#have my face smushed between someone thighs

[gergb]

.

[writersdrug]

Someone sent an anonymous ask about Soap being all whiny and jealous, complaining to Simon about how lucky he is to have such a pretty, curvy girl and Tumblr swallowed it 😫 (This is gonna be a 2 parter)

Warnings: nsfw, threesome, sub soap and reader, dom ghost, training, voyeurism

But I can imagine Ghost would be so sick and tired of it. Johnny's constantly yapping like the mutt he truly is: "Yer a lucky man, LT. Findin' a pretty bird like that." "Where'd ye get her? Need to find one for myself." "She as soft as she sounds?"

Ghost wants to snap at him for talking about you like that - he shouldn't be talking about you at all. But he knows the poor man is just lonely, aching to have something soft and supple like you. Your smiling face smushed between Ghost's fingers when you come to drop off the lunch he forgot. The jeans that fit snuggly around your ass and thighs, the shirt that hugs the swell of your breasts, stretched thin as it barely contains them... poor Johnny boy can't help but whine at the sight of something so appetizing, so soft and warm right there - he's jealous of his LT. How did someone so hard around the edges pluck something so sweet?

Simon hates to see him so upset, pouting in the corner like a scolded puppy as you stare at your boyfriend with stars in your eyes. Johnny could have a girl, but he gets overeager: fucking them on the first date, leaving them sore and bitten and tearful. He's too rough, and they're quick to excuse themselves, fleeing the next morning and blocking him from all social media.

Johnny needs to learn to be patient and gentle with his toys. He's nice enough to let the sergeant practice with his own pretty girl, and you're more than happy to assist Soap with his green-eyed monster.

After a nice dinner at his LT's house, served by you - along with some bronze, liquid courage - Johnny sits on the recliner, chatting with Ghost, who's relaxed on the sofa. You enter the living room and stand next to Simon, biting your lip excitedly and staring between the two of them. Simon wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you to sit on the arm of the sofa.

"Y' think she's pretty?" He asks Johnny, who blinks.

Gorgeous. Comely. Ravishing. "Course I do." He responds plainly, trying not to get worked up over the way you're perched next to his LT so prettily.

"Yea, you do..." Simon mutters, squeezing the flesh at your thigh. "What's it you said? 'She must look nice, spillin' out my hands’?"

Soap is nothing short of mortified. His eyes are wide, staring back at Simon - he doesn't know what to say. He said those things within the secrecy of his conversation with his lieutenant - he didn't expect him to repeat it outside of that bubble, let alone in front of you, the person in question.

"N' what else was it? 'Need t' have a pretty li'l wife with a rack like that to lay my head-"

"Simon!!"

Soap finally glares at his LT, his fingers digging into his own thighs. His heart is pounding in his chest. Is Ghost trying to get you to hate him?

You giggle and stand upright. "It's ok, Johnny." You coo, slowly walking over to him with your hands behind your back. "I like it. It means you like me."

Soap has little time to do anything but grunt when you swing a leg over his thighs and seat yourself in his lap. Your cleavage is right there, just inches from his face, and he can feel the bare skin of your thighs burning through his trousers.

"Help me take this off?" You tug at the skirt of your dress, looking down at him with those innocent, glossy eyes.

He can't breathe. His clothes are too hot and too tight, his cock nearly choking in the confines of his pants. He looks to his lieutenant for help - Ghost just smiles, like he's watching his favorite porn. He might be, depending on how this plays out.

"Go on, Johnny. Slowly."

Johnny wants to be anything but slow, once he realizes his best friend is showing you off like a collectible toy. He looks back up at you, watching the way your plump lip catches between your teeth. He carefully reaches around, grabbing the back of your neckline and tugging the zipper down - slowly, as he was instructed. He can barely focus on the movement with your breasts right there, imagining what they'd taste like between his warm lips. The shoulders of your dress fall away, revealing the lacy bra you're wearing. He looks up at you, drool pooling under his tongue as you slide your hands over his shoulders, one coming around to play with the base of his mohawk.

"You can take it off." You whisper.

He wastes no time, his hands smoothing up your back and unclasping your bra in one motion. He helps you pull it from your shoulders - your breasts, round and full, now pressing against his chest. He wants to touch. He needs to touch.

He shoots a hungry, pleading look to Ghost - he nods back at Soap, which is all the sergeant needs to absolve his filthy behavior. He closes your breast in his palm, eyes hazy as he takes your nipple into his warm mouth. He hardly has to move his head forward because you lean into his mouth, your fingers grasping at his hair and your back arching deliciously. Johnny groans, using one hand to dig his fingers into the thick flesh at your hips, and his other to press his palm against your lower back. He shifts himself down as his tongue swirls around your nipple, groans leaving his throat and reverberating against the bud, quickly hardening from his ministrations. You sound so sweet, high-pitched coos and soft breaths pouring from between your lips as you press your weight against Soap, shoving your breast as far into his mouth as he can take. You kiss the crown of his head, whispering a good boy against his skin.

He practically whines, bucking his hips upwards, relishing in how your body grounds him into the sofa cushions. He releases your breast with a pop and quickly takes the other one into his hand, sealing his lips over it with a hum. He looks up at you through wanting, begging eyes as you toss your head back, squeezing your thighs around his hips. His tongue undulates against your stiffening peak, slobbering around the underside of your breast as he gives you another experimental jerk of his hips. You gasp, rolling your hips back down onto him and staring at him with your lust-blown pupils.

His cock is demanding to be let free. He's going to fuck you hard, he's going to pound you into the chair until you're begging, showing his LT just how much of a good boy he is. He's never felt this blazing forest fire within his veins, setting off nerve after nerve and burning a trail right down to his hard, throbbing member.

He hooks his fingers into the hem of your soaked panties, fully intending to rip them off - but you quickly grab his wrist and yank his hand away. He looks at you, blinking through his trance as a look of confusion settles on his face. "Wha's wrong?"

You giggle his expression - the sound goes straight to his tip with another rush of blood. "These are for Simon." you whisper, slowly pushing yourself off of Soap's lap. He lets his arms fall to his sides with a desperate look, letting you back away, right into Ghost's waiting lap.

"Gonna show ya a thing or two, Johnny." he says, pulling you back to his chest. "Teach ya a few tricks, maybe you'll be able t' keep a woman longer than a day." he pulls a switchblade from his pocket and flicks it open. The blade drags down over your belly - you chew your lip as it electrifies your skin, the tip sliding lower and lower until he's running it over your pussy. The fabric is soaked as he lingers there, the sharp edge barely separated from your cunt by your flimsy, drenched panties.

You stare at Soap, not once breaking eye contact as Ghost slices through the fabric. Soap's mouth is agape in disbelief and lust, enamored by the sight before him. He can't tear his eyes from the view of your sopping, glistening pussy, watching as Simon slides his thick fingers over your folds. He catches his thumb under the hood of your clit and you jolt, shooting a hand down to grab his wrist - but he doesn't stop. You whine and mewl, leaning your head back against his shoulder as he flicks the bud, strumming over it slowly.

He stares Soap in the eyes, watching his reaction. "Alright there, Johnny?"

He's drooling, mouth hung open, hypnotized by the way your muscles clench with each stroke of Simon’s thumb. “… Aye…” he manages to say – his fingers dig into the cushions beneath him as he tries to control the urge to tear across the room and drive his cock into your cunt, fucking you against his lieutenant’s chest the way you deserve: rough and hard. Simon’s been teasing you too long; you need to be ravaged, orgasm after orgasm pulled from you, faster than you can think.

“Let me have a go, yea?” he says boldly, looking at Simon with desperation. “That’s what this is, right? Ye want me to fuck ‘er nice? I’ll do it. I’ll do it, sir – I’ll take good care of her-“

“No you won’t.” Simon interjects before the dog can get too riled up. His fingers are now strumming up and through your folds, and you’re panting and staring at Johnny with needy desire. “’S why you can’t keep anyone. You’re too eager.”

The truth shoots through Soap’s chest like an arrow, and he meets Simon’s gaze. He’s obviously rock-hard in his trousers, he won’t even attempt to hide it. Simon’s got a cocky, knowing smirk on his face, and you… poor you is just wishing Simon would spit out what he wants to say, so the three of you could get on with the show.

“Gonna teach you a few secrets, sergeant.” Simon says, and Soap isn’t sure what to think about having his rank used in this situation. “My girl needs to cum.” He pulls his fingers away from you – you whine in frustration, but are quickly silenced when two, thick digits are stuffed into your mouth. You obediently clean off your own slick with your tongue, looking back down at Johnny with a heavy, lidded stare.

“I’ll make her cum.” Soap says quickly. If this is a matter of whether or not he can make someone cum, he’ll pass that test easily.

“You’ll do it right.” Simon growls. “Need to understand the difference between getting’ your cock wet and pleasuring ‘er. ‘S my girl ‘n I won’t have you roughhousing ‘er. Got it?”

Soap’s throat bobs as he swallows. It was another task, another order from his superior. He clears his mind of any preprogrammed, lustful thoughts, sent straight to his brain from his achingly hard member – this wasn’t about him. It was about following instructions. He was a good soldier, he could do that much.

“Yes sir.”

Simon nods. He shifts hips, pulling his fingers from your lipsand grabbing your hips. You grab his forearms for support as he spreads his muscular thigs, forcing your legs farther apart as they rest on either side of his knees. Slick dribbles down from your pussy and onto Simon’s length, which is about to tear a hole through his pants.

“Then get to it. Sick of hearin’ you yap all day about not bein’ able to keep a girl. Put your mouth to good use – we’re about to fix that.”

[luveline]

could I please request a remus x reader that isn’t used to affection and cries at being called a pet name <3

—Remus calls you lovely, so you cry in his back garden. fem

You hold your hands out to the fire pit, relieved when heat kisses your palms and warms your arms to the elbow. Summer nights are supposed to be warm. Not in Wales. 

The decking under you bends and groans as multiple pairs of feet cross it. Someone steps off by your legs and moves further into the garden. Solar lights warm the space and a battery powered lantern lights the patio table where Sirius hosts a championship of Speed. 

A pair of shoes stop by your legs. They step down and a body sits next to you tightly, thigh to thigh, no want for space. “Hey,” Remus says. “Are you cold?” 

“Not really.” 

“Did you bring a jumper?” 

“I’m not cold,” you laugh. “Of course I did, though, it’s upstairs.” 

Staying with Remus and his friends has been fun so far. The idea of spending a few weeks of your summer between your second and last year of University at Remus’ house had felt daunting when they suggested it, but you’ve had nothing but fun so far. It’s nice to have friends. Nicer to have patient and gentle ones.

“You can have my jacket? Wear it over your shoulders like a cape.” 

“No, thank you. Really.” 

Remus takes your arm. Gives it a quick rub with his thumb until his hand moves down to yours. He feels your fingers, his palm soft, before he returns to his personal space. “You don’t feel too cold. I’ll ask James to put another log on in a bit.” 

“All the food is keeping me warm.” 

He grins. Brown eyes, brown hair, lashes of firelight on his cheek. “Are you having a good time?” 

“Of course I am.” 

“Yeah? Will you tell me if you’re not? I know it’s weird staying somewhere else. Even if it’s just that the bathroom makes you miserable or you need extra socks.” 

“It’s like I’m on holiday with all my best friends,” you say lightly. 

“You are on holiday with your best friends. I’m not, ‘cos it’s my house, but this is the definition of a holiday.” 

“Thank you, for inviting me.” 

Remus puts his arm around your shoulder, and he kisses your temple with a gentle smile. “I wanted you here, lovely. We all want you here.” 

His arm falls away. It’s just amicable affection, you know that, but it’s more than anyone’s given you in a long time. You’re surprised he’d want to; you must feel a deep, deep tenderness for someone to call them lovely like it’s their only name, and to kiss their forehead with a smile already in place. 

You pull the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth. It’s precious, to be wanted. To have someone as special as Remus show you what you mean to him plainly. You’ve had a great day filled with nice food and good friends, and now you’re warming your knees by the flickering fire pit in the Welsh countryside, stars emerging above you, the moon a pinky nail by the mountains. 

You tip your face into your hands. 

Remus brings a hand to your back and draws a shape without comment, but his hand flattens, and he feels it loud and clear when you sniffle. “Dove?” he asks softly. 

You raise your head quickly, sniffling again as you wipe hot tears off of the hills of your cheeks. “Sorry.” 

“Did I upset you?” he asks, sitting up straight. “I’m so sorry, what did I say?” 

“No, no, it’s nice. It’s nice, you’re always so nice to me.” 

“You’re upset because I’m nice?” 

“I’m just not used to it, that’s all.” 

“Not used to it,” he says, frowning. His brows set. He’s nearly stony.

“You’re the nicest friend I’ve ever had.” 

“Can I give you a hug?” 

You nod, shivering as he wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his side, no room left between you. His cheek smushes into the side of your brow, a heat like the fire warming you, the two of you listening to the sound of wood embers popping. 

He makes a sound somewhere in his chest and pulls you closer again. Impossibly, he shifts, and his second arm comes around to turn his side hug into a proper one, as though he’s changed his mind about it just a few seconds in. You turn into him without apprehension. 

“You’re not used to it. Do you like it?” he murmurs. 

You press your face to his jaw and neck. Your arms act of their own accord, tightening behind his back. 

“You should be used to it, someone like you. You should be so used to it that it bounces straight back off you again.” He rubs your shoulder. His fingers work into a tight muscle gently. “You lied about being cold, I can feel it now. Your back is freezing.” 

You raise up off of the decking to hug him harder. He’s all for it. 

“We’ll teach you exactly how to be part of the world’s touchiest friend group,” he promises. “You're already a good hugger.” 

[princessbrunette]

ᡣ𐭩 ｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅PRINCESSBRUNETTES SCREAM SALON INTRODUCES … ໒꒰ྀི ˃̵ ࿁ ˂̵ ꒱ྀིა

GIBSON GIRL ࣪𓏲ּ ᥫ᭡ ₊ ⊹ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃

♩ethel cain — gibson girl ♩

pairing: toxicbf!jj x reader

cw: jealousy, manhandling, exhibitionism, outdoor sex, cnc, degradation, toxic relationship, one spank.

you are responsible for your own media consumption. welcome to kinktober day four.

you’d liked to think you’d done nothing wrong.

jj knew what you were when he started dating you — friendly, sociable, a party girl, infact you’d even say those were some of the things that drew him to you in the first place.

as you step up to the chateau, having walked there in a pair of sandals that were rubbing your feet just a little too much, and your eyes dry from last nights drinking antics at the kegger — you could already tell jj wasn’t pleased with you from the look on his face.

he’s leaning up against that big tree outside the house, smoking a cigarette. jj was an avid stoner, yes — but he only smoked cigs when he was mad. you sigh, leaves crunching under your tread. in the back of your mind you note the uncharacteristic, slight chill in the air too — an introduction to the muggy autumn weather the obx briefly gets once a year.

“yeah i’m like shocked you even came.” jj calls out before you’re close enough, glancing between you and the cig he was now stomping out beneath his sneaker, twisting his ankle to smush it into the dirt.

“why?” your voice rasps, still that little bit hung over. jj laughs, bitterly and he doesn’t look at you— whipping his hat off and raking a hand through matted blonde hair before shoving it back on. oh, here we go.

“thought you’d like — leave to go fuck some other dude. y’know, seein’ as our relationship just means jack shit to you.” he shrugs like he doesn’t care but the look in his eyes tells you everything.

“what have i done now, jj?” you lean on your hip and he meets you in the middle on the grass, licking over sore, thin red lips.

“so you’re just gonna pretend you weren’t shakin’ your ass for the whole of the cut last night? lettin’ juuuust everyone see up your skirt? you got a man so like, you can’t just act single — i dunno know, that’s just my opinion���”

“you’re mad at me for dancing? at a party?” you step up to him which you know was a mistake as soon as his eyes flutter slightly as he glares down at you, suddenly pinning his mouth shut— jaw slightly clenched.

“yeah you’re right. i’m crazy, huh?” his nostrils flare, eye contact persisting. truthfully, yeah — he was, which is why you struggled to stand on business, not knowing what his next move might be. you shrink a millimetre in stature but you know he notices. “nah, don’t back down now. say it. say m’crazy mama.” he enters your space, filled was rage and smelling like marlboro reds.

“i’m not doing this—” you go to move past him, but he grabs you by the waist, even when you fight. “jj get off!”

“yeah we are, yeah we’re fucking doing this babe—” you speak over eachother frantically as you struggle until he’s wrestled you to the ground on your front, pressing your cheek into the dirt with a hand on the back of your head. you feel those thick cheap rings digging into your skull.

“acting like you don’t like this shit or something.” he scoffs as he straddles the back of your thighs. he’s rough, rougher than usual because there’s real anger behind each move and your heart pounds in your chest. what’s it called when you love someone so much you let them do whatever they want to you? even if it’s not warranted? it seemed like every guy round here was the same. no different from the rafes of the world — just violent and dirty and cruel. yet you couldn’t live without jj.

“jj, you’re — i don’t —”

“you didn’t mind showin’ off infront of everyone last night so you don’t mind if i just take what i want right here, right? nah, course you don’t.” he mutters, not even considering expecting a reply from you as you starts to fight your wriggling hips out of your denim shorts, sliding them down your ass. anyone could come by and see this obscene act, so naturally you felt hot all over and sadly, sickeningly aroused despite the thick knot in your stomach.

“s’not like that.” you whine, tears in your eyes as you turn your head toward the house— coming into direct eye contact with john b, who stood in the window with a mug of coffee.

he wouldn’t admit it, but john b didn’t mind all the borderline violent scuffles that you and jj would get into. bruises on your body from the rough and degrading sex showcased up and down your thighs when you’d lounge on the boat with the pogues, or red scratching of the word ‘MINE’ carved into jj’s back from your fingernails when his insta following would go up. for the most part he figured it was just kinky sex, nothing he wasn’t familiar with — but he had to say, he took a weird sick pride in hearing about you getting punished.

since dating you, you’d eaten up a good chunk of the time john b gets to spend with jj alone. jj used to be down for anything, would drop anything and anyone to be at his best friends side— and maybe john b had been selfish in letting that continue on to the point of expecting it. anytime he’d get time with the blonde, there you’d be nagging at the corners of the conversation or arriving unannounced to start something. it had gotten to the point where he too had began to indulge in violent sexual fantasies toward you, getting his own chance to put you in your place. you’re not one of us, he’d say — because he’s tired of being the kind and mature one.

“jj, j—john b is there you can’t—”

he’s already got your panties down, spreading your folds open to look at you a little too widely to the point you wince, jerking.

“alright and so what, it’s just john b. you didn’t care ‘bout all the extra eyes last night.” he shrugs one shoulder which surprises you. for someone so possessive, he really didn’t care.

when he pushes himself into you, you’re still locking eyes with the brunette through the dusty window. john b was typically courteous and would pretend to look away when jj would get to aggressively fondling you, but now he stares — puppy eyed and unabashed like he was doing nothing wrong, bringing the mug to his lips to take a leisurely sip as his best friend fucks you in the dirt. you even swear you see him shaking his head, all disappointed and dad like.

despite your walls clasping and clenching around jj, your head pounds and eyes burn with humiliation so you continue to squirm. maybe, somewhere deep in your mind you only squirm because you know that jj wants the fight, he wants you to struggle and suffer and pay for what you did. learn a lesson, so he’d say. despite everything, despite this — you just wanted to please him.

“had to make sure no one’s been breakin’ in these pretty tight holes babe, you understand right?” he pants, hands pressing into your back to keep you still. you already know the front of your clothes is ruined with dirt and mud.

you let out a pathetic groaned whimper similar to a ‘hnnnng’ sound as your brows furrow in defeat, eyes dropping to the way john b strains against his shorts, only turning to walk away when you watch him adjust himself. somehow, it makes your cunt flutter more and you wait for the blow of jj’s realisation.

a hard smack on your ass, there it is.

“my god, dude of course you’re gettin’ off on this. i knew you were a slut but jesus, way to prove it to me.”

[httpdwaekki]

fixation | l.f.

summary: you and felix get high before tensions start to rise and who are you to deny your favorite sunshine.

wc: 2.2k

warnings: MDNI 18+ ONLY (minors and ageless blogs WILL be blocked), both felix n the reader are high, smut, nipple play, clit licking/sucking, switch (both), fingering, ddlg (if you really squint), felix calls the reader mama (it felt right in the moment idk how i'm feeling about it), probably more read at your own risk.

a/n: inspired by @felixknow ‘s hannie’s🍒 fixation fic. idk how i’m feeling about this one chat, but i’m kinda obsessed with it at the same time. i hope you all enjoy, remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3.

hannie’s vers. | my library

please consider donating to this fundraiser!

(images are not mine! credit to owners!)

felix was known for his love of physical touch.

you literally could not find him not touching someone in some sort of way. so much so that you give him the unoriginal title of ‘cuddle bug.’ now this was also true tenfold when he was high.

anytime you got high with him, he’d always somehow find himself on top of you, and 9 times out of 10, with his head on your boobs.

you both were sat  on your bed, a couple of hits deep, when he feels the need to touch you. you were propped up on some pillows on your side, face smushed into a random plushie as you were invested in whatever youtube video was on your phone.

he makes his way over to you from the other side of the bed. he inserts himself in the little space between you and your phone cause you to lean back.

he pushes you fully in your back, before flooping down onto you, his head on your tits. you thought nothing of it, you going back to your video, felix mindless scrolling on twitter. 

a few minutes go by before felix lets out a laugh. he turns his phone to you, showing you something he found scrolling. “this is me.” what was it? literally just a picture of tits, a meme of spongebob smiling big and the caption ‘me when boob’.

“no shot you’re looking at other boobs while laying on mine” you tease. he sits up to defend himself but you won’t here it “foul! foul i’ll tell you! are mine not good enough for you?” 

you were enjoying this too much, felix’s freckled face was red the more flustered he got. “no no! i love your boobs! they’re the best!” you kept egging him, finding it cute as he tried to defend himself.

“suuure they are, i’m sure you tell all the girls that.” unbeknownst to you, you struck a cord. you had forgotten how sensitive the precious sunshine became when he was inebriated.

“no, that’s not true.” he mumbled, causing you to sit up. “hey hey, lix, i’m joking bug, i’m sorry.” you rub his thigh, hoping to soothe him.

he looks over at you with a pout. “don’t do that.” he playfully hits you, pulling a giggle from you. “i’m sorry, i’m sorry.” you squeal, as he toss both your phones away before he throws more playful hits your way.

you throw yourself back, attempting to protect yourself from his attacks. eventually he halts his attacks, finding himself straddling your hips, leaning over you, both of you breathing slightly heavier. you both feel something shift, the tension becoming thicker . 

“you know, i think i deserve something special for you being mean.” your mind hazy not just from the weed but now felix’s presence over you.

“what do you have in mind?” you ask softly. not breaking eye contact, he brings one hand up to cover your clothed tit, giving it a light squeeze. “i think you should let me show you how much love them.” his deep voice sending shockwaves through your system. 

you give him a soft nod, keeping your eyes on his. you had taken your bra off almost as soon as both of you had entered your apartment, you hated the way the underwire felt, especially when he laid on them. 

so you could feel every agonizing movement he made, brushing your senstive bud each time. you watch as he brings himself down, making himself eye level with the now hardened bud.

he brushes his thumb over it, revealing it through the fabric. he takes the bud in his mouth over your shirt, keeping eye contact with you, catching every glimpse of your face he can get.

he alternates between sucking it and flicking his tongue around it. he brings his hand to your other tit, making that peak hard on contact.

the combined stimulation, caused you to let out a soft moan. he pulls away from you, causing a whine to leave you.

“does that feel good mama?” you nod your head, brain too fuzzy to form words. you were sure it was the weed but something about your mind already hazy made this feel that much better.

he places a kiss to the wet peak before reaching down, and pulling at the hem of your shirt, “lean up for me.” he taps the side of your boobs with his free hand. you knew deep down he only did that to see you tit jiggle a bit.

he pulls the shirt off as you lean forward, tossing it somewhere in the room. he kisses the nipple he has had been sucking for the past minute or so before moving to the other one.

he places a kiss to it once again before taking it in his mouth fully. you let out a breathy moan, finally feel his mouth on you. he lets out a moan, sucking the hardened bud happily. you felt like you were on cloud 9, you wrapped your arms around him, one around his shoulder the other in his hair.

he grazed your nipple with his teeth causing you to let out a squeak. “lix please.” you begged, your thighs pressing together. “what’s wrong, hm? you feeling needy.” you pout at his words nodding your head again.

“don’t worry mama, i got you.” he smiles, before taking your nipple between his teeth once more.

you let out a whimper, his voice and actions taking over your senses completely. your hands fisting his soft locks as he continues his work. “lix please.” 

he ignores your pleas, simply too invested in softly sucking your chest. he becomes dazed, cheek pressing against your soft flesh as he relaxes into you. “god, you’re fucking perfect.” he says releasing your nipple for a moment.

he gives it a soft blow before giving it one last lick and kiss before moving to the other side once more.

he melts into you once again, his cheek pressed to you as he lazily sucks. he had his hand playing with your other boob, pulling yet another whine from you.

“baby boy,” you moan, head falling back at the stimulation. “as pretty as you look with my nipple in your mouth i need something more.” he pulls back, pout evident on his freckled face.

“but they feel so nice to play with.” his hands still pawing at them, rolling your nipples between his fingers. you grab his hands, intertwining your fingers. “i know baby but i think i’m gonna go insane if you don’t do something else in the next 10 seconds.” 

his cheeks flush before you pull him down to you. you capture his lips in a feverish kiss, taking one of your hands to card through his soft strands. he moans into your mouth as you gently tug at them, scratching his scalp softly.

his free hand makes its way to the side of your breast, playing with it once more. “have i just unlocked an obsession for my boobs in you.” you ask, pulling away from him, breathing heavy.

he gives you a confused look, “what do you mean just unlocked? i have my face in your tits half the time for a reason.” he says like it’s obvious.

you let out a giggle as he leans down, placing kisses on your jaw before making his way down. he stops at your boobs once again. “felix i swear to god i won’t let you play on them again.” you threaten, cause him to shoot up.

“that seems a bit drastic no?” you roll your eyes, “i don’t care, please.” you whine, feeling yourself going insane at the lack of stimulation. “okay, okay, i’m sorry.” he places one last kiss to each nipple before making his way down.

he trails a bunch of kisses across your soft tummy, one to each hip bone before pulling down your shorts. “fuck angel,” he breathes as he spreads your legs, staring at the wet patch on your light blue panties.

he places a kiss to it before rubbing small circles with his thumb. “ah.” you moan, at the slight stimulation. “lixie, please.” your mind is so far gone and he’s barely touched you. between him and the weed, it was fucking intoxicating.

“i know baby, i know,” he reassures, his voice dropping an octave or two. he’s rubbing smalls circles to your clothed clit, mesmerized by the growing wet patch darken the fabric.

“all this because of me?” he asks, looking back to you. you nod, pout present on your lips, “all you lixie.” you mumbled. he places once last kiss to the wet patch before removing those as well.

“look at this pretty pussy hm?” he spreads your lips apart, eyes sparkling as he takes in the sight of your glistening cunt.

he licks a long stripe from your wet entrance up to your bundle of nerves. he latches onto it, giving it a harsh suck. “ah! fuck.” you moan, back arching as you reach for the closest thing for you to hold, which happened to be a stuffie.

you stuff your face in its tummy and felix expertly plays with your swollen clit. you turn your head to the side moaning into the soft toy and he slips a finger in.

he pulls away, but his finger keeps thrusting into you. “no, no, my sweet girl, let me hear you baby.” his free hand rubbing your inner thigh, as he places kisses all around your clit.

“ lixie,” you cry, turning to look at him while tucking the plushie into your chest. “i know mama, am i making you feel good?” he asks between kisses.

“yes, yes, it feels so good, more please.” you beg, you needed more, you needed your senses completely overwhelmed by him.

he adds a second finger before completely taking your clit in his mouth once more. “ah,” you cry, back arching at the added stimulation. “lixie please, don’t stop.” 

the weed in your system was making everything feel euphoric. he takes the hand that was rubbing soothing circles to your thigh to spread you out, giving him easier access to your pretty clit.

you moan, your hand coming up to squeeze your tit, finger brushing your peaked bud.

“look at you,” he pauses for a moment to flick your clit once more. “so gorgeous for me,” he gives the bundle a suck before grazing his teeth against the nerves, pulling a high pitched moan from you.

“sounding so pretty for me hm?” he speeds up his fingers, curling them into that gummy spot, sending you into a state of pure bliss. “ah!” you scream, breathing heavy, head thrown back.

“fe-felix, p-please, i’m gonna c-cum.” you manage to stutter, your senses fully overtaken by him. “yeah? my pretty girl gonna cum?” he slips a third finger in, causing your eyes to roll back into you head.

“yes, yes, please, li-lixie, i can’t-“ you cut yourself off with a moan, it was feeling almost too good but you needed your release more than air in that moment.

he ignores your comment. “my baby playing with her pretty tits for me,” he blows on your clit, causing you to squeeze and brush your sensitive nipple. “play with your nipple for me baby.” you follow what he says, letting out a pornographic moan.

“felix p-please.” you cry, tears collecting in your eyes as the coil in your tummy becomes tighter and tighter. “come on angel, show me how good i’m making you feel.”

his fingers become impossibly faster, his mouth attached to your clit, sucking it into his mouth while his tongue flicks it.

you scream at the stimulation, your hips rocking against his face, chasing your release. plushie in a death grip to your chest and you roll your nipple between your fingers.

“felix!” you moan as the coil snaps, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. he works you through your high, slowing his fingers but not stopping them.

your clit still in his mouth as he overstimulates you. your body convulses as the shockwaves run through you. “l-lix please, it’s too m-much.” you whimper, body shaking hiding your face once again. 

his stills his fingers, pulling his mouth off you to give your clit a few loving kisses. “so pretty for me angel.” he whispers between kisses. 

“l-lixie.” you call out to him, needing to feel him pressed against you. he looks up at you, making grabby hands to him making him smile.

he carefully pulls his digits out, pulling a whimper from you in the process. he gives your clit a few more kisses, causing your legs to shake involuntarily.

he makes his way up, kissing your tummy and of course, each nipple and even giving one a cheeky suck. 

once he makes his way up you, laying on top of you, plushie squished between you, wrapping your legs and arms around him, pulling him close. he giggles at your cuteness before giving you a loving kiss.

“i love you mama.” he mumbles into the kiss. you smile against him, “i love you more lix.” you pull him tighter to you, both of you falling in a quick, peaceful slumber.

(and yes he does wake you up later, mouth attached to your nipple once again.)

do not repost

p.s. my taglist is open if you would like to be added! just send me an ask <3

[bunnyscrypt]

begging u to write the first time sarah takes your strap omg

as oomfie once said: you need to fuck the fake gay outta her!!!

warnings: 18+, strap on usage (sarah receiving), cheating (topper fuck you MOVE), dirty talk

another sleepover, sarah once again pacing around her room, going off about how terrible topper is at sex —still not knowing how to please her, his stroke game is weak, only focusing on himself. you disliked him but you envied him also. you wanted to be the only one to take care of her, to kiss her whenever, the only one to make her cum and he can’t even do that right.

scrolling on your phone, letting out a few hums of acknowledgment to show her you’re listening —barely, you’re just so over it, words coming out before you could stop them.

“you wouldn’t have that problem with me”

she stops in her tracks. “you- what?”. shrugging, you act like its no big deal. “you heard me. i mean you know how i feel about that loser anyway, i tell you all the time you deserve better, deserve someone who knows how to make you cum. i could take care of you..besides it could be fun..”

you get up to stand in front of her— bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stares intensely into your eyes. the look on her face making your cunt throb. she’s always heard stories about how you really know how to keep a girl satisfied. sarahs always been infatuated with you, wnted you to slut her out.

“okay..” she started. “..yeah show me”

“show you what?” head tilted to the side.

“show me how i deserve to be fucked.”

fuck yes.

you lean forward, kissing her roughly. “lay back on the bed, pretty girl.” she giggles as she immediately scampers to the bed, laying against the pillows, already taking off her pj’s. mesmerized by her body, you trail your fingers down her chest, to her stomach, and thighs before straddling her waist. pressing your lips to hers once more, you caress her cheek as you pull away.

“oh, baby. i can’t wait to ruin you.”

‎ ᰍ︵ꪒꪒ‎ ‎ "fuck! baby slow down!.. you're gonna make me cum.."

face smushed into her pillow as you deep stroke her in doggystyle with your strap. biting down on it with how good you're giving it to her. she was a whining and whimpering mess as you pounded in to her. "taking me so well baby" breathless as your hand collides with her ass, smacking it twice before gripping her hips again. handing her better than any man ever could. "like when i fuck this pussy like this huh.." she nods, barely any time to speak before you hand settles on her neck, squeezing down. "fuck. oh fuck" sarah whined as her orgasm quickly approached. you slowed down, helping her ride it out, hand leaving her neck to caress her back. you pulled out of her, grabbing her by the hips to flip her body over on to her back. lining the silicone coke to her cunt and pushing back in making her whimper. "youve got one more in you, baby. i know you do.' starting to thrust, you grab her jaw. "open your mouth" squeezing slightly. she does as you command, sticking her tongue out as she opens wide for you. spitting in to it, you fuck her harder as she swallows immediately. "such a good girl for me. you're my slut now, yeah? only gonna come to me when you wanna come, right?" her pretty eyes blink up at you as she nods. "o-only you. i-i'm y-yours. i'm only yours!" she cries out, breasts jiggling from the way your pounding into her. "topper could never fuck you like this, huh.. my poor girl never got to cum" you tease, hand going down to rub her clit. "no! never! he never made me feel as good as you do.. fuck! you fuck me so good baby. please..make me cum, make me cum again" she babbles dumbly until, for the third time that night, you have her cumming again, making a mess all over you -your name rolling off her tongue like music. slowly you pull out of her and get up to get a towel as she lays limp, breathing heavy. you cleaned her up, kissing her body as you did so before laying down beside her, pulling her body close. kissing her forehead, you both lay in comfortable silence before she broke it "so.." she looks up at, grinning sweetly. "wanna go again?"

[sunboki]

— FOR THE NIGHT. a Christopher Bahng fiction

Christopher Bahng x fem. reader

WORD COUNT. 1.1k words

AUG'S NOTES. this bangchan is from my “Korea’s Most Wanted” universe because i have yet to get over him from october…

“Bin, you said it was shipped friday.” The man, Christopher Bahng, grumbles, massaging the pinch between his brows.

His counterpart, Bin, whom he was now quarreling with on the phone groaned profusely, claiming how shipments were already slow—not to mention with the new investigations on his business underway.

The life of The Gunsman isn’t an easy one. It’s a constant game of tag against the police and the government while wielding a well-planned dictionary of excuses to avoid suspicion. 

So now, as Bahng’s precious system becomes increasingly jeopardized, he finds himself losing more and more sleep to a worrisome degree.

And, having left the party filled with chairman, associates, and colleagues alike, Bahng slips into the safety of his car, once again troubled with the demands this illegal trade calls for.

“Well tell him I’ll have to serve his head on a platter if the ammunition doesn’t arrive by Friday. I’m running a charity event with how many funds I’ve given the idiot.”

Although halfway into Bin’s response, a quiet, though audible sound rustles in his backseat.

Instantly, he’s lurched a pistol from his thigh, aimed directly at the responsible interruption.

“Bahng. Bahng?” Bin echoes, only to be hung up on as Chris takes in the sight before him.

Lying in his backseat, curled up in a miniature ball, is a girl.

Your face is wrinkled in discomfort, hand resting right below your cheek, smushed against his car, a Lamborghini’s, interior.

How you got here without him noticing is beyond him, how long you’ve been here an even larger mystery.

His hand falters with the pistol, gawking with obvious surprise prior to stuffing the weapon back into its leather holster.

Instinctively, he would’ve called an assistant, asked them to take you home, find someone who knew you. Except, by the look of your current state, he has an inkling you wouldn’t be the greatest help navigating.

You’re gone.

Plus, the party’s already drawing to a close, people scattering out in every direction. The last thing he needs is to draw attention to himself.

Bahng may work illegally, lacking the fear of blood on his hands, but he’s not heartless.

Stifling a sigh, he rakes a hand through his hair, repeatedly clearing his throat in the case you woke up.

Leave it to him to end up with a random girl in his backseat.

Fine. Home it is.

Or, one of his many homes in the area.

Starting the engine, he spares repeated glances at you on the drive back, simply met with your same, woeful expression. Eyes screwed shut, lips pursed, cheeks stained a pink hue.

Pulling in, he stalls in the front seat, debating on all his morals up till now.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this..” Words a mere mutter, he carefully opens your door, gingerly dragging you out from your awkward position.

Knees pulled to your chest, Bahng keeps one, scarred hand on your back and another beneath your thighs while your head hangs, both hands bunched into fists, pressed to your chest.

Scared.

Whatever happened before, however you got here, you were scared—that much was known.

Somehow, the realization had him holding you closer.

Swiping the code to the door, he silently curses the loud beep, confusing himself with his concern for you.

Why did he care? You’d wake up, he’d get your home address and send you off. Why was he now so conscious about your comfort?

Heading up the winding stairs, he pulls his office chair from its place, deciding water as the best option.

“I’m going to put you down for a second, okay?”

Gently idling you into the chair, his movements halt when your arms reach up around his shoulders, a soft, barely divisible whine slipping past your lips, unwilling to let go.

He can barely recognize anything with how loud his heart rams against his rib cage.

Pull yourself together Bahng.

Ensuring you were still asleep, he slips into the kitchen, filling a glass with water before returning to you.

Your head jerks from when he holds the rim to your mouth, unwilling to cooperate.

“Just water sweetness,” He soothed, hating how worried he was, how senseless this behavior was.

Yet, he only continued to ease you into each sip, palm cupping your cheek for support, narrowly masking his astonishment when your eyes slowly opened, barely awake.

“Mm..?” Your vocal cords betray you, leering on the verge of dream and reality as you try acknowledging your surroundings.

No amount of recollection aids your perception in figuring out how you got here, only aware of the blaring ache in your head and a strangers voice in the distance.

One thing’s for certain. You feel awful.

Discerning the splash of water dumped down a sink, you’re once again hoisted into his arms, disappearing back into unconsciousness as Bahng nudges open his bedroom door, settling down on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t mean to man-handle you, but we need to get these shoes off.”

Situating you upright, his arm slips down, propping each of your ankles where he can pull the heels from your feet.

Softly placing you down, he savors your feeble grip grasping at his clothing, gradually loosening in an attempt at holding his face.

“Unfortunately, I can’t stay here all night sweets, you’re gonna have to let go,” Bahng whispers, easing your wrists down to your sides.

Unfortunately? What’s gotten into him?

Although, just as he adjusts the comforter over you, turning to go, he hears a sniffle.

C’mon, ignore it, she’s fine.

Another sniffle.

Screw it.

“If you tell me where you live I can take you home?” He utters, lingering by your bedside like a child waiting to hear if they can go on a play date.

It’s painful admitting the effect your tears have on him, brows creasing so sadly in a way he can’t ignore.

“Are… Are you gonna hurt me?” You whimper, feeling absolutely exhausted the longer your mind races, frantically piecing together any clues of your whereabouts to no avail.

The pad of his thumb wiping free falling tears, he shakes his head, a miniature smile gracing usually serious, unmoving features.

“I can’t say I haven’t hurt someone before, but I’m not gonna hurt you, alright sweetness?”

Nodding fervently, his face contorts, admiring the adorable manner you blink up at him, lashes all clumped from crying.

Look, his ego isn’t too fragile to admit you’re cute.

“..How did I get here?”

Bahng chuckles.

“I don’t know the answer to that myself.”

Freeing your arm from his sheets, you furiously rub your eyes, frown tugging at the corner of your lips, hiccuping as your breathing shallows.

“I know things are scary when you’re this drunk. I promise everything will be a thousand times better in the morning.”

And with that, he pulls the comforter over you, bidding a quiet good night and nearing the door for a second time.

This time, you intervene, latching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Thank you.”

What did he just get himself into.

He sucks his teeth, surveying the sleepy eyes you’re torturing him with.

“Don’t mention it.”

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

summer loving | s.h. x fem!reader

the sky was clear, dazzling blue stretched for miles with only a few specks of fluffy white clouds floating by. the sun was shining and bringing a comforting warmth, enjoyable with a cool breeze before the real heat entered the summer.

there was an outstretched hands caressing at your right cheek while the faint breeze tickled at bits of your hair causing them to swirl on the air. the hem of your sundress would flutter up high then drop back to the middle of your thigh, luckily there wasn’t anyone else in the field just you and-

“baby, you asleep?” a low, gruff voice asked the question beside you. the only other noise beside your radio playing faint off to the side.

with squinted eyes and a smushed cheek, you were greeted at the sight of steve harrington staring into your soul. an arm bent and tucked under his arm for a cushion as his rough fingertips swept near the corner of your eye. his blue and white striped polo was hugging tight to his sunkissed biceps and swole chest, light blue levi’s snug around his thighs.

his usually clean shaven face was starting to darkens with bits of stubble growing on his top lip and jawline. his kisses are gonna start tickling and scratching at your thighs.

steve smiled your way, “there she is. my pretty baby.” his fingers dropped to sit on your jaw and neck, pinky sitting behind your ear. “my own personal sunflower, glowing and thriving in the rays.” a thickness to his words that stirred your stomach.

you chuckled at his affection, “and you say you’re not romantic.” kicking a barefoot to nudge at his calf.

steve rolled his eyes, “only around you do i become sweet and poetic. like shakespeare or that- that poe guy you quote in english.”

“you don’t want to be poe, pretty sure he married his cousin.” a pout to your lips as your recalled the information.

steve pursed his lips, “well now you just killed the mood. was gonna start making out-“

“nope, don’t back track,” grabbing onto his shirt to keep him from rolling away. he laughed prettily at your serious tone before changing his positioning. “see someone’s in need of some special treatment.”

from laying on his side he moved off the yellow picnic blanket and moved the hand that was on your face to beside your head and the other sat beside your clothed hip. steve also nudge a thigh between your legs, one down the over bent, causing your baby pink panties to show themselves.

“fuck, i’m the luckiest man in the world.” he whispered while letting his eyes run over your warm face. your chest moved with each breath causing the small s pendent necklace to reflect the beaming light off the metal.

“well i’d say i’m the luckiest in the world.” palms settling at the hem of steve’s shirt, pushing it up a bit to see a sliver of freckles and dark body hair. your bent knee brushed against his outer thigh, the denim a welcomed rough material.

steve smiled then leaned in so his lips could finally melt into yours. he tasted sweet from the strawberries you packed and shared mixed with a bit of citrus from the homemade lemonade you tired over. you hummed into his mouth, pushing your chest up to feel him closer.

steve dropped to his forearm, his weight making your heart race. his rhythm was slow and intoxicating, his tongue twisting with yours causing a moan to echo in the air. you traveled your hands from his torso up to the back up his head and sank your nails into his growing locks, letting your nails scratch at his scalp.

steve pulled away from a moment to say, “i really want to have sex right now, but i’m trying to a romantic boyfriend. and i don’t know how you feel about the possibility of getting caught by anyone.” and you could feel his excitement brush against you.

you bit into your bottom lip and you actually thought about it, then looked into his eyes as you said, “i’m feeling a little adventurous.”

-

a/n: i don’t know.

[astridthevalkyrie]

cw: afab reader + she/her pronouns, creepy stuff, yandere ig??, very very very brief and extremely mild use of phone as a vibrator, if you've seen gravity falls this is inspired by the soos and the real girl ep 💀

You pause and exit out of the app right as you open up the video call link, ignoring the twinge of guilt you feel at leaving during such a steamy scene. It's not real, you remind yourself, like you have a million times in the past month. A part of you wants to find the coziest corner of this library and play until you've leveled up all the memories you can and gone on all nine claw machine dates you're allowed to, but it's time to unplug.

Besides, you have an actual date.

"Hey!" your boyfriend greets as soon as the video loads up, grinning when he sees your face. "Are you in the library?"

"Yeah. Booked a room all for you," you tease, setting your phone down to focus on your laptop.

"Wow, I'm flattered. So what's been up lately?"

You sigh. "Nothing much. Same old boring stuff. What about you?"

He starts talking about his new job, the entire reason that you and he have been long-distance for the past few months. You're not going to lie to yourself—it's rough. It feels like torture, not being able to see him and hold him and kiss him. You've really, really missed him. That's probably why you've turned to dating sims of all things in the first place.

Your phone buzzes while he's talking, and your eyes flick over to the screen.

new text from alien boy <3

Your brows furrow in confusion. This app doesn't notify you about new texts, because they only come through while you're on the app itself. And you never just get texts, unless you've leveled up on affinity, which you haven't in the past half hour.

Whatever. Probably some new feature or event you don't know about yet. You turn your attention back to your boyfriend.

"—And my break will be in two weeks," he finishes his story, then smiles. "Which means in two weeks I'll be seeing you, pretty girl."

Eyes lighting up, you lean in so you can blow him a light kiss. "I can't wait. I already have the whole weekend planned out. We'll go to the park, the museum—I thought we could go canoeing if you wanted to—"

Once again, your phone buzzes.

alien boy <3: didn't we have plans that weekend?

Your stomach flips unpleasantly.

Huh?

"What is it?" your boyfriend asks, noticing your struck expression.

"N-nothing, just—this app I downloaded, it gave me a super weird notification. For a second, I thought it was, like, listening to me."

He chuckles. "Creepy. What app is it?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, not sure if you should even tell your boyfriend that you've found solace in fictional characters during his absence. "Just some stupid game."

This time when your phone buzzes, you jump a little in your seat.

It's not a text. Someone's calling you. Your shoulders almost sag until you notice there's no name on the caller id, just a small spaceship emoji.

"What the hell," you mutter under your breath, putting one finger up to the camera. Your boyfriend nods in understanding, leaning back and muting himself while you swipe and answer the call. "Hello?"

No answer.

"Hello-o-o?"

Still nothing. You almost hang up, until the barest of sounds makes your ears perk up. If you strain them and press the phone so close it's smushing your cheek, you can hear something. It sounds like someone whispering, but you can't make out anything.

"Hello? Um, your audio is super low, I can barely hear you. Hello? Can you hear me?"

With no change, you hang up, frustrated. It might be a prank call. You're in the library on a Friday night and there's barely anyone here, one of your friends might've thought it was hilarious to mess with you.

"Spam call." You shrug uneasily, slipping the phone down between your thighs this time instead of on the table. He nods in understanding, then starts saying something.

"You're still on mute, sweetheart, I can't hear you."

He makes an oh face, then leans forward a bit to use the mouse. After a few seconds, though, his eyes narrow in focus and he shakes his head. He looks up, mouthing can you hear me now?

"Nope. Can you still hear me?"

An affirmative nod. Weird. It's still showing that he's muted on your end. "What, is it not clicking?"

You see him look back up to the screen, whether to nod or shake his head, you don't find out, because the screen glitches out for a moment, and all you see is a door.

You shriek, clamping a hand over your mouth.

His face is back in front of you again, and you still can't hear him, but he clearly sees how freaked out you are, because he tilts his head up concernedly, as though to ask you what's wrong.

You didn't scream because of the glitch.

You screamed because you've visited your boyfriend at his new place before, and that door was his door.

"Can you hear me? Is your door locked?" He only looks more confused, shaking his head like you're the one who's muted now.

Your phone lights up before you can grab it and call him, and you gasp when it buzzes against your core and doesn't stop buzzing. It doesn't vibrate this much when you get a call, and there is no call on the home screen, nor text, nor any kind of notification. It feels like it presses itself into your skin more, and you grip the table with one hand at the brief jolt of pleasure before snatching it and unlocking the screen.

Before you can click the phone app, Love&Deepspace opens. You groan in frustration, trying to swipe up to no avail. Did you accidentally click on it? It wasn't even in the list of apps on your main page.

Movement from your laptop catches your eye. Your boyfriend's looking forward, but not at the camera. He's looking at—at something, and he backs up in his chair, looking terrified all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you say as loud as you can, but even if he does hear you, he doesn't respond, and instead, his mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The screen goes black, and then so does the entire library.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." You look back down at your phone, ready to crack it if it doesn't swipe up and get out of this stupid app—

There's no one there.

Your heart stutters in its chest.

There's always someone in the Destiny Cafe.

There's no one there.

And on the little white armchair in the background, there's a dark streak of red dripping down and staining the cloth.

"What the fuck," you whisper, eyes wide. Your laptop screen flickers.

The facetime has been replaced by grey-blonde hair, that gently brushes against baby blue eyes with a soft, unassuming smile.

"You shouldn't pause me," he coos, "now, where were we?"

a/n: i hope no one tells me that people don't put their phones between their thighs while sitting bc i very much do. also. i'm talking to a guy on FT in the library tomorrow. hope i don't have gift of foresight. or maybe i hope i do muwahahaha. this is actually mad goofy and not scary at all

[coryosbaby]

hear me out basically during the ‘78 color war nick and reader sneak off😋😋

smut pls/if you want😭🙏

TY LOVE (yk who i am)

18+, MDNI !!

no and you’re a shadysider (which he bullies you for relentlessly) so you’re both on opposite teams. The both of you probably aren’t in a relationship (because you’re both in denial), and act like you hate each other around other people but in reality you’re both fucking like rabbits on the down low. And when the game begins you both don’t even try and fight each other— you just meet up at an empty spot and Nick grabs your hand and leads you into the woods and shoves you up against the nearest tree. Trailing kisses all over your neck and down your chest, sucking marks onto your collarbones <33. Lifting up the hem of your t shirt so he can get to your tits and massage them in his big hands. All the while your cunt practically ruts against his thigh, soaking your panties with your sticky arousal. It isn’t long before he’s spinning your body around and shoving your shorts down, the flimsy fabric hanging halfway off of one of your ankles as he lifts your leg up and rubs his tip up and down your folds. Big cock drooling against your tiny hole as he pushes himself inside your walls, your arms doing their best to wrap around the tree in front of you. Your cheek is smushed against the bark as Nick laces his hands through your hair, letting out a grunt as he begins to fuck into you.

“How long have you been wantin’ this, huh? You’re so tight, sweetheart.”

“All day,” you whine out, lashes fluttering. “Been wanting it all day.”

“Yeah?” His hips smack against yours as he increases his pace. “Dirty little shadysider just wants some good dick, huh? Needed someone to pound this fuckin’ pussy.”

Nodding your head, letting him hold it against the tree and scratch your cheek from the harshness of it as he uses his other hand to grip your calf. Looking down, he can’t help but go into a frenzy watching himself disappear in and out of your folds. He bites down on his lower lip.

“It’d be cute if I filled you up, wouldn’t it?” He says. “Got you all pretty and pregnant with my kid? Mm, yeah, you’d look real nice like that.”

Your eyes roll back, your hand flailing as you reach around to push on his hips. Too much, too much, too much.

But it doesn’t matter. He’s gonna make you take it because he knows that he has that much power over you. He laces his fingers through the ones pushing on his waist and holds them up against the tree. Lifting his shirt up with his teeth to watch you getting fucked some more. Rubbing your clit in between his thumb and forefinger, making you drool as you cream all over his cock. And then, one two or three more thrusts and he’s filling you up with sticky, wet release. He fucks it into you until your hole is overflowing, and when he pulls out he watches it drip down your thighs.

He takes your panties and cleans up your legs with them, and, to your horror, slides them back on you. Cringing at the feeling, you let out a whine. Nick’s fingers move to your chest and he meanly twists one of your nipples.

And the look on his face, god. He finds it so funny that he starts laughing hysterically. Frowning, you pout at him.

“Stop it, Nick! It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny, shadysider. Now pull your shorts back up and get going, I have a game to win.”

[whalesforhands]

of public transport and amusement parks

summary: gojo satoru has been sheltered his whole life, never having seen the amenities available to the general populace until his first year of highschool. (ft.first year!sashisu)

The turnstiles clatter against a certain someone’s thigh, a clench of teeth, red cheeks and the shine of a slightly teary gaze as his hands quickly fly to grip onto the affected area.

Gojo Satoru is not going to admit he was hurt by the inanimate gate that allowed entrance into what his classmates called ‘public transport’.

“What an idiot.” Ieiri Shoko is sipping upon an iced coffee, the bitterness lingering on her tongue as she crossed her arms, her totebag shifting slightly as she rolled her shoulder.

“Rich people are certainly a different breed.” Geto Suguru is less than impressed by that new pompous classmate of his, a quirked brow and narrowed eyes.

“Is he… Okay?” You’re in two minds as your nervous eyes flitter between your all too calm classmates and the one practically kneeled over in pain.

“He’s perfectly fine. Look at him.” Suguru’s tilting his head towards the boy that was limping towards your little group, a frown on his face and words said through gritted teeth. “Commoner amenities…”

“Oho? I thought you were the one who wanted to go?” Geto’s face is smug as he watches irritation emanate from his classmate, your form inbetween the both of them as you feel the tension raise.

Oh no.

“Spouting off as if you’re so high and mighty, am I starting to rub off on you, Weird Bangs?” A provocation as sunglasses start to slide down the length of his nose.

“Dream on, pretty boy. I’d rather swallow a thousand curses.” Flared purple meet egoistic blue.

“Why? Don’t feel like talking things out with me?” A smirk upon his good-looking face. “I’ll make sure to say everything real~ slow for your ears.”

Rising attitudes and sparks fly.

(You’re trying to hide your face behind your sunhat and pretend you don’t know these two.)

“Oiii, train’s coming in 2 minutes.” Thank goodness for Shoko, you feel her arm hoop around your arm. A hushed whisper under her breath.

“Let’s go before they start a brawl.”

Grand opening of XY Amusement Park! The largest ferris wheel, the fastest rollercoasters, a beautiful carousell and much more! Come enjoy a fun-filled day of adventure with your family and friends!

(Not to mention the cheap entrance fee just for students.)

And Gojo Satoru was hooked. It was a spur of the moment decision, a yearning want in his chest, an impulse that pushed him to burst into the dorm loungeroom, flyer in hand and sparkling eyes that expected full compliance.

“Huh?” Geto Suguru is blinking at the flyer basically thrusted into his face. “You’re into this kind of thing?” Copper-purple scan over the colourful words and cute mascots littering the paper before he lifts an arm to push it away.

“Stop smushing it onto my face, I can see perfectly—“

“Weird bangs, I demand you to show me the way to this!” The flyer is pulled away to reveal an all-encompassing blue that commanded attention; a hint of childish excitement within those sparkling orbs.

A look of disgust. “No way. Get there yourself.” Geto easily dismisses him as his gaze flits back to the book upon his lap. “This kinda thing is a waste of time.”

A quick rejection, but as a Gojo, he won’t give up so easily.

“Oi, healing girl! How do I get to this place?”

“I-ei-i-ri.” She slowly enunciates each syllable of her last name, her grimace slowly devolving into a smirk upon her face as she notices the irritation on the white-haired boy grow. “Why? Can’t figure it out yourself, genius?”

She still hasn’t forgiven him for eating the strawberry roll cake you had bought for her earlier this week.

Another rejection. Will he really not get to go afterall…? Maybe he can ask Yaga or somethin— His ears perk up at the sound of a muted squeak.

Crystal blue immediately shoots to your form reading a magazine on the sofa, hiding your face away behind the papers as you curl up and make yourself seem small.

A devious grin.

“Sayyyyy…” He thinks for a moment, eyes narrowed and a smirk upon his face. “(name).” A shiver runs down your spine at the mention of it, drawled out with each syllable enunciated with an underlying motive.

“You know, I’ve always been locked away in my home.” There’s a groan from Geto at your side, a chuckle from Ieiri at the table.

Gojo chooses to ignore both of them. “It’s been so lonely… And I’ve never gotten to experience such peasant activities.” A sideways glance reveals that his head is downturned, a melancholic smile upon his face.

“It would be nice to have some memories…”

You can still sense the evident pompous nature in his words, yet you still freeze in expected guilt, nervous eyes hooked onto the same sentence you’ve been rereading since he entered the room. It looks like ruffles are a charm point this season…

A patter of socks against the wooden floor, and he’s towering above your sitting form, sunglasses pinned onto your ‘distracted’ self.

“You wouldn’t deny me the chance to have a normal highschool life, would you?” A pout in his words as you slowly start to lower the magazine.

Maybe it’s a good thing that he wants to involve himself in such activities…

——

“None of you have any sense at all~” Ieiri Shoko is absolutely glowering with pride, a flip of her short hair as she holds onto the stuffed whale that she had just won. A lovely blue, fluffy and mochi-like in texture, beady little eyes and a dopey smile. It was adorable.

A win of the century, as compared to the tiny windchime Geto held and the empty hands of Gojo.

“How did you even do that…?” Suguru is at a loss for words as his little consolation prize jingled lightly.

“Huh? You don’t get it?” Shoko’s smile grows ever wider. “It’s just like a fwoo, you have to let it go; then it just happens.” The look on her face was just too proud, the explanation just far too lousy.

Gojo Satoru’s head steams with confusion as Geto Suguru just scratches his head.

“Too bad then.” She’s humming as she approaches you with her grand prize. “(last name), here.”

Your eyes are widening slightly, squeezing the softness of it in your hug. It’s— freaking adorable.

“You’ll… Really give this to me?” Your face feels hot, embarrassment and gratitude flooding through your very veins.

“(last name).” A snap of fingers fail to snap you out of the staring trance you were in. Confused brown following your trail of sight to the large, fluffy mass that was the whale you couldn’t keep your eyes off of. A carnival prize?

“Oiiii.” She tries again, and there’s yet another failure, your eyes still blank. Looks like there’s only one solution. She turns around to face the arguing duo, cutting in their conversation.

“Anyone up for a challenge?”

“Thank you, Ieiri…!” You stare down at its beady little eyes. “I love it!” A cuddle into its face as you giggle.

The smile upon your face is worth it enough for her, a satisfied hum leaving her as she twirls her hair.

“Show-off.” Gojo crosses his arms as he pouts. He clearly could’ve won that too!

“If you’re so upset,” Shoko’s eyes gleam with mischief as they spot the haunted house attraction close by. “I have just the perfect thing.”

——

“Ieiri…?” You’re whispering into the still darkness as you take a step forward, arms crossed tight to your chest as you continue forward slowly. “Are you there…?”

(The haunted house required you to place everything you held into a locker for safekeeping.)

“See? There’s nothing to be afraid of—“ She’s cut off abruptly as a hand appears on her shoulder, pulling her into the darkness unnoticed as you turn the corner.

Now you’re all alone, wandering the creepy halls lined with lingering shadows and unsettling sounds that made you squeak in surprise. It wasn’t long before a jumpscare caused you to turn tail, backing up quickly only to hit something akin to a person, your screams echoing through the halls before a hand is placed over your mouth.

“Please calm down—“ The familiar calming voice of Geto Suguru is blown into your ears. “It’s just me.”

(Oh. You feel like smacking him for scaring you like that.)

——

You can barely make out the silhouette of him in this dreary dark, always trailing a little too far from him. “Ah— Here. Hold onto my arm.”

“Are you scared, (last name)?”

You nod, only to hear a laugh that makes you hot with embarrassment, your body immediately facing away from him with a self-conscious pout. “Sorry, sorry.” You hear him stifle his chuckle. “We quite literally deal with curses. It’s funny that you’re still afraid of such things.”

“I-It’s just the atmosphere…! I’ll be fine after we get—“

There’s a sudden crying wail of a child, one that causes you to jump in surprise, your classmate immediately standing in front of you protectively as he feels you tense up.

“Mama…! Mama, I’m sorry! I won’t run away from you anymore!” There’s a little boy sitting upon the ground, knees to his chest and crying. “Please save me…!”

“(last name),” His eyes turn to look down at you. “You can open your eyes now, it’s not a jumpscare.”

Geto was the first to realize.

Are the staffs not around? How could they miss him? You notice the ordinary civilian clothing he donned, out of place from the ‘deep sea terror’ theme of the haunted house.

He certainly was not an attraction.

——

“And your name?” The little boy was held in your arms as he continued to sniffle lightly, small hand gripping onto your shirt as you walked towards the exit.

“Junpei…” He blows his nose into Suguru’s handkerchief. “Yoshino…”

“Yoshino,” Your voice takes on a stern, yet all too gentle tone. “It’s bad to run from your mother. She could be so worried about you, you know?”

You feel him bury his face into your shoulder, a whimper coming from his already small voice.

“You have to apologise to her, okay?”

“Okay… I promise, big sister…”

Geto Suguru finds it funny how your fear disappeared the instant you had to help someone, how quickly you disregard everything else. You didn’t even notice that you were walking ahead of him, fear absolutely dissipated as you near the exit.

“You’re a good kid, Yoshino.” A grin on your face is just barely seen, a look of gentle fondness and happy eyes.

He thinks it’s kind of cute.

——

“Crepes.” He repeats the words back to you as you hold the strawberry cream flavoured one out to him.

“Yes, Gojo-san…”

(Geto was actually off puking his guts out after losing to Gojo in the parfait-coaster showdown. Just what kind of monster is this menace to be able to down 5 overly sweetened parfaits without a sweat? Especially after they had just rode the biggest rollercoaster available there 7 times in a row.

Ieiri just wanted a smoke break.)

So that left the both of you. Alone. Together.

“Um— G-Gojo-san, would you like—“ Your eyes are darting throughout the park. You really, really feel the awkwardness of being left alone with him without Ieiri or Geto here to subvert his attention towards them.

“Crepes?! I-I’ll pay!”

That’s 1300 Yen down the drain…

“So this is what I’ve seen in all those anime.” He’s close, poking at the treat and the shine of the glaze. “Commoner street food.”

“Ahaha— Ha… Yea.” You want to die, gulping nervously when you catch a glimpse of the wholly unimpressed gaze he gives you. The dessert is gingerly plucked from your hands, an almost bored gaze having trained their eyes on it, before they flicker back up to you.

He’s unnerving.

You’re twiddling with your fingers, eyes looking to the side as you feel sweat start to form from your nerves. Please, please…! Any god up there please make him stop scrutinizing you so much…!

“…it’s— Good!” His eyes are shimmering, cream on the corner of his lips as he takes another bite, and another, and another. There’s an entire crepe stuffed into his mouth before he knows it.

A jolly melody gallops into his ears, his eyes widened, sparkling with childish wonder.

“What? Whatcha staring for?”

“Your lips—“ You point to the corner of your own pair. “There’s something there…”

A pointed stare and following silence.

“Well? Get it for me?” It’s expectant, almost as if he was asking you what you were waiting for. Is this a byproduct of being waited on hand and foot? Nevertheless, your own handkerchief is produced from your pocket, leaning up to dab lightly at his chin.

It was meant to be a joke. He didn’t expect you to actually— Did you always smell so good? Your sudden close proximity shoots a tingle into his cheeks, hell, not even those maidservants got this close to him—!

“O-oi—“ Your eyes look up to stare at his, head tilted to the side and a pretty (colour) that he never really got to look at up close, his hand subconsciously holding onto your wrist as you began to pull away.

Did you always look so—

“Uhm… Did you want the handkerchief too…?”

A breeze flutters by your hair, the swaying in the wind causing a swirling in his heart. His eyes are slightly widened as they keep staring into your own, a pause in the atmosphere as his senses are all focused on you.

(He’s just been staring at you. You really want to run away now.)

“I-I’m sorry, you can have it too…” You release your wrist from his grip and place the cloth onto his palm, nervous stuttering and tripping of your words. “I think I heard Geto calling for help…”

And you ran. (You really liked that handkerchief…!)

Gojo Satoru realizes there’s quite a few things he doesn’t know about you, the fabric of your handkerchief soft against his palm the flutters of it much alike his heart.

——

“What are you listening to?” His voice is quiet, smooth on your ears that tingle slightly due to the proximity.

“Just… Something, I suppose.” Your whisper back to him is barely audible, trying to keep your conversation hushed as Shoko’s head nuzzled on your lap. If you’re being honest… You have no clue what you’re listening to, the old portable music player softly murmuring lyrics into your ears.

“I don’t think I know this song…”

The mere sight of seeing Gojo Satoru passed out upon Geto Suguru, your whale plushie hugged tight to his chest and his head lolling about the long-haired boy’s shoulder as drool seeped from the corner of his lip.

(You’d think that your usually gentle classmate would throw him off… But you’re pleasantly surprised he didn’t. It’s strangely… Relaxing right now.)

“…do you like it?” His soothing voice is refreshingly clear within the mumbling snores of your 2 other classmates.

“Mmm…” Your eyes close to focus on the sound just a little bit more. You don’t think you can really decide, or make an unbiased decision when your heart just feels so at ease.

A decisive hand removes the bud from the side closest to Geto, body shifting ever so slightly and nudging a fast asleep Ieiri that doesn’t stir. Your careful fingers gently prod his ear, a sheltered lull playing that begets an amused chuckle.

He could just imagine your face right now, proud, and anticipating silently for his reaction as he loses focus on the song.

It was on that day that Geto Suguru decided that you really were cute.

masterlist

Notes:

Shoko and Suguru only decided to go after you agreed to bring Satoru.

Gojo Satoru has been to amusement parks before. It’s just that whenever he went, the entirety of the park was booked, an army of bodyguards followed him to-and-fro in utmost silence and it was just… Lonely and unenjoyable.

Jujutsu High provides assistants that will drive students to their mission sites. Keyword; Mission sites. Hence Gojo’s request for private transportation was denied.

Gojo Satoru learned that taking the train isn’t as complicated as it seemed.

Geto got separated from Gojo in the haunted house, and he found you by following your screams.

nvy’s aftertalk:

guys i had so many rejected drafts for this i couldn’t decide which ones to put 😭😭

[northsoulss]

my love, mine all mine - elisa de almeida

(a/n : here’s a lil christmas prezzy from me to you! merry christmas everyone, and have a great year ahead. stay safe out there xoxo)

it was around midnight on a saturday, you and élisa laid in bed, limbs tangled in the sheets, holding each other dearly. you comb her hair back, her arms wrapped around your waist.

she had this adoring look in her eyes, a gentle smile on her face. the lights were dimmed, only a small fluorescent lamp that was on your bedside table lit up the room. despite all this, you looked at her and swore she has never glowed so bright. her face had a gorgeous warm hue, her eyes sparkling. such a warm brown gaze, ones that held that intense stare for you and you only. feeling her chest against your stomach, her slow breaths a constant reminder of how close you two actually were.

you’ve wondered how you got so lucky, meeting her a year ago at a coffee shop where you spilled tea all over her shirt. you remembered apologising profusely, offering all the laundry services you could ever think of while she only laughed, finding the way you panicked adorable.

“is there something on my face, amor?” she teases, jolting you out of your thoughts.

“beauty.” you comeback, sincerity clear in your voice, causing a blush to creep onto her face. she lets out a bashful laugh, a grin plastered across her lips.

she moves up so that she can she could face you directly with a groan, thighs still sore from just now. you could not get over how beautiful she was, every crinkle in her skin, every freckle, every imperfection.

you brushed away a stray piece of hair that had fallen over, her eyes fluttering shut.

“how can someone be so pretty..” you mumbled, fingers outlining her nose, lips and jaw. she only stares, admiration clear for you to see.

in her eyes, you were everything she had ever wanted, everything she ever dreamed of having. oh how she loved the way you always relished her with your words, how you were always so gentle. she watches you as you continue to mumble, eyes drooping sleepily. her eyes flick over your upper body, trying to preserve this image of you in her mind. you looked magnificent, the afterglow of your intimate moments clear on your face, chest flushed and swollen.

looking back up to your face, she realises you dozed off, eyes shut with a bit of drool on the side of your mouth. she chuckles, taking her phone to quickly snap a picture before admiring it.

around half an hour later, you wake up groggily, seeing elisa on her phone next to you. she must have just showered, her hair wet and on her forehead, a loose black t-shirt on her body.

“oh baby, why did you wake up? i was just about to sleep.” she turns to look at you, her brows furrowed as she caresses your face. you shake her hand off to snuggle into her side, your mouth blowing puffs of air into her side, making her giggle uncontrollably.

“h-hey! don’t do that!” she says between laughs, dragging your body up so that you laid on top of her. resting your chin on her chest, she continues to use her phone, quickly setting her alarm for the next day before placing it beside her. she takes you into her arms, the warmth of her skin and the smell of her freshly washed hair making you drowsy.

before you fell asleep, you slowly mumbled, “you know, you remind me of a taylor swift song that i really like.”

“oh?” she questions curiously, turning to look down at your smushed face.

“it’s called “sparks fly”. it describes what i feel when i’m with you.” your voice trails off, sleep slowly consuming you.

“it must sound amazing then.” at that statement, you look up at her with an unamused expression, her face smug with a small smirk on her lips.

“oh get over yourself.” you roll away, back now facing her. you feel the bed shift, her face now in the crook of your neck.

“you love me.” she nuzzles her nose into your hair, pressing a gentle kiss to your nape.

“yes, yes i do.”

©️northsoulss 2023, all rights reserved.

[snowberrycherry]

i speak for everyone when i say we NEED a part 2 for borderline shit got my 🐱howling 😔

!,!,?.?😭 i hope it’s ok🩵sry this took so long // @sweetirilly here’s ur tag ꨄ︎

Borderline part 2

pairings: könig x simon riley x fem! reader

warnings: pure filth, ghost fingers you while konig eats you out so threesome, read at your own risk , mdni

part 1 here

a/n we’re editing this in the morning

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡

The irony behind this entire situation was not even 48 hours ago you had been secretly craving, wasting away precious time in your daydreams about them both. Your lonely desires for them both. It hit you like a brick, recalling all the countless times your recurring fantasy had taken place. Something about it was so obscene. Yet as much as you tried the images of them making you feel ways you had never felt before were dangerously appealing. So when you saw him simply standing there, hand reaching down to rub himself through his jeans, it single-handedly validated everything you wanted to know.

“Do you trust me?” your voice was quieter than you had expected. König looked up at you, still preoccupied with his motions between your legs, “Yes…of course”. He gave a confused look when he saw your fingers make a motioning gesture as if you were waving someone in. A ripple of fear coursed through him when he heard the door open once more. He pulled away again, trying his best to smush himself back underneath your desk.

You laughed, “It’s okay come out”. The alarmed expression on his face when he saw a dark, looming shadow of another person. He shot you a bewildered look, raising his eyebrows.

“Is it okay if he joins?” you whispered, “You can always say no”, you added, leaning forward to tuck a strand of his hair that had fallen in his face. The look in his eyes was changing so quickly from confusion to jealousy, but eventually, they settled on one final emotion, longing. He only wanted you and honestly didn’t care who was involved, as long as he had you. A silent nod confirmed everything you needed to know. 

“Good,” Simon said before pulling you up, so you were standing right before him. You reached up for his blonde hair and smashed his lips against yours. The kiss seemed much more overdue than you had expected. It was pervaded with desperation and yearning. His warm lips moved against yours with so much fervor, like he had needed this too. He broke away from you, sitting down to take the spot you were previously in. He tugged you over to him guiding you down onto his lap. You heard him let out a shaky sigh, “König, you can continue”. 

Contentedly, he followed instructions and went back to the position on his knees before you, peeling your pants fully off your legs this time. He smoothly shoved your underwear to the side, dragging his tongue up your entire pussy at an agonizedly slow speed. Already overstimulated from before you shuddered at the sensation. Another long, firm lick made your notion hazy. Even more, pleasure ensued when you felt Simons pry open your thighs even wider so König could have better access to lap at you. Simon lifted a hand and brought his middle finger to your lips, “Suck”. You moaned loudly as you swirled your tongue, covering it with your spit. When he seemed satisfied with your work, he brought it right down to your cunt, pressing down on the most sensitive spot. You sighed and let your eyes close at the feeling of his finger and Königs skilled tongue right on your sensitive pussy, bringing every nerve in your body to life. Your hips started to buck frantically, already on the edge of cumming.

That’s when all movements bluntly stopped, your eyes opened, expecting them to make you beg for an orgasm, but you were shocked as you watched them switch places with Simons plunging his finger deep inside of you while König moved his mouth up, wrapping them around your clit, sucking like his life depended on it. You let out a cry at the double pleasure, the messy mixture of spit and your juices all over your cunt out a cry at the double pleasure, the messy mixture of spit and your juices all over your cunt made it so much better. The filthy wet sounds made your head dizzy, trying your hardest to clamp your legs together. However, your lame attempts were useless as Simon forcefully pried them open before inserting another long finger. All the while König slobbered all over you wherever he could reach, occasionally bumping into the digit that was knuckles deep within you. It was all so much of the perfect blend of pleasure. “I’m so close please don’t stop” you begged, practically crying. “Just let go” Simon murmured into your hair, thrusting his finger even faster. The vibrations of Konig's hum in agreement and the way Simon was fingering you, hitting your g spot repeatedly made the pressure in your stomach spill over. He quickly removed his hand from your dripping pussy and grabbed at Konig's hair, forcing him even deeper. His other hand that was keeping you spread apart traveled to your tits. Without him keeping you stable your legs locked Konig's head in place. This time he allowed you to suffocate him as he lapped up everything through your climax, drinking up every last drop. He tapped at your thighs, telling you he needed air. He broke away panting when you let him go. His face was glistening when he stood, leaning down to kiss you. You could taste yourself against him, the action was so filthy you had to control every ounce of dignity you had to beg and plead for another round. “My turn,” Simon voiced, gently tilting your head to the side so his lips met yours in a passionate embrace. He was surprisingly sweet for such a serious person. He was overheating with lust and fulfillment.

An unexpected, but welcomed notion. You broke away first taking hold of one of Königs rough hands, pressing his palm against your face while Simon rubbed circular motions on your waist. Despite the fact that minutes ago you had just come down from the best high by their lewd acts, your heart was more than content. Like everything fell in place like a perfect puzzle.

“So… when are you all free again?”

[decayical]

@ — go on, thank me . . . !

❛ sucking al-haitham's tits ❜

01 notes: afab reader/no pronouns, reader wears a skirt, nothing much hai ^_^

02 tws/tags: al-haitham's massive man boobs wowie

03 mdni blogs do not interact! word count 1.1k

it's no secret that al-haitham doesn't like physical touch. he subtly steps away from those who get too close to him for their (and his) own good, he gets stiff visibly uncomfortable when someone excitedly hugs him after he helped them for his own gain, and he can and will push people away if he senses them breaking this boundary of his.

this isn't a bad thing, of course, simply something you noted when you first started dating him. it seemed that the only exception to his no touching rule was you—solely because he could tell when you were going to touch him, and he loved you.

in fact, despite his ability to somehow know when you're about to initiate physical contact, you still ask him.

"can i hug you?"

"can i kiss your cheek?"

"bend down, your lips are too high..."

"give me your hand?"

"can i touch your tits?"

your boyfriend looked up at you with a mix of confusion and a pout on his face. "what?"

"i said, can i touch your tits please?" you asked again, crawling up to him on the couch. you smiled, inching your hand close to his thigh but not directly on it, your knuckles brushing against his pants.

al-haitham furrowed his eyebrows, grabbing your hand and holding it, placing it on his lap. "and why would you want to do something like that, hmm, little dove?" his thumb brushed against your hand as he resumed reading, his other hand deftly moving the paper, your eyes flickering to his skilled hands hungrily.

he clicked his tongue. "so insatiable, all the time. what do you think i am, a bird feeder?" he left go of your hand to pull your face to his, pressing a kiss to your cheek, another to your nose, and a last to your cheekbone, right under your eye.

"... of course, i'm not complaining."

"so... it's a yes?" you asked, looking up at him and squeezing his thigh with anticipation.

he hummed. "yes. it is a yes, dear bird."

you beamed and tilted your head as he went back to his beloved book. your hand left his lap and hesitated when you lifted it, trying to grasp and grope at him without obstructing his vision. your head fell to his muscular shoulder, your cheek getting smushed.

you grabbed his left breast, squeezing and gripping it with your hand as you heard al-haitham sigh and flip a page. your thumb grazed his nipple, his flesh bending to your will.

he took in a soft, shallow breath, his arms extending. "why don't you sit on my lap? your arms must be falling asleep from the way you have to lean over."

you hum at his suggestion and crawl into his lap immediately, looking behind you and back up at him—a silent question of how he'll continue reading his book.

"you don't need to worry about that. now, continue." al-haitham waved off your worries with a gloved hand, putting his book in between your thighs and placing a hand on your thigh, his thumb keeping the book from snapping shut.

"don't strain your neck too much," you murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek from how lovely he looked and went back to touching his chest, this time utilizing both of your hands to move and squish his tits together and away from each other.

you messaged them, a small smile appearing on your face as you felt how nice and firm yet soft his chest felt in your hands. you pinch his nipple. aside from a small huff, he doesn't say anything.

"haitham." you look up at the man, cupping his face so he looks up at you.

"hmm?"

"lift up your shirt. i have an idea so you won't be straining your neck like that."

al-haitham blinks slowly and then shrugs, placing his book on the couch and lifting his shirt up so it's bunched up at his shoulders. you lean down, settling yourself in his lap and arms and tentatively lick the middle of his chest. "and put your book behind me."

silently, his book is placed on your back. he rests his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling your hair for just a second before going back to reading.

his breath hitches ever so slightly as your teeth tug at one of his nipples and lap it up as an apology. a hand grips your waist tightly as you continue sucking on his chest, hard enough to leave a mark.

you move your attention to his other breast, switching hands to fondle the one you were previously licking. you latch onto his chest and begin sucking and licking softly, humming into his skin.

the grip on your waist tightens.

"you're quite the distraction today, sunflower."

you move your mouth up to his nipple and suck harshly on it for just a second, before freeing his breast from your mouth with a pop.

"am i, now? I do think it's about time you put that book down and focus on something else... unless that book really is interesting, you know."

with that remark, you immediately move a hand down to cup his growing bulge, giggling when he chokes on a groan. you pull his dick out of his pants and take off your own underwear in turn.

you keep your skirt on, of course, because who wouldn't? it's so cute, and it would be a shame to waste it.

you tease him, and maybe yourself, by rubbing your clit with the tip of his cock; you twist his nipple at the same time.

it's actually him who gets fed up with the teasing and pushes you down onto his cock, the both of you groaning and mewling in harmony at the feeling.

"i—haah—very much like where this book—hnn!—is going, thank you."

with a scratchy groan, he weakly thrusts into you as much as he can as you roll your hips against his. your assault on his pretty chest continues, his brown skin being littered with hickeys and bite marks as the sun goes down.

as he turns a page, the knowledgeable scribe says, "fuck—haah—please don't stop, fuck-"

he throws his head back in ecstacy. he drops the book completely (he put in a bookmark of course, he wasn't stupid) and his thumb rubs your clit as he thrusts into you. whines and groans mix in his throat and the second he cums in you, a moan is let out as tears prick his eyes.

you continue biting and sucking on his tits in hope to quiet your moans and whimpers as you buck into his dick and hand. you cum shortly after, biting his chest so hard he gasps as his thumb slows the circles on your clit as the both of you calm down.

"s-so... ngh..." you shift your hips, partially desperate to feel more as he was still deep inside your gummy walls. "ca-care to explain the book you're reading, love?"

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Man From Y.I.L.I.N.G.

Chapter 8: "You Can Trust Me, I Swear"

--//--

SUITE 191 - 监理处 LUXURY RESORT

Jin Guangyao wakes abruptly, as per usual. He’s got a hand under the too-loose waist of his borrowed pajama bottoms to grab for the knife strapped to his thigh quicker than thought, because it’s far too early to be awake on his own which means something’s wrong, and he’d rather face it armed—

“Shh, it’s just me,” Xichen breathes, a restraining hand curling around his forearm. Jin Guangyao grips the hilt of his knife a little harder for a second before he lets go and exhales, a little unsteady. “I’m sorry I startled you, I just needed to move. Go back to sleep, it’s alright. I’ve got you.”

That shouldn’t be as soothing as it is. That shouldn’t make Jin Guangyao’s eyes grow heavy again, it shouldn’t calm the rabbiting of his heart in his chest, it shouldn’t make him feel safe. He’s never safe.

Lan Xichen brushes his thumb back and forth against his forearm to match the steady rhythm of his breathing, and Jin Guangyao feels the heaviness of sleep dragging at his limbs again entirely without permission. He can’t remember the last time he was able to sleep with someone at his back, but Lan Xichen tucks up against him, a warm pressure from knee to shoulders, and Jin Guangyao falls asleep again between one stroke of Lan Xichen’s thumb and the next.

When he wakes again it’s because he’s suffocating, and when he grumbles and pushes at whatever it is that’s smushed up against his face it doesn’t budge an inch. He squints his eyes open against the sunlight coming in through the curtains to find himself staring at a patch of tightly-woven cotton, and when he jerks back it’s to find that said patch is in fact a very small part of the greater whole of Nie Mingjue’s white undershirt he’d worn as pajamas.

“Not a fuckin’ word, A-Yao,” Nie Mingjue mutters out of the corner of his mouth, eyes shut and face relaxed, looking for all the world like he’s still asleep. “Doesn’t count if ’s in our sleep.”

Jin Guangyao sits up ��� dislodging Nie Mingjue’s arm from around his shoulders in the process — and ruffles a hand through his hair with a yawn, looking blearily around the room for Lan Xichen.

“Don’t worry, I already have evidence,” he pipes up from the sofa. Jin Guangyao squints at him and he lifts a folio of papers from his lap with a smile and a little waggle of the pencil in his other hand. “I sketched you together, I couldn’t resist.”

“A-Yao, burn that when he’s not looking,” Nie Mingjue grumbles as he turns over onto his other side and promptly goes back to sleep deeply enough to start snoring every few breaths.

“How long have you been awake?” Jin Guangyao asks around another yawn, nodding towards the folio in question. It can’t be much later than midmorning judging by the light, yet Lan Xichen looks like he’s been awake for hours already. He’s bright-eyed and dressed for the morning in something soft and luxurious, clearly meant only for lounging around in and looking devastatingly handsome (mission accomplished). 

“I couldn’t sleep past dawn — too many things on my mind.”

That admission wakes Jin Guangyao up a bit more and he hauls himself out of bed with a groan for all the aches and pains last night’s activities left him with, his legs a little stiff as he crosses to the sitting area with quiet scuffs of his ridiculously long pajama trousers across the floor. “Are you worried about seeing your uncle today?”

Lan Xichen returns his gaze to his lap, hand moving slowly, almost thoughtlessly across the page. Jin Guangyao takes a sleepy moment to admire the way his long fingers curl around his short scrap of a pencil, his hand completely dwarfing it until it almost looks like the lines are appearing as if by magic.

“I don’t think I would say that I’m worried, necessarily,” he muses. Jin Guangyao leans against the back of the couch to get a better look at the page and finds that whatever incriminating portraits Lan Xichen may have drawn earlier, right now he’s working on a landscape, something with rounded mountains and trees blended together beautifully under the faint wisps of clouds he’s sketching in. “My uncle is an honorable man, whatever he has to say to me will be in my best interest. But I find myself coming up with too many possibilities as to what the day could bring to be entirely comfortable with not being certain of what he plans to discuss with me.”

Jin Guangyao hums and leans a little more heavily on the back of the couch, laying his head down on his folded arms to watch Lan Xichen continue sketching, mesmerized by the way the side of his hand smudging across delicately laid lines can turn them into swirls of smoke, or hazy summer clouds.

Before he can be lulled into falling asleep standing up, he pushes himself fully upright again with a sigh and a squeeze to Lan Xichen’s shoulder in silent comfort as he passes behind him to the phone over on the bar.

“Room B203, please,” he requests of the receptionist, and he waits with, he feels, the patience of a saint as the line rings. Rings. Rings.

Connects.

“Good morning, Zixuan-ge,” he greets, poisonously polite. “I trust you slept well?”

“Oh god don’t look at me like that,” Zixuan groans despite the fact that they are (mercifully) in different rooms. “I know you’re doing that creepy smile thing. Stop it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jin Guangyao says through his patented most unsettling smile. “I’m calling about a bit of a business we need to wrap up this morning, you and I.”

“…Go on.”

“I’m meant to have a meeting with Jiang-guniang and her brother sometime today at Jiang Shipping, but something has come up for the morning. I’m assuming she won’t object to holding the meeting after lunch?”

“Ah…no, she won’t mind. She’s not uh…feeling very well this morning. You know how it is. Is that all, A-Yao? I should really be helping her.”

Jin Guangyao turns to survey the room only to find Lan Xichen turned at the waist to watch him with an irrepressible little smile on his lips and Nie Mingjue beginning to stir, little more than a suspicious lump over on the bed that rustles around every few moments.

“That’s all. I do need to get back in my room at some point before noon to change my clothes, though, so when your girlfriend’s bout of morning sickness has passed and you’re both fit to be seen in polite company again long enough to leave my room, could you please ring suite 191?”

“Yes okay fine, A-Yao, fuck. Stop with the smiling, I get it!!”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” he smiles and hangs the phone up to the sound of his brother huffing at him in that fussy way he has (that does him no favors when combating the frequent assumptions that he’s a haughty brat). “Good news, Jiang Yanli is currently indisposed and so I am free to help Mingjue play guard dog during your meeting with your uncle.”

“Behold, the miracle of life,” Lan Xichen teases with a widening smile that crinkles up the corners of his eyes before he returns to his sketching. Jin Guangyao drifts over towards him again only to stop in his tracks just behind the arm of the sofa Lan Xichen is propped up against when Nie Mingjue sits up in a flurry of rumpled bedding, his unfocused glare trained somewhere in the middle distance between the bed and the sitting area. Jin Guangyao blinks as he abruptly yanks his undershirt off over his head and chucks it toward the closet with an irritated grumble that sounds something like, “ ‘S too fucking hot for this.”

Jin Guangyao gets a shockingly nice view of heavily scarred, deeply tanned skin, a not inconsiderable amount of chest hair, and dense muscles flexing across Nie Mingjue’s chest and shoulders as he stretches his arms over his head in the moment before he collapses back down into the sheets, arms outstretched as he sighs long and slow…and promptly starts snoring again.

“Good god,” Lan Xichen breathes. Jin Guangyao must reluctantly but wholeheartedly agree.

“Hardly seems fair, does it?” he mutters out of the corner of his mouth before he can think better of it, lingering sleepiness and the sudden shock of realizing that he’s comfortable here, with these two men of all people, loosening his tongue.

“Hm? What does?”

“That we got stuck with the Nie brother who’s morally opposed to honeypots.”

Lan Xichen covers his mouth to try to hide his startled laughter but it escapes anyway. Jin Guangyao smirks to himself as he crosses the room again to stand next to the bed and start poking Nie Mingjue’s bare and stupidly firm pec with a fingertip.

“Hey. Wake up.”

“You’re not the only man here capable of stabbing someone, you know,” Nie Mingjue threatens without any heat, just sleep-mushed mumbling and a little pinch between his brows.

“Yes you’re very scary Big Red, consider me properly chastened. Come on, wake up.”

Jin Guangyao stops his poking only because Nie Mingjue’s hand darts up to wrap around his wrist, fingers overlapping with the strength of his grip. Nie Mingjue cracks one eye open to glare at him but his heart doesn’t really seem to be in it, which Jin Guangyao is going to pretend he can’t see for the sake of their little…whatever it is that they’re doing. Pestering each other? But in a way that Jin Guangyao has never pestered anyone else before in his entire life.

Now’s probably not the time to examine it too closely.

“Good morning,” he says instead with a dimpling smile, not nearly as unsettling as the one he’d had for his brother. “What’s the plan?”

Jin Guangyao yelps as Nie Mingjue tugs on his wrist and somehow manages to get his other arm far enough around Jin Guangyao’s waist to flip him straight over him and back into bed with a downy-soft fwump. He blinks up at the ceiling, momentarily disoriented, and then turns a betrayed glare on Nie Mingjue chuckling next to him.

“What the hell was that for?!”

Nie Mingjue, infuriating monster that he is, doesn’t give him an answer but instead just sits up and rolls out of bed with a few pops from his joints and a satisfied sigh as he stretches his arms over his head again. Jin Guangyao takes only a moment (or three) to admire the pull of equally well-defined muscles across his back before he sits up and raises an eyebrow at Lan Xichen, seeking a, ‘Are you seeing what I’m seeing?’ sort of solidarity. It goes tragically unacknowledged, seeing as Lan Xichen is blatantly staring at Nie Mingjue with a slack-jawed laser focus. (Though he supposes that’s answer enough — yes it would seem Lan Xichen absolutely does see what he’s seeing.)

Lan Xichen thankfully snaps his mouth shut again when Nie Mingjue turns away from the window to trundle across the suite and into the bathroom, looking like nothing so much as a grumpy bear emerging from hibernation.

“Well then,” Jin Guangyao says, for want of anything better. He clambers out of bed again (seriously, what the hell was that for??) and sits down at the other end of the couch opposite Lan Xichen, one knee up on the cushion to turn and face him as the man returns to his idle sketching.

“I assume you two will want me to wear a tracker,” Lan Xichen muses a few moments later with a small pucker of a frown between his brows. “We’ll need some time to ensure it’s working before my uncle arrives.”

“Mhm, that’s true. I’ll let Big Red handle that, you know how fond he is of invading people’s privacy.”

“I heard that,” Nie Mingjue calls, muffled through the bathroom door.

Jin Guangyao raises his voice just enough to call back, “Very good, you were meant to.”

“A-Yao stop teasing him, it’s not even 11 yet.”

“I don’t see what the time of day has to do with anything,” he sniffs but magnanimously does as asked, lapsing back into comfortable silence. Nie Mingjue re-emerges from the bathroom and heads for the phone to order room service, and then seems to find himself at something of a loss. Jin Guangyao, for all that he’d like to pretend like they have nothing at all in common, finds that he sympathizes. Lan Xichen seems perfectly at ease with sitting around to wait for their next move in the chess game they’re playing with their motley collection of highly dangerous people, but Jin Guangyao is far too used to…doing. He hates to sit still like this, and doing nothing with two other people makes it feel worse somehow.

Nie Mingjue wanders off to fiddle around with something from his suitcase, Jin Guangyao does his best not to fidget sitting there in his borrowed pajamas, and Lan Xichen hums a soft tune to himself as he flips to a fresh page to start a new sketch like he can’t sense the restless energy starting to build.

It’s a relief when the phone rings, shattering the quiet, and Jin Guangyao hops deftly over the back of the couch to beat Nie Mingjue to it with a little smirk up at him and, not for the first time, the urge to stick his tongue out at him.

“Hello?”

“It’s me,” Zixuan says, sounding slightly less harried than he had earlier. Jiang Yanli must be done getting sick for the time being.

“Oh good, may I return to my own room then?”

“Yes, we’re heading off. She said it’s fine to meet with her later; Wanyin apparently had to hurry off on some urgent errand this morning and he won’t be back until later today, so you’d just have to wait around for him anyway.”

Jin Guangyao stands up a little straighter, all his restless attention narrowing down between one heartbeat and the next. Nie Mingjue instantly clocks the change in his posture and comes to stand right next to him (ugh, personal space?) to peer down at him, too close, too intense.

“Oh?” Jin Guangyao asks as nonchalantly as he can as he motions for Lan Xichen to pass him a scrap of paper and his pencil. He accepts both when Nie Mingjue passes them between them as he adds, “That seems like awfully short notice for an important errand, where’s he going?” He scribbles a quick note, ‘Wanyin is gone,’ and brandishes it for the other two to read as Jin Zixuan muffles himself to say something away from the receiver.

“A-Li says he had to go do a pick-up, something high-priority that can’t be delayed, but it isn’t very far. He should be back sometime after lunch and you can meet with them both at the office around 3.”

“Mm. 3 will work just fine,” he says as he scribbles quickly on the backside of the scrap to hold it up again.

‘Moving something.’

Nie Mingjue spurs into action to start getting dressed for the day in a rush as Jin Guangyao finishes saying goodbye to his brother and hangs up again.

“Our priority is Xichen,” Jin Guangyao reminds Nie Mingjue as the man fumbles his way into a pair of trousers, only barely hidden behind the jut of wall that separates the bedroom from the rest of the suite. “Whatever it is that they’re getting, it’s too late for us to stop it and we need to be here for Huan-ge.”

“They’re receiving something? Not delivering?” Lan Xichen asks. Nie Mingjue stops dressing long enough to poke his head around the wall to look at him, his expression tightly controlled, concentrating.

Jin Guangyao meets both of their eyes in quick succession then nods. “Zixuan-ge said Jiang Wanyin is off doing an urgent pick-up, not a drop. I imagine it’s some..material for the warheads or perhaps it’s got nothing at all to do with their nuclear project, I’m not sure. But whatever it is, they’re bringing it here, to us, so we don’t have to worry about chasing it down to find out. We’re in Yiling for a reason — this is where everything will happen, they won’t send anything important away without us hearing of it first.”

“I think A-Yao’s right, da-ge,” Lan Xichen says after they both take a moment to think it over. “And if both of the Jiang siblings truly do intend to meet with A-Yao this afternoon then what they’re retrieving will be somewhere you should be able to reach here in Yiling to investigate while he distracts them.”

Jin Guangyao meets Nie Mingjue’s eyes with a little tilt of his head that he hopes communicates that he’s thinking about how well that sort of plan had gone for them last night. Nie Mingjue smirks at him (not like he’s amused, but more like tentative camaraderie) and turns back to the closet, continuing to get dressed with less urgency, just his usual brusqueness.

“Alright, fine. We’ll focus on A-Huan for now and worry about the rest after the meeting with Lao Lan.”

“Good,” Jin Guangyao says and turns without further ado to retrieve his own clothes from last night with a little wrinkle of his nose in distaste for the fact that they’re still vaguely clammy and reek of brackish river water. Still, it’s not like he can go traipsing through the resort in Nie Mingjue’s pajamas, so it’ll just have to do. He changes in the bathroom, and when he reemerges to give Nie Mingjue his clothes back he’s pretty sure he spots a flush in the man’s ears as he takes them without quite meeting Jin Guangyao’s eyes.

“I’ll be back before Lan Qiren arrives,” he promises them, and when he slips out he holds the elevator doors open with a smile for the porters bringing up the room service Nie Mingjue had ordered.

His room is mercifully empty when he arrives and he goes through all the motions of the morning with his mind turning all the pieces of their little puzzle over and over, checking for anything he’s missed. Last night aside, perhaps, this is all going a little too well for his liking.

Case in point: The Jiangs were remarkably easy to get to. Lan Qiren doesn’t seem to suspect anything at all strange about his eldest nephew’s sudden engagement, or his escape from East Yunping. Every close call they’ve had has been just that, a close call, and nothing worse. Jin Guangyao is very good at what he does — the best in Jinlintai by an enormous margin — but Jin Guangshan just uses that as an excuse to send him on missions that regularly require him to cheat death, and very rarely does he walk away from his assignments unscathed. Sure, he’s got a few knocks and bruises from last night, but he’s willing to blame Nie Mingjue for that with his reckless speedboat driving rather than the inherent danger of his mission.

So — it’s going too smoothly.

Something must be wrong, but his restless examination of the evidence so far leads to nothing he can put his finger on. He gives the exercise up as futile with an irritated huff and just focuses on getting ready for the day in time to head back upstairs and steal whatever’s left of Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue’s breakfast rather than bothering to call anything down for himself.

“Are you sure it’s not working?” Nie Mingjue is asking when Jin Guangyao lets himself back into their suite and his eyebrows creep up towards his hairline to find Lan Xichen standing in the center of the living room, his foot popped up on the coffee table to expose the entire length of his bare leg. And it’s quite a bit of length to put on display, as it seems Lan Xichen’s considerable height is nearly all leg.

“Shouldn’t the light be on if it were?” Lan Xichen counters with a gesture towards something high up on his thigh, just below the hem of his boxer briefs exposed by the silken drape of his trousers hanging straight down from his hip, the slit in them is so high; Jin Guangyao tears his gaze away from the marble-sculpture-perfect curve of his calf to look at where he’s gesturing and honestly that’s even worse, because what he’s pointing to is a lacy white garter stretched taut around his thigh with a clunky transmitter clipped to it.

He clears his throat to announce his presence but the other two barely glance at him before they go back to examining the problem at hand. Jin Guangyao allows himself exactly three seconds to stare at how good Nie Mingjue’s strong, sure hands look wrapped around the pale expanse of Lan Xichen’s thigh before he forces himself cross over to the writing desk in the corner opposite the bar, upon which rests Nie Mingjue’s ‘I don’t care about anyone else’s privacy’ hardtop case sitting open and attempting to locate the transmitter.

Jin Guangyao pokes curiously at a few dials under the portable radar screen pinging nothing and confirms, “It’s not sending a signal, Mingjue.”

Nie Mingjue sighs and rubs his thumb against his forehead. Jin Guangyao drifts over to the room service cart next to the bar to pick up a fluffy steamed bun and watch the show being so kindly put on for him.

“Alright, get up there and let me take a look at it, then.”

“Up..there? On the table?”

“Yes? What’s the big deal, you’ve already got your foot on it anyway!”

Jin Guangyao stifles a laugh around a bite of his bun at the scandalized look on Lan Xichen’s face. (He can only imagine, having met Lan Qiren for approximately two entire minutes yesterday, that standing on the furniture was a big no-no in their house when Lan Xichen was growing up.)

“It’s made of glass!”

Nie Mingjue snorts and shoots Jin Guangyao a glance, though he doesn’t get why until Nie Mingjue smirks at Lan Xichen, shrugs, and says, “Well it survived me and A-Yao rolling around and knocking into it a few times the night before last, so I think it can stand your weight for a minute.”

They did not do that! But…Jin Guangyao’s indignant protest dies before he can even voice it, killed by the memories from yesterday morning, so hazy that they barely qualify as ‘memories’.

(Warm weight between his legs, the clatter of xiangqi pieces strewn across the glass tabletop and the floor around it. And, perhaps most telling of all, the beginning of Nie Mingjue starting to treat him with a begrudging sort of cordiality rather than irritated disdain.)

Jin Guangyao finds that in the face of the ‘evidence’, such as it is, he can only shrug when Lan Xichen looks at him, his confused expression a silent request to know if what Nie Mingjue said is true.

“Well…alright,” he sighs. Nie Mingjue steps closer and curls a hand firmly around the back of Lan Xichen’s thigh to help boost him up, which Jin Guangyao can’t help but feel is thoroughly unnecessary considering the tabletop is roughly two feet high. But then again Lan Xichen’s got a hand curled over one of Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, thumb brushing against the side of his neck, and that doesn’t really seem all that necessary either, so it would seem that neither of them mind.

Once up on the table and looking thoroughly discomfited about it, Lan Xichen stands still and looks down to watch Nie Mingjue do something Jin Guangyao can’t see with the transmitter on his thigh, and really, do they need to stand that close?

Jin Guangyao picks up another bun and ignores the urge to offer them privacy for whatever the hell this is; they know he’s here. If it bothered them, he’s sure they’d tell him to leave, so he might as well just stay. For no reason whatsoever.

-... .-. . .- -.-

Lan Xichen’s skin is soft under his hands, and all of Nie Mingjue’s attempts to ignore that little fact feel pointless when the man is barely giving him space to breathe. He lets Lan Xichen keep up the charade that he needs to prop a hand up on his shoulder to hold his balance in such a way that he isn’t putting too much weight on the table, and he does his best to focus on the task at hand even under such circumstances. 

Lan Xichen is wearing another flowing pair of trousers like what Nie Mingjue had put him in in Hong Kong, though this pair is slit up to the thigh — a daring choice, in Nie Mingjue’s opinion, for a lunch with his uncle, but since it makes it easier for them to reach the tracker he keeps his thoughts to himself. Without his foot propped up on the table, Lan Xichen’s leg is once again hidden under fluttering layers of silk chiffon and it somehow feels more…just more as he has to slide his hands under the lining fabric to get at the transmitter, rather than when Lan Xichen had rather boldly displayed it for him.

It doesn’t help that as soon as he brushes his fingertips up the front of Lan Xichen’s thigh, attempting to find the garter by touch alone, Lan Xichen jumps a little bit and asks him, “What are you doing down there?”

“Trying not to get lost.”

Nie Mingjue ignores Jin Guangyao’s poorly-muffled snort in favor of clicking the reset switch on the underside of the tracker, and within a moment there’s a muted ping from the receiver on the desk. With that problem solved, though, another immediately becomes clear and he tightens his grip on Lan Xichen’s thigh without thinking, eyes darting up to attempt to get a look at his face.

“You’re trembling,” he notes. Jin Guangyao is beside them in a heartbeat.

“I’m afraid.” He says it so plainly that Nie Mingjue’s heart squeezes in his chest. They’ve asked so much of Lan Xichen these last few days, and they’re going to have to ask more of him before this is all over, for good or ill. He looks up at Lan Xichen glancing between them anxiously, Jin Guangyao, to him, and back.

“It’ll be alright,” he attempts to comfort. Judging by the way Jin Guangyao steps very deliberately on his toes, the platitude wasn’t the correct choice, even though he really meant it.

“How can you know that?” Lan Xichen asks with a slight tremble in his voice. Jin Guangyao reaches up to brush his fingertips across Lan Xichen’s knuckles and Lan Xichen turns that fretful gaze on him again instantly.

“We’ll be close by, Huan-ge,” Jin Guangyao says. “We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Lan Xichen still doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he lets Nie Mingjue help him back down off the table anyway. He sticks close to let Nie Mingjue fuss over getting the leg of his trousers to hang right again to hide the tracker while Jin Guangyao crosses the room to step out onto the balcony.

“Lan Qiren just arrived,” he calls back into the suite, and Nie Mingjue glances out the window himself to spot the man’s sleek car pulling to a stop in front of the steps down at the street. Nie Mingjue feels Lan Xichen stiffen at his side. 

“Are you ready?” Nie Mingjue asks him, because if he’s not, if it’s too much, he knows they can come up with some excuse not to let him go. They can try something else, they can..they can readjust their plans, there has to be something else they can do.

Lan Xichen looks at him and manages to dredge up a smile that actually reaches his eyes. Rather than receiving an answer, Nie Mingjue stands perfectly still in shock while Lan Xichen leans in to kiss his cheek. It’s little more than a soft brush of warm lips against his skin, but it stops everything in its tracks (besides Jin Guangyao, who steps back into the room and raises both eyebrows at him as if Nie Mingjue is at all in control of anything that’s happening right now).

(And then it’s a moot point anyway because Lan Xichen steps away from his side to cross to Jin Guangyao and kiss his cheek as well, ducking down and lingering there until Jin Guangyao’s cheeks turn pink and he doesn’t seem to know where to look or what to do with his hands at his sides. So there.)

“I’ll see you both soon,” Lan Xichen tells them and sweeps out with his head held high.

Jin Guangyao clears his throat when the door clicks softly shut behind Lan Xichen’s retreating form. “Going soft, Red Blade?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Nie Mingjue ignores Jin Guangyao’s skeptical look up at him in favor of retrieving his case off the desk. He breezes past Jin Guangyao still watching him and holds the door to the suite open with a gesture with the case for him to go ahead. “Let’s go, I know we’ve got the tracker but I still don’t want to fall behind.”

Jin Guangyao rolls his eyes at him but at least he doesn’t try to talk about it again, he just strides out of the room with Nie Mingjue on his heels.

The one — one — good thing about working for Wen Ruohan is that he never wants for resources, no matter what he wants or when. He sends Jin Guangyao outside to ensure they part ways before they reach the lobby, and all he has to do is ask the Wen agent on duty at the reception desk for a car for a valet to pull a powder blue Fenghuang right up to the curb by the time he’s joining Jin Guangyao on the front steps. They pile into it without a word and Jin Guangyao directs him through Yiling with Nie Mingjue’s case open in his lap to keep an eye on the glowing dot that marks Lan Xichen’s location.

They skirt around the bulk of the historic district (at an entirely legal speed that puts Nie Mingjue’s teeth on edge) and wind up at the foot of the mountain that marks the western boundary on the opposite side of the city from the river. Nie Mingjue spots Lan Xichen and his uncle stepping out of Lan Qiren’s car at an inn still decorated in the old style up on a bit of an incline, just a few streets further up the mountain than the narrow road they’re trawling down.

“There’s a teahouse just over there, Mingjue,” Jin Guangyao murmurs as they draw up closer to the inn a mere two streets below it, and Nie Mingjue parks in the alley behind the building in question to try to keep the car out of view. They hurry inside and seat themselves at a table in the back corner of the restaurant, tucked away from any potential prying eyes and the majority of the rest of the patrons. Jin Guangyao orders them something Nie Mingjue doesn’t pay close attention to in favor of popping his case half-open beneath the table to begin fiddling with the radio transmitter beside the radar screen. It’s a bit of a risk to stake out just a few streets beneath the inn, but it at least means that when Nie Mingjue tunes his radio to the signal that should be coming from the bug he’d had put in Lan Xichen’s replacement engagement ring it connects immediately with a burst of static.

Nie Mingjue passes Jin Guangyao an earbud and wrinkles his nose at the other man’s judgmental little huff as he takes it — yeah yeah, no privacy, blah blah blah. It’s useful, so whatever!

Their pot of tea and a small selection of savory snacks arrive as they listen to polite smalltalk while Lan Xichen and Lan Qiren are led to a table in the inn’s restaurant, some of their conversation lost amongst the background noise as they pass through what sounds like a crowded dining room. Nie Mingjue frowns and turns the volume dial a few notches, but it doesn’t help clarify anything before the noise abruptly cuts off with the closing of a door.

“Private dining room,” Jin Guangyao mutters to him. Nie Mingjue just nods and turns the volume back down.

“You told your Mingjue that I apologized?” Lan Qiren asks after they order and their waiter leaves them alone.

“Yes, Shufu.”

“You understand my reluctance to approve of your consorting with one of Wen Ruohan’s pets?”

Nie Mingjue breathes through his ever-simmering anger and tries to focus on the feeling of Jin Guangyao’s hand covering his fist on the table between them to distract himself from the ringing in his ears.

“Of course I do…But Mingjue can be trusted, Shufu, I promise you. He’s been nothing but kind to me.”

“Hmph. Very well then.”

Nie Mingjue forces himself to sit back and nibble at a snack he doesn’t identify before he picks it up, if for no other reason than he’d really like to do something to help dissipate the adrenaline pumping through him. Across from him, Jin Guangyao sips calmly at a cup of tea and only the fact that his knuckles have gone white with how hard he’s gripping the cup betrays that he’s just as impatient as Nie Mingjue is for Lan Qiren to get to the point.

“There’s someone here that I’d like you to speak with, Xichen,” Lan Qiren says after an agonizing five minutes of nothing but the sound of tea being poured, sipped and poured again. Nie Mingjue glances up sharply to meet Jin Guangyao’s gaze.

“Oh?”

Nearly too distant to be picked up by the listening device, there’s the distinct sound of wood sliding against wood as the door to their dining room is opened once again.

“Tian ah, I love a dramatic entrance,” the newcomer laughs, bright and carefree. Nie Mingjue frowns — it isn’t a voice he’s heard yet on this mission, but that doesn’t necessarily mean much. “Lan-laoshi, who knew you’d be so good at this!”

Lan Qiren scoffs over the sudden clinking of jostled porcelain and a heavy thump against the wood floor. “How many times have I told you to sit up straight? You dare call me Laoshi and yet you retain nothing of what I attempt to teach you!”

“Aiyah, yes, yes, this humble student apologizes,” the newcomer teases, his indulgent smile clearly audible. “So — Lan Xichen, it’s good to see you.”

“Wei-gongzi,” Lan Xichen replies smoothly. Nie Mingjue nods his acknowledgment of the way Jin Guangyao’s eyes light up. “May I cut straight to the point?”

“Ah?? All business so soon! But — of course, of course, what would you like to say, then?”

“I know Wangji arrived with you. I want to see him.”

Wei Wuxian exclaims again, laughs lightly, and Nie Mingjue wonders (not for the first time) just what kind of a man this Yiling Laozu really is. Every photo of him from his days with the Jiangs shows nothing more than a carefree boy, happy and laughing and clearly a bright spark amongst the Jiangs’ glittering social circle. No proper photos exist of him since those days, as far as Nie Mingjue is aware, only rumors and blurry wisps of a ghost barely captured on film, but if he’d really become such a violent mastermind during the war as they’d been told during their briefing, then surely he wouldn’t still be…like this? He wouldn’t laugh at everything, he wouldn’t tease someone as strict as Lan Qiren, he wouldn’t sound so…young.

It would hardly be the first time Wen Ruohan spun him a story that was only partially true.

“Oh, is that all?? Of course you can! Lan Zhan!!”

Nie Mingjue jumps a little for both the sudden shout and the ease with which the request was granted. He meets Jin Guangyao’s equally startled gaze and leans in close.

“It can’t possibly be that easy,” he mutters. Jin Guangyao shakes his head sharply in agreement.

“No, it can’t. I had the same thought this morning — about all of this.”

Nie Mingjue thinks that’s maybe a bit rich considering Jin Guangyao hadn’t nearly died last night choking on smoke and scummy river water, but now’s not the time to argue.

The dining room door in the restaurant slides open once more just as there’s a burst of noise from what sounds like a large party entering the main room of their teahouse with much scuffling of feet and the scrape of chairs against the floor. Nie Mingjue presses his earbud more firmly into his ear to better listen to the approaching footsteps, the rustle of cloth as a fourth person joins the inn restaurant table and sits down much more quietly than Wei Wuxian had.

In contrast to the bright clarity of Wei Wuxian, the new voice is deep and cool, nearly monotone save for the slightest inflections where necessary as he says, “Xiongzhang. Shufu.”

Nie Mingjue watches Jin Guangyao nod to himself in confirmation — he would know Lan Wangji’s voice, after all, considering he’s been working for the Jins for years.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen breathes, the relief in his voice palpable. “Is everyone in place nextdoor?”

“Mn.”

Wait.

Nie Mingjue is already looking across at Jin Guangyao, which is probably the only reason he sees it in the gasp of a second between Lan Xichen’s question in their earpieces and the sudden flurry of activity around them. He wishes he hadn’t had to see it, the betrayed, raw anguish in Jin Guangyao’s eyes. He wishes it didn’t make his chest ache. He wishes he didn’t suddenly want to protect Jin Guangyao from ever having to hurt like that again, but now isn’t really the time to examine the new feeling.

By the time Jin Guangyao is sliding off his seat to sink to his knees with his hands held up shoulder-high in deference to the guns being pointed at them by every single person in the teahouse no longer minding their own business, he’s wiped his face of all expression save his blandest smile. Nie Mingjue would know from that alone, if nothing else, that his pain is somehow deeper than Lan Xichen’s betrayal, but he doesn’t have the luxury of trying to figure it out or, heavens forbid, ask Jin Guangyao why he’s so viscerally upset. 

He obeys the order shouted at them from somewhere in the crowd for him to get on the ground as well. He skirts around the end of the table to kneel close enough to Jin Guangyao’s side that he can feel the other man trembling, and raises his empty hands to shoulder-height in a mirror of his partner.

“If you have the chance to get out, take it,” Jin Guangyao tells him out of the corner of his mouth in the agonizingly long moments between their surrender and the door to the teahouse banging open.

Nie Mingjue already knows that he will do no such thing unless it’s a chance for both of them to escape together.

“You know, I have to say it — you two ended up being much better players than I’d expected! What do you think, Lan Zhan?”

Nie Mingjue looks up from the floor to find that (amongst the round two-dozen or so pistols pointed at them) Wei Wuxian himself has strolled into the cafe calm as you please, the same wide grin on his face that he’d worn in the photo of him with the Jiang siblings when he was still nominally a ward of the family. It’s the same grin they’d heard so clearly in his voice mere minutes ago.

“Wei Ying accurately predicted their commitment to their goal and set his expectations accordingly.”

Lan Wangji is standing just behind Wei Wuxian’s right shoulder, his icy calm a perfect counterpoint to Wei Wuxian’s (entirely inappropriate) sunny brand of enthusiasm. The difference between them is even more striking in person, accented by the fact Lan Wangji is dressed entirely in white next to Wei Wuxian’s head-to-toe black.

“Aiyah, Lan Zhan, you flatterer. I guess I have been doing this long enough to know how these sorts of things pan out. I mean honestly, I’m a little insulted that you think you’re the first ones to try to come after me and my research in all this time! Don’t you think I know the signs of someone trying to use the people close to me? That’s the oldest trick in the book!” Wei Wuxian tuts at them and shakes his head, as if their attempts to undermine his work aren’t worth more than the sort of scolding one would give a child.

Nie Mingjue risks a glance down at Jin Guangyao next to him, but his face is still terrifyingly blank, eyes fixed somewhere on the floor as Wei Wuxian paces closer, his black military-issue boots thudding across the wood floor. Nie Mingjue doesn’t bother trying not to glare as he looks up at him again.

“Ah ah ah!” Wei Wuxian chides. “Don’t look at me like that Chifeng-Zun, it wasn’t even my idea to doublecross you! I’m a very busy man you know and a scheme like this takes so much planning to execute properly, I was just going to kill you both and be done with it.”

“Wei Ying.”

“Alright fine, I’m reformed so maybe I wouldn’t have,” Wei Wuxian huffs, pouting. Nie Mingjue has no idea how much of this is a bluff, but judging by the unhappy pinch between Lan Wangji’s brows it’s not as much of one as he would hope. “But still! I don’t normally have the patience for all this…back and forth. So really it’s lucky for you that we’re working with the Lans on this one, they’re the ones willing to play the long game.”

Nie Mingjue can’t help but curl his hands into fists, though the sound of at least a few guns cocking is enough to convince him to relax his grip again and grit his teeth instead.

“The long game,” he repeats.

“Sure,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “You think this all started when you two walked into Yunping? We’ve had Lan-da-ge doing fieldwork for years already! Actually you very nearly ruined everything we’ve been working on for so long, so I was doubly tempted to just get you out of the picture before you could get as far as a li beyond the Wall. Say thank you to Lan Zhan for convincing me otherwise.”

Nie Mingjue stays resolutely silent, but his refusal to play along doesn’t seem to make much of a difference one way or another. Wei Wuxian is still smirking, still pacing back and forth like he hardly realizes he’s doing it, gloating so obviously Nie Mingjue is growing more and more tempted to stand up and see if he can land at least one solid punch to the man’s nose before one of the goons surrounding them guns him down.

“Aiyah, I’ll forgive your manners under the current circumstances I suppose. A-Ning?”

Nie Mingjue watches a pale, mild-looking man step forward out of the crowd, unique mostly for the softness of his features and the fact that there’s no gun in his hands.

“Get them ready for transport, will you?”

“Transport?” Jin Guangyao asks, hollow enough that Nie Mingjue nearly shivers. “Where are we going?”

“Not far,” Wei Wuxian shrugs. “As much as I like this part of town it’s not really the best place to have the sort of meeting we need to have. Better to do it somewhere we can have all the shidimei keeping lookout, hm?”

“Why the fuck do you think we’d go anywhere with you?” Nie Mingjue spits and tries to shift a little closer to Jin Guangyao, to offer any kind of support the other man may find in his presence at his side; on his side, when nobody else seems to be.

Wei Wuxian, already heading for the door, turns enough to smirk at him over his shoulder. He raises an eyebrow as he asks, “You don’t want a happy reunion with your brother? He’s been so excited to see you.”

Nie Mingjue’s stomach drops to his knees and he knows in a burst of clarity that his number’s up. He doesn’t resist as his wrists are tied together behind his back. He watches numbly, head buzzing, as Jin Guangyao is similarly restrained.

They’re frogmarched outside, Wei Wuxian calling instructions back to the agents left behind in the teahouse as Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao are ushered into the backseat of a car. He tries to get comfortable with his wrists pressed between his back and the seat, and when he’s managed it well enough he checks in on Jin Guangyao again to find that nothing’s changed. He’s still sitting there in silence, perfectly (worryingly) docile as he’s guided into the car.

“A-Yao?” he finally tries, pitching his voice too low to carry as this A-Ning climbs in behind the wheel.

Jin Guangyao sucks in a deep breath and turns that horrible blank smile on him, not quite raising his eyes to meet Nie Mingjue’s searching gaze.

“I’m safer for now in their custody than if we escaped,” Jin Guangyao says. “My father will likely hear that I’ve failed within the hour, and he’s already made it clear what my punishment will be if I do. I won’t try to run.”

That’s not at all what Nie Mingjue was trying to ask, but it does still answer his unspoken, “Are you alright?” strongly enough in the negative that he doesn’t try to ask again.

They pull away from the curb to start heading for the river, and Nie Mingjue glances over his shoulder to find another car trailing close behind them, Wei Wuxian in the passenger seat, Lan Wangji and Lan Qiren in the back. He makes eye contact with Lan Xichen looking perfectly calm and collected behind the wheel for the briefest moment before he faces resolutely forward again and tries not to think about just how easily he’d fallen for it all, in the end.

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

Party rock anthem

You don’t understand. I’ve never been able to watch age of ultron, I have literally watched it MAYBE twice. I can’t do it. I’m so broken.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word count: I should stop adding this im never gonna know like

Notes: I’m not gonna spoil age of ultron because maybe some people haven’t seen it but I’m not okay that’s it that’s the tweet. It’s a miracle I’m putting this out on time wow zoo wee mama Ps. I didn’t end this in a one liner and it offended me

⭐️Day 17: Spanking⭐️

Bucky sat at the bar, sipping casually on a whiskey. He watched you, laughing at something Pietro had said, your hand on his arm. Steve sat next to him seeing the way he watched you, he grinned behind his drink as Bucky looked down and rolled the ice around his cup.

“You know you could just go over there and talk to her” he nods in your direction and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“I know you’re not giving me advice on women. I know that did not just come from your mouth.”

Bucky can’t even finish the sentence before Steve is laughing at him, clapping him on the back.

“You always told me to just go for it, the worst that can happen is she says no right? Or has old age dulled your charm?”

“Are you shitting me Steven? Are you?” Bucky knocks his drink back and pushes up from the bar. Steve watches him straighten out his shirt and fix his sleeves, rolling them up his arms.

“Old age my ass” he flips him off and starts walking towards you. You knew his eyes were on you the entire night, you watch him walk over to you your thighs squeezing slightly at the way his metal arm flexes. He stands next to you, his hand snaking across your back as he pulls you closer to him.

“Are you trying to make me jealous?” His tone is deep, dark.

You look up at him, everything about Bucky has always screamed danger. From his head to his toes. But when you look in those playful blue eyes your body always melts for him. You smile sweetly as he pulls you away from the conversation and back to where he had been sitting with Steve. Your feet drag a bit and he turns around, looking you up and down. First to make sure you’re not hurt, then he realizes what you’re doing.

“Pick your feet up when you walk” he raises an eyebrow as he starts walking again but you continue dragging them.

“I was having a nice conversation with Pietro and Thor you know” you pout as you stop walking. You plant your feet and cross your arms, Bucky sighs and turns around to face you. He puts his hands on your waist.

“Conversations don’t need to include touching their arms, holding onto them and batting your eyelashes”

Your eyes widen as you look at him, giggling a bit as he glares.

“So let’s try this again” he stands tall, taller than you’d ever be and looks down at you.

“Pick up your feet, and go sit by Steve. Do I make myself clear?”

You blinked slowly, your brain short circuiting for a minute. “What if I don’t? What if I want Pietro to keep telling me how pretty I am?” You bite your lip gently.

Bucky closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a long slow breath. If there was one woman who knew how to get under his skin. It was you.

“Is that what you want? Someone to call you pretty?” He asks, he pulls you against his chest, his metal arm locking you tightly there. “Someone to tell you how good you look while his head is between your legs?”

Your cheeks feel flush as he leans down, whispering in your ear. “Well pretty girl” he says it like it’s dirty “I’ll show you just how damn pretty you are.”

Bucky turns you away from the safety that was Steve and pushes you towards the exit, Natasha whistles as you both leave and Carol laughs with her as your cheeks heat up even more. Once you’re out of the room Bucky takes your hand, leading you down the corridor to the elevator. The doors open and you hesitate for a moment. He smirks and pulls you in, smushing you against his chest again. He rubs your back lovingly as he kisses you. You kiss him back, standing on your toes and really going for it. He snickers as he pushes you away and turns you around so your back is against his chest now.

“Nice try sweetheart. You know you can’t manipulate me out of this.”

Bucky pushes you from the elevator and down to his room, your feet stumble a little as you try to slow him down but there’s no stopping him. He opens the door and you walk in, standing there like you don’t know what to do next. He glares at you again and you sigh

“Might as well get it over with” he says in a singsong voice as he sits down in a kitchen chair.

“F-fine” you pretend to sniffle as you remove your dress, letting it fall to your feet. You unhook your bra and toss it aside then wiggle out of your panties. He pats his lap and you walk over slowly, groaning as you lay across his thick thighs. He rubs his hand over your ass and you wince, tensing up a bit. He rolls his eyes as he gives it a light pat.

“I haven’t even started yet doll” he smoothes his hand over your bare ass again and smiles before giving it a harsh slap. He does it twice more before you even get a noise out. A strangled cry as he hums, absolutely pleased.

“You’re so pretty Y/N you know that?… look at the way your ass jiggles for me” he does it again, his hand coming down heavier this time and you yelp trying to hold onto something. You grab onto his leg, your own legs spreading a bit more.

“Sometimes I wonder how I ended up with such a beautiful girl. Just lucky I suppose.” He smiles sadistically as he smacks your ass even harder, the sound echoing lewdly around his room. You cry out as tears start to fall, you’re sniffling as you try to breathe in and out.

“Is this enough for you my love?” He asks as he rubs your sore ass and smiles lovingly “Don’t I make you feel pretty enough? Tell me why you wanted them.”

“I just wanted your attention, I-I didn’t think this part through.” You groan as he helps you sit up, your cunt dripping on his thighs. He arranges you against his chest, opening your legs over his.

“No I don’t think you did doll” He whispers in your ear as he slaps your cunt. Your legs shoot up as you gasp in pain. He pulls them back down and gives it another quick slap before pushing his fingers deep inside of you, curling up and hitting just the right spot.

“But I guess I can forgive you” You lay your head on his shoulder, moaning loudly as your body writhes on his. He uses his metal hand to rub your clit, your body shudders from the cool feeling. He takes his time, teasing your clit in slow circles his fingers pumping in and out of you. Your legs pull up so your feet are rested on his knees and he chuckles, watching you winding up slowly.

“You’re my beautiful girl you understand that?” His fingers speed up on your clit and you start to grind down on his fingers, moaning loudly.

“So gorgeous, so flawless for me” he growls in your ear as he squeezes your clit

“And I don’t fucking share”

Your orgasm rips through you, sending your legs out straight and your hands gripping his arms. Your body twists in pleasure as you ride his fingers crying and panting through your orgasm.

“Fuck you’re so hot when you do that” He laughs breathlessly. You curl up in his lap and he brings you over to his bed, easing you down and covering you up. He gets into bed with you and kisses you gently all over your face, rubbing your butt softly. “That’s my good girl” he smiles as you kiss him, softly whining from the dull ache. He chuckles and puts his forehead against yours, watching as you fall asleep in his arms.