#he’s SERVING forearm so hard

[difficultdomains]

on episode 21 of bleach rn and BRUH i love ichigo’s grumpy ass so much

[rindreamery]

out of breath, got me going like...

attractive things that the blue lock men do.

itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, michael kaiser, oliver aiku, yukimiya kenyu

itoshi rin sends you gym pics without you having to ask.

it initially took a lot of convincing, at first, to get rin to send you a picture. in his eyes, it was embarrassing— the idea of pulling his phone out mid-workout, taking a picture, sending it to you, and then going back to whatever he was doing. his mind would drift off to the weird stares he would probably get from others, and the fact that he also wasn’t exactly known for knowing how to pose to begin with. as much as he loved making you happy, there were just some things he was not willing to do.

it took a lot of begging, and for the first few months, the answer was always, “no.”

the first picture came unexpectedly. your phone was thrown off to the side of the bed, not really anticipating any texts from rin for the next hour or so, given the fact that he was at the gym. so you were surprised when you heard a familiar tune come from your phone— one specifically assigned to his contact. you had no idea why he would be texting you. 

you’re absolutely floored at what you see; jaw left hanging and eyes practically bulging out of their sockets, almost dropping the phone.

it's a gym picture. he's doing a normal pose, nothing too special. he’s standing in front of the mirror, one hand shoved into the pocket of his shorts, and the other holding onto his phone. his face was partly covered by his phone, but you could see the blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. but it wasn’t that that got your attention— no, it was something entirely different.

he was wearing a sleeveless compression shirt, giving you a full view of his arms. they were glistening in sweat and perfectly toned. the arm that was propping his phone up was slightly flexed, from the position it was in, adding to the bulk and definition in his biceps. and you could see the veins traveling up the arm of his hand, the one that was shoved into his pocket, crawling up from the back of his hand to his forearm. the bright overhead lighting, with a combination of the dim background lighting, served to emphasize every line and crevice of his exposed skin. 

“this what you wanted?” came a message right after, “i know you’re reading this right now, respond.” you felt weak. he definitely researched how to do this.

words couldn't describe how you felt. so, your immediate response was to send him a flurry of incoherent texts; a mixture of randomly pressed keys and crying emojis. but that’s what feeds his ego— your reactions are what makes smile smugly to himself, covering his lips with his hands as he reads your texts over. he starts to send you gym pictures more consistently after that, patiently waiting for your response after each one. at this point, it’s become a part of his gym routine.

itoshi sae drapes his arm over the back of your seat while reversing.

driving with sae was a true test of control— specifically, yours. it had become increasingly hard to focus whenever he was driving, with every little motion of his body seeming to pull your attention away from the road. he was just so distracting, to the point that you had started offering to drive instead. yet to no avail, because he always insisted on being the driver, furthering your silent suffering in the passenger's seat. but, there was nothing more testing than whenever he was reversing the car.

it’s an internal battle; it takes everything in you not to ogle him so openly. and somehow, you’re losing a battle to yourself.

it’s as if your eyes instantly become magnetized to sae— the way he moves when he rests his arm so casually, yet so securely, on the back of your headrest’s frame. and it doesn’t help that this position gives such a perfect view of him. the way the muscles in his arm ripple and flex ever so slightly, but visibly, under his loose dress shirt. the way his folded sleeves ride up every time, and the exposed part of his forearm constantly taunts you to take a peek. you hate that you suddenly become hyperaware of everything he does in that moment. especially his fingers, and the way they tickle the back of your neck, almost touching you but not quite there.

you have to hold back the subtle shudder that sweeps over your body.

it feels like he’s taking up so much space, demanding you to notice him. the way the scent of his cologne wafts over to you, the bergamot and sandalwood notes of it slowly overwhelming your senses. the faint shift in his posture, emphasizing the subtle stretch of his neck, giving you a view of his collarbones and necklace. and the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he speaks, his voice in a low tone, with his eyes flitting over to you momentarily before they’re back on the road.

it has to be intentional, he has to be aware of what he’s doing. “you’re doing this on purpose,” you mutter under your breath, willing yourself to turn away and look out the window.

“doing what on purpose?” he asks, but the mirth in his tone is evident— you can practically hear the tiny smirk that’s splayed on his lips. you’ve concluded that he’s sick in the head, that he’s playing with you right in your face. “i’m just making sure we don’t get into a crash, you baby.” and you willingly fall for it, every time.

nagi seishiro becomes clingy when it's just the two of you.

laying in your lap, while you’re absorbed in your own hobby, is one of nagi’s favorite pastimes. it keeps him close to you, but allows you both to do your own thing. sometimes, he’d take a nap while you work, one hand loosely holding onto yours in his sleep. other times, he’d play video games on his phone, making sure his volume is turned all the way down to not distract you. but most of the time, he likes to just lay there and admire you, with a barely noticeable smile on his lips.

but he becomes somewhat miffed whenever your hair falls in front of your face, blocking his (initially) flawless view of you. and it annoys him more whenever you don’t push it out of the way.

so, he decided to take it upon himself to move it for you, arm lazily stretched up to reach for you. you barely noticed it at first, so absorbed in the book that you were reading. the sensation of his fingers ghosting over your cheeks doesn’t register in your mind, and his touch is barely there. and then you feel it. his fingers are in your hair, gathering the strands on the back of his hand before he’s brushing it out of the way. it’s so gentle, the way he locks your hair behind your ear, and the way his hand lingers a little longer on your skin after. his fingers then travel from your ear to your jawline, finger lightly tracing the side of your jaw, and it makes you curl in on yourself at the feeling. (it tickles, but also oddly comforting.) and then, he’s pulling his arm back down to reach for your wrist instead, fingers wrapping around it.

your skin is tingling, and the surface of your skin feels warm— taken aback by the sudden act of affection. you glance down at him with a curious look, only to see that he’s already staring attentively at you, and you feel his hold on you tighten. “you know,” you begin, “you could’ve just asked me to do it for you.”

"you always get so lost in whatever you're doing," he mumbles slowly, his voice sounding almost whiney at the fact. his hand, the one firmly holding onto your wrist, is traveling up until it’s wiggling the book out of your hand. (you don’t miss the small furrow of his brows when you jokingly grip onto the book, before giving in and letting it fall to the side.) he takes this chance to intertwine your fingers, his larger hands completely enveloping yours. "i don't mind it, but i hate when i can’t see you."

michael kaiser holds intense eye contact with you when you're talking.

at times, you found it hard to talk to kaiser. he's constantly exuding such an intense confidence, one that's often present in his gaze, that you could never truly hold face-to-face conversations with him. you're always shying away from it, crumbling under the intensity, and he finds twisted pleasure in how flustered it makes you. the way the words always die on the tip of your tongue whenever your eyes meet, when you see that his focus is locked on you

it makes you look away, because it's the only thing you can do to escape it. but kaiser doesn't like it when you're looking away from him— he wants your attention. he wants to see you when you talk excitedly about your day.

he’ll get that attention however way he can. from where you're seated on the couch gives him quick access to you. you can feel his tattooed hand crawling up the skin of your thighs, sliding up slowly, leaving a trail of goosebumps as he goes. he stops short of the hem of your shorts, planting his hand firmly on the spot. he gives it a firm squeeze, fingers digging into the plush of your thighs— trying to get you to cave into him. “why won’t you look at me when you talk?” he’s leaning into you, invading your personal space despite the spacious couch. you can feel his breath on the shell of your ear with each word, “mein liebling, i want to see you when you talk. look at me.”

“you can listen to me talk without needing me to look at you,” you swallow, and his grip tightens ever so slightly at your words.

you're shifting awkwardly, trying to ignore the way your heart beats a little faster at the proximity, at the fact that his voice has started to sound almost pleading. almost— because he would never admit to something as desperate as pleading. it’s hard to focus when he’s this close, when he’s right there. his fingers remain on your thigh, tracing deliberate lines over your skin, and despite the way you're trying to resist, you can feel your resolve crumbling.

it’s not every day that you see someone like kaiser be on the precipice of begging for your attention. 

“i promise, i’ll stop teasing you. look—” his other hand is hooking under your chin, coaxing you to look at him. and you do— his eyes, once intense and teasing, now holds a softer and almost guilty looking gaze. “keep talking, yeah?”

oliver aiku likes to loosen his necktie with one hand after a formal event.

neckties are the worst, an opinion oliver will stand by ‘til the end of time. he absolutely despises having to put one on for formal events, and he’ll do his best to charm his way out of having to wear one. it never works, so the second he puts it on, he’s already thinking of the moment he gets to pull it off of himself. he doesn’t think much of it when he does it— one finger looping in the space between his neck and necktie, and he’s pulling at it without care.

but recently, he’s started to notice how intently you’d been staring each time he did it.

oliver’s got a keen-eye; not even the smallest thing can get past him. he drinks in the sight of you when he does it, eyes fixed on you, and taking joy in the fact that you don’t even seem to notice. you’re too busy being fixated on his hand, and the way the vein on his hand becomes prominent when he flexes it to pull, or the way his fingers seem to play around with the fabric. your eyes are so sharp, but somehow so unfocused, all at the same time. he loves how it gets you worked up.

it’s entertaining, so he takes it up a notch.

he drags his fingers, slowly, down to the first button of his shirt. and then he’s unbuttoning it with one hand, putting in extra effort in exposing his collarbones. he can’t fight the grin that makes its way to his lips, at your reaction— your eyes are widening, and he can visibly see you gulp at the sight. and then your eyes are shooting up to meet his, and his grin becomes impossibly wider.

“like what you see?” the teasing and flirtatious lilt in his voice is unmistakable, and you can’t help but draw your eyes back down to where his hand is twirling the tie around his fingers. he makes you tick, but he’s also so attractive, and you hate that he can easily make you blush with his words.

“you wish.” you choose to look away with a scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “it’s gonna take more than that.” that makes him oddly excited, brows raising in mild surprise, and you honestly should’ve known better. it’s like you’re offering up a new challenge to him, and he gladly accepts.

oliver still hates neckties; that’s an opinion that will never change. he still looks forward to the second he gets to pull it off. except now, he gets to play a little game with you while he does it.

yukimiya kenyu keeps a hand on your back at all times, in public.

it’s a habit formed purely from the fact that the streets of shibuya have the tendency to become really crowded, and yukimiya hates it when you get separated from him in such a crowd. he likes it when you’re right by his side— he can keep a close eye on you at all times and protect you from getting pushed around. and originally, it started off with holding your hands. it was fine during the colder seasons, providing the two of you with extra warmth. but you had both quickly realized that it could become quite uncomfortable during summer, making your hands all sweaty and sticky.

so he experimented. he let his arm drop from your shoulders to the small of your back, his palm hovering over your skin, initially unsure of how you would react.

“is this okay?” he would lean down to whisper in your ear, and his voice was so gentle and so concerned about you. even when he was the one getting shoved around by the crowd, with people constantly running into the sides of his shoulders, he was still only thinking about you. you and your comfort. “tell me if this is uncomfortable, and i’ll figure something else out. okay?”

it made you shiver— you felt a heat crawl up your spine, and your stomach was immediately fluttering with butterflies.

you nod, “no, this is okay.” more than okay, actually, but you keep that to yourself. “thank you for asking.” he flashes you one of his pretty smiles, and he leans up to look straight ahead in the crowd again. but this time, his touch is more present— his palm is now firmly planted onto your skin, and he’s actively weaving you through the crowded streets.

whenever someone would get too close to you, or if he anticipates that someone is about to crash into you, his hand would travel to the side of your waist. and yukimiya grips on it, pulling your body flush against his side, effectively pulling you out of the way. “sorry,” he’ll whisper an apology, not having intended to hold you so tightly. his hands will go right back to where they initially were, not without trailing his fingers on the way back, leaving sparks tingling across your skin where he touched. “did i hurt you?”

“no, i’m fine,” you can keep your hand there, you almost tell him. it drives you insane that everything he does is unintentional— but maybe, one day, you'll be able to tell him exactly what you’re thinking.

note. yukki debut on my acc ??? do we fw the casual, less poetic writing cuz there was really no way to make this poetic 👩‍🦯 just astronomically down bad writing all around

© rindreamery, 2024

tags. @choccorin @mininji

[ridher]

rafe being soft for the shy pogue working at the country club

you were new to the outer banks, having just moved to the island with your family. being a pogue, however, was less than ideal. it's not like you would know that though, because having yet to make any friends, how were you supposed to know these ridiculous terms that separated the town?

luckily, it wasn't hard for a pretty girl to get a job at the island club — serving drinks and bussing tables with generous tips.

the days didn't match up until almost a week into working when he first saw you. ever so sweetly taking orders in the little uniform you wear — a tiny skirt and fitted white polo that looks so tempting, especially because you don't even realize it.

rafe is determined to make you swoon, pogue or not. he saunters over in his effortlessly confident manner, not even bothering to take a seat and instead leaning over the bar with his arms crossed — forearms braced atop the hard counter.

a quick sweep across your figure with his tongue pressed to his cheek before his eyes meet yours as you spin around to greet him with a characteristically shy smile.

none the wiser to his troublesome reputation, you gaze up at him with big eyes through your lashes, standing before him though across the bar and speaking up all soft and polite.

"what can i get you?" rich, attractive boys your age were all but uncommon at the country club — spending their afternoons on the golf course and purchasing excessive amounts of alcohol.

rafe is no different. he orders a drink from some expensive bottle, all the while shamelessly crowding your space and purposefully trying to use intimidation to catch your eye. it works opposite to how he would like, the low and sultry voice he thanks you in only causing you to scurry off and switch to the back of house.

he takes it personally and makes it his mission when he shows up the next day (for the sole purpose of seeing you) to try again. he'll get what he wants. watching from afar he won't admit to himself he's in awe. how soft and sweet you are to everyone, even when you're alone shows it's not a facade.

the next approach he's more patient, coming in the cool lobby and running a nervous hand through his curtain bangs before flashing you a small smile. if only you knew how rare that was.

properly introducing himself with a firm handshake and taking a place at one of the barstools, ordering the same drink as previously and putting it on the cameron's tab.

"you, uh, you're new around here, huh?" he inquires in an unusually soft tone, patiently awaiting your answer.

"mhm. been just a couple days." you wipe up the counter — a repetitive task to busy yourself with in situations like these.

"right, right.." tapping a finger against the smooth surface barricading you from him, watching intently and trying not to come across too strong as he plots thoroughly in his head.

it becomes a regular thing — his near daily visits to the club. after spending a day aggressively hitting balls on the green with his friends, he comes inside to just talk.. and watch how your face flushes when he says practically anything, dimples and all. in your mind, he's the only friend you've made in this town and he is more than happy to be that person in his own, slightly twisted way.

[moondirti]

daddy kink. inspections. female reader. mean price. fluffy ending. mention of cunt slapping.

latching on to price’s forearm when he anchors it between your legs. he has the soaked gusset of your panties yanked to the side, fingers prodding for purchase along your doughy folds. callouses slipping, slicked. prying for something — what, you don’t know, though you bite your lip to settle through the pain. his touch isn’t as placatory as it would be if was trying to arouse pleasure. sturdy, rather. a little forceful.

similarly, the kitchen countertop is unrelenting below. cool marble digs into your behind, edge cutting into the soft flesh of your thighs. it makes you wish you wore bottoms this morning — before acknowledging how short-lived that would be. there’s a multi-purpose tool on every flat surface available (gifts, from those who don’t know that all he wants, on every occasion, is a tight thing wriggling atop his lap and a bottle of glen scotia), and you’ve suffered enough torn shorts at their doing to have found that the most you can get away with is a pair of cotton briefs and a loose shirt. easy access, he calls it.

like now. you focus on anything but the intrusive ministrations he doles to your poor pussy, whimpering quietly behind bitten lips. though it’s ritual, you have yet to get used to his morning inspections. they alway feel a little cruel in a way you don’t deserve. you’ve been good in the time since you’ve seen him last — sitting on your hands, declining every invitation to a night out, locking your toys in the safe he keeps in the closet — but no amount of pleading your case will get you out of this. he has to see it for himself. feel the undisturbed skin around your hole, the ripe fruit of your clit, plump as it has yet to be unpicked.

“daddy,” you breath, leaning into the strength his shoulder affords when he shoves a finger in dry. it’s hard to keep still as he searches your insides, probing through velvet walls like they’re his own. at this point, all of you might as well be.

“wiggle again ‘n’ i’ll slap this stupid cunt silly.”

your tongue notches itself between your teeth, struggling when you bite down to stifle further complaint. he’s so mean; never as indulgent in the mornings as he is in tipsy afternoons, when he’ll place you down onto his thigh, and let you suck on his fingers to sate the oral fixation that had you mouthing at his groin.

what you find, in your new effort to stay silent, is his arm serves as a better distraction than the metallic wash of blood around your gums. your nails trace it delicately, drifting through the tufts of dark hair that veil old tattoos. the way it will comb to your direction, going one direction when you pave the way, is so unlike the man currently pulling your clit hood back, watching it twitch in cool air. price is fixed, mulish in a manner you’ve learnt is best to let go. rooted in the disciplinarian logic taught to him by his father, and his father before him — tradition sticks, tacky in his marrow. trying to scour it out of him, urge him to see differently, is like taking trouble with the one thing that makes him… him.

you say nothing when he spreads either lip apart.

the muscles creaking from elbow to wrist are more analogous to his character. they twist, writhe, sinew stretching in a way that seems impossible to you. if you squeeze hard enough, you swear you can feel each individual fibre working minutely beneath the surface of his skin. his body is ignited, emanating a dry heat always — which serves your purposes nicely on frigid winter nights, tucked into the expansive furnace of his back. when your fingertips tap the crease of his arm, they sap feverish warmth, along with the elastic efforts that keep you pinned in place.

“legs.” he demands, knuckles rapping on one knee to complete his demand. you’re a little dumb, pleasure slowly bleeding into your veins, making the best of the rough attention your cunt receives, so all you do is blink. once, twice. “wider, now.”

but he doesn’t give you another chance. instead, he shoves them apart himself, his watch scratching the thin skin of your inner thighs.

his watch. black dial and brown leather strap, worn a little with use. though he’s told you the specifics of its make and model, most you remember is that it can also be used as a stopwatch. tactical, utilitarian, as things tend to be with him, but inflated at such a cost that you blanched upon hearing he uses it on the field. don’t you worry about it?

there are far more important things to worry about.

you’ve tried it on your wrist, once, and found that it hung uselessly, several sizes too big. he fills in that extra space so well, veins branching from where it hugs his carpal, adding dimension to the hand that disappears into your pussy.

you wish you would worm your way into his skin, nestle there with all the things that paint this portrait you love so dearly. it would do a great deal for the anxiety that plagues you while he’s away, stressing about loss of mind or limb, or the loss of your daddy in his entirety, out there somewhere where you cannot reach him.

(you wonder, briefly — ridiculously — whether he feels the same about you. but those suspicions are eased when he pulls away from the bracket of your hips, proud smile warping the moustache atop his lip, and places a scratchy kiss to your temple.)

“that’s a good girl.”

[lvlyghost]

Remnants

PAIRINGS: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SUMMARY: You got hurt and Simon finds out.

WORD COUNT: 1.0k

TW: bruises, slight angst. reader missing simon. also fluff think that's it. lmk if i missed any. also poorly edited and not proofread. mind the english!🤭✨🤍

A/N: this is so self indulgent. embarrassing how much time it took to get out because i've had this idea for two weeks now. anyway enjoy!💛

Masterlist✨

Laying in bed until it was late was part of your daily routine when Simon was off on deployment. Too tired to even get up when he wasn't around to wake you at 7:00 a.m.

He was a morning person unlike you.

You remember the days he would drag you against him by the waist mumbling something about being too late to be in bed, to which you had groggily bit back and slapped his arm in a playful manner. Then he would be gone for months, leaving nothing but an empty bed and the absence of his deep voice to fill your ears. Feeling that made your eyes well with tears and your heart ache. What if I don't see him again? What if that was the last time I ever felt his touch?

Shaking your head you pull yourself out of the comfort of your shared bed, taking a quick bath before preparing yourself a nice breakfast.

Winter is starting to settle in and your favorite thing to wear is his black hoodie. The one that swallows you entirely. It smells like him, it's almost like being embraced by him.

"Come on don't cry now." rubbing your eyes with the hem of the sleeves. Traitorous, salty droplets spilling down. "Jesus." Taking a deep breath you calm yourself and the ache gradually stops.

The kitchen is somewhat cold despite the heater turned on. You watch as the coffee brews —the one he dislikes— you smile again although small. Barely a quirk of your lips at the thought of him looking intently at you as you take a sip and offer him one.

'Bloody incorrigible.' He had muttered.

But you had seen him smiling that day as well, as different as you both were from one another, the love you two held couldn't be denied, nor broken.

That's why when the front door creaks open your eyes widen, legs moving faster than your brain can register. Socked feet dragging across the wooden floor nearly slipping. Simon stands stall, the door closing behind him as he lowers the black duffel bag on the floor.

"Are you really back?" Your lower lip trembles, the emotion too heavy to hold it back.

"Come here, love." You lunge forward, collapsing against his body. Simon's quick to catch you with strong arms holding you. Bodies pressed together. He can finally let himself breathe. The smell of your home, the smell of that awful coffee you love, the aroma of your shampoo and perfume that drives him absolutely crazy. He pulls his mask off and his mouth is soon against your soft lips. Oh how he missed you. He missed this, his girl softly caressing his face standing on your tiptoes. Simon grumbled, when he feels the air shift and you pull back, his brown eyes glimmer with devotion.

"Don't worry there's tea for you. Plenty. I made sure of that for when you returned." He inhales deeply, kissing you once again on the forehead. Taking his hand you lead him to the kitchen to serve both the breakfast you've been working on. "How are the boys?" You ask taking two mugs out of the top cabinet.

"A bit more scarred than before but they're good." He comes behind you lingering close —too close— to your back. "Price wants a reunion. Told him I'd let you decide."

"You already know I'll say yes." He hums watching you pour some water in the kettle and waiting for it to boil. "Black or chamomile?"

"Black." You try to move around as much as you can with him caging you from behind. Giggling when he once again kisses you on the temple. "Alright, let me see you again..."

Simon grabs you by the forearm it's not hard, it's gentle but firm. Firm enough to hurt your neglected limb. You shriek, a loud 'no' leaves your lips as you stumble back and away from him, soothing the place where he had touched you. It hurt so much but you quickly regret your reaction knowing it'd spark something within him.

Simon's eyes go wide, then his brows furrow so hard you can see the small line that could leave a permanent mark on his forehead.

"What was that?" He growled. The distance you put between you and him is cut off by his long strides.

"It's nothing, I- I swear." You trail off, searching for an explanation. But he's smart and he won't let this pass.

Few things could make him lose his temper, you lying about your wellbeing was one of the top on the list.

"Show me." He demands and the way his eyes pierce through every part of you leaves no room for discussion.

Rolling up your sleeves you hold out your forearms. Simon's jaw clenches so hard you're certain he's cracked some of his teeth. Eyes set on your damaged limb; red and purple bruises on your skin. They're so fucking big and he has to remember how to breathe and control his emotions. "How?" His eyes shot back to yours, awaiting.

"I promise it's not what you're thinking Simon."

"Don't give me that. I asked you a question." he takes one of them careful not to press too hard as he brushes his thumb over one of them. Fucking hell. It's swollen.

"Just work Simon. I had to carry big boxes and you know I'm not that strong, that's it. So stop thinking the worst, yeah?"

Sighing he lets go of your arm, the anger slowly ebbs and he feels fucking tired. He thought the worst. No one could blame him, it was in his DNA.

"Next time let me know beforehand, bloody hell love."

You give him a quick hug.

"I still might have to have a talk with your cunt boss."

You snort.

"No you won't." You declare, motioning for him to follow back. "Tea's ready."

Oh, but he would definitely pay him a visit.

[godslino]

HARD LAUNCH | minho drabble. established relationship.

“Do you guys have french fries?”

“Minho.” you hiss, nudging his shin beneath the table.

He cocks an eyebrow before turning back to the waitress. She smiles softly, laughing at the two of you. 

“We do, yes.” 

“Wonderful,” Minho grins, “We’ll have a side order of those too.”

“Perfect. I’ll put that in for you guys and check back soon.” The waitress says happily, collecting the menus and scurrying off to tend to another table.

As soon as she’s out of earshot, you groan, covering your face with your hands. 

“Why would you do that?” 

Minho chuckles, shakes his head probably. You wouldn’t know since you can’t see him.

“Do what?”

Still using one hand to cover your eyes, you pull the other away, pointing an accusatory finger in his direction. “I told you I’d be fine. Why’d you have to ask for french fries? That’s so embarrassing.”

Minho hums. Unbothered. “You know what’s worse?”

“Literally nothing.” you mumble, returning your other hand to your face. It only serves to muffle your voice more. “This is humiliating. We’re in a nice restaurant and you ordered french fries because of me. Oh God. I’m going to hide in the bathroom.”

A good choice, you think. Minho’s in god damn slacks for crying out loud. Every second that passes is another second that your pity order of french fries is probably spending in the deep fryer, right next to the lobster tail and shrimp tartar that everyone else has a mature enough palate to eat. 

Before you can move to get up and make a beeline for the toilet, you feel Minho’s fingers wrap around your wrists, pulling until your hands give way to your face. You crack one eye open and then the other, his amused expression coming into view.

“What’s worse than ordering french fries is me knowing you’ll be hungry if there isn’t something familiar for you on the table.” he says pointedly, like your reason for feeling embarrassed is unnecessary. “Besides, who said I didn’t want any?”

“Min, look around,” you say, turning your head to glance at the room, “The napkins are cloth. Cloth! Nicer than my bed sheets. We can’t be seen eating french fries in a place like this. I told you I’d be—”

“—fine. Because as long as you’re here I can do anything.” Minho recites, word for word, cutting you off. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks immediately, spreads like wildfire when Minho smiles and leans on to his forearms. His button up tightens over his shoulders, hugs his arms, sleeves rolled up to the elbow.

“Just like how you’re doing this for me, let me do something for you.” 

You and Minho have been seeing each other for four months now, but even at that, you’re still not used to his straightforwardness. 

Seeing Minho has been nothing short of a dream. What started as just interacting at parties because of mutual friends eventually gave way to him asking for your number, and then hanging out separate from your friend group, until one day he plucked up the courage to ask you out. Since then, the two of you have been inseparable, always spending every free moment together. Laughing, talking, even sometimes just existing in the same space. It’s nice. So, so nice.

“Shouldn’t I be the one blushing right now?” Minho teases.

“Shut up.” you say, tearing your gaze away from him.

He laughs again before reaching out and placing a hand on top of yours. Soft. Minho is unbelievably soft.

It’s the thing you love the most about him. But more than that, more than the delicate skin of his fingers or the brush of his lips against yours, you love the softness of his eyes.

Minho is hard to crack, his emotions shrouded most of the time. Not that he wants to be, but because that’s just how he operates, or so you’ve learned. 

But despite all of that, his eyes are a dead giveaway. When he’s looking at pictures of his cats, or staring at you from across the room, or right now as steaming plates of some of the finest cuisine Seoul has to offer are being placed in front of him.

“Holy shit.” he whispers, staring in awe as the waitress walks away from the table.

“Is it rude for me to take a picture? Like, would anyone get offended?” 

Minho scoffs. “Babe, I would be offended if you didn’t document this right now.”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pulling out your phone.

“Do I get to be in it this time?”

You look up to find Minho pouting across the table. Another thing about your relationship— nobody knows yet. 

You’ve been teasing about the possibility of a boyfriend for two months now, you and Minho only having made it official about a few weeks ago. The most anyone has been able to see are carefully positioned photos where only his hand or other inconspicuous parts of him are visible.

It’s not that you don’t want people to know. It’s just hard with his job and all. Privacy reasons.

"For someone who likes to claim that people won't give me a hard time because of your fame you sure do seem eager to test that theory."

Minho smiles mischievously. “Well, yes. But I’m also waiting because I want to show you off.”

You busy yourself with opening your camera app to stop the heat creeping up your neck. “Yeah, yeah. You big flirt.”

Minho laughs but obliges, scoots back to let you get a good few pictures of the food. 

Photos aren’t enough to do it justice, though. So you opt for a video, scanning the table with your camera, only the bottom half of his torso visible across the table. A silk white button up only three-fourths of the way buttoned, sleeves rolled to his elbows.

Minho watches silently, his face unreadable. And then, at the last second, he dips his head down so fast you don’t even realize what’s happening until his face is fully in the shot, a shit-eating grin pushing his eyes into crescent moons.

“Min!” you laugh, ending the recording. 

He chuckles, straightening back out. “Post it.”

“Are you insane?”

“No, but I’m going to be if you don’t post it and then eat with me.” He nudges the plate of french fries towards you. “Come on.”

“You really want me to post it? You’re sure?”

Minho smiles. Soft. “Never been more sure about anything in my life.” he says, neither of you willing to address the weight of his words.

He grabs your hand, plants a kiss on the back of your knuckles. The resulting flip of your stomach is enough to give you the courage to hit post and tuck your phone away.

Whatever happens, you’ll deal with it later. Together.

[ tags: @102598s @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @palindrome969 @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @astronomicallyyy @doohnut @linocz @romancerry @djeniryuu @pinkpunkdynamite @pynchkilledme @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @liknws @beeracha @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[fangswbenefits]

Side Effect

Summary: Miguel has been acting off lately and you find out why… the hard way.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Feral Miguel. Rutting Miguel (side effect of the serum he takes). HEAVY breeding kink. Creampie. Fangs. Hormonal manipulation (mention of serums being injected).

You paced hurriedly through the long corridors of HQ determined to get an answer.

A proper one.

If Miguel O’Hara was growing tired of your casual relationship with him, he’d have to tell that to your face instead of avoiding you.

This had been going on for a couple of days, and you patience was now hanging by a thread. You had tried to reach him through your watch, but he’d either ignore you, or have Lyla come up with ridiculous excuses.

“Visiting Peter and MJ my ass,” you grumbled under you breath, your paces echoing loudly.

The moment you were met with the lab door shut, you stopped dead in your tracks.

That was weird.

“What?”

Approaching the scanner on the wall, you reached out your arm, allowing the sensor to read your dimensional travel watch.

<ACCESS DENIED>

That was really weird.

You flicked your wrist again, but were met with the same message.

This had to be Miguel’s poor idea of a joke, because it made no sense that he’d restrict your access to the very place you worked at.

Letting out a strained breath, you tapped on your watch, hoping to reach Miguel.

But it was Lyla’s orange hologram that emerged instead.

“What’s up, sugar?” she beamed happily, filing her nails.

You scowled. “I was calling Miguel.”

“He has redirected every contact to me,” she shrugged, checking each nail individually.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Why can’t I get in?”

“That’s classified.”

“Classified?”

She nodded with an obnoxious smile that only served to grind your nerves. “I work here.”

“So does Miguel and he is working now,” she said with another shrug.

Anger flared inside you as your worst fears were confirmed.

He was avoiding you in particular.

“Can you just open the door?”

“No.”

“Please?”

Her eyes narrowed behind her heart-shapped glasses. “No.”

“I really need to talk to him.”

Adjusting her long coat, she clicked her tongue. “I can pass him a message.”

That wasn’t good enough and he would just ignore it as usual.

“Lyla…” you started, putting on your most convincing fake smile with an equally forced sweet voice to match. “You know I’ve always like you, right?”

The AI scoffed. “Nah, flattery doesn’t work on me, sugar. It wasn’t programmed into my coding,” she grinned deviously. “But you’re free to suggest that Miguel adds it in a future patch.”

You shot her a death glare. “Fine. Just… tell him I’m here and… yeah…” your voice trailed off.

She winked. “Gotcha!”

The hologram disappeared at once and you were left staring at the large metal door in front of you.

You waited for a couple of minutes, before realising she wasn’t coming back with an answer, as you had expected.

A random thought crossed your mind when your eyes landed on the scanner, reminding you that there was another way in.

Miguel would probably get really angry that you were about to activate the emergency protocol, but you couldn’t care less at this point.

Tapping the pattern onto the pad above the scanner, you couldn’t help but to feel victorious as the door swung open, alarms blaring and a mechanical voice echoing through the lab.

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

You only made it a few steps past the door, before something — or rather someone — flung you across the room with the weight of their body keeping you pinned against a wall.

A muscled forearm was at your throat, effectively caging you in.

“What the fuck?”

“Emergency protocol activated. Proceed with caution.”

The red alarm lights rotated hurriedly on the ceiling, but you were able to identify Miguel, as his weight dug further into you.

“What are you doing here?” he growled, the eyes on his mask narrowing menacingly.

Something wasn’t right.

Your spider senses detected an alarming accelerated heart rate from him, as well as increased body temperature.

“Miguel, let go! It’s me,” you grunted, clawing at his arm to alleviate the pressure.

“I know it’s you,” he said lowly, the digital mask vanishing.

From the corner of your eyes you saw him baring his fangs, droplets of paralysing poison dripping.

His pupils were fully blown and you felt fear rise inside you. “What are you doing?!”

As if your voice had managed to snap him out of it, he eased the pressure on you and took a few steps back.

“Lyla, deactivate the emergency protocol and resume the serum synthesis.”

“Got it, Miguel!”

The alarm was turned off immediately and silence took place.

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants, as you tried to make sense of what had just happened.

Was he that angry that he had gone completely feral?

“Miguel… what…”

He turned his back on you and paced to a nearby centrifuge, the screen atop announcing: <DNA stabilising sequence at 24%>

What was he doing?

“Leave.”

“Can we just talk?” you said, still keeping your distance. “I don’t know why you’re avoiding me, but barring my access-“

Miguel turned around to face you, a deep scowl had settled on his face, twisting his lips.

The glare he gave you was enough to send shivers down your spine.

“I need you gone. Now.”

Fuck. Was he that over you that he couldn’t even stand your presence around?

He had shortened the distance between you two, crimson eyes never leaving yours.

“Why? If you don’t want to be with me just say that,” you groaned in frustration. “Don’t stare at me like you’re about to split me in half. It won’t work.”

Miguel had effectively managed to have your back hit the nearby wall once more, just from the weight of his stare alone.

“I told you to leave. I can’t have you around me.”

“Oh, great!” you scoffed. “Thanks for being so direct.”

Miguel didn’t stop moving until his face was only a few inches away from yours. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re right. I don’t. We’re both adults, so you could have just said this a couple of days ago instead of acting like I’m some nuisance.”

His hand came to grip your jaw and you widened your eyes. “You’re on birth control, right?”

“What…”

He took a deep breath, fangs grazing his lower lip. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Of course.”

Wait… was he scared that he might have knocked you up?

His fingers loosened and he pressed his forehead to the wall right beside your head, groaning out loud.

“Miguel… what is going on?”

You wanted to him a comfort squeeze on his arm, but were too frozen to move.

“Why… why do you have to be on birth control?”

Was he pulling your leg? Was this his twisted version of a joke?

This time, you frowned. “What do you mean why? I don’t want to get unexpectedly pregnant.”

Miguel punched the wall with such force it dented the material and making you jolt.

“I’m rutting.”

Your eyes darted to his face as he straightened up, pupils still dilated and beads of sweat rolling down his temples.

“What… rutting?” you asked, mouth dropping open in confusion.

He growled impatiently. “Side effect of my serum. I usually have an antidote at hand when this happens, but I ran out of one of the components…” he paused briefly as if struggling to breath properly. “I had to go to Peter B’s Earth to get more.”

Oh. So that hadn’t been one of Lyla’s ridiculous lies.

You glanced over at the nearby screen:

<DNA stabilising sequence at 34%>

Oh.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?” you asked, wanting to bring him some comfort somehow. “We’ve been together for a few months.”

“It was never necessary. I always had the neutraliser for my serum at hand.”

You bit your lip.

He let out a low dark chuckle. “You have no idea how badly I’ve been wanting to breed you.”

This definitely wasn’t something you were expecting to hear from Miguel O’hara himself, and it made your heart skip a beat.

His arms were caging you, his talons digging deep into the metal right next to your head.

“Is… huh… is there anything I can do?” you asked in a whisper. “I mean… in the lab.”

He pressed his lower half into you at once. “Let me breed you.”

You flinched as his hard cock dug into your crotch and you let out a gasp.

“Can’t you just wait for the synthesis to be over?”

The sound of the metal being shredded tore through your ears and his lips nearly brushed yours. “I told you to leave, but you’re too stubborn, aren’t you?”

His breath was hot and you felt goosebumps rise throughout your body.

“Always running that mouth,” he growled, eyes landing on your lips. “Always defying me… and now I really, really need to breed you.”

For some twisted reason, his words and cock twitching against you were slowly swallowing your mind, causing you to abandon reason.

Miguel was a very dedicated lover, but you had never witnessed such yearning from him.

That was a novelty and it was doing wonders to your ego.

Even if there was a scientific explanation, you could help but plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You can’t breed me… I’m on birth control.”

His hand came to grip your chin again and you saw anger flicker in his eyes. “There’s ways around that.”

Your eyes widened.

He wasn’t being serious…

… was he?

“Miguel…”

The grip tightened and he rolled his hips. “Let me. Please.”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. He had developed a serum that would neutralise all hormonal manipulation as a way to reset your body in case a spider needed to be injected with a serum.

You had helped him develop it.

Its efficacy neared 90%.

You guessed this neutraliser wasn’t able to prevent the side effects from his very specific serum.

And now he wanted to use it on you, so he could successfully breed you.

“Are you sure?” you asked, not sure why agreeing to this in the first place was sending such an adrenaline rush through your veins.

Miguel moved away from you, bolting to one of the desks, rummaging through the drawers.

You swallowed hard, but remained glued to the wall, heart hammering fast in your chest.

<DNA stabilising sequence at 41%>

In a blink of an eye, he was on you again, holding the syringe in his trembling hand. “I’m desperate, but I need your words first.”

You clenched and felt wetness spilling from you.

How was this so arousing?

“What words?”

He moved to place a quivering kiss to your forehead and you saw the liquid wobble inside the container.

“That’s… not the compound we synthesised.”

“It’s more than that,” he said with another kiss. “It stimulates your ovaries.”

Oh… fuck.

He trailed kisses down your face, before pecking your lips. “I have to breed you. Successfully.”

Your legs nearly gave out at his confession and you nearly moaned as he ripped your suit to gain access to your bicep.

“Tell me I can do this.”

His cock was nudging you again as a reminder of his desire, and you nodded.

“No. Say it.”

He was rubbing your skin with his thumb right where he intended to inject the serum.

“Go ahead.”

“Gracias,” he whispered, planting another kiss to your forehead.

At this point, you were far too drunk in lust to think clearly and your lips parted in a pained moaned as you felt a sharp jab in your arm. He kept his lips on you as reassurance, as the liquid tore through your muscle.

Your heartbeat skyrocketed straight away.

You felt your knees buckle under you, but Miguel steadied you with both arms. “I got you.”

A gasp quickly turned into a moan as the effect of the serum consumed you with each passing second.

He trailed his hands down your body and gripped your hips.

“Turn around.”

You let him guide you, biting down hard on your lower lip, you panties sticking to your soaked folds.

More ripping sounds filled the air as Miguel tried to get rid of your suit, exposing your underwear to him.

You balled your fists and felt one hand on your lower back, adding light pressure. “Bend over.”

Doing as commanded, you felt more wetness spill from you as your body readied itself for Miguel.

The pressure increased. “More.”

Your panties were torn apart right away and you glanced over your shoulder, catching a glimpse of Miguel’s fangs peeking through his lips.

His thumb dragged along your folds, teasing your swollen clit and earning a whimper from you.

“Sorry, but I really need to be inside you,” he grumbled and you nodded.

Your heart skipped several beats, as you tried to control your breathing in anticipation.

The tip of his cock was soon pressed against your opening, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.”

Before you could inquire what he meant, your mouth fell open as he rammed inside you, bottoming out at once.

He didn’t wait for your to recover from the initial shock, and began pumping into you so ferociously, you had to grab a hold on the metal railing to your right to keep yourself from losing balance.

Miguel heaved a heavy sigh of relief as if he had been waiting a lifetime for this sensation.

Grunts and groans mixed with the wet sounds of your pussy engulfing his cock over and over again.

“Should have bred you sooner…” he managed to say in between snaps of his hips. “Developed that serum just for you…”

Miguel’s idea of dirty talk was effective. Too effective, because you couldn’t hold back from clenching hard around him, savoring the friction and feel of being stuffed full of him.

He picked up the pace and you thought you were going to die.

Not because it was uncomfortable, but because it was too overwhelming, and your body was responding to his in a way you had never experienced before.

You felt your lower abdomen coil at the sides and figured the serum had reached its target destination.

Miguel gripped both your arms and you let go of the railing, as he tugged hard to have your back smack against his hard chest.

“You’re so lucky this rut didn’t hit me harder,” he growled, hips never faltering. “I was barely able to control myself around you…”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you moaned loudly, feeling his pectoral muscles press into your back. This man was too hot and you found yourself thinking that not being bred by him would be a waste.

That genetic material deserved to be spread.

“Being on birth control with me…” he said through gritted teeth, and you felt his fangs nipping your ear lightly. “You. Deserve. To. Be. Bred.” he punctuated each word with a snap of his hips.

An intense wave of pleasure pulsated from your clit, and you recognised the familiar strings of an orgasm pulling you in and embracing you gentle with each stroke.

“Miguel…” you moaned, blinded by lust and desire.

The grip on your arms loosened briefly and he let your torso lean forward ever so slightly, angling your hips in a way that made him his cock hit you over and over again just where you needed the most.

“I want you full with my babies,” he gasped.

Your orgasm hit you with such force, you thought you were going to collapse and slide off his cock, but he wrapped one arm around you, not allowing you to part from him.

“You feel so good… tighter… tighter,” he urged, as your walls contracted around him rhythmically, faintly at first, but the next stronger than the one before.

You were far too gone to form any words and just let your lips part as an intense moan ripped through your throat.

Miguel was mumbling something behind you, but you couldn’t make out any words as you descended from your height.

Even through quivering legs and pulsing clit, you were able to feel it.

He was now pumping you full with broken snaps of his hips.

You glanced down and saw strings of cum dripping from where he was connected with you.

So much cum.

He wasn’t even slowing down, as he’d usually do at this stage.

Miguel kept on ramming into you from behind, sending more and more cum to drip from within you.

An animalistic growl left his mouth as he finally came to a halt, breathing hard.

He remained balls deep inside you, and you planted on hand on the wall to look in absolute awe at the cum dripping and dangling from your clit, a pool of it now at your feet.

“How did you cum so much?” you managed to say in between laboured breaths.

“I’m rutting, cariño. My body produces more,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

You glanced to the screen nearby.

<DNA stabilising sequence at 100%>

“Maybe you can take the neutraliser now?

He slid his cock out of you halfway, before slamming it back, and you felt more cum spill out. “I don’t think so.”

Oh, you were utterly fucked.

In every sense of the word.

Masterlist

[mxilkyways]

Sweet Affairs

summary: after a hunt gone awry, dean is pissed that the reader had put her life on the line - however, through concealed feelings and misguided judgement the reader refuses to see why dean is so worked up. An argument ensues between the pair that reveal hidden emotions and lead to them indulging in what they both had been craving for so long.

warnings: very heavy smut (⚠️), all the shenanigans

pairing: dean winchester x f!reader

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” his voice was taunt, gritted through clenched teeth as the door to the cheap motel slammed shut behind him.

Your jaw ticked, vein popping from under your skin as you swallowed down the obscenities you were tempted to spew at him. The tense silence on the car ride back had paid no help in trying to douse the frustration and insults whirling through your mind, rather having provided you the opportunity to stare daggers into the side of his head.

Your quietness seemed to push Dean even further, a disgruntled huff passing his lips as his fingers curled around your forearm; whirling you towards him. You whined in protest, attempting to tug yourself from his grip however his hold just tightened.

“Dont. Dont you dare try to pull away.” his tone left no room for argument and so you reluctantly stopped resisting. “Do you even understand what you did today?”

Your eyes narrowed, mirroring his, as you swallowed harshly. You could feel the anger in his hold, his fingertips dug in so hard there’s no doubt bruises would be left behind, yet it only served to fuel your own rage.

“Im not a baby, Dean. Of course i know what I did — i had a choice to make and I did what I thought was right.” venom leaked from your tongue, speaking to him in a manner that portrayed him as a petulant child.

A growl emitted low within his chest, his restraint clear on the verge of snapping. You watched as his head pivoted to the side, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It was barely a few seconds of peace before a scoff was drawn from his throat followed by the chastising echo of a laugh.

“Bullshit. You’re exactly what a fucking baby is — you got no goddamn brains throwing yourself into danger like that. You nearly got yourself killed, what about that screamed right to you?” he was provoking you, trying to get you to admit you were wrong but you were too stubborn for your own good.

Your eyes scanned over his face as you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, biting so hard a metallic tang bled against your mouth. You noticed his gaze drop before he subconsciously moved, running his thumb along the outline of your bottom lip; pulling it from between your teeth.

You jerked your head backwards, away from his touch. “You’re acting like you wouldn’t do the same —“

“Its different” his words cut through yours. You glared at him again yet he seemed to pay no attention, his focus solely drawn to the blood that stained the cracks of your lips “you’re different”

This caused you to reel back, your arm yanking from his grip. Your chest heaved as disbelief coursed through your veins; eyes drawn almost into slits. Dean cursed as his fist clenched, dropping down to his side.

“Are you kidding me? How am I different, Dean? I had every right to do what I did and so what if I put my life at risk — the goddamn vampires are dead, thats all that should matter” your voice was raising with every word that left, your emotions coming to a boil.

You were about ready to turn and leave when Dean closed the distance between the two of you, his chest pressed so closely against yours you could feel the beat of his heart as it hammered against his ribcage. His fingers moulded to your chin, twisting so you had no choice but to look at him. His hold was so tight your cheeks squished inwards, your lips pouting involuntarily.

“You dont get it do you?” his tone was so grating you were left stunned, chests fitting together as you both struggled to cool down “I cant lose you — and when you do stupid shit like this, it scares me.”

Silence seemed to filter through the air as you registered his words, brain churning to try and decipher exactly what he was implying. His gaze jumped around your face, from your eyes to your lips, to your cheeks as his fingers flexed.

His hold loosened, hand sliding to the back of your neck as he now cradled you. His thumb swiped idly across your flesh, soothing down the impressions his nails had left behind. His lips drew into a thin line, an indication he was battling whatever was running through his mind, before his eyes snapped back to yours; a newfound sense of determination clear.

“I care about you, okay?” he paused, letting the words hang in the air “more than id ever bothered to admit to myself — to admit to you. You’re different because i dont know how the hell I would ever be able to live with myself if something happened to you.”

“Dean, I —” the words got caught in your throat, a tight coil forming within your stomach. Your tone was no longer harsh rather it was weak, like all the air had been sucked from your lungs.

“Just listen… please” his eyes were half glossed over, his eyebrows drawn together in a desperate act of pleading. He didn’t wait for you to respond before he spoke again.

“Ive tried so hard to push down my feelings but you make it so goddamn difficult when every time you walk into the room, I feel like being sick because I’ve never seen someone so beautiful. I thought… I thought you’d cursed me, bewitched me cause’ there was no way I was finally falling in love with you, but then I realized that maybe — maybe you’re just that perfect.” his eyes closed momentarily, a sharp inhale whistling in the space between us. “I hate you for it, sometimes - having made me fall in love with you because when you do the things you did today, I panic. I would do anything to protect you but at times like this I feel so useless, helpless that I cant just take you away from every bad thing in this universe… m’ sorry for getting angry but can you blame me? I dont want to lose the only pure thing I was given the honor of loving in this godawful life”

Your lips were parted as you took in every word that left his tongue. You stood, frozen, your hands itching to reach out, touch him, show him how much his words meant to you. There seemed to be a buzzing in the air that vibrated against your skin, causing goosebumps to awake on your skin.

“You’re not joking are you?” the sentence sounded dumb the moment it entered into the space however your brain was running overdrive and it was impossible to control what slipped out.

Deans head fell back, a dry laugh tugging at his throat before he drew back, gazing at you with such disbelief. “Are you seriously asking me that?”

“No” you shook your head, your own smile gracing your face before you leaned forward; connecting your lips to his.

The kiss was soft at first, your lips only slightly pressed against his as you tested the waters yet, almost clinically Dean deepened the contact. His hands moved across the flushed flesh of your neck, trailing over the blades of your shoulders, down the hollows of your back before coming to rest on the plush fat of your hips.

His fingers tightened possessively, drawing you impossibly closer as a groan jutted against your mouth. Your own hands splayed against his chest, creasing the fabric of his shirt.

You pulled back momentarily, a string of saliva connecting the two of you before it popped, glazing your bottom lip and chin. Deans gaze darkened as he eyed the scene, barely giving you time to register what was happening before his lips were attached to the skin of your chin. He kisses up the length of your face till he reached your lips again, letting his tongue run over your bottom lip; seeking entrance.

You hummed against him, parting your lips as his tongue directly began to map out the entirety of your mouth. Your hands threaded into the hair at the nape his neck, causing a sudden moan to escape Dean. The corner of your mouth tugged up before his teeth were biting down on your swollen lips, your own moan following suit.

One of your hands delve down between the two of you, landing on the prominent bulge tenting his jeans. He hissed, his hips rutting forward; chasing the way you palmed him through the, what he now considered, inconvenient fabric of his pants.

Your movements never ceased, working in tandem with the way his lips fought against yours. Suddenly his fingers caught your wrist, pulling back your hand as he whined against your mouth.

“Ah — fuck… you gotta’ stop that, sweetheart, or i ain’t gonna last” his breath was hot against you “plus if my cock’s gotta be milked, its gonna be inside you”

Your body shuddered as his words reached your ears, your thighs clenching instinctively to try to release the pressure that was building up. Dean didn’t fail to notice your action, a cocky smirk gracing his features as he patted the underside of your thigh.

The fat of your ass jiggled as you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist as your arms linked behind his shoulders. His hands grasped at the flesh of your thighs, holding you against him as his erection subsequently rubbed against your core from outside your shorts.

His lips met yours again in another feverish kiss as he began to lead you both over to the edge of the bed. With a soft thud your back hit the sheets, the mattress creaking under the newfound weight. His body caged atop yours, his forearms resting either side of your head as his hips slotted between your legs.

He rolled his hips forward, the rough material of your shorts snagging against your underwear; eliciting a moan from your lips. “shit, dean — need you so bad”

Your words caused him to hum against you yet something seemed to snap inside him as he picked up his pace. His fingers grasped the edge of your shirt, tugging it over your head before moving to the buttons of your shorts; those being torn from your body like it was a reflex.

Once he had you stripped down, he pulled back to admire you — sprawled out on the bed, hair tossed about, chest heaving. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his adams apple bobbing as he swallowed, like he was a man starved.

“Fucking hell” he muttered under his breath before diving to the column of your neck. His lips worked overtime, sucking harshly at your already reddening skin before his tongue would soothe over his art; licking a stripe up the column of your throat.

Your head fell backwards against the pillows, allowing him more access to assault your flesh. You were already a moaning mess and he hadn’t even touched you.

His fingers skimmed up the sides of your stomach, lifting your back off the bed as he fished the bra from your chest. His lips memorized their way down your neck, leaving marks along your collarbone before he paused just above your breasts. His eyes filtered up to yours through his lashes, silently asking you for permission.

“Please — please” you begged autonomously. At your signal, he wasted no time. His hands cupped around your breasts, kneading them as his mouth sucked and devoured your hardened peaks simultaneously. His teeth grazed along your skin, your back arching off the mattress as your legs tightened around his waist.

“So beautiful” he whispered as he continued to abuse your breasts. With a harsh pop, he pulled away from your chest, pushing up to capture your lips with his. “Cant wait to taste that pretty pussy of yours, baby”

You mewled against his lips, your underwear no doubt soaked through to the point of it being transparent.

“You gonna let me taste you, sweetheart? Please, let me taste you”

You clearly came undone right then. Your nails dug into the sheets beside you as you breathlessly pleaded for him to touch you. He gave a satisfactory hum before his fingers breached the edge of your panties, toying with the lace against your plush hip.

“Pretty little thing” he purred as he moved to spread your legs, settling himself on his knees at the end of the bed.

He trailed a line of wet kisses to the inside of your thighs, his hands placed with such a forceful grip to keep your legs pried open for him. You watched him with bated breath, your lip sucked between your teeth again.

His nose skimmed along your skin as he made his way up torturously slow. His nose nudged against your clothed core as his mouth came to a pause at the edge of your underwear. His tongue darted out, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva over the lace as it soaked through to your searing flesh underneath.

His teeth grabbed the top of your panties, sliding them down your legs until you were bare in front of him. An animalistic growl tore from his chest as his eyes locked into your core; glistening in a sweetness he was dying to savour.

He tightened his hold on your thighs before roughly yanking you towards him, causing you to yelp in surprise. He huffed out a laugh, the air blowing out on your bare cunt. You shuddered, your legs closing instinctively - wrong move.

Deans fingers flexed as he forced open your thighs again, his eyes staring up at you with a fiery desire. “Do that again. I fucking dare you” he scolded, the vein in his neck popping in frustration.

You could only whine out a pathetic ‘sorry’ which seemed good enough for Dean as seconds later his tongue was pressed between your folds.

“Goddamn, baby — you gonna get me pussy drunk with how sweet you taste” an incessant spew of moans fall past your lips as he drinks you in, slurping at your cunt like its the best thing he’s ever eaten.

He hooks your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access to delve his tongue deeper, ravaging every part of you he can reach. Your heel digs into the crease of his back, a pitiful attempt at grounding yourself before you spill against his mouth.

Dean hums against you, the vibrations nearly snapping the coil that has built within your stomach. He feels your legs shake, one hand coming up to rub encouraging circles.

He pulls his mouth away; his nose, lips and chin glistening with your slick and the sight almost sends you over the edge. Instantaneously his fingers replace his absence, toying with your cunt as his thumb moves to tease at your clit.

A slew of curses are thrown into the air as you messily grab at his hand on your thigh, intertwining your fingers with his. His efforts are relentless, pumping in and out of you as you drip down his digits and create a pool on the sheets underneath.

It’s once he curls his fingers inside you that the rubber-band finally snaps and your whole body spasms around him. His fingers work you through it, swirling around your folds as he coats his hand in your release.

“God — you’re too fucking good to me, feeding me when I’ve been so hungry for you” he brings his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean as he groans in fulfillment. He licks his lips, swiping your wetness from off his chin as if he was savoring every last drop of you.

You watch him with half-lidded eyes, your lips parted as small puffs of air tear from your lungs. The sight of him licking himself clean of you has your core throbbing again, a new wave of slick coating your walls.

You push yourself onto your elbows, your hand reaching out to grasp his jaw as you bring him up to your mouth; tongues clashing together in a battle of dominance. His hips rut into the mattress, his erection boarding painful from the lack of attention.

His fingers thread into your hair, wrapping around sweat-slicked strands as he continues to wreck your lips.

“You taste that, my pretty girl? Taste how fucking good you are” he groans into your mouth, making sure to run his tongue over every inch of your gums “Need more… need to stuff your pussy full of my cock — need to fill you up”

A whine pours from your throat yet not a second is wasted as your digits tug at the hem of his shirt. In one fluid movement, the fabric is stripped from his body; his muscle’s flexing as he settles back down between you.

Your cunt tightens around air as your gaze rakes over his body, every crease and hollow is reflected under the dim lighting of the room. Involuntarily your hips rock forward, brushing against his stomach.

“Ah — shit” he curses, his eyes dropping to your trail of slick that now coats his abs. His patience is worn thin, the need to feel your gummy walls clench around him becomes too much.

Theres a brief clinking of metal and the ruffling of jeans as he relives his body of clothing. His cock springs up, slapping against his stomach as his swollen tip glistens in pre-cum.

Like a greedy child, your thumb moves to swipe over his slit before sucking it clean off your finger. A pleased hum vibrated against your throat, his cum coating your tongue like a film.

Deans cock twitched against his abdomen, pulsating red and angry as it sought to be buried deep within your heat.

His hand wraps around his length, a shuddered intake jerking his chest. He shifts his hips, bending your knees and drawing you in closer. He slaps his shaft against your cunt before sliding it through your folds, coating his member in a layer of your wetness.

You hiss, your nails digging crescent moons into your palms. His eyes float up to meet yours as he positions himself at your entrance.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” his tone is soft, genuine.

“Ive never wanted anything more than you” your words serve as reassurance; a pathetic moan escaping Deans throat as he finally sinks into you.

His pace is slow, allowing you time to adjust as your pussy sucks him in. As his balls slap against your heat, he pauses above you — the stretch of him inside you both tender yet addicting.

His fingers skim your cheek, his face lowering to pepper kisses against your skin; your temple, your nose, your eyelids before meeting your lips.

“Doin’ such a good job f’me sweetheart, taking me so well” he praises as his hips slowly rock back and forth, setting a steady rhythm.

Your walls tighten around him, a string of incoherent mumbles spewing into the humid air of your bodies. The life outside is quiet, a stark contrast to the pornographic sloshing of his cock as it squelches in your juices.

Deans eyes fall to where he rocks in and out of you, his cock disappearing between your folds before emerging lathered in your wetness.

“Thats it baby, keeping suckin’ me in — fuck, you feel so good” his pace is becoming dreadfully slow, your body craves to feel every inch of him as he utterly destroys you

“Need you to go faster, Dean” you mewl, fingers curling around his bicep as if you could pull him to go harder.

Immediately his hips snapped forward, sheathing himself fully inside you before pumping in and out at a brutal rate. The fat of your ass rippled relentlessly, your breasts bouncing in sync as he continued to batter your cunt.

Your head lolled back, back subconsciously arching off the bed to take him deeper, feel every vein as it brushes your cervix. His hands shoot to your waist, holding down your body to angle himself just right as he reaches that spongy flesh.

You cry out, everything seemingly becoming too much as his tip kisses and teases that knot forming in your belly.

Dean only growls as your walls flutter around him, arms flexing as he tries to fight back his own simmering release.

“Could stay buried within’ your sweet little pussy all day” his hips stutter briefly “S’ like you were made for me — you’re the only thing i did right”

His name leaves your lips in a breathless chant; a warning. You can feel the knot tightening in your stomach — his length antagonizing you, testing how long you would be able to last.

You try to claw at the mattress, attempting to break away as the sensation overwhelms you but he holds you close. His body comes to encase yours, forearms resting beside your head as his lips dip to the shell of your ear.

“You’re so fucking perfect, too innocent for this world” his teeth nip at your earlobe, hot breath tickling the skin of your neck.

His words were ironic given your current state; cheeks glossed with tears of pleasure, lips swole and bitten, his cock pumping in and out of your tight hole as the only sounds filling the room were that of your lewd moans and his balls spanking against the flesh of your ass.

“Ive got you, pretty girl” at his signal the heat in your belly boiled over, body spasming under him as your ears rang and vision turned bleary.

Through your haze you barely made out the approval of his words, his voice strained and low; “Look at you, creamin’ around my cock”

He worked you through your high, pace keeping steady before he suddenly pulled out; thick ropes of cum painting your puffy cunt. Your walls clenched at the empty feeling, already missing having him make you feel so full.

His fingers glided through your folds, pinching your clit and eliciting a sensitive whine from you. He lathered up a mixture of both his and your release before stuffing his fingers inside you, making sure nothing went to waste.

His fingers pulled out with a squelch before he brought them up your lips, nudging at your mouth. You enclosed around his digits, tongue swirling over the tops of his fingers as you drank down the last of both your releases.

He placed a gentle kiss atop your temple before capturing your mouth with his.

“You did so well, love — you okay?” his eyebrows knitted together as he examined your worn out state. You could barely muster a nod in response, your legs still shaking and chest still heaving from the aftermath.

Dean patted the outside of your thigh before he was off the bed and disappearing into the bathroom. He returned only moments later, a damp towel in hand as he clambered back over to you.

He delicately spread your legs, pressing the towel along the inside of your thighs and over your core as he worked to clean the sticky mess of your body. Your teeth ground together as he drew along your tender flesh.

“Sorry, pretty lady, but i gotta get you cleaned up” he murmured, tossing the soiled towel to the side as he finished.

He helped lift your hips from off the sheets, gliding your bare form underneath the warmth as he slid in next to you. His arm wound its away around your waist, drawing you in as your head perched against his chest; the steading beat of his heart pounding into your ear.

He left a kiss to the top of your hairline, his lips resting on your slightly sweaty and flushed skin. Your fingers skimmed along his chest, tracing along the lines of the tattoo inked into his body.

A comfortable silence blanketed the two of you before your quiet voice broke the air: “I know i didn’t say it before but I love you too, Dean —”

“You dont gotta say anything, sweetheart… havin’ you here’s enough for me” he cut you off, hold tightening around your waist.

“But i want to” your chin perched upon his shoulder, eyes peering up at him through thick lashes. “I dont want you to think you’re alone in this, Dean because i feel the exact same way… I always have, I was just scared of ruining whatever we had”

He scoffed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Baby, if i ever rejected you, id damn sure have lost my mind”

a/n: idk what i just wrote

© dividers by cafekitsune

[porcalinecunt]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 ‘𝐄𝐌 𝐔𝐏!

🎀 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ wondered what boothill has that lasso for . . ♡

·˚ ◌༘͙[featuring] ! ˊ 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐗 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

cw — ftm!reader. mean dom!boothill. crossdressing. bondage. fingering. (reluctant) praising. dumbification. squirting.

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ author’s note! : boothill brainrot has me going hogwild for him hmmphmmammm. my last post abt him has been popping off lately, i hear your cries boothill nation and i'm here to serve! enjoy ~♡

“quit whinin’ boy, will ya?” 

he rasped, swallowing another bullet. the taste of lead spread in his mouth, crunching noises from the ground up ammo made you flinch a bit. 

your wispy gown was bunched up to your thighs, held in place with the rope he uses as a lasso outside of the bedroom. every curve was shown in it’s full glory, soft flesh suffocated from the harsh material. you sat on your knees with your wrists tied tightly behind your back, rendering you helpless as you couldn’t even close your legs. you could only watch helplessly as the ranger pumped his metal fingers in and out of your soaked cunny. his cold palm pressed up against your clit, overwhelming you with an electrifying friction no other man could give you. 

“mm..b-boothi–” 

smack!

you flinched as your thighs instinctively tried to press themselves shut, much to the amusement of your robotic boyfriend. a shit eating grin spread across his lips, flashing his shark-like teeth. 

“what did i say baby..? too cute to understand now?” 

the bullet between his teeth moved up and down, his speech slightly glitched at the very term ‘cute’. if only he could spit out what he really ment, but then again, his sarcastic tone dripping with faux sympathy spoke volumes. boothill was a sweetheart at his metal core, but if you asked so nicely, he might flick his own switch just to see you fall apart at his touch. you were too adorable to turn down. 

you shook your head, syrupy eyes stared back into his bloodshot ones. a silent beg for release, added on by your impatient grinding. two teasing fingers were no longer enough for you, no, you needed him to do his absolute worst. fucking you while bound like the good little minx you were for the hunk of steel. to hear his annoyed tone forced to say sweet nothing while his body said otherwise. maybe, he might get the gun involved. none of it mattered. 

through mindless babbles and high pitched whines, you pleaded for more. the ranger’s eyes flicked up towards your fucked out face as he swallowed the last bullet. you were pulled forwards by the rope, forced to face boothill’s mean grin. 

“use your words doll.” 

you tried, you really did, but whatever you wanted couldn’t come out right. almost like you short circuited, spitting out all of your desires. from him fingerblasting you ‘till you soaked his whole forearm to being stuffed to the brim by his synthetic cock, his ridiculous girth stretching your cunny till you cry. as you begged, his fingers quicked until the noises were too loud to even hear him praise you in your ear. you cracked your eyes open and almost orgasmed at what was being done to you. three fingers pumping themselves in and out of you, with boothill using the strength from his forearm to dig himself deeper until he touched your cervix. your thighs shook violently, shifting the rope to reveal the marks it’s already left on your soft flesh. you were close, and he could tell so easily. the way you clenched around his fingers to how quickly your moans subsided into lewd silence was made so stupidly obvious. 

“nasty one aren’t ya? y’gonna cum already?” 

he chuckled, nipping your earlobe as the final knots in your stomach finally snapped. tugging onto his leather vest, you came and came hard. your vision blurred and your legs went numb while you sobbed out in both shock and pleasure. boothill drank up the view in front of him, his pretty baby fucked out and dumber then a lost trotter. your once flawless sundress now ruined at the bottom with the top slipping off of your shoulders. of course, the rope that’s definitely gonna leave some lasting marks, which is exactly what he wanted. 

after all, you’ll come running back with it in hand the moment they fade. ♡

© porcalinecunt 💌 ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[thesunloveschips]

Obsessed - Part 2 (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Y/n gets even more horny. Meanwhile, Azriel is horny, obsessed, and is busy taking notes for their future home.

A/n: Comment if you want to be a part of the taglist because this is going to be a series!!

Warnings: reader's fantasies, Azriel's forearms, Azriel's fingers, Azriel's hands, Azriel's fantasies, too many thoughts about sex, Azriel being more delusional than reader.

Click here for Obsessed (Masterlist)

****

Y/n did not understand how she did not faint when Azriel rolled up his sleeves when the meals were served in the flight because what in the everloving fuck were those forearms made of? 

They were so huge and thick and veiny and she wanted that hand on her throat. 

Why wouldn’t she?

She was a reasonable and prudent woman after all. 

“Y/n?” Azriel called. 

She smiled sheepishly. “Got lost in my head for a while.” 

He smiled faintly and Y/n felt lighter as if he soul was ready to leave her body. This man should stop being so handsome for the sake of her sanity. 

“Your meal.” He motioned his head and she looked down at the tray that he had settled while she was busy drooling over his forearms. 

“Thank you.” She smiled at him. And Azriel nodded. Y/n rolled up her sleeves, tied her hair quickly, and they began eating. 

From the corner of her sight, she saw Azriel’s hands as they did something extraordinary. 

He used the knife to spread butter.

Y/n suddenly found that she was quite similar to that butter. 

Because the way she would spread for this man was no joke . 

And. . .

And. . . 

And. . . his fingers had tattoos. 

Gods, she could imagine how he’d fuck here with his fingers. 

They were long fingers and he had large hands and Y/n could picture herself riding his fingers, begging for his cock and his mouth near her ear, whispering dirty promises. 

She’d beg. She could imagine herself being shameless, begging him to fuck her so hard she’d cry and bite the pillow. 

Y/n looked at her own butter and felt her cheeks warm up. She was ready to combust. 

Sadly, he was spreading the butter and not her. Not that he’d have to put in any effort. She’d spread for him all on her own. 

She was sitting next to the sexiest man she’d ever seen and he was determined to be so kind and friendly. 

She was wet and going to the washroom repeatedly to change panty liners was going to make it seem like she had some other kind of problem. 

She couldn’t even call up Nesta even if she went to the bathroom because. . . why was she  even in an aeroplane? 

Y/n was this close to having a nosebleed like an anime character. 

She was a pervert and there was no denying it. Not when this man was sitting right next to her.

Being delusional with Nesta after reading a lot of smut definitely gave her mental peace. 

If she fainted, would Azriel carry her in those huge, strong arms? If he did, she’d probably get up, see his handsome face, and faint again. 

****

The flight was very nice. Azriel enjoyed a nice conversation with Y/n before their meal. After that, it did not take her too long to fall asleep. 

Her head was against the window of the plane and he did not like that one bit. 

Offended, Azriel carefully brought her head and made it lean against his arm. He sat back, proud of himself for supporting Y/n like this. 

He wrapped his blazer over her. She let out a sleep-laced hum and clutched his arm. 

Yes. 

She was now clutching his arm like this. 

Soon, she’d hold his arm at their wedding. 

And she’d leave nail scratches on his arms when he fucked her senseless. 

Something soft was against his arm. He looked at her, trying not to seem like a pervert but then he saw her breasts pressed against his arm. 

Oh. 

Yes.

The same breasts he’d fondle and suck. 

Which would bounce as she rode him like the goddess she was. 

His future wife and his future pillows.

Yes. 

Life was sorted. 

****

It was one thing to meet him. Another to have enough time to properly make his acquaintance. Another to be in the same flight. 

As they headed to collect their baggage and when Y/n discovered that Azriel would reside in the same building as her, she really couldn’t believe it.

Was this really fate or something like it? 

Drawing them closer and closer?

Was it her destiny to have her fantasies of this man fulfilled?

Y/n really needed to call Nesta and scream about this. So she made an excuse about needing the washroom. She quickly texted her best friend when the bitch had the audacity to not pick up her calls.

Y/n: Met the hot guy from the club at the airport. We had breakfast. Same flight and seated next to each other. And he’ll be living in the same building for the duration of his business trip. 

Nesta was not even online. Y/n quickly pocketed her phone and left the washroom. Azriel was waiting for her, looking so handsome and graceful and immaculate as though an early morning flight did not tire him out. 

She took a few seconds to admire him from a distance before walking over. But before she reached him, a woman had walked over and started talking to him. 

Azriel watched the woman impassively, said something, and resumed looking at his phone. The woman walked away dejectedly and Y/n guessed she must’ve asked him for his number.

Curiosity made her ask. “Do you know that woman?”

He replied, still tapping away a message to someone. “I’ve never met that woman in my life. My car is here. How will you commute?” 

“She seemed a little upset. I’ll probably book a cab.”  

“I refused to give her my phone number.” He paused to ponder and then looked at her very seriously. “Come with me, Y/n.”

“What?” She sputtered. Y/n was more than ready to come on his cock or mouth or fingers. 

“We have the same destination. Come with me. My car is already here.” Oh. His car. Okay. 

“Oh. Um. If it’s all right then I’ll take you up on that offer. Thank you.” She cheered herself at being able to spend more time with Azriel. 

“Why wouldn’t it be all right?” He took her ridiculously large trolley and looked at her, ready to exit the airport.

“It’s your business trip. I’m assuming the office sent that car.” Y/n took his smaller sized trolley instead, glaring at him when he extended a hand to take that too. “At least, let me take this.”

Azriel nodded, his features softening. 

She then continued. “So it’s for official purposes. Not for personal use.”

“I’ll handle it if anything comes. You need not worry about anything.” 

Y/n felt fluttery. Had  she wanted to hear those words in another context? Especially after how her life has turned into a shit show right after she’d finished her bachelors? 

And Azriel had said that so naturally. As if he would handle anything and free her from worries. 

Gods, she’d cry then and there. 

Y/n closed her eyes and smiled softly. “All right. Thank you.”

“You tell me if you have any problems. We’re neighbours. We’ll navigate the new city together. All right? That means you rely on me. Okay?” He looked at her seriously. 

And she found it charming that he’d ask such a thing. “Doesn’t that mean you rely on me too?”

“If you’d let me.” They reached the car and the sight of Azriel lifting that ridiculously heavy suitcase like it was nothing drove her crazy. 

“Of course, you can. I make good food. And I’m great company if you ever want to just sit down and enjoy the silence.” He opened the door for her. Once Y/n was all settled in the car, he closed the door and entered from the other side.

Azriel turned to the driver and gave him the address and then turned his head to look at her. “People usually don’t advertise their company to enjoy the silence. I’ve heard them do that for talking or going out.” 

“Well, I don't go out much. And I’m not always talkative. So, silences. . . are a necessity.”

“Yes.” He paused and looked at her face thoughtfully. “Thank you.” He smiled. 

Y/n smiled back and looked at the window as naturally as she could pretend because this man seriously needed to give her a break from his perfect face. 

Why was he smiling? Why was he so handsome? She would’ve probably choked on her food if she were eating. 

****

This was becoming a problem. It wasn’t the first time someone had approached him for his number. But now that he’d met Y/n, he had to do something.

And then the solution struck him as he saw Y/n returning to him from her trip to the washrooms.

He needed to marry Y/n so that he’d have a wedding band for people to see and back off. 

Yes. The solution was so simple. 

Now that he thought of it, a lot of things would be sorted if he married Y/n. 

Now, how was he to move forward with that? 

“Azriel?” He wanted her voice to be a constant in his life. The way she said his name.

He’d learnt a lot about her by talking to her than any report could ever tell him. Appreciating silences was not something that could be reported. 

Yes.

Y/n was perfect. 

Now, how soon could he reveal to her that he was hers and she was his and give legitimacy to this by marriage? 

****

They’d reached the building and received the keys from the security guard. And their flat was opposite each other’s. 

Coincidence?

Azriel would spit at the idea. 

There was nothing such as fate or coincidence. It was all about who picked up their lives and wrote the script. There would be unavoidable factors but how he responded to them was well within his control. 

Azriel had picked up his script and written his fate. And signed the sale deed to this building. 

Now that they reached their floor, Y/n looked at their doors and then at him. “We’re neighbours.” She sounded relieved. 

“Yes.” Of course they were neighbours. He ensured that much.

“Thank you.” She turned to him and Azriel was now truly confused. “I’m glad I know someone in this new city. It’s an additional bonus to be neighbours. I might disturb you sometimes.”

Azriel had bought this building to be close to her. Being wanted and needed by Y/n was his real objective. 

He looked at the walnut door behind Y/n. It was a nice door. Looked sturdy enough to not break while he fucked his woman against it. 

“Do you want to go grocery shopping later?” He asked. It was pathetic how he wanted her as close as possible because being her neighbour wasn’t nearly enough.

“Yeah.” And then she yawned. He had half a mind to hoist her and put her to bed himself. “I’ll meet you in a couple of hours?” 

“Of course.” He chuckled. “Here’s my number.” Azriel handed her a card. A fake visiting card he’d gotten printed so that she wouldn’t know he didn’t simply work at Umbra. 

“Is WhatsApp convenient?”

“Yes.” And they parted ways. 

Azriel looked at his apartment. It was not as fancy as the accommodations he’d gotten used to after taking over Umbra but definitely better than what the illegitimate bastard had from birth to college. 

He pulled out a notepad and a pen and began thoroughly inspecting the apartment. 

The walls were a serene pale blue. As he’d asked, his apartment had simple and elegant furnishing. His own room was painted navy blue. 

He’d soon pay Y/n a visit and check if everything in her apartment was perfect. And if it wasn’t then the interior designer and the cleaners had him to answer to. 

His bathroom was good. The washbasin and the mirror looked like yet another place he’d fuck her at. The shower cubicle was a little compact for both of them but the tub was a masterpiece.

He noted the size of the cubicle as something he’d need to remedy for when they purchased their home in the future. 

Azriel could picture it as he positioned Y/n on all fours. How he’d tease her with his cock, and enter her with enough force that would push her body. 

He frowned. 

Azriel walked over and inspected the size of the tub and its attachment to the walls. there was a huge chance of Y/n hitting her head against the wall or her head being pushed into the water in the tub. He noted that. 

The tub was very conveniently placed next to a window. He looked out and a more domestic vision came to mind. 

Azriel and Y/n, a bubble bath, two glasses of wine, scented candles, and a conversation about how their respective days had been. 

Yes. 

And maybe they’d make sweet love here, with her riding him, kissing the side of his neck and face, whimpering and moaning softly. And then he’d grab her ass and pull her back down on his cock. 

The windowsill was all right. One of them could sit there as the other went down on them but the edge of it did not seem comfortable. Another point to be noted. 

And so, Azriel went ahead and noted everything that he’d have to keep in mind for renovation purposes. 

His phone rang and he picked it up. He’d asked his secretary to purchase yet another something and they went over the details before he gave his approval.  

****

They went to the nearest supermarket as planned and ended up dining outside since neither of them wanted to make any food after a day of travel. 

“Why’d you come so early if your classes begin after four days?” It would seem to any normal person that he was making polite conversation with a tinge of curiosity. 

But Azriel was actually trying to get information about her travel preferences and choices so that he’d customise their future travels accordingly. 

He personally had no work in this country because he could work Umbra from any part of the world with a stable internet connection.

“It’s a little quirk of mine.” Y/n began. Azriel was now intensely interested. “When I go to other places, I go a couple of days early so that I’ll have time to settle in. The only exception is probably a holiday.” 

He took a sip of his wine and waited for her to continue. “Like if my classes begin on Monday, I prefer to reach by Friday or Saturday so I’ll have enough time to settle down in my accommodation, clean, arrange my things, go grocery shopping, and so on. So by the time Monday comes, I’m not worrying over where the things are or what am I going to eat or anything like that.”

Ah, yes. 

His Y/n was a practical woman. 

They’d be entering a very happy marriage. 

They’d raise good children like this. 

He suddenly felt a dash of pride at not just Y/n but also for himself. He’d not wasted a moment in getting to know this woman. 

Who knows what he’d have done if he did the foolish thing of mistaking her to be a random passerby? 

Probably rot around with no purpose in life. 

His mother could rest easy. 

After all, he’d found the object of his greatest obsession and darkest desires. 

****

It had been three days since Azriel had properly spent time with Y/n. He was beginning to feel like he had no purpose in this world. 

If he texted or called her, he’d come off as a desperate man with no other work to do than begging for her presence, which he was.

But he had to pretend like he had some dignity before he slowly revealed his real self to her. 

Y/n was a strong woman. Her choices in life proved it. He’d read a comprehensive report about everything related to her. 

The lowlife who once had the rare fortune of being her boyfriend and was stupid enough to hurt her was now caught up in a case of tax evasion. How sad. Moving on.

Azriel looked at the sky and sighed. He could work, read novels, go to the gym, or do anything but. . . where was his Y/n? 

And then a thought struck him.

Had Y/n already considered him someone to keep a distance from? He began analysing their every interaction and couldn’t come up with anything.

He’d always made the impression that he was a reliable, financially well-off, responsible man. 

Or was it that she wasn’t attracted to him? 

Y/n’s choices in men were sadly very poor but none of them compared to him in terms of face or body. 

Wait. . . did she prefer mediocre men with toxic behaviour?

That wouldn’t do. 

His plan was to slowly reveal his real self to her. Being the worst version of himself right from the beginning would scare her. 

Y/n had to know who he was but she also had to know what he felt for her and what he would do for her. As for what he wouldn’t do, such a thing probably did not exist. 

She had to know that she’d be his priority—over his anger, his ego, his pride, his wealth, his life, and. . . what else was there? Basically everything else. 

Azriel ran a hand through his hair and sighed. The sound of the doorbell brought him back to reality. He marched over and opened the door to reveal Y/n with a bowl of lasagna in her hand. 

“May I come in?” What was an apartment when she’d entered his life and engraved her ownership on every inch of his being.

“Yes.” He managed to soften his voice but maybe not his expression because she looked worried as she looked at his face.

“I’m so sorry for not contacting you these three days.” She swiftly began and thrusted the lasagna into his hand. “I was studying and cleaning and I lost track of time and I hope this. . . I mean, I make good food so this is my best. . . My best dish.” 

Y/n was apologetic and embarrassed at the same time. And obviously, like any rational, prudent, sensible man, he found her endearing. 

“Come in, Y/n.” She entered the apartment and he closed the door.

****

[perzawa]

Toji with lactation kink with his young wife

warnings/tags! lactation, pregnant sex, reader is female and pregnant, riding, toji drinks breast milk… LMAO

ani’s note: this ask just reawakened something in me that i forgot i liked lmfao. also!! my asks are open so send more if you’d like!!

“c’mon, don’t be like that,” toji huffed as you began squirming away from his touch. he couldn’t help himself when his saw how fat and round your breasts had become from carrying his child.

“told you it feels weird when you do that,” you protested, grabbing hold of his forearm and stopping him from twisting your nipple. “if you don’t stop, i’ll get up right now.”

he knew you were only bluffing. since you’d gotten pregnant, your entire body became sensitive and starved just for him. there was no getting you off of his cock. he groaned softly, snatching his wrist away from your weak grip and instead, holding your hips. “just wanna see it, baby. let me taste it once, ‘k? one time and i’ll stop.” he slowly bounced you up and down, your pussy creaming around the base of his cock.

without even granting him permission, his hands were back on your tits, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipple in his search for your milk. his mouth began to suck, not even caring about your whines or how overstimulated you were. you continued to lift yourself up to the best of your ability, biting your lip hard as you felt him drag against your sensitive walls.

“so good, right?” he asked after pulling away for a second before going right back to it. your fingers curled in his raven locks as you chased your orgasm, the feeling of him twitching inside you and the sensation of his teeth grazing against your nipple sending you into a frenzy.

toji groaned as your milky tits finally gave into his demands, your liquid coating his tongue white. he continued to suck for a moment before pulling away and pressing those same lips against yours. he tilted his head, his tongue swiping your bottom lip, inviting you to taste yourself. it was almost sinful how good it was feeling.

“so sweet. so fucking sweet, baby,” he groaned after pulling away, leaning back in order to angle his thrusts deeper inside of you. this pushed you over the edge, causing your thighs to tremble as you came hard, coating his cock white. “gonna - fuck, gonna breed you all over again, yeah? is that okay?” he wasn’t looking for permission. not really, at least.

toji pushed down hair out of his face as he pounded up into you, grunting and swearing until his balls tightened and he pumped you full again. the two of you were pressed against each other, panting. he kissed your neck and shoulder softly, looking down at your tits that were still oozing milk, serving as a reminder of what he’d done to your body. a reminder that you were his.

[daryldixonswoman]

MDNI

Era: Quarry, established relationship

Warning: Porn without plot, grumpy pent up Daryl. Unprotected p in v-wear protection folks. I woke up thinking about this I had to write it down. Help me, I need this man like I need water 🥵

Life had changed quickly. It felt like only yesterday you and Daryl were cozied up in a cabin along the mountains, away from his brother, away from the world. He'd come back from a day of hunting, usually with different game. You'd cook the food and serve your man and he'd make sure to satisfy you after, long into the night. You loved your simple life with Daryl, he was less stressed and grumpy. But alas you had found yourselves in the apocalypse, surrounded by strangers. Strangers who would give Daryl and Merle funny looks, quietly snickering to eachother. He was out hunting again most days as Merle just sat by his tent getting drunk. You felt like you hadn't had a moment alone with your man and your body began to notice. You were craving him, a hot fire consuming your body. He was sitting on one of the rocks by the water sharpening his knives, a pissed off look on his face as he noticed a few members of the group staring at him before quickly looking away as they got caught. Daryl scoffed returning his focus back to his knives. You take a seat next to him. His natural musk filling your nostrils instantly. You go to touch his forearm and he shrugs you off never letting his gaze leave his knives. You knew he was pent up but he was so focused on survival, you knew he wasn't be selfish but god did you miss him.

Y/N: "Daryl" you pout

He looks at you briefly before looking away

You sit closer next to him, your body craving his touch, anything. A quiet whimper escapes your lips as your eyes grew misty. You weren't sad, you were just overwhelmed with the need for him. You weren't sure if it was because you and Daryl hadn't had time alone in over a month or that he took on a new protective role but you needed him.

Daryl looks through his brows at the group, they were a fair bit away as they had made their own little set up by the RV. You could see him chewing his bottom lip, his breathing becoming a little heavier.

Y/N: "Daryl" you repeat, more with a quiet pleading tone which made him look at you. You couldn't read his expression at first as he stared at you. His face was red and his nostrils flared.

Daryl: "Dammit woman" he gruffed stabbing his knives into the dirt as he grabbed your forearm harshly pulling you along with him. You almost stumbled over a root but you were just so excited to finally have his attention. You'd follow him blindly anywhere.

He pushes you up against a giant rock face by the water, away from the judging eyes of the others. His arms incasing you as he studies your face, you could swear he was sniffing you, breathing you in.

Daryl: "Can't gimme a damn minute huh need my attention tha' badly?" He growls his nose and lips grazing over your neck ever so slightly.

You couldn't form words, couldn't string a sentence together even if you wanted to. You felt you would buckle under his gaze.

Y/N: "Need you..please" you plead, embarrassed you had tears in your eyes

Daryl: "Cravin' ma cock?" He asks lowly into your ear as he pushes his hard length against you

You squeak. You didn't know if it was because you hadn't had him in so long but he felt bigger, harder. You squeeze your legs together, desperate for any relief.

Y/N: "Can't help it, my body needs you Dar" you pant as you feel him unbutton your jeans and pulling them to your thighs. He takes a quick scan of the area before turning you around. Feeling your plush ass against his throbbing cock

Daryl: "Don't make a sound" he orders lowly pushing roughly into you.

You moan accidentally placing your hands on the rock as your body is pushed up hard against it.

Daryl: "Goddammit woman" Daryl pants placing a hand over your mouth. He grips your hip, his mouth placed on your neck in a desperate need to claim you. Feeling your tight pussy strangle his cock as he pushes harder and faster into you. You consume his senses. He is lost inside you. Your eyes quickly roll back as your pussy tries to adjust to his girth but Daryl is fucking you into the rock. He teeth leaving delicious marks on your neck, his hand sure to leave bruises on your hip. You moan behind his hand, thankfully most of the noise being masked. You could feel your juices drip, pool around the base of his cock. Daryl become ferocious inside you, he hadn't realised how feral he was feeling so focused on keeping you alive. You push back slightly feeling you climax cumming on as you needed him to brush against your cervix. Daryl's cock twitching inside you, feeling how much you needed him. He came inside you. Thick ropes of cum shooting straight into your womb. You almost blacked out from pleasure Daryl having to hold you closely against him, panting in your ear like a damn beast. After a moment he pulls out his soaked cock and turns you around. You still felt shy under his gaze at times although you'd been together for years but he was gorgeous, especially when he was sweating after giving you the ride of your life. He pulls your trousers up, looking a little guilty.

Daryl: "M'sorry, jus tryna focus on all this bullshit" he apologises referring to the apocalypse

You hated him looking so guilty, he hadn't done anything wrong. You place a hand on his cheek, pecking him softly against the lips as he tugs on the sides of your shirt

Y/N: "You don't have to apologise Daryl, not to me..but when you're being the hero just don't forget about me" you reply with a soft smile, glowing from satisfaction

Daryl: "Never, ma woman hmm?" Daryl asks shyly already knowing the answer

Y/N: "Always"

[user211201]

Listen Up: Swimmer

--- Originally posted on 2021-04-21 by newyoutf ---

Jon twisted back and forth under the showerhead, singing along to the music blasting from his phone on the counter.

The music lowered in volume for a second, making way for two loud dings. Jon reached out from the stream of water and fumbled with the screen in his wet hands. It was a message from Oliver, his best friend, “Hey bro, got something you should listen to.”

“Bro?” Jon wondered. Since when did Oliver say “bro”? Jon blinked, struggling to think for a moment. Oliver talked like that all the time, he was American after all... wasn’t he?

Attached to the message was an audio file. Jon figured it must have been a new song by one of the pair’s favorite pop divas, perhaps a new leaked track. Jon hit the play button, placed the phone back down, and returned to the hot water.

A harsh static buzz and what sounded like garbled speech boomed from the phone, taking Jon by surprise. The corrupted audio cleared up after a moment and a deep, male voice started.

“Welcome. This audio program is custom designed. Just for you. Ensure you are in a comfortable, private place. You will not want to be disturbed.”

“Oliver,” Jon rolled his eyes, thinking that surely something starting this ridiculous would be some sort of joke or meme. After all, Oliver had always been a dumb joker. “Wait,” Jon felt confused, he could have sworn Oliver was a quiet, twinky lad like himself?

Jon realized couldn’t form a solid impression of his friend in his mind. They met at their university in London and became best friends, bonding over their mutual love of pop music and ogling the campus jocks. But now it was like that reality had been shattered. Those memories gave way for ones of meeting each other at the campus gym shortly after Oliver arrived from the US. Oliver was his best, hot, American friend, right? Jon’s cock twitched at the new image of his friend as he placed his face under the stream of hot water in an attempt to clear his head.

“Relax. Take a deep breath, in and out.”

Jon unwittingly followed the instructions. The frown fell from his face and his body relaxed, taking in the warmth of the water.

“You’re Oliver's best friend. Makes sense, given you’re a total alpha too.”

“Both wha- ah! Ah!”, Jon planted his hands against the wet, tiled wall as the words sent pleasure rippling through his body. He looked down feeling a strong warmth against his leg but it wasn’t the hot water. His semi-hard cock had blasted a rope of cum against his leg. “What the fuck?” Jon mumbled.

“What a coincidence that you’re both six-foot-four. It serves him well in the gym, the same way it serves you well in the water.”

Jon howled in ecstasy, spluttering and moaning, as his five-foot-nine body stretched higher. His soft cock drooled hot cum as it rapidly began to rise. His arms pushed against the wall, lengthening for better performance in the pool. He stepped backward as his head struck the showerhead and rose even higher. Hot water poured down the front of his much longer torso and legs.

“Your shoulders are so broad. Typical of you swimming jocks.”

Unable to resist the command, Jon's shoulders crunched and throbbed, thrusting out larger and bulging with muscle. “God! W- What the fuck i- is... ugh... happening?!” he roared, terrified not just by the growth gripping his body, but the incredible pleasure it wrought on him.

“Those are some long, meaty fucking arms, Jon.”

“F- fuck!” Jon roared, spraying a massive load up the back of the shower feeling his narrow arms explode with thick mounds of muscle, rippling across his biceps and triceps. The growth spread down his arms, his forearms bloating with tight, lean muscle. His wrists cracked as they thickened.

“Hands that big must be useful for pushing through the water.”

Stifled screams rumbled from Jon’s tightly clenched mouth. His hands were pressed against the back of the shower, clicking and twitching as they began to swell across the tiles. The fingers accelerated longer and longer. His palms spread monstrously broad. He flexed his hands, in total awe of their disproportionate size; perfect for pushing through the water.

The experience was like nothing Jon ever felt. A sexual eruption taking place across every cell as the words rewrote his body. “Can’t... resist... so g- good,” Jon grunted, gasping for air.

“You clearly work out for the aesthetics as well, not just the pool. Your shredded chest is proof of that.”

Jon couldn’t even attempt to fight anymore, but nor did he want to. His chest puffed and bulged, distorting the path of the water running across it. The previously non-existent pecs pushed outward from his widening chest. His cock trembled as the changes took hold in his abdomen, causing his flat stomach to erupt with tight, thick abs. Jon gripped his ass, feeling it swell into his huge hands while he erupted cum across the tiles once more.

*“That’s the spirit, Jon. You’re a *stud.”

Jon felt those words echo in his ears and rumble down his throat. Grunts and pants became deeper and deeper as his thickened and voice morphed. His head groaned as it enlarged to fit his frame. Hair began to flourish out of his cheeks and across his upper lip while the mop of medium-length hair on his head retreated, leaving a short, handsome cut in its place. He stroked his cock with one hand and clasped his face with the other feeling his jawline refine and the angles of his face sharpen. He turned to the mirror cabinet, seeing just a sliver of his improved visage. Jon gasped at the sight and immediately ejected another load of cum.

He didn’t just look like a swole swimming jock. He felt like one too. He rejoiced in his mind being filled with thoughts of the pool, weightlifting, spotting his bros at the gym, and fucking them afterward.

“Good to see the bottom half matches the top.”

Jon’s legs trembled. He clutched the slippery tiles harder to hold himself up, the pleasure reverberating through his legs almost too much to bear. Muscles spasmed in his calves, swelling with every little twitch. Muscle wasn’t all that was gracing his legs. Dark hair grew forth from the skin, coating his powerful legs in a layer of fur. Jon swore under his breath, impressed by the hair spreading up and down his legs. He thought about how he refused to shave like other swimmers, he liked the hair, and regardless his superior form needed no extra boost. His body responded to the suggestion, triggering a fine layer of hair to sprout from his forearms, between his pecs, in a trail over his abs and across the tops of his feet.

Memories of the pool, the beach, and victories across university swimming tournaments swarmed his brain. Trophies and medals materialized in the bedroom just next to where he was showering.

“Damn, it’s no surprise you outperform everyone in the water with feet that massive. And you know what they say about that, Jon.”

Every one of the toes on Jon’s size eight feet surged with pleasure. He moaned loudly as they began to push across the floor of the shower while his soles stretched to catch up. He recalled new memories of having large feet, how they propelled him to victory in the pool, and the comments people would make: “Bigfoot”, “You know what they say...”, “Where can you even buy size sixteens?”

“Sixteen?!” he repeated in his mind. The brief shock turned to anticipation as he felt his soles continue to march forward longer and wider, his toes twitching while they reshaped long and meaty. Jon growled aloud as he expelled another load, “God, yeah... so f- fucking... big.”

The jock trembled under the stream of hot water, desperate for sexual release. He looked down as the expanding feet settled into excessively large size sixteens, curling his long toes as his six-inch cock began to quiver in its desperation to grow larger as well. It felt as though it were perpetually hardening, only to then push longer and girthier instead. Jon grasped his wet cock and thrust into his grip hard and repeatedly. He relished in the sensation of the veins bulging and the shaft thickening.

*“I guess what they say really is true, isn’t *it?”

The audio toyed with him, pushing his cock just that little bit longer and pumping it ever so slightly thicker. It pulsed and twitched, gradually and slowly with every breath. His uncut, British foreskin slid further backward, as a larger, blunter head swelled outward. Jon smirked as he groaned and growled, stroking faster and faster, enthralled by the beautiful nine-inch weapon he now possessed.

“Cum.”

“Oh yeah! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Jon made three final long, hard tugs on his thick pole before roaring in delight as unspeakable ecstasy filled him. Cum rocketed upward against the water rushing from the showerhead, ejecting what remained of Jon’s old genetic material while orgasm after orgasm pounded his body.

Exhausted and dripping wet, he stepped slowly out of the tub, unsteady on his new legs and feet.

*“Remember to share this recording with your friends*.”

And with that, the playback stopped. Jon looked at himself in the mirror, still shocked, but enraptured with his new body and looks. He grabbed his phone and wiped the water from the screen, struggling to unlock it with his longer fingers. He typed out a reply to Oliver, “That shit was fucking lit mate!”

A few miles away, a sweaty Oliver was busy lifting weights, waiting for his friend to give him some indication that something had happened. He had to place the weight down slowly as his mind blurred for a moment. He saw the images and memories that he had of his friend change and shift. Gone were the images of a quiet little twink, replaced by those of a loud, masculine swimming jock. Oliver smiled cockily realizing what had just happened. Then, as if on cue, his phone vibrated with Jon’s reply. Following was a photo of a huge, semi-hard cock swinging above two gargantuan feet. Oliver felt his own cock stiffen slightly at the image.

“Hell yeah, bro! You should be selling these pics like I do,” Oliver sent in response, getting a deep chuckle out of Jon.

Both men now looked at their phones, horny and pondering who next to share the mysterious audio file with.

[bunnys-kisses]

hello bunny! Can I please request cinnamon rolls with a side of coffee for Oscar? Tyyyy <3

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i have been working hard on these orders to serve up smiles for my readers! so thank you for submitting this order! i love the combo you chose, especially with oscar and the rivals au! so thank you, thank you!

cinnamon rolls ("no one needs to know") + coffee (rivals au) served by oscar piastri (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, rivals au, secret relationship, living room sex, marriage, pull-out method (be safe)!,

it started with you visiting oscar in england. you thought he was stupid to live in rainy england, instead of sunny monaco. but, regardless, during off time, you went to visit him.

sometimes you brought lando along, and the three of you hung out together. but for the summer break in the 2024 season, you went alone. more than happy to visit your colleague? friend? the closest thing to call oscar would probably be rival. and lover.

you had been visiting for a day so far, and already you were barely wearing any clothes. or when you did, it was mostly oscar's clothes, the boxy t-shirts and boxer briefs felt good as you scampered around the large house he owned.

you had shared a meal when you landed and then breakfast in the morning. he made you eggs and even went as far as to get the brand of turkey bacon that you enjoyed more than regular bacon. and yet, you still stole some of the pork bacon off of his plate.

it was domestic, if anyone peered in with no context to your relationship, you'd look like an everyday couple. that was until you started playing switch.

"i swear to god pizza-pie, i'm going to throw your switch controller out the window if you don't get out of my way!!" you chirped as you tried to shove him on the couch.

"yeah, yeah, whatever, cupcake." he snipped back.

they were nicknames you called each other. you started calling him 'pizza-pie' after you misheard his last name upon your first meeting. it spiraled into a nickname for you.

you two shoved into one another as you said, "i swear to god, oscar. you get out of my way. this is going to end as it does on the track." you two were playing mario kart and currently you were lagging behind oscar.

he laughed at your words as he tried to get an arm around you to pull you to him, effectively trapping you against him. making you more prone to losing the race.

you were racing for mercedes and oscar was with mclaren, on the track you two battled it out. and in the media pen, the narrative of your rivalry was often spun. one of the top racers was going toe-to-toe with the first woman in decades.

you tried to bite his strong forearm as he held you, "you son of a bitch! goddamnit!" you swore which only made the man howl in laughter as he got first place.

he pulled away from you then kissed you when you came in second. fuckin' oscar and his bananas! you leaned into the kiss but you reached over and shoved him (with love, of course).

he put the controller down on the coffee table and he took yours to do the same before he crowded in your space once more and held you by the jaw.

"beautiful." he said, "you look good all flustered." then added a cheeky, "below me."

you made a face at him, "you are a pain in my side, pizza-pie." then he pulled you in for a sweet kiss. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he melted a little into the kiss.

"but you love me, don't you? my cupcake?" he chuckled as he felt close to you.

"i do, sadly." you joked before you were pulled into another sweet kiss. you held onto his shoulders and leaned into the kiss.

you ended up on the floor, on top of the rug. oscar slowly undressed you both with his eyes and hands. his strong hands on your body made you feel a rush of lust through your body.

you helped him get undressed, then it was followed by a bunch of kisses along your neck. you ran your fingers through his soft hair as he held you by the waist.

"pretty girl." he chuckled, "so pretty."

you squirmed a little, "you're not going to butter me up that easily." then reached out for his forearms when he grabbed you by the hips. he rubbed his achy tip up against your slit and you felt the air leave your lungs for a moment in anticipation.

"i know you love me." he said as he continued to rub up against you, "you can't deny it." he beamed, "you've told me you love me. can't take it back now, babe." he chuckled before he took a deep breath and sank his cock into you.

you tensed up for a moment and held onto the carpet under you, your back arched a little as you felt his length inside of you. you let out a sweet moan, if you were anywhere else it would be hard to keep quiet.

maybe it's for the best that you were all the way in england with him, but as the rain pattered against the window nearby. you second guessed that thought. you'd rather make love to your rival under the bright sun, not the heaviness of storm clouds.

"you're right." you sighed, "damn you, pizza-pie."

he laughed, "oh don't worry, cupcake." he went in for another kiss as he started to find his rhythm of his hips up against you. his cock was a bit of a stretch inside of you, but not enough to bruise your insides.

you held onto the rug tightly as he moved against you, you tried to meet his pace as he kissed you. his lips wet against your heated skin. you whined, "shit, oscar." you kicked your legs out a little as he moved.

"what would the rest of the grid think?" he asked.

you responded with, "i honestly don't care. but i am going to win this year, i'm going to beat, beat max, all of it. it's all coming home with me." you hissed a little as his thrusts got faster.

the heat climb to his face as he held onto your hips. he angled himself in a way to get the best angle as he rocked against you perfectly. he felt a shudder through his body as he felt his heart thump in his chest, your cunt was perfect for him.

he yearned for you when you were both on the track, he'd gaze would often linger before he got into the car. if there was anyone he was going to do tire to tire with, it would be you.

his greatest rival, his greatest love.

the two of you moved together. fit together like perfect pieces. who would've thought that you'd find love in your rival but as you met his gaze made you melt a little.

"oscar."

"i've got you." he said softly.

he was perfect, it left you feeling warm against him. the two of you found a pace and the pleasure washed over you. the kisses were wet and you felt his spit down your chin.

"mine."

"exactly." it rolled off his tongue with such ease.

you clutched onto the carpet under you and arched your back a little as the pleasure washed over you. you tensed up and let out a sweet moan that was music to oscar's ears. he could feel his heart racing in his chest. you gasped out his name as you felt yourself get over the edge. it hit you all at once.

"fuck. oscar." you panted

he slowed down as he felt himself get close then he pulled out and jerked himself off all over your stomach. he loved the sight of his cum all over your skin. he panted heavily and hunched over you as he finished.

he rested back on his heels and panted heavily. his softening cock in his hand. he wiped his forehead free of sweat with his free hand and gazed down at you lovingly.

you laid out on the rug under your back and linked your hands behind your head. you panted heavily, you caught sight of his lingering gaze on your chest. you smirked a little, "want to see who'll come out on top, or will you like to figure that out in bed?"

oscar nodded and replied, "i think you'll kill me if i try to beat you in mario kart." he patted your cheek and grinned, "so why don't we figure it out with you on your back then?"

-

the rivalry between you and oscar fizzled out by the end of the season. mostly due to photos of you two leaving a restaurant together and him kissing you in the car.

it was a little harder now and days since there are two piastri's on the track. you were still with your teams, orange and black. but when you both got podium it was an affair. you still stood a little taller when the national anthem of your country played, and you beamed at your husband in second.

he still kicked you ass in mario kart, but you still went wheel-to-wheel on the track. you may be married now, but you weren't going to back down to your husband.

even now as he had his arm wrapped around you in the living room of the shared home you had in monaco. much better than dreary england. "i'm going to kill you, piastri!"

"hey, hey. all's fair in mario kart, mrs. piastri!" <3

[probablyintensemuses]

how wwould armando react if he is in love with the reader, but she shows no sign of feeling the same way, (he's so devoted when it comes to the reader) And he'd like to know if she feels the same way, I wish it would end in a passionate way (you know what I mean) 🔥

Te amo 🌸💗

Wait For Your Love-

Armando Aretas

summary: Armando doesn’t wish you a happy birthday so you’re day is basically ruined, up until it isn’t.

themes: angst, fluff, smut.

warnings: smut 18+

authors note: I know this isn’t exactly like the request, but genuinely I tried. I hope y’all like it 🥹. Not edited btw, I wrote this on my lunch break.

Happy birthday to you,’ kelly sang, walking a candlelight cupcake over to your desk, Dorn, Mike, and Marcus following behind her. “Happy birthday to you.”

“Happy birthday, our sweet girl, happy birthday to you.” Kelly gives you a hug from behind and you lean into her.

“Thanks guys,’ you smile big, blowing out the candle on your cupcake.

“What your young ass wish for?” Mike asks, slinging a birthday girl sash over your shoulders.

Marcus slaps his chest. “You know she can’t tell you, that’ll ruin it.”

Mike smacks his lips. “Man, shut your superstitious ass up. Seriously, what you wish for.”

You laugh. “I wished for the second day at my cafe to run smoothly for my employees.’ Everyone shakes their heads, happily, saying your wish was a great one.

“Speaking of,” you dig into your bag, pulling out pink envelopes with hearts on their seals. “If you guys can make time I’d love to have you over there for small party. It’s nothing big, just a new cake recipe I was working on, some drinks, and food if you guys want to bring any.”

They all accept your invite, taking their cards with them and back to their desks.

You sit back down with a smile and continue to unencrypte the harddrive they’d found at a crime scene. Mike had told you it was very important they get it open with everything on it.

So that was the goal today before your party, so you could get as drunk as you wanted to and cry as much as you wanted too.

Hopefully not the latter, though.

The compound door swings open with a shriek before slamming shut, echoing through the whole place.

You turn and your heart stops in your chest as Armando Aretas makes his way through.

It was no secret, to the team anyway, that you had a mild crush on Armando. Despite knowing the things of his past, some desperate part of your self truly liked him. And corny enough, you saw the goodness and potential within him.

It’s why you went with Mike to the D.A’s office and fought for him to serve out his tenured in AMMO instead of prison. You knew he wasn’t all bad, he could be reformed, you’d seen it multiple times.

Like when he took all those stab wounds for Callie, the daughter of the woman actively hunting him. Or how he tried constantly, despite his past and his own convictions, to have a relationship with Mike. Even how kind he was to you at times, especially when you know it’s hard for him, training his mind to know that kindness isn’t a weakness after years of being a product to the cartel.

So you couldn’t help but smile when you see him walk down the stairs and take a seat at his desk across from yours.

“Armando,’ Mike says. “You’re late, we’re about to start debriefing in ten.”

Armando shrugs, slinging off his leather jacket and exposing his bulging, biceps and veiny forearms.

You check the glare in your computer, checking for drool, before eyeing his torso, the skin tight black shirt doing nothing for your unquenched thirst.

“Had to pick something up.” He says, eyeing you.

You turn, looking over your shoulder. Was he actually staring at you?

Everyone else must have noticed too, because before you know it, you have eight pairs of hungry eyes watching you both.

“Anything you want to say to her?” Kelly practically nudges Armando with her voice.

Armando eyes you up in down, taking in your typical appearance of a cardigan and jeans, your curls pulled high in a puff on your head.

His eyes pull away from you as he stands and walks over to the room where the team debriefs. “Nah,” he says.

You fell your heart crash to your feet.

Did he just?

Now, you could understand if he forgot it was your birthday, but you have a cupcake with a candle on it sitting on your desk not to mention the fucking sash that says “birthday girl,” no way he thought you were just wearing it for convenience.

You thought, just for once, Armando would show you even a slither of the same kind of affections you held for him…especially on your birthday.

But you were wrong.

Your heart chips a little at that realization, you feel pathetic like Molly Ringwald in Sixteen Candles as you ball up the invitation you had stored away for Armando, it yellow and bright unlike the others.

You were pathetic to think the man you liked would even consider you an option, let alone come to some dumb birthday party of yours. He was too busy for that, and you were too desperate.

Another year older, yet never wiser. It was clear in your delusions of Armando as you wait for his love.

###

You’re careful to not drop your cake as you push it through the swinging doors of your new cafe.

You decided to get this cafe as a side shop because you always loved pastries, and making cakes and sweet treats got you through the stress of school and the police force.

So now that you’re older, why not have a cafe for fun and passive income? Was it more stress, yes, but it was totally worth it.

“Wow, that looks amazing!” Dorn’s eyes light up as your bring the cake over to the booths and tables your friends occupy.

“You think so?” You smile.

“Oh hell yeah,’ Marcus likes his lips, clapping his hands together. “You know I’m for anything sweet so.”

You chuckle. “Forewarning. It’s a teramassu cake, so you old dogs might be up all night if you eat too much.”

“Damn! It’s like that!” Mike laughs.

You smile and begin cutting into the cake and passing out pieces. “Yeah, it’s like that.”

“And to think we basically raised you.” Marcus says. “I’m going to let you slide though. One because it’s your birthday. And two, because this cake is fire.”

You clap and squeal. “I’m so glad you like it. I didn’t want to mess it up, but it’s pretty difficult.”

“Mhm,’ kelly says, taking a sip of her wine. “So what’s harder, cake baking? Or admitting your crush to Armando?”

Your smile drops in an instant and you send an icy glare Kelly’s way. “Seriously?”

Kelly hiccups. “I’m sorry, but the way your face looked when he didn’t tell you happy birthday, I mean how can you like a guy like that? No offense, Mike.”

Mikes eyebrows rise. “I mean, it was a jerk move. But it’s Armando. Who knows, he might say happy birthday tomorrow.”

You shake your head. “Yeah, but it won’t be worth anything tomorrow when he knew today. I mean, I’m really pathetic to wish he was here when he couldn’t even do the bare minimum for me.” Your eyes well with tears.

“Hey, no.’ Dorn wipes your eyes. “Don’t cry on your birthday about him. Cry tomorrow, and then come see my therapist.”

You sniffle. “What?”

“Sorry, she’s just amazing, I always like to shout her out.”

You sigh. “Thanks, Dorn.”

Even with all this smiling faces around you, you couldn’t shake the anchor pulling at your ankle. You wished Armando would have just told you happy birthday, even pretended to care. That would have meant more to you than what you got.

But here you were, with all your friends who actually cared about you, about to cry over a guy who couldn’t even be bothered.

A tear streaks down your face and you look away. “You guys should go,’ you say. “I’m sorry.”

Mike pats your shoulder. “I’ll try talking to him.”

You grip his wrist. “Don’t. I don’t want him to know about this, he’ll think I’m insane.”

“Don’t sweat it too hard,’ kelly kisses your head. “I know plenty of guys at the department that would fall to their knees right now over you.”

“Thanks,’ you half smile, watching as your friends leave before you break down completely.

Tears streaked into your palm as you cried out. It didn’t hit you until this morning just how deeply you cared for Armando.

You truly liked him, and his blatant rejection had set all your emotions flaring.

Sniffling into your hands, the soft chime of your cafes door catches your attention.

“We’re closed.” You grumble, not bothering to look up.

“Even for me, ¿dulce niña?” Armando says.

Your head shoots up and the air is nearly knocked out of your lungs as you take him in.

He’s dapper in a black button up not all the way buttoned, exposing some of his tone chest and a silver St. Christopher necklace. His pants are the right amount of tightness, highlighting his muscular thighs, and his hair is dark and trimmed, just like his beard.

Armando, as always, is hard to look away from. But still, resist and play it cool, wiping the tears away from your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, crossing your hands over your small chest.

Armando walks towards you, hands behind his back as he observes your cafe, like some kind of museum tourist. “The cafe came together nice.” He says, stepping a bit too close to you.

For air, you take a step back, Armando notices and smirks. “Stop avoiding the question. What are you doing here?”

“I heard you had a party I wasn’t invited to. That’s not very nice, bebita.” He smirks.

“Yeah, it was invite only.”

“I don’t qualify?”

You scoff. “You didn’t even know it was my birthday.”

“I knew.”

“Oh, you knew, so you just didn’t care.”

“I cared.’ Armando gets close, pulling at the tule fabric of your pink mini dress. He lets out a shaky breath. “This is beautiful on you, by the way.”

You push him away at the chest, he hardly moves. “Stop it.” You whine.

“Stop what?”

“Stop acting like you like me!” You shout. “You don’t! And it’s fucking embarrassing, Armando!”

Armando swallows, and even in the darkness you can see the shame painted into the little creases of his face and the fast lifts of his chest.

Armando’s hands finally fall to his sides and you see now what he has done. In his hands are a large bouquet of flowers and a blue bag.

“No,” You say.

He steps forward. “This is why I was late to work, princesa, because I got this for you.”

“Armando.”

“Open it.” He says.

Reluctantly you take the bag from his hands, sharp rods of electricity swirling up your arm when your fingers meet.

Slowly, you open the bag and look inside. There, a small velvet box awaits you. Hesitant, you pick it up and open it.

You gasp at what you see. A necklace, tiny diamonds all the way around. It shimmers in the moonlight that peaks into the cafe as you hold it up.

“You bought this for me?’ You gasp. “How can you even afford this?”

Armando rolls his eyes. “I use to be a drug dealer, baby.”

You sigh and put the necklace, as pretty as it is, back into the box. “I can’t take this.” You hand it back.

Armando frowns. “Why not?”

You turn, holding yourself. “Because how do I know if you even like me?”

Armando’s eyes hidden and he holds the bag on display. “Baby, I just dropped bands on this necklace for you. I think that shows alot.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You step back, walking away from him.

He catches your arm, gently pulling you back. “Maybe?” He scoffs offended. “You didn’t even invite me tonight, yet I got you a gift, and you say maybe.”

You snatch out of his grip. “I didn’t invite you tonight because you’re an asshole!”

“I’m not!” Armando shouts back.

“Then prove it,’ you square into his space. “Stop making me wait for your love and tell me what you know I want to hear.”

Armando opens his mouth to speak, but the words are lost when he leans in, his mouth crashing onto yours.

Your shocked, your lips are still against his until something burst inside of you, everything you’ve been craving sealed in this one kiss.

This causes you to moan against his lips. Armando swallows it, slipping his hands into your curls and tilting your head to the side, turning the kiss hot and fierce.

You wrap your arms around the nape of his neck, scratching at his faded low cut, deepening your kiss.

Armando’s hands trail down the fluff of your dress until they reach the hem. He flips it upward and finds your underwear, growling as he feels the thin layer of cotton. You shudder at his touch, your pussy throbbing at the thought of him making contact.

“Fuck,’ he moans, slipping two fingers into your thongs, rolling his thick fingers over your clit.

Your head falls back as you let out a low, moan. “Fuck, baby.”

“You like that?’ He strokes his fingers up and down your soaking wet slit. “Tan mojado, maldita sea.” He growls in your ear.

“Yes,” you gasp. “Oh, yes.”

Armando grabs you by your waist flipping you around, the rounds of your ass pressed against the swells of his cock.

You gasp as Armando pushes you against his hard on, you imagine how it will feel once he’s deep inside your soaking, needy cunt.

Armando nibbles at the bottom of your ear. “You feel that baby. You feel what you do to me?”

“Y—yes,” you sputter.

He grinds against you, his face deep in your hair, taking a whiff.

“God I need to be inside you.” Armando whines. “I’ve always needed it.”

“Then do it. Stop holding back.” You moan out.

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say because in a flash Armando’s got your dress up, your thong to the side, and you bent over the counter of your cafe.

God you hoped no one walked past, because if they did, they get an eyeful of your ass and Armando’s bulging cock.

“Fuck,” Armando moans, rubbing the leaking pink tip of his cock against you sleek folds, shuddering as he pulls back, your slick dripping off his tip. “You ready, baby?”

“Yes, oh yes.” You moan, digging your head into the cold marble of the counter.

Armando strokes your entrance one last time before pushing into slowly. You both let out loud, pornagraphic moans finally being full of each other.

The strokes start of slow and deep, each smack creating friction between the top of your dress and your skin. The deeper and harder Armando fucks you, the lower your dress falls until eventually your boobs spill out.

Armando’s pace picks up and he begins to fuck you with speed that causes you to cry out. He reaches in front of you, grabbing your boobs and holding onto them, circling your nipples between his fingers, pounding deeper and harder into you.

“God, mama, you’re incredible.’ Armando growls. “I’ve dreamt of this moment.”

“More!” You moan.

Armando flips you over, lifting you up by your ass and slamming you onto the counter. He waste no time shoving into you and fucking you, your boobs bouncing up and down equivalent to his rhythm.

You reach down, rubbing your clit in circles, you’re desperate to come on Armando’s cock and have him come inside of you.

You can feel the knot in your stomach build and you know you’re close. The sounds of skin slapping and heavy moans echos off the walls of the cafe.

Your pussy leaks, leaving a white ring Armando’s cock as he drills into you, using one lifted leg as leverage.

Your knot builds, expanding, and you know you’re close to the edge.

You pull Armando close. “I want you to finish me, then I need your come inside of me.” You cry out.

Armando doesn’t even question your requests before obliterating you with speed and strokes.

Your knot unfurls and you moan out, shuttering as you

Come on his cock. Armando does the same, pumping all of him inside of you.

Sweaty and breathing hard, he pulls out, lifting you up bridal style.

He carries you to one of the larger booths at the back of the cafe, using his jacket as a blanket for you both.

“Are you on birth control?” He asks.

You shake your head no. “It’s okay. We’re fine. I’ll just get a plan B.”

Armando nods kissing your forehead. “And by the way,’ he pulls you into his strong arms. “Happy birthday.”

You snicker, eyelids heavy. “Thank you.”

[echoofadream]

You ask your boyfriend Suguru to be mean to you in bed for the first time. How could he refuse when you tempt him so good?

Contains: mean!Suguru, sub!fem!reader, degradation (bitch, whore, slut, pathetic, useless)

Suguru is just the nicest boyfriend ever. He always makes sure you're happy and taken care of. He gives you a massage every time you're tired, prepares warm baths for you when you come back from work and every morning when you wake up late, breakfast is on your bedside table, heart shaped pancakes soaked in maple syrup next to a glass of strawberry juice. So that's why he froze when you asked him to be mean to you in bed.

Both of you were seated on the edge of the bed, your hands in your lap, looking at him with big pleading eyes. He let out a nervous chuckle.

"Baby, you know I love you. I'd never be mean to you on purpose"

"I know Sugu but pleaseee" you insisted. He sighed.

"I don't know how to feel about this..."

You took his hands into yours, reassuring him that it was okay, that you wanted it and that you knew his mean words wouldn't reflect his true feelings towards you.

"It's just kinkiness Sugu. Don't you think it's time we spice up our bedroom time?"

"What do you mean? We tried anal last time"

"This is different"

The two of you sat there in silence, looking at each other. Suguru was contemplating your words. He knew what you were talking about, yet he still felt like it would hurt your feelings.

"Baby why don't we..."

His eyes widened when he saw you kneel in front of him, arching your back the way you always did when he hit it from the back. You knew it would drive him crazy.

"Don't you want me to be your whore, Geto-sama?"

He felt as though half of the blood in his body went to his face, painting his cheeks in a deep shade of red, and the other half rushed straight to his cock. You knew he loved having power over people. You knew he loved it when people served him and did as they were told.

Your hand made its way to his thigh and gently squeezed it. As soon as he saw you move, his expression turned into a frown.

"When did I tell you you could touch me?"

You moved your hand away and tried to keep a straight face, though you were visibly getting excited.

"Is this what turns you on?" he asked. "Your cunt gets wet when I talk to you like this?"

You nodded, a smile forming on your face.

He smirked. "That's so fucking low, even for you. I mean I knew you were pathetic but this side of you is truly something else"

He started sliding his robes off his shoulders, soon his torso remaining naked in front of your eyes to behold the sight in front of you. You knew he was hard but his clothes were so large you were having a hard time finding his bulge. Suguru chuckled and grabbed his crotch, the length of his cock getting prominent.

"Is this what you were looking for, bitch?"

You struggled so hard not to let out a whimper at the sight, especially when his robes started getting wet in the area where the tip of his cock was.

You tried your best not to rub your thighs together, your clit burning with desire, wishing his big tip would rub it just the way you like.

"Take off your clothes" he commanded and you wasted no time. You pulled your shirt off, your boobs bouncing when the hem of your shirt was quickly removed from underneath them. You weren't wearing a bra. Suguru laughed.

"God you're such a whore. Doing all this for my attention. Come on, the pants too"

You obeyed and took them off, revealing your pink underwear, a small bow on the hem right underneath your belly. He crouched in front of you, his hand going between your legs and pressing on your clothed hole, feeling the wetness getting through the fabric and soaking his fingers.

His face got closer to yours and he whispered. "Ride it"

You grabbed his strong forearm and started moving your hips forward, trying to get some friction between his fingers and your needy cunt. He pressed hard on your clit, a loud moan escaping your lips as you felt the ache in your pussy getting replaced with the pleasure of your man's fingers. And he kept you in place and started rubbing circles on your clit. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, your nails digging into his strong arm as he kept rubbing you towards your orgasm.

"Please...ahh~ please take them off~" you begged but the moment he pulled your panties aside and barely slid one of his fingers into your dripping hole you bit down on his shoulder.

"Tsk. Useless fucking bitch" He pulled away and stood up, leaving you needy on the floor, clinging to his arm and refusing to let go.

"Please please please I'm so sorry no don't go..." you whined.

"You're not cumming tonight if you don't let go. Behave!"

You whimpered but let go of his arm, lowering your head and waiting for whatever he was about to do to you.

"Aww you're so adorable baby" he said, to your surprise. "Get on the bed"

You stood up in a hurry and laid on your back on the soft mattress, spreading your legs and waiting for him. He took down the rest of his clothes, revealing his hard cock, drops of precum sliding down his shaft.

"Look carefully baby" he added. "You caused this. You made me this way and you're gonna take everything I have to give you. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir" you said, almost breathlessly.

"Good girl" he praised and got on the bed, placing his body between your legs. He grabbed the hem of your panties and slid them down your legs, giving them a good look. "God look how wet I made you. It's crazy"

He lifted the pink wet fabric to his face, sniffing the scent of your pussy, closing his eyes as though the pleasure of feeling your smell was overwhelming. His cock twitched and a soft sigh escaped his lips. "Fuck pretty girl you turn me on so much"

You closed the distance between your thighs, desperately trying to relieve the burning pain you felt between your legs, but Suguru stopped you and, after discarding your messy panties, he started sliding his cock up and down your pussy.

"So fucking soft and wet and warm and perfect"

"Please just put it in" you whimpered.

"Patience princess. You don't want us to have problems, do you? You shook your head and he muttered a "good girl" before he thrust his whole length inside you, making your toes curl.

"Fuckkk you're so fucking tight baby. It feels like you're gonna snap my cock in two"

He grabbed your ankles and placed them on his shoulders, the pace of his hips increasing. His fat tip was abusing your sweet spot so deliciously, his girth filling you to the brim, as though your insides had the shape of his dick from all the fucking you two did since you got together.

He leaned towards you, one of his big hands engulfing your tit and squeezing it hard, causing you to moan in both pain and pleasure. "So fucking soft and perfect and it's all mine. You're fucking mine don't you forget that. My love, my woman, my bitch"

He was getting more vocal and you knew he was getting closer to filling you up with his cum. You were getting closer yourself, so you slid your hand in between your bodies and started rubbing circles on your clit, your walls contracting around his cock. "Fuck pussy's milking me sooo good baby fuck I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna fill you up princess is that what you want?"

You could only nod as you felt your high approaching, the only noises leaving your lips being sweet whimpers. Soon you felt his cock spurting thick ropes of cum inside your pussy and you let your orgasm wash over you as both of your juices started sliding down your legs, your poor cunny unable to contain them.

"Fuck baby..." Suguru said breathlessly, his face getting closer to yours and pressing a kiss on your lips. "You know I didn't mean those things..."

"I know" you replied giving him an honest and content smile. "Thank you Sugu, it was amazing"

He returned your smile, his eyes visibly full of love and adoration only for his sweet girl. "Anytime, my love. Now let's get you cleaned up"