, when you were watching tv. 

Really the only time you'd see him was when you’d catch a glimpse of him through the crack of his door. His back turned to you as he pulled his shirt off. Your eyes always seemed to linger on the way the heavy muscles on his back flexed with each movement, the mysterious scars littering his shoulder blades and torso (there always seemed to be more when he came back from his trips). His pants were always hung really low on his hips too, just perfectly showing off his back dimples and the mass of muscle. 

You admit, you were no saint. There had been multiple occasions where the man who shared his home with you had invaded your dreams. Where he had tainted them with lewd words and wandering hands. You'd always wake up in a sweat, stopping yourself from sneaking into his room and waking him up to say something you’d regret. 

But when he was away on his trips, leaving the apartment and his room empty, and suitably unlocked, you just couldn’t help yourself. 

You had just come home from the store, the apartment was empty since König was away again. A few days back he had briefly mentioned that he was going on one of his business trips again, and he had marked his return on the twelfth in the calendar on the fridge. It was now noon of the eleventh. The rest of the day went on in the same manner as any other. You cooked some food, storing some of it away to leave for König when he came back, you had taken a shower, and gone to bed as per usual. 

After waking up from a particularly steamy dream that night- which had started with just an innocent makeout session with the older man, but had developed into full blown railing -you were just simply too desperate. Too worked up to listen to the reasonable side of your brain which was screaming at you to not get up from your bed. 

Your legs trembled slightly when they carried you to the door of his room. The springs creaked almost mockingly when you carefully pushed it open, almost wishing, but also fearing, to find him sprawled out on his bed. Much to your disappointment and pleasure, the room was completely empty. The bed was made, the gray covers completely smoothed over, and there was a lingering cedar scent in the air. 

The bed looked so inviting, and you sighed in embarrassment when you easily slid under the covers. The material of the sheets was cool against your soft legs. The tingling between your thighs just became too much when you saw half a pack of condoms thrown carelessly on his nightstand. 

Your hand trailed shamefully down your stomach and abdomen before finally reaching the hem of your panties. One finger hesitantly tugged them down until they were wrapped around your ankles. You ached at this point, all your sense of judgment being thrown out the window the second your dainty fingers came in contact with your throbbing clit. 

Your mind wandered as your body sunk into his pillows, imagining it was his tongue instead of your digits, his fingers stretching you instead of your own. His hands wrapped around your plush thighs as he dragged you closer to the edge of his bed, tongue lapping at your soaked cunt as his stubble scratched your soft skin. You bit your lip, trying to contain your sounds of pleasure but in the end it just didn’t work.

Pathetic, breathy moans tumbled from your lips as your fingers continued pumping in and out. His pretty eyes bore into your own from between your legs, fingers stretching and scissoring your pretty pussy open to prepare you for him. 

You came quicker than you would’ve liked, juices covering your fingers as your face burned from embarrassment and the intense orgasm. But just as you were coming down from your high, you heard a series of clanking pans in the kitchen, and it hit you. It was now the twelfth.

You quickly got up from his bed, pulling the covers back up and clumsily smoothing them over to the best of your ability, before you dashed out and into your room, locking the door behind you and hoping to god that he wouldn’t notice the mess of his sheets.

-click here to be redirected to the cod masterlist !!

note: i had to re-upload this idk what happened, I think it didnt appear in tags or sumn oops, but idk what to think of this, might make a part 2 if ppl want it!! x ♡

[leviismybby]

Seven days of the week

Levi Ackerman x fem!reader

NSFW 18+, mdni, just what a week is like with your husband!Levi, filth, literally filth. I apologize.

Monday

Soft sex, he starts the week off by waking you up with gentle kisses on Monday morning. His hands run over your soft skin, lips kissing the nape of your neck as he presses his hips into yours. He enters you, cock pushing past your walls slowly as he quiets your moans with a passionate kiss on the lips. "Good morning baby." Levi nibbles on your ear as his thrusts get deeper, he holds you close, your back to his chest as his cock slides in and out of your wetness.

Tuesday

Kitchen counter, I repeat KITCHEN COUNTER. He sneaks up behind you, his hands running under your shirt and messaging your breasts as you try to cook. Levi turns the stove off and spins you around to place your body on the counter as he stands between your open legs. He is quick to slide your underwear off, his fingers ghosting on your inner thighs before he touches your pussy. A cheeky smirk appears on his face. "I had my fingers buried in your cunt so many times, yet you're always so sensitive..." He entered two of his fingers into your warmth without warning, your hips bucked off the cold surface. Levi pumped his finger in and out, faster and faster before he scissored them inside of you. You came all over his fingers, Levi pulled his fingers out and licked them. "You taste so good as always baby." He pulls your body closer. "Now let me see how you feel today..."

Wednesday

Rough, he came home from work in a bad mood. He didn't even ask you anything, just threw you over his shoulder and slapped your ass as he carried you to your bedroom. His kisses are intense as he lays you down on the soft mattress, he bites on your lips as he pulls away from the kiss. Hands undress you before you can blink. He plays with your nipples, mouth sucking them eagerly as his cock pounds into you roughly. "Such a pretty wife. You're doing so good for me." Despite his soft words, he fucks you hard. Your head is buried into the pillow as he holds you down, ass up in the air as he spanks it. He loves having you in the doggy style. A growl escapes his lips as he starts fucking you faster, feeling your walls get tighter around his cock. Pulling out, he cums all over your back and you fall on the bed. "We are not done yet, baby." He kisses down your spine before pulling your hips back up.

Thursday

Your husband is busy today, he didn't have time for you but he can always excuse a few minutes to have you drool on his cock. You bob your head up and down as Levi holds your hair in his hands. "Mhh that wicked mouth of yours..." His words make you take him further into your mouth, you gag on him a few times before swirling your tongue around his tip. Levi twitches in your mouth before you feel his load shoot down your throat. "That's it. Swallow it all." And you do, you swallow the salty taste before striking your tongue out to show your husband. Levi smiles and strokes your hair softly. "You're just the perfect wife, aren't you?"

Friday

Humiliation. Mean, as much as he loves you when you piss him off and tease him too much, he gets mean. Your legs shake from overestimation, practically begging him to stop but he only grips your thighs harder as he sucks on your clit again. "Shut the fuck up. You're nothing but a slut." You whine as you cum on his tongue again. Levi slurps up all of your juices before he kisses you on the lips. "Say you want my cock, say it." He grips your jaw and you have no choice. "Please Levi, want your cock" He bites your neck as he spreads your legs and enters you. "What a good girl you are. Just hungry to get fucked aren't you?" His hips start snapping into you in a mean pace, the bed shakes. Yeah, he won't stop until he has you ruined under him.

Saturday

Multiple creampies. He wants to have children with you and now that you're his wife, he can cum inside of you as much as he wants. "Want me to make you a mommy? Fill you up again?" He asks as if he didn't cum in you two times already, his thrusts are sloppy, and the sound almost makes you ashamed. "Fuck...fuck Levi!" Your nails dig into his biceps, hips moving with his as you ride him. "Yeah? Want another load in you hmm? Can you take more?" Your husband watches as you bounce on top of him, desperate for release. "Yes. Yes, another!" Levi takes your hips and plunges deeper into you, his cock hits your sweet spot over and over again. Your wet cunt clamps down on him as you cum and Levi holds your hips still before groaning. His cum fills your up and you drop your head on his shoulder. It drips out of you as Levi pulls out of you but he is quick to put his finger inside of you. "We can't make a mess all over my office chair now, can we?" He bites your neck sweetly.

Sunday

Both of you have a free day on Sunday, sometimes the weather allows you two to somewhere, you go but if the weather is rainy, your husband likes to tease you and deny you until you can't any longer. You're seated in front of the mirror, legs spread as Levi plays with your pussy. "Levi please..." He just pretends like he didn't hear you and just continues to run his fingers gently over your wetness. Lips nibble at your neck, his other hand circling your nipples. "Look at yourself, begging for me. What is that you want?" He slaps your wet cunt before gently rubbing it. "Want your fingers...please..." A slight snort leaves his mouth. "That's all? Common I know my pretty wife can do better.." His fingers are now just lightly ghosting over your pussy. "Please. Want to cum on your fingers..." You feel his teeth bite into your shoulder, his fingers thrust into you three times before he takes them out again and rubs your inner thighs instead. "But what's the hurry love? We have all day.." He smiles as he sees the reflection in the mirror. You were truly a work of art and he can't believe he got so lucky.

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Taglist: @humanitys-strongest-bamf @luvjiro @levisbrat25 @youre-ackermine @yakaaamoz @the-milk-anon @mrsackermannx @sixpennydame @svftackerman @lovolee3 @loveackermannn @notgoodforlife @randomlevithoughts @sparkywrites25 @ackermendick @levismylover

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Sleeping with Spiders

Prompt Day 12: Only One Bed | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: College AU, Meet-Cute, Only One Bed, First Kiss

"I think you're in my bed," a voice says, and Steve looks up from the class schedule he's studying while he lounges on his new dorm room bed. 

There's a long-haired guy standing in his doorway. 

“Uh, what?” Steve asks, staring at this guy. 

Steve's room is a single, so this is definitely his bed. It's the only one in the room, and surely this guy can see that. It’s kinda hard to miss. The guy waves a paper at him, and steps inside, dropping his bags to the floor with a thud. He hands the paper to Steve, and Steve skims it, and sure enough, this is his room assignment, too.

Steve fetches the same paper with his name on it, and hands it over. Same room. 

"They've fucked up," Steve says, comparing them, seeing the guy’s name at the top, “Edward.”

"Eddie,” he corrects, then adds, “and you don't say…”

“Steve,” Steve offers.

“They've definitely fucked up, Steve.”

They probably need to tell their RA, so this can get fixed.

Keith, the RA, is spectacularly unhelpful. His only advice was to wait until Monday to take it up with the housing department. It’s Friday night. Or, there’s an open bed in room 704, he offered. They both go look into 704 and there’s a shirtless guy with a mullet, cigarette dangling from his lip, stomping around like he’s mad at the world. They both look at each other. Hard pass.

Steve thinks taking their chances with each other has to be better than whatever that situation would be, so he nods his head back towards their double-assigned room.

They both sit on the bed. They can make this work for the weekend. 

“I can crash on the floor,” Eddie says, “since you’ve already put on all your bedding.”

Steve nods, “Maybe we can get an air mattress?” 

“I’m not buying an air mattress for three nights, rich boy,” Eddie says, teasing, but Steve can tell he’s serious. "Floor's fine." 

And the first night does go fine, and they spend Saturday hanging out in this single room with two occupants. Eddie's fun, Steve likes him, even if they are nothing alike.

Eddie has a guitar, so he tries to teach Steve to play, but finally gives up once he realizes it's a losing game. But Eddie plays, and their floormates stop by the door Eddie propped open. 

Steve wouldn't have thought to do that, but they're meeting people, even if none of them look like anyone Eddie would want to be friends with. 

"I have a band, back home. They're younger than me, so I promised my Uncle I'd at least try college, while I wait for them to graduate."

Steve nods, "That's cool."

"I'm in the music program," Eddie adds. 

Steve points to himself, "Business." 

"Good, that's good. That means I can call on you to be the money man, when we get rich and famous." 

Steve laughs, "Sure, you do that."

That night, Steve offers to switch bed for floor, but Eddie refuses. Which was fine until Steve bolts upright, startled awake. 

"Spider! On my face!" Eddie screams, and someone next door bangs on the wall. Great. This asshole is going to make his neighbors hate him before he gets gone to the right room on Monday. 

"I'm coming up!" Eddie says. 

"You're not coming up!" Steve hisses back. 

"It's my bed!" 

"I think not!" 

"You can share, or you can sleep with the spiders!" 

This bed is a single, a twin XL, whatever that is. There's not room for two guys in it, no way. At least not two near strangers. Steve likes Eddie, and wouldn’t be opposed to a little company from him, not at all. And Steve doesn’t need dinner first, not really, but he also doesn’t just crawl in bed to actually sleep with random dudes. No way.

But he scoots towards the wall, trying to make room for Eddie.

 

Steve wakes up in the morning, and Eddie has a leg slung over his thighs, teetering on the edge of the bed. Steve puts a hand on Eddie's back, just to make sure he doesn’t fall and break his neck.

Eddie leans into the touch, and Steve scratches his blunt nails against the thin cotton of Eddie’s t-shirt. It’s kinda nice being close to someone, even if they’re a random stranger that’s just stuck in your room, with nowhere else to go.

Steve feels when Eddie wakes up, because he tenses. 

“Shit. Sorry,” Eddie says, but there really isn’t much room to escape.

Steve rubs his back, “It’s fine. Honest.”

Eddie takes him for his word, and slings his arm across Steve’s bare chest. Steve likes it. He’s probably digging himself a hole here. 

What else is new? 

Eddie strokes his chest, running his fingers through the hair there, before moving down to the hair leading into his shorts. That's. That's interesting. He's interested in that. Definitely. 

Steve rolls onto his side, scooting towards the wall to make more room, and Eddie follows. Steve reaches forward and tucks Eddie's wild morning hair behind his ear. He wants to see his face. 

"This okay?" Steve asks. 

Eddie nods, so Steve leans forward to kiss him. Eddie meets him, and Steve's loving this. 

Eddie kisses him like it's all he wants to do in the world, and Steve clings to him, breathing hard and heavy into his mouth. He hopes his breath isn't terrible, but if it's, neither of them seem to care. 

He keeps kissing him, touching him and thinks this room mistake was the best case scenario, now. 

Eddie rolls on top of him. 

Steve suddenly has a thought, "Was there even a spider?" 

Eddie cackles, "No." 

Later, Steve poses a question, "Maybe we just don't tell anyone we were both assigned here?"

"Only if you think we can sneak a double bed in here," Eddie says, grinning. 

Steve thinks that's totally doable. Robin will happily create a diversion for that to happen. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt.4

Easter Sunday

◀︎previous part

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary A surprise visit from Negan serves as a pick me up, but what comes up eventually must come down tags light angst

wc 2.1k words

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact :)*

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

You spent the first Saturday of your spring break crying. Your life was crumbling before your eyes and you couldn’t do anything about it. Of course you parents were pissed when they found out about your incident. They grounded you indefinitely, which didn’t make much of a change in your life since you had no friends to go out with and the one friend you thought you had isn’t even your friend. 

 Your mom knocked gently on your door, calling your name. “Honey, get up. We’re going into the church early to set up.” You burrowed deeper into your blankets, not wanting to get up. Your eyes were puffy from crying all day yesterday and you felt like you got hit by a truck, both physically and emotionally. Even though you’ve never had a boyfriend or never been dumped, this was heartbreak, your first heartbreak and it felt like you’d never be able to overcome it. 

“Are you getting up?” Your mom asked, knocking harsher this time. 

“Coming, Mom,” you croaked. You rolled out of bed and trudged to your bathroom to get ready. After brushing your teeth and washing your face, you put on some light makeup. Makeup wasn’t something you usually wore, but on the off chance Negan accepted your invitation to today’s service, you wanted to look nice. You put on your prettiest sun dress, something you bought in secret a few years back. You knew your father’d never let you step foot out of the house wearing it, but what’s the point in following the rules if you’re already grounded indefinitely? You styled your hair to your liking and put on some small, gold hoop earrings. You put a cardigan on over your dress and hurried down to join your parents. 

…

 Negan stood in front of his mirror adjusting his tie. The closer he was to ready, the more he regretted his decision to actually go the Easter Sunday service. He was only going because he wanted to check on you, one, because of your outburst on Friday and, two, to see how you were holding up after he kicked you out of his office. He’d never check on a student like this, even at school during school hours, but, he hated to admit it, you wormed your way into a special place in his heart. He actually liked his lunches with you and grew to care about you through them.

 It wasn’t until after the service began that Negan pulled into the church parking lot. His wife was out of town, so he was on his own. He hesitated outside of the double doors, feeling awkward because churches were absolutely not his scene. The usher handed him a pamphlet with the schedule of today’s service on it and guided him inside, pointing him in the direction of a pew to sit in. He sat in an empty one in the back, close to the door in case he changed his mind and wanted to bail. He scanned the church for you as he barely listened to the service in the background. At school, he usually spotted you by the atrocious sweaters you’d wear, but there wasn’t one in sight. He knew you had to be here since it was your dad who was delivering the sermon. 

 He got up to go find the bathroom after about half an hour into the service. He didn’t need to use it, but needed to step away for a second. 

“Negan? You came?” He heard your voice say from behind him. When he turned around and saw you, he went slack jawed. Instead of your usual matronly outfits, you had on a cute little dress. It hugged your body nicely, showing off curves he didn’t even know you had. The dress only reached mid-thigh and had a small slit, giving him a nice view of your legs. He dared not to let his eyes linger on your chest too long, ignoring the way the dress showed off some cleavage, and instead met your eyes. He, a married man, should not have been checking out you, his student, like that. 

“Coach?” You said when he just stood there, gawking. 

“I came because I wanted to check on you after the shit that went down on Friday,” he explained. You shifted nervously on your feet and nervously fiddled with your hands. It was then he noticed your bruised, wounded knuckles. 

“I’m sorry you had to see me like that. I’ve never…” your sentence trailed off when his hand grabbed your bruised one and brought it to his lips, kissing it tenderly while maintaining eye contact the entire time. He didn’t know why he did that, but it felt right. You stared at him with wide eyes and your mouth agape, but you squeezed his large hand in your smaller one. 

“I’m proud of you for beating the shit outta that girl. It was nice seeing you stand up for yourself for once.” He couldn’t help but mirror the big smile that nearly split you face in half. He really liked your smile and hated that it was such a rarity to come by. You were such a pretty girl who was even prettier when she was glowing with happiness. 

“It felt kinda good. Punching her. But now I’m grounded for eternity…and I have detention when school starts again.” He chuckled at that. His thumb unconsciously caressed your knuckles and you didn’t stop him, enjoying the way his touch felt. He would've gotten lost in the moment if it weren't for that one other thing simmering on the back burner of his mind.

"The other day, when I kicked you out of my office, I didn't mean to be so harsh. That was fuckin' rude of me and you didn't deserve that shit," he apologized. 

"It's okay. Even though I'm about to graduate, I would be sad if you got fired." 

He sighed sadly. "I'ma miss spendin' time with ya." Your face brightened even more.

 "You liked our lunches together?" 

"Course I did, or I’d have kicked your ass out long ago."  You let out a little giggle and when he really thought about it, it was the first time he's heard you laugh. Just seeing you happy made him feel warm inside and knowing he was the one bringing you that joy made him even more glad. 

"Will we ever get to spend time together?" Your smile began to falter and he was ready to do anything to bring it back. 

"Maybe after you graduate, but until then we can't be seen to close together at school." 

"But that's so far from now!" you whined, tears brimming in your eyes. You turned away from the man to try and hide your tears from him, but he wasn't having it. He cupped your cheek in his free hand and turned you to face him.

"Five weeks isn't that long, baby," he soothingly whispered as he swiped your falling tears away with his thumb. You leaned into his touch and never wanted him to let go. 

"Can't we spend time together outside of school?" 

He thought about it for a split second, but shook the thought out of his mind. He knew he shouldn't even be considering this. If you eating lunch in his office looked bad, him being with you outside of school would look a hell of a lot worse. Not only that, but he'd be enabling your already unhealthy attachment toward him. As much as he liked you, he believed you should have friends your own age. He understood why you didn't, but he still felt like he was pulling you away from your peers and holding you back. 

"I don't think that'd work," he admitted. 

 The worst part, the part that made him feel the dirtiest, was he wasn't sure if it was only a friendship he wanted with you. He enjoyed spending time with you, sure, but also enjoyed the fleeting intimate moments. Feeling your body on his whenever he hugged you, being the one to make you smile, receiving your kind gestures. And even now, seeing you in that little dress. 

"Do you not want it to?" you asked, barely above a whisper. He sighed. You were making this so difficult. Saying 'no' to you, especially when you were looking at him like that was impossible, but it was what would be the best thing for you both, even though it would destroy you, which would destroy him. 

"Negan?" you asked when no reply came. 

"I want it to work," he confessed selfishly. He was caught off guard when you threw yourself into his arms and squeezed him tightly. After recovering from his initial shock, his arms came down and reciprocated the hug. This was different then the other hugs. He wasn't comforting you as you soaked his clothes with your tears, you were hugging him because you were elated. It was obvious that you didn't want to let go by the way you relaxed into him, but all good things come to an end eventually. You stared up at him with so much hope glimmering in your eyes. He could’ve kissed you right then and there, but he refused to let himself think of you that way. 

“I gotta go back now, but I’ll come see you after the service.” You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a gentle kiss to his stubbly cheek and hurried off before he could process what the fuck just happened. 

…

 You stood by the door with your mother and said your goodbyes to everyone as they exited the church. After the first few people, you grew tired of hugging and shaking hands with people who hardly knew. “Honey, why don’t you go on inside and help your father pack up?” Your mom suggested. Finally, you prayers were answered and you were given an out and could find Negan like you promised. The church was empty, your father off elsewhere- likely his office, aside from Negan who was sitting alone in a pew. For the first time in a while, you were nervous to approach the man. What transpired earlier made you see Negan in a different light. A hopeful one, because it seemed like there was a chance he had felt something for you. 

“Hey,” he greeted when you slid into the seat beside him. The soft, dimpled smile he gave you sent the butterflies in your tummy fluttering..

“Thanks for coming. I was really happy to see you,” you admitted shyly, kicking your feet and biting back a cheesy grin. He placed a warm hand on your bare knee as if to say the feeling is mutual. You placed your smaller hand on top of his and intertwined your fingers through his. 

“Listen, darlin’,” he said despondently. You held his hand tighter, fearing that he was slipping away before you got to explore your new friendship with him.“I sure as hell am happy that I got to see you and see that you’re okay, trust me, I am. But-”

“No! No buts,” you argued, “you said you wanted to make this work!” 

“You know damn well that I do! But now’s not the right time to try.” Anger bubbled in your chest, not necessarily toward him, though. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to be reasonable, you just wanted him; his companionship, his attention, his touch, and maybe even his love, you weren’t sure. 

“I thought you liked me? Wh-why don’t you wanna be friends!?” Here you were at square one again. Crying before Negan about your lonely life and lack of friends, just like that first day he comforted you in his office.

“Darlin’ what is it that you’re not fuckin’ understanding?” He frustratedly ran a hand over his handsome face. You glared daggers at him for the use of his harsh language. 

“Why don’t you tell me then, Negan,” you hissed, growing more distraught by the second. Negan wanted to come clean and tell you that he couldn’t just be your friend because he wanted you in more ways than that, but he couldn’t because if he did, you’d still accept him, still want him. He wanted you too, but he didn’t want to ruin you like that. He was over twenty years older than you, struggling with his own marriage, and your teacher. He’d do nothing but hold you back. You were young and so full of potential, but you wouldn’t be able to do anything with it if you were focused on him. So, he got up and left without another word. 

“Negan?” You called after him, but he kept walking. You got up and followed after him, calling his name, not caring who heard you, but he was already gone.

@morganlolitta (since you asked to be tagged)

next part ►

[elusivecagedmockingbird]

Ghost Of You

[jungkook x reader] [2.3k+ angst, supernatural-ish!au??]

A/N: I've been MIA for months and while I've been logging on from time to time to read fics, I never really had the energy to write one. But I'm back with the second part of Bad Omens. I just hope I was able to write something worth reading! Not proofread—whoops.

Anyway, part 3? >> Read Bad Omens

-

Your husband complains at the long drive, stretching to ease the building fatigue in his muscles.

You knead his thighs. "Why don't you let me drive for a while?" Jungkook turns to look at you with stars in his eyes and shakes his head. You smile back with a nod and look out to the road.

"Did we take this highway this morning?"

"Yeah, I think so. This is the fastest route to the city." Jungkook briefly looks at you with a worried expression. "Something wrong?"

"Huh. That's weird..." You pull up your phone and open the web app.

Eyes glancing back and forth between you and the road, he asks you again what's wrong.

"Just.." you trail, thumb still scrolling through your search results. "I don't remember seeing the gasoline station we just passed this morning."

Jungkook hums, "Wanna stop by? You were probably asleep when we passed by earlier," he offers as an answer.

"No. I just got this strange feeling of like..," you mumble, trying to think of the right word. "Like deja vu." Brushing it off despite the gnawing strange feeling.

Jungkook extends his arm across the console to cup your cheek. Affectionately, you lean your face—the warmth of his palm is a welcomed comfort.

"We'll be home soon," he assures you as you close your eyes.

-

"Hey, sleepy head," Jungkook teases—lips centimeters away from your ears and his thick hot breath tickles you awake.

Your lips stretch to a smile, but your eyes refuse to open. "You're up early," you groan.

He chuckles. You feel the right side of the bed dip as Jungkook moves around you. "Baby, it's 11 A.M. already," he coos. Alarmed, you shoot up from the bed before he could finish his sentence, your shoulders almost hitting his cheek.

Regret quickly follows as you feel a sting of pain in your neck. "Fuck, I think I slept on my neck wrong." You stretch your limb sideways, trying to ease the tension.

Jungkook's warm hands were quick to help. His fingers gently run in circling motion as he noses at your shoulder. "Where are you rushing off to, anyway?"

"Uhh, work," you respond as if stating the obvious. But you're met with a raised brow from Jungkook.

"But it's Saturday today."

You mirror his confused face as you quickly search for your phone on the nightstand.

"What? Nuh uh, it's Friday." You shake your head as your legs swing off the bed.

Jungkook jumps to cross the bed and snatch you by the waist, pulling you back under the covers. Soft gasp and giggles erupt from your mouth as he tackles you in a bear hug, restricting you to leave again.

"C'mon, I'm going to be late for work." You pry his hands on your waist, but he refuses to give. And so, you wiggle around to face him.

"Hi," your husband chirps before kissing your lips.

Between your kisses, you call his name in broken syllables. You tap his shoulders, "I really have to go," you insist.

Jungkook's brows furrow in mixed confusion and mirth, "Baby, it really is a weekend," he insists and shows you his phone.

And he was right. Sure enough, the bold SATURDAY on the screen glares back at you.

Disoriented, you free yourself from his hold. You suddenly feel like the walls are closing in on you. Did you sleep through the day? You swore yesterday was just Thursday.

"Everything okay?" Worried eyes assess you and you feel even more anxious.

"Yes-no. I don't know. I think I'm having a deja vu?" You press the heel of your palm to your eyes. You think you feel an oncoming migraine.

"Deja vu?" Jungkook asks as he stands. "Like you've already experienced today?"

"No, not exactly," you stutter. Your brain lags to find an explanation. How do you verbalize the missing feeling inside of you?

"I feel like..." you trail off and see Jungkook's eyes are fixed on yours, patiently waiting for you to explain. "Like I skipped days? You know whenever I whined about the weekdays and hoped it was already the weekend? It's like I got my wish? But like today had already happened."

At your poor explanation, Jungkook giggles. His bunny teeth peeking and it was hard not to awe at his bright face.

"I think you're just hungry," your husband teases. "How about we get breakfast and go for a drive? Nothing too far, just until the scenery changes."

You hum in agreement. "If today's really Saturday, I might as well do something relaxing, right?"

Jungkook kisses your cheek before dashing away to the bathroom.

"You joining me in the shower?"

-

The moment you awaken, you feel the warmth of the sun rays piercing through your windows and a light breeze sweeps in every second and so. Yet, as perfect as the morning seemed to start, you're bugged by the feeling that something was amiss.

You couldn't shrug off the feeling that you're forgetting something. Jungkook's not beside you and you assume he's in the kitchen. You call for your husband and soon hear his footsteps padding across the wooden floor. Jungkook's head pops through the door frame, "You called for me?"

You meekly nod in his direction, "What day is it?"

Jungkook laughs, his obliviousness from your predicament has him amused in your state. "It's Saturday. Do you have plans for today?" he answers as he enters your room.

"How could it be Saturday again today?" You ask your husband, though the question was meant to be rhetorical, he didn’t miss the panic in your voice. "It was Saturday yesterday, and now you're telling me, it's still Saturday today?"

Confused eyes scan your face. "What are you talking about, Y/N? It is Saturday today and yesterday was Friday."

"No, Jungkook!” You exclaim as you jump off the bed. Your misdirected frustration directed at him. “If this is one of your pranks, you better own up now. It isn't funny."

"What? It's not," his hands quickly engulf your face. Yet somehow, the action gives you no comfort. "I swear, it's not."

You tear up out of frustration and your hands grip the table for support. You hear Jungkook call your name but somehow your mind is floating away.

Something's wrong.

Something's very wrong. You're forgetting something important. And anger and frustration rises inside you as you struggle to pinpoint what it is.

Next thing you know, you're hyperventilating. "I'm scared," you force the words out of your mouth.

Jungkook rushes to your side, quickly soothing you. "Breathe with me, Y/N. Focus on my breathing and follow, yeah?"

You still hear Jungkook talking, but everything is muffled. It isn't until you spot the mole just below his lips and focus on it that you regain your control.

Slowly, you feel his hands on your cheeks.

Then, your eyes travel from his lips to his eyes. Gradually, you register his voice, then his words. And you breathe with him.

You lean on each other as seconds turn to minutes. When you think your emotions are stable, you ask your husband again, "Jungkook, please just tell me now if this is just some stupid joke of yours."

A beat passes then another.

Jungkook looks like he's internally struggling with something, so you squeeze his hands to let him know that if it is a prank gone wrong, it's okay. You're not mad.

Jungkook visibly gulps and you worry. "It's really not a prank, but…” he cuts himself off. As if he was unsure of what to say. The look of confusion on his face slowly morphs into guilt.

"But what?" You urge. Confusion, anger, and fear are starting to rise inside you again. If it wasn't Jungkook standing in front of you, you would have already been impatient.

He remains pensive and quiet. And yet, his eyes look at you so lovingly, as if he yearns for you.

"Jungkook, please," you whisper. "What is going on?"

"I also don't know what's happening. But that Friday night after Jin hyung's party, something happened.”

Your anxiety grows as you see your husband start to tear up, his eyes downcast as he tries to hold back his tears. “Y/N, we got into an accident. Right after our stop by the lay-by..” Jungkook—your husband, the love of your life, the man who always toughened up for the both of you was suddenly crumbling to your arms. His words are barely coherent as he holds back sobs and tears. “I got better but..”

Your intertwined hands catch Jungkook's tears and somehow you know. He didn't have to say anything but his pained sobs told you what his mouth could not utter.

"At first, I thought I was dreaming or that the accident was a dream but I had cuts and bruises and when Jin hyung visited me he couldn't see you..."

You stumble back into the bed as you try to process what Jungkook just told you.

"Are you saying I'm—"

You couldn't even think of the word. Tears were quick to return and you looked up to your husband.

"Am I? What do you mean Jin couldn't see me?"

Jungkook kneels in front of you, his body slotting between your legs. "I tried to look for an explanation but I just accepted that this was a cruel blessing. It didn’t matter that they thought I had gone crazy and maybe they’re right. But baby, it doesn’t matter to me because you’re here. So please…” Soft hands firmly grip your own as if he was already pleading you to stay; accept your situation as it is.

Jungkook hated it when you cooed at his eyes, but he always knew when to use it to his advantage. And right now, as two doe glistening eyes plead for you and his lips pouty as he begs you to understand, you feel yourself melting to his whim despite being lost.

Still, you can’t help but cry at everything—it’s too much. And as always, Jungkook hastens to wipe your tears. He leans his forehead towards yours and hopes he can take whatever unwanted feeling you’re having right now.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and starts to softly graze his nose to yours for an eskimo kiss—one of his ways of silently apologizing.

And it works. It was Jungkook. It was your husband.

Despite being more confused and agitated, you accept his apology. You get the feeling that he must also share the fear you feel right now. But overcome with your need to know you ask, "How long?"

Jungkook pulls away, just enough to look properly at you with furrowed brows.

"How long have I been in...limbo? Or whatever the fuck this is."

He gulps. Ruminates if he should lie or be honest.

"A year."

You recoil and scamper away from his hold. "For fucks sake, Jungkook. This isn't right. We need to get help or find someone." By now, you’re full-on panicking. You don’t know how this was possible. In all of the weird conspiracy and shit you watched when you were…alive, none of those could explain what is happening to you now.

"No," Jungkook was quick to reply; his tone was indignant. He's not letting you go—a decision he made months ago. He lost you and he believes this is a second chance for him. He shut himself and pushed everyone away to stay here with you.

And he can't let that happen.

Struggling to hold your hiccups, you at least try to make sense of your situation. "And what about the days? Why do I feel like I'm reliving or skipping days?"

A tattooed arm stretches across the bed to tuck a tear-soaked stray hair behind your ears. Jungkook's voice has that lilt he uses when he answers his six year old nephew’s questions when he answers you. "You never seem to remember anything new. You always think it's Friday, always before the accident.."

"This is so fucked up," you hiccup. Your forgotten habit of biting your nails resurfacing. "What about you? Your job? Our friends? Jungkook, you can't seriously think it's okay to be holed up here with me."

Jungkook moves closer again towards you. His sweater sleeves pulled around his fist to wipe your cheeks. "It's fine, baby. It doesn't matter if we relive the same day over and over again, you're here with me and that's all that matters. We're together."

At his sentiments, you sob. Your heart is in pieces for the man in front of you. You love Jungkook, you truly do and the thought of leaving him shatters you, but you can't keep him here with you. He said it's been a year. You look around and sure enough you notice things—the wine stain on the rug turning faint over the months passed, your basil by the kitchen window sill has grown taller, and what shatters the pieces of your broken heart is the absence of photos of your friends on the shelf.

You think about your friends. Jungkook's family. You cry harder.

Jungkook said Jin visited and thought he was crazy. You assume the worst happened.

And what about your other friends? Did they share the same sentiments?

Your wail at the thought that Jungkook not only lost you that night, but his friends, too. And it’s all your fault.

"You have to let me go," you plead. Your voice weary and hands shake from being overwhelmed. "You have to live your life. Please, Jungkook,” you plead.

"I am, Y/N. I am. As long as I’m with you, I am," your husband insists repeatedly. "Please don't leave me."

Your heart aches from his plea. How can you leave someone like him?

You’ve only been married for a few years. You barely did all of the things you said you would do—roadtrips to the country, backpacking across continents, and fuck, you wanted to build a family together; grow old together.

You curse at no one in particular; desperate for someone to blame. In the seconds that ticked, you grew spiteful.

Maybe Jungkook was right.

This was a blessing. Yes, it was cruel to live this way, but a second chance, nonetheless.

And so, you allow yourself to be selfish. You'll stay.

You'll stay with Jungkook. For Jungkook.

-

Take My Hand

[virescent-v]

School Yard Bully Pt. 2

A/N: The follow up to School Yard Bully. It's short and it's got smut. 😂 I know what my Emily fans like and I aim to please 🫡 Also, this gif? my god 🥵🥵🥵

Word Count: 1.8k+

Warnings: oral (r! receiving), use of pet names (baby, princess). I think that's about it. It's not that wild this time lol

Part One can be read here

Have fun ;) and happy Saturday! :)

A week has passed since your lock in with Emily. Work for the past week was quiet, mostly catching up on paperwork. While you were thankful a case didn’t tear you away, you had been bored every day, most of the team keeping their heads down and focusing on all of the overdue work they had. 

You and Emily hadn’t had much time alone together to talk about what happened at Rossi’s. You weren’t even entirely sure that your date was still on until Friday morning when Emily texted you from her desk. 

Emily: I need your address so I can pick you up tonight. 

You: Oh, we’re still going? You hadn’t said anything… 

You glanced up, catching Emily’s eyes across the bullpen. You could see the light shining in them, even from so far away. 

Emily: I didn’t want the team to be nosey. This is about us. 

You could see a light blush staining her cheeks and it made your insides warm. This was a complete switch from the Emily you’ve known. And you were looking forward to getting to know her. 

You sent off a text with your address and a ‘see you at 7pm sharp, Prentiss’ before getting back to your paperwork. 

Nothing was going to get in the way of your date tonight, especially paperwork. 

*

At exactly seven, your doorbell rang. You exhaled slowly, feeling the nerves rush through you. You weren’t sure what you were doing tonight, but you assumed it was something fancy, as Emily had told you to dress accordingly. 

You were wearing a tight fitting, but still appropriate, deep red dress. It clung to you in all the right ways, highlighting the curve of your hips, the valley between your breasts. It showed off just the right amount of both cleavage and legs. Your makeup was done with a little smokey eye, making your eyes look hooded and seductive. Simply, you looked hot. 

You opened the door to find an absolute vision in front of you. Emily was wearing black slacks and a white button down, the sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. The shirt was tucked into her pants, drawing attention to her waist. She had a necklace that hung at the perfect space on her chest. It was minimal, but it took your breath away. 

Emily cleared her throat. “Wow, uh, you look beautiful,” she said, a little breathlessly, her eyes taking in every inch of you, focusing intently on the peek of your thighs from under your dress. 

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks and chest with the way that she was looking at you. Intense, almost as if she was trying to memorize every curve of you. 

“Should we go?” You said, grabbing your things, trying to ignore the feelings rising in you. 

Emily smiled, extending her arm to you as you passed through your door, leading your way to her car, where she opened the door for you, watching you settle into the passenger seat. She leaned in close to you, her nose grazing the side of your neck, lightly inhaling the smell of your perfume. “I can’t wait to eat tonight,” she whispered, her breath tickling the side of your ear. 

A slow, steady throb started between your legs, making you break out in goosebumps. 

You turned your head slightly, your nose brushing against hers. 

You could feel the ghost of her breath against your lips as she said, “I’m so hungry, princess.” 

Before you could think, let alone respond, the car door was shut and Emily was making her way around the car. 

*

Dinner went well, the conversation staying relatively tame minus a few suggestive comments from Emily that made the ache between your legs grow throughout the meal. 

Emily tried her best to talk about anything but work, learning things about you that she hadn’t in the past few months. You two had enough in common that you could talk about your shared interests, but enough differences that it wasn’t boring. 

You could tell the whole meal that Emily was holding back on something, but you didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood that had settled over the table. 

It wasn’t long before you were back in the car, stuffed from a delicious meal paid for by Emily, heading back to your place. 

When she put the car in park, you placed your hand on her wrist, looking into her eyes as you said, “Care for a drink?” 

Emily took a deep breath, turned off the ignition, and followed you inside. 

You lead her into your kitchen, a semi-tense silence falling between the two of you. You could tell whatever was brewing throughout dinner was going to let itself free soon. 

You were pouring two glasses of wine, trying to listen to the glug of the liquid into the glass instead of the sound of your heart beating in your ears. As you turned around, Emily was leaned up against the opposite counter, both arms braced on the edge. Her eyes trailed down your form again, causing a fire to erupt in your chest. But you could still see the hesitation clouded in her dark eyes.

“I’m so sorry I was an ass for months to you just because I didn’t know how to handle my own feelings. It was immature, idiotic, and bitchy of me,” Emily said, her voice a breath above a whisper. “I regret it, and I’ll make it up to you every day if you’ll let me.” 

You could see something dark taking over the light in Emily’s eyes, a flash of past trauma and hurt taking over her mind. 

You reached behind you, placing the wine on the counter before walking slowly over to Emily, catching her eyes and holding them as you spoke. “I know you’re sorry, Em. I can see it and I believe it.” You made sure she was really looking at you before saying, “I forgive you.” 

Emily's breath hitched, as if she couldn’t believe you would actually forgive her. You brought your hand up, stroking the underside of her jaw. “But act like that again, Prentiss, and you won’t like the version of me you see.” 

You could feel more than hear the little chuckle Emily let out. “I understand. Princess treatment from here on out.” She paused, bringing her hand up, catching yours that was still stroking her jaw. “Can I kiss you now?” 

You tilted your head, your brows furrowing quizzically. “What happened to eating me?” 

Emily guffawed, her eyes lighting back up in challenge. You could see the moment the switch flipped within her and knew you were in for it. 

She put one hand low on your belly and slowly pushed you back into the counter behind you. She said nothing as she gripped the underside of your thighs, lifting you up onto the counter. 

You gasped at her easy show of strength and at the cold tile beneath you. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth as Emily looked into your eyes, pushing your knees slowly apart before standing between them. 

As her hands painstakingly made their way up your delicious thighs, her thumbs rubbing slow, steady circles on your skin, she inched her face towards yours. As her hands reached the inside of your thighs, her thumbs brushing against the soft skin where your thighs and abdomen connect, Emily’s lips found yours in a heated kiss, the tension from the past few hours - few months - finally combusting between the two of you. 

Her hands circled around, grasping at your hips and then your ass, pulling you towards her, your dress riding up, almost exposing you. The friction from her between your legs was not nearly enough to do anything other than have you panting into Emily’s mouth as she ravished you. 

Emily’s lips trailed away from yours, ghosting down your jaw, sucking lightly on the skin of your throat before traveling to the exposed skin of your chest, teasing kisses against the edge of your dress. 

Her eyes glanced up at you, noting your dilated pupils, the flush spread across your cheeks, before smirking at you wickedly. “I’m ready for dessert, baby, are you?” 

You almost wanted to roll your eyes, but the incessant throbbing between your legs was beginning to be too much. “Fuck me, Emily.” 

You watched as Emily’s pupils got wider, darker, almost predatory. 

She moved without hesitation, pushing your dress up to your waist, shoving your knees further apart roughly. 

“No panties, baby? How naughty.” Her thumbs spread you further, your pussy fully on display. “Look at how wet you are for me. Practically dripping down your thighs.” 

“Please, Em-.” 

“I haven’t even really touched you yet and you’re already begging. How cute.” Emily wasted no more time, diving between your legs, dragging her tongue between your wet, silky folds, gathering your essence, her eyes closed as your taste erupted over her taste buds. “Fuck, you taste so good,” she moaned, attaching her mouth back to your pussy. 

Emily ate you out like she was starving, like you were her last meal. Her tongue never kept the same pace, building you up but switching before you even got close to the edge. 

Once your legs started shaking from the tension building in your lower stomach, Emily’s lips wrapped around your throbbing clit, skyrocketing your pleasure tenfold. As if she could tell you were close, she quickly thrust two fingers inside you, immediately curling them against the front wall of your cunt, zeroing in on the spot that made you grip her hair between your fingers, your hips rocking into her face as you tried to chase nirvana. 

A litany of curses tumbled from your lips, calling out to a god you didn’t even believe in. With your head tilted back, your straining neck exposed, your legs wrapped around Emily’s back as you held her against you, you could feel the coil inside tightening, ready to snap. 

With an exceptionally powerful thrust, the right twist of her fingers, and a well timed suck, your pleasure exploded, your hands tightening in Emily’s hair to an almost uncomfortable pain, a loud, stuttering moan falling from your lips. 

Emily continued to thrust into you, albeit more slowly, as you came down as if she was stroking something precious. As you brought your head up to look at her, she grinned salaciously at you, removing her fingers and licking them clean. 

As your breath caught in your throat at the sight, Emily dragged you off the counter, pressing up against you, kissing you with every feeling she’s been harboring for you for months. 

You moaned at the taste of yourself on her lips, winding your hands back in her hair as you tried to get the strength back in your legs. 

Pulling away from the kiss as you caught your breath, you smiled at Emily. “You owe me about…sixty more orgasms for how you treated me over the past six months, Em.” 

Emily smiled, kissed you quickly, before grabbing your hand and leading you out of the kitchen and to where she assumed your bedroom was. She looked back over her shoulder at you, winking, and said, “Whatever you say, princess.”