#i only seem to have pwp rn

[daughterofhecata]

Die entsprechende Fic ist jetzt hier auf ao3 und hier auf ff.de, für die, die herausfinden möchten, womit Justus den armen Skinny so vollkommen aus dem Konzept bringt 😏

huhu, niemand ist so leicht zu durchschauen wie du pretty please? 😘

[WIP Wednesday]

Aus dem Kühlschrank nahm er zwei Flaschen Cola, ging ins Wohnzimmer hinüber und ließ sich neben Justus auf die Couch fallen. Oder zumindest war das der Plan. Denn sobald sein Blick auf Justus fiel, blieb er wie angewurzelt im Türrahmen stehen.

[almostempty]

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,  

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY  @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh) 

AO3: HERE | Masterlist: Here

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Part 4: The more you suffer

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe. 

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice. 

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question. 

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling. 

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes. 

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :) 

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no. 

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more 

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not. 

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response. 

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease. 

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door. 

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy. 

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud. 

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging. 

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible. 

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new. 

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right? 

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type. 

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach. 

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees. 

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason. 

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance. 

“Good.” 

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship. 

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor. 

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison. 

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter. 

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.  

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes. 

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire. 

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious? 

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.  

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks. 

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really? 

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date? 

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy. 

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here. 

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look. 

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different. 

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.  

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center. 

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly. 

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes! 

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot. 

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost. 

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt. 

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access. 

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed. 

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight. 

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.” 

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public. 

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade. 

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor. 

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.” 

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans. 

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.  

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air. 

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on. 

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide. 

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off. 

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot. 

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you. 

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far. 

“Here?” you ask him softly.  

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress. 

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you.  He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?” 

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking. 

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure. 

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release. 

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again. 

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours. 

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right. 

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin. 

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off. 

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.” 

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free. 

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you. 

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks. 

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle. 

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out. 

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks. 

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue. 

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.” 

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth. 

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter. 

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause. 

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess. 

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?” 

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out. 

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door. 

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text. 

Joel: Miss me? 

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something. 

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark. 

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley. 

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.” 

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home. 

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space. 

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off. 

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you– 

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare. 

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat. 

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now. 

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him. 

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls. 

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin. 

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?” 

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose? 

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?” 

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed? 

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him. 

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed. 

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.” 

A tremor runs through your body. 

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in. 

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons. 

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you. 

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear. 

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.” 

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway. 

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers. 

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel. 

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw. 

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic. 

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street. 

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up. 

“What did you just say, Joel?” 

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you. 

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?” 

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you. 

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.” 

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.” 

“Baby–” 

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud. 

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention. 

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?” 

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue. 

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?” 

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore. 

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin. 

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?” 

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid. 

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.  

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel. 

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle. 

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides. 

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos. 

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.” 

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you. 

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side. 

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?” 

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face. 

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–” 

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions. 

“Followed us?” you’re curious. 

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words. 

“An ex?” 

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.” 

“So he is dangerous?” 

“No.” Only to my self-respect. 

“You want me to take care of him?” 

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.” 

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time? 

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood. 

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet. 

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing. 

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman? 

Your face wrinkles in confusion. 

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number. 

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.” 

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod. 

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.” 

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does. 

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave. 

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress. 

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?” 

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes. 

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.” 

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard. 

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin. 

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you. 

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically. 

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks. 

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse. 

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer. 

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.  

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.  

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?” 

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away. 

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts. 

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t. 

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead. 

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder. 

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?” 

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you. 

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation. 

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.  

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath. 

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t. 

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap. 

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself. 

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head. 

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works. 

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more. 

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.” 

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you. 

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips. 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men? 

All I can fuckin’ think about. 

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt. 

Oh. 

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more. 

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.” 

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity. 

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.” 

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face. 

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot. 

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders. 

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out. 

“Make me yours,” you incite. 

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed.  He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath. 

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck. 

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both. 

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up. 

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets. 

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing. 

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[hausofwoo]

strapped | park seonghwa

pairing: seonghwa x afab reader

word count: 612

warnings: 18+, minors do not interact, literally just a pwp blurb, seonghwa sucking a strap on, sub!seonghwa, begging, finger sucking, hair pulling, use of petname (sweetheart)

author's note: i had the thought of seonghwa sucking a strap-on pop into my head and i had to write it out asap. very short but juicy! there will be plenty more sub!seonghwa fics from me but here's just a little taste....

seonghwa is so desperate to please you.

he sits on his knees on your shared bedroom floor, hands tied behind his back and head tilted back, looking up at you standing over him. his skin is glistening with a sheer layer of sweat and his hair is a ruffled mess from all your pulling and tugging. he’s free of all of his clothing, but his erection throbs in need.

“please,” seonghwa begs. “i’ll do whatever you want, just please touch me.”

“not yet, sweetheart,” you say, running your fingertips along the side of his jaw. his eyes are fixated on you with pupils completely blown. you place your fingers on his soft lips, prompting him to immediately open and take them in his mouth. he runs his tongue along your digits before sucking on them, eye contact persisting. you replace your two fingers with your thumb, prying open his mouth so he can take your strap.

“do something for me first, baby,” you say, watching as he lays his tongue flat for you. “suck.”

you guide your strap’s tip to his mouth, and he takes it eagerly. his plump lips enclose around the tip and gradually takes the length. he reaches the base of the strap, deep-throating it. he hums in satisfaction. he continues to bob up and down, sucking. he’s making a fucking mess, with spit covering his lips and dripping down his chin. he doesn’t seem to care anyway, with his muffled moans filling up the room.

he pulls off the strap completely, a string of saliva still connecting to his lips. he drags his tongue on the underside, making his way back to the tip before taking it into his mouth again.

yeah, maybe getting your strap sucked doesn’t physically stimulate anything for you, but seonghwa loves putting on a show for you. he loves to be degraded by you, to feel pathetic under your touch. something completely takes over him, and all he can do is follow your every order. he’s like a puppy; just so fucking eager. you love it too, being able to control what he does. it comes so naturally for you to push him around, and it only makes it ten times hotter when you notice it makes him twitch.

you grip his hair, pushing his mouth as far down on the strap he can go. his eyes roll back and he lets out a loud moan onto the toy. you yank him back off, watching his half-lidded gaze up at you as spit spills out of his swollen red lips. the saliva drops onto his crotch, right on the tip of his aching cock.

“oh fuck,” he groans, knitting his eyebrows together. his hisses, partly from pain, and the other part from pleasure. this whole time, during the teasing and the foreplay and now while giving your strap head, he’s been painfully hard. you haven’t touched him once, and it’s starting to feel excruciating. he lifts his hips, thrusting his leaking cock into the air, searching for some sort of stimulation. he squirms under your hand, leaning his head back and whining. he looks back up at you with probably the most pathetic look you’ve ever seen.

“you want me to touch you, don’t you, baby?” you say, moving your grip from his hair to caress his face.

“please,” seonghwa says, tears welling up in his eyes. his hips continue to thrust in the air slowly, cock twitching. “i’ve been so good…”

“you have been good, haven’t you?” you say. “let me take care of you…”

a/n: guys don't hate me i know it's short!!!! i was on vacay in chicago to see ateez and it gave me inspo and i had to write it out before i lost my mind. i have another fic in the works rn but i wanted to release this so u bitches had something while u wait lol

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[bugeater101]

Mask On

Synopsis: Chan in a mask. That's it.

Content: dom!Chan x fem!reader, mask kink, mentions of anonymous sex, spanking, daddy kink, unprotected sex (I STG WEAR CONDOMS), reverse cowgirl, pwp.

Word Count: 1.0 k

Author's Notes: Okay so I have a huge mask kink that I will never admit to (except rn Ig?) and SEEING CHAN IN A MASK IN THE TEASER 🗣🗣🗣 I finally got to write around to writing this short fic since I finished that Jeongin fics tee hee. also that angsty fic i'm writing is going to come out after i calm down from losing a lot of my work that i did on it 💀. enjoy !! <3

Taglist: @scribblemetae @mygsis, @9900z @taekbokki,@imtoooyoungforthisshit, @jihanlovic

Chris panted for breath beneath the black fabric. Condensation had built against his face and it had become a battle trying to gulp down air. The soaked cloth clung to his skin and, though he was otherwise completely naked, the mask made him feel like he was suffocating. Nevertheless, it remained on. He didn't dare take it off; not when he knew how it made you think, not when he knew how much you liked it.

"Fucking ride it, y/n," he groaned out in a low voice, holding your hips as he watched your ass bounce on his cock. "You t-take it so well, baby."

"Only for Daddy," you whimpered, "only take Daddy's cock like this." You were pained that you couldn't see his face right now with your back to him. However, even if you turned around, you knew that you couldn't see anything but his dark eyes as the rest was obstructed by his black mask. But that was what you wanted to see: the obstructed face of a masked man attached to the chiselled body of your boyfriend, slicked in sweat.

You didn't know exactly why you liked men in masks. Maybe all that shit on Tik Tok about fucking boys in Ghostface masks from Scream, Mandalorian helmets from Star Wars, or in the mask Ghost wire in COD had permeated your subconscious and brainwashed you. Maybe it was because masks gave Chan a sense of anonymity, like you were just fucking a stranger for fun who couldn't care less about you. Or, possibly, it created a separation in intimacy and granted Chris greater authority over you, like he was a faceless God who you could not read and, in turn, had no power over. Or, most likely, you just liked to fuck the faceless body of your boyfriend and use him as your own personal dildo. Either way, the mask always managed to change Chris just as much as it aroused you. It made him cool and collected and, consequently, made you seem even more desperate and needy.

There was just something about masks that did it for you and you couldn't ever figure it out. To be fair, you didn't really need to know why that mask made you want to be fucked until you passed out. You just know that you like Chris and that you like masks, so it didn't take a mathematician to figure out that you liked to fuck Chris in a mask. Plus, the situation became even more intoxicating when he let you call him Daddy when wearing a mask while he sinks his fat cock into you and makes you cum multiple times.

What could you say? You had the best boyfriend.

"Take Daddy's cock, baby," he whispered cooly, voice muffled from the moist material and heavy breathing. "Work for it. Make me cum into the perfect pussy of my pretty girl." His sweet words were quickly contrasted by a particularly harsh smack to your ass, leaving a red handprint on the squishy flesh. To please the man below you, you bounced harder on his length, your thighs burning from the act. Chan—even in this state of utter bliss and dominance—noticed and tightened his grip on your hips, guiding you up and down his heavy cock and forcing you to the hilt with every stroke.

"D-don't slow down," he growled, "Don't you dare fucking stop." His words made you whimper, dying to slow down despite the impertinent need to continue until you came at least thrice more and were filled with his cum.

"Chris, it's too much, I—fuck!"

Noticing your slowing pace, Chris began upwardly thrusting into you, fucking his cock up into your cunt and making you hum with each bounce. His hands dug into the flesh of your hips to ground himself, occasionally separating from you just so he could lay another slap on your ass before resuming his harsh hold on you with added gusto. With each thrust, he was practically lifting you up and pulling you down onto his cock, not daring to let up the pace. As his tip began to kiss your cervix and leak precum, you arched your back and fell forward, leveraging your hips to bounce eagerly and meet his thrusts halfway.

Despite your exhaustion, you dared not stop; you felt too good to allow your exertion to consume you. With your next orgasm fast approaching, your cunt tightened around Chan's cock and hugged it, urging him to finish inside and fill you up. Chris, however, gave no indication that he was approaching his climax. This is what the mask did to him: it stripped him of all weakness and made him edgier, with no mercy as his domineering side consumed him. He became a dom in a way you had never experienced when he was completely naked. It was as if the mask allowed him a separation from you, as if it made him more primal and allowed him to hide his (usually humiliating) level of neediness for you. While it allowed him to conceal his carnality, it only exacerbated your embarrassing desperation for him.

Since the mask was only for special occasions, you knew that you needed to get your fill of this Chan. You were determined to finish in this position just so you could turn around and continue face-to-face with him, allowing his cold gaze to lock eyes with you as you feebly rode his dick. Yet, while you would fall apart on him, Chris would just study you riding him, as if his eyes were saying all that needed to be told.

Maybe that was why you liked masks so much: just as much as the mask itself turned you on, what really made it complete was what it did to Chan.

"Ride it harder, y/n," he growled through the sweat and slobber-soaked fabric. "Maybe, if you fuck me right, I might just let you see my face when I fuck my cum into you when you're too exhausted to keep going."

[lacrimosathedark]

Question for my fellow asexuals: is it "normal" to be grey or demi and also be sex-repulsed? Or like...part-time sex-repulsed?

Because I feel like I'm like...situationally sex-repulsed?

I have never been comfortable with even the thought of sex. I personally hate when movies have scenes of it even though you don't really see anything, I cringe and try to cover my eyes and ears or full on walk out of the room. I've only recently started to be not disgusted by sexual images. The sheer amount of pwp fanfiction annoys the fuck out of me. The thought of participating, in general, makes me wanna crawl out of my skin and bleach it because of all the body fluids and physical contact and just BLECH. And don't even get me started on the fucking noises ugh literally fucking gagging rn.

Like the whole thing makes me vaguely nauseous.

But I often can read it just fine, and I find I enjoy it if there's a romantic context and/or buildup to it. And if I think about participating in that kind of context it seems...interesting if nothing else. Like, not nearly as revolting as it sounds otherwise.

So I'm not always grossed out by it. Just about 90% of the time.

I just wanna know if that's like, "normal" or if it's a me thing. I know I'm weird but I like to know when I'm weird because I'm me and when I'm weird because I don't know how other people work lol

[sacharowan]

✰ NEW SHAPES & ✄ DVD BONUS for Lone Star — @gayferrari (tumblr let me send sideblog asks challenge)

Lone Star my beloved!!! what an experience and what a thing it has become!!

✰ NEW SHAPES: send me a fic and I’ll give you an alternate direction the fic could have gone!

okay so I wrote Lone Star in the middle of the night across two nights and it was an insanity fuelled experience. also I wrote it in december so I'm not entirely sure what other direction I considered back then (there definitely was one) (I checked the doc history to see if I did any excessive deleting but there was none).

but!!! Lone Star probably could've included wayyyyy more angst (it's probably the most pwp part of talon of the hawk rn) which would've been interesting to include. and also could've included more plot!!

which brings me to my next point!!

✄ DVD BONUS: pick a fic and I’ll describe or write a deleted scene!

more plot!! I want more plot in my pwp apparently!! (did you know that Lewis and Charles finished next to each other in 2 out of three US races last year (Miami (6 + 7) and Austin (technically: DSQ and DSQ)?) so!!!

(this probably doesn't count as a deleted scene but shhh)

Vegas feels like a reward. He could've done slightly better, Charles is sure of that, but he doesn't mind too much. Considering the state of this season, the state of the godforsaken car, 2nd place seems like the best he'll get. Las Vegas sparkles in a way similar only to Abu Dhabi, the way the whole track sparkles under the floodlights and shimmers with the addictive glow of victory. Max would know anyway. Charles hasn't seen it for a long time. Even then, there's nothing quite like Las Vegas. He'd like to win here one day. He'd like Lewis beside him one day, up on this podium and gazing down at the world like kings. There's talk of Lewis coming to Ferrari for 2025, so maybe that'll be their year. An improvement from a double DSQ anyway. "Good race, Charles." Lewis grins at him in the dim light of the club. Yeah, good race for Charles, not so much for Lewis. Still, he's ahead of Charles in the standings so he doubts Lewis minds all that much; Red Bull's title was secured in Qatar so there's not much to fight for. Lewis has never been the type of person to be content with 3rd place, but it's the best he'll get this year. "Thank you, Lewis." Neither of them discussed the events of Austin after the fact, returning to casual friendship. Well, it seemed casual for Lewis. Charles isn't sure he'll ever be able to move on. It was probably the most insane evening of Charles' life. There's something in the way Lewis is looking at him which suggests something, similar to the expression Lewis gets when he's looking at his trophies, numerous as they are. Something about a prize, winning, a reward to be gained or given. Charles gulps down his drink if only as a way to get away from Lewis' piercing gaze. He chokes, spluttering blue liquid down his shirt, the intensity of Lewis' eyes a distraction until it's too late. "Fuck." Lewis drags him to the bathroom under the guise of helping him clean up. Except somehow he loses a shirt and gains a hickey under his collarbone, something about a reward and a celebration pressed into his skin. "Another trophy for you, baby." Lewis says into his skin and Charles burns. So much for moving on from Austin, Charles is never going to recover from the US races. Nor does he want to.

definitely not a deleted scene, more like a spinoff/sequel but shhh. I've missed writing hawkverse so this was fun!!

[oshikiri-toru]

Tag game for fic writers

Thanks @sergeantwoods for the tag <33

1.) How many works?

On my current AO3 it's 22 (+1 anonymous post) if we're counting old old fics probably ~30

2.) Total word count?

Currently 294,024 😩 and that's not counting the 10k in wips I have rn. Idek how that's possible it hasn't been a year yet

3.) What fandoms do you write for?

Right now (and probably for a long long while) it's just COD. Specifically MW reboot, but I've thought about dabbling in black ops or wwii

4.) Top 5 fics by kudos?

- You've Got My Body, Flesh, and Bone

- Close Friends Only

- High Tide

- Red String of Fate is Tangling

- It's Better When It Feels Wrong

5.) Do you respond to comments?

Mostly no. I'm too paranoid and anxious most of the time 😰. I try to answer questions or respond to people who inspired/are inspired by my work but regular compliments are scary (love getting them tho)

6.) What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I'm not a fan of mcd or no comfort for Ghoap, so nothing that sad. I guess "Solar Eclipse". Sort of bittersweet with how much therapy they're going to need after that (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠)

7.) Fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Oh God, there's a lot. If I had to choose?? Maybe "Forever Ain't Half the Time (I Want to Spend With You)" that's just some good old fluff all the way through!

8.) Do you get hate on fics?

I've gotten unsolicited constructive criticism, passive aggressive comments, and that one guest with the racist username, but nothing explicit towards me.

9.) Do you write smut?

Plenty of pwp. They're usually my quick palate cleansers between plot-driven stories since they are a bit easier for me to write.

10.) Craziest crossover?

No real crossovers, but I have a Fire Emblem AU going if that counts ┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠｀⁠)⁠┌

11.) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, thankfully.

12.) Have you ever had a fic translated?

No :( that would be so cool, though.

13.) Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but that sounds so fun :(

14.) All time favorite ship?

I don't know what Activision put in Ghoap?? But they are like crack cocaine for me. Genuinely never been this obsessed with a ship. Only thing sorta close was Ranpoe from bsd

15.) What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I mean, my baseball AU isn't much more than some disconnected ideas, but I don't think I'll ever get to write it. I'm so not good with super long fics, my fe AU is already stressing me out

16.) What are your writing strengths?

Um, I've been told my dialogue and characterization is really good. My favorite compliment is always how I make the characters seem real :D personally, I put a lot of focus into pacing so I hope that's good LMAO

17.) What are your writing weaknesses?

I'm not that great with flowery language :( I always love seeing how some writers can create beautiful prose, amazing imagery, and outstanding figurative language, but my writing always feels somewhat straightforward in comparison :/

18.) Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

I don't hate it, but I don't try to include it too much. Singular words here or there that can be inferred without translation (nicknames/terms of endearment/curses) are all I'll usually do. I feel like having long strips of another language that someone needs to translate to understand breaks up the flow and pacing too much for my tastes. Usually, I just mention it's in another language. (Also don't want to embarrass myself in front of native speakers lol, that's why I don't do accents either)

19.) First fandom you wrote in?

Oh God please don't ask that... I think it was Creepypasta or Black Butler back in elementary school ಥ⁠_⁠ಥ

20.) Favorite fic you've written?

100% without a doubt 'I'm Your Home, You're My Home' I don't know what was in the water when I wrote it, but I don't know if I'll ever one-up it.

My favorite smut was definitely 'Late Night Ride Home' lmao. Perfectly catered to me 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ yessir

This was soo fun <33 thank you again Sarge!! :D I loved reading your responses!

I have no clue who to tag. Any of my fic writing mutuals that see this, feel free to hop on and tag me :) these are so fun to read

[thewhiskersonkittens]

Don't Tempt Me

Pairing: Rick "Jester" Heatherly x Female Reader

Summary: This is sort of a sequel to "Secret" but it can be read by itself. It picks up where "Secret" left off. Jester x Reader have been sneaking around with each other and here they are finishing the hookup they started before. This here is basically PWP (p*rn without a plot). 😜 Y/L/N = Your Last Name.

Warnings: Smut, M/F intercourse, some curse words. This isn't super explicit IMO but I'll add the warning just in case. Minors please DNI. 18+.

Word Count: 700+.

A/N: This was requested by Anon with the prompt: "Don't Tempt Me". Thank you for your patience! ❤

Hope you enjoy! :)

Jester was making good on his promise to "make it up to you".

When you arrived at his place you went round for round. You couldn't resist telling him about how Slider hit on you again. It seemed to spark some sort of envy or possessiveness in Jester or perhaps both.

It started in the hallway, up against the wall, then it was on the couch and eventually moved into the bedroom. There was a break in there somewhere and now you found yourself going at it again. This time, you two were back in the living room on the faux leather Lay-Z Boy recliner.

You were straddling him, bouncing up and down with a steady rhythm. Jester kept a firm grip on your hips as you moved. The chair squeaked and rocked. You were both panting and moaning. Your skin was slick with sweat. You laughed as you bounced.

"What's so funny?" Jester inquired, breathlessly. "You get a kick out of riding me like a race horse?"

God, that voice of his. It alone could turn you on so much and he had no idea.

"Are you complaining, Commander?!" You joked. "And as a matter of fact, yes, sir, I do get a "kick" out of it!"

You pushed back some of your hair that had fallen out of place as you rode him. You took his hands off your hips and moved them to your breasts.

"No, I was thinking about Viper's office." You explained. "I'm not going to be able to go back in there again without seeing that file cabinet and picturing you in between my legs."

Jester sighed at the memory.

"That was a big error in judgement, Miss Y/L/N. We're lucky we didn't get caught. I just don't know if I'm more to blame or if you are."

You scoffed as you changed your pace, now making your lower half do slow, sensual swirls on his erection. The action made Jester tilt his head back and moan with pleasure.

"You're the one who followed me in there and started getting all handsy with me, mister! Quit acting like you regret it. You don't."

Looking back up at you, Jester responded by squeezing your nipples causing you to squeal with delight.

"Yeah, I guess you're right, baby." He agreed with a grunt. "I'll own up to it."

"Ooo... " You purred. "I like a responsible man!"

There it was. That rare Jester grin and chuckle it seemed only you could bring out of him.

"I take my responsibilities very seriously." He told you. "Right now, that responsibility is fucking you."

He let his hands trail tantalizingly slow down from your breasts, over your abdomen, and back around your hips. He secured a firm grip as he began to thrust fast causing you to gasp and then laugh.

"Aww, shit, daddy, " You moaned. "God, that feels so good!"

Jester bounced you faster and faster. The recliner started to rock wildly back and forth but neither of you cared. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer.

"Fuck," You breathed. "Rick...I'm...I'm gonna come!"

You had such an intense orgasm, your whole body had a spasm.

"Christ, girlie," Jester grunted, nearing his own climax. "Here it comes."

As you attempted to dismount from him, the recliner tilted backwards too far for the last time. You couldn't help but yelp as the chair suddenly threw both of you onto the floor as it fell over. Jester swore and grunted, finishing his release.

"Oh, shit!" He exclaimed. "Holy shit! You OK, baby?!"

He raised up to check on you. You rolled over on your side, facing him. You were laughing so hard, you couldn't catch your breath.

"Oh my God," You finally managed to squeak. "Holy shit! I can't believe that actually happened!"

"Yeah," Jester sighed. "Shit. I think I made a mess."

You both continued to lay there in the floor, both not really eager to move, and trying to catch your breath. The coolness of the hardwood on your back felt good against your sweaty bare skin. You started giggling again. Jester shot you a look but even he couldn't help but find the whole thing funny. You both started giggling and chuckling together. You reached over and stroked the side of his face.

"You know," You began, referring to the incredible sex.

"You keep that shit up and I might just fall in love."

You were teasing him and Jester knew it. A wicked smile spread across his face as he took your hand and kissed it.

He was looking directly in your eyes as he said:

"Don't tempt me."

[mango-jpeg]

anticipation, then flesh notes

i made a full outline for this fic and remembered to preserve a copy, so that's tacked on at the end

worked on this for about two weeks (~19th to ~1st)

not totally sure why this pairing occurred to me rn but 1) needed a break from pwp 2) enjoyed the peaceful tone of Baizhu’s character stories

also, embarrassing to notice, but ever since i started writing fic i write something sappy about getting/being married around my birthday... whatever could it mean.......

i’ve always been into this pairing but wanted to wait to know more about Baizhu before writing.. just didn’t think it would take years for him to become playable lol..

wanted to write something funny and short so landed on the old engagement plot. almost immediately wrote the widower line and had to walk that back lmao 

wrote the coal miner bit bc i had the thought that i needed a bit more background on the relationship. i liked it but had to work hard to find a way to fit it in

now whenever i write these asides i think You're Doing It Again.. addicted to narrative breaks.....

title from a short history of the apple, not for any particular reason. previous title didn't quite work, and i thought something to do with apples would be better

reading

I Was Told There'd Be Cake, and Cult Classic, both by Sloan Crosley

some persona 5 pwps

this is the first (and only) outline i made, what i'd call the first 'draft' (since i don't really do drafts). the starting point of a fic usually looks something like this - then i write over it as i go. almost 100% of the time i start with dialogue

full outline:

and there you go again, stopping just as things are heating up. huh— wh— while i am fully aware there are no adverse physical effects of— what’s that quaint term the youth use?— being blue balled, as it were. But i didn’t take you to be such a tease Gui. Gui is so, so red. Dr.— I, i mean— just what does a man have to do to get his cock sucked around here? gui flusters. then: you’re going to laugh at me. i promise to do my best to keep my amusement private, gui. i always… i [wanted to wait until after marriage] … oh. baizhu says. that’s not funny at all, turns out.

there are two reasons why people get married. and they are? taxes and children, baizhu answers promptly, since we cannot have children it hardly seems relevant

besides, you’re already entitled to half my wealth in my will, so-- excuse me? didn’t i tell you? no? well, half my property and assets go directly to you. He takes a second look at Gui’s expression and feels compelled to add, if that doesn’t seem like enough i could try to increase it, only, i want to leave enough to ensure Qiqi— gui grabs him by the shoulders. i’m the primary beneficiary in your will? of course you are. Baizhu has never known Gui to be prone to dramatics, but perhaps he was just saving it up for this moment. Gui buries both hands in his hair and makes an anguished sound as he turns away, yanking at his hair. 

there’s another reason, gui says.  what’s that? another reason people get married. his expression is set. baizhu looks away. oh, that. i don’t put much stock in sentiment. a long pause, then Gui puts his face next to Baizhu’s and whispers right into his ear; Liar.

gui out delivering medicine to old folks goes upstairs to “talk to” old lady neighbour she swears is being loud (no one lives there) talks to door about his problems

back at pharmacy Chengsheng gives Baizhu a hard time ch - fine. since you’re going to be morbid about it baizhu - to marry is to make Gui a widower ch - yes and?? don’t you see if you leave things as they are there will be no word for what you were to him except employer? that no one will understand his mourning? there is no easy way to grieve but you could at least give him the dignity of acknowledging what you mean to him. baizhu- … baizhu - also i will find the secret to immortality ch - yes, yes. that too

gui doesn’t return to pharmacy baizhu goes out looking for him after dinner - he’s not at home with his family. they try to invite him in for tea but he demurs  wanders around - it’s foggy / a light rain

in the morning baizhu feels a little fuzzy but gui is back  acting normal / professional (gui went to funeral parlour to get his will drawn up)

baizhu is beginning to come down with a cold.  don’t— you’ll catch it. baizhu, gui says, solemnly, i am going to suck your cock. i will do it as long as it takes to learn what you like best.  ah. this is called compromise, and it means you’re going to have to be okay with maybe giving me your cold.

props baizhu up on some pillows so he can breathe well. makes him hold onto the bars of the headboard. 

baizhu grabs Gui’s hair at one point and he stops. Hands on the bars. Gui— Gui looks up at him. His face is red all the way to his hairline, his mouth swollen and wet. the twist of his lips is nervous, but his gaze set. Baizhu’s cock jumps in his hand.  Hands on the bars, please. Baizhu does as he’s told.

[dilfjohnnyaf]

Flip A Switch

𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑠𝑙𝑢𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠-

𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑐𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑖𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘~

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

Pairing- Dom!Yuta x Bratty Switch!Reader

Genre- pwp smut, a pinch of fluff, Oral(m receiving) unprotected sex, overstimulation, Use of sex toy.

Warning- 18+ content, MINORS DNI

A/N- hii y'all!! This is my first fanfic/smut on Tumblr I hope my amateur ass doesn't disappoint y'all 😚

𝑬𝑵𝑱𝑶𝒀 ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

-----------

Getting up from bed after a "Rough" night was always a challenge. You had to ignore the pain that rushed between your thighs as you tried to stand up. You wobbled a lil bit, taking support of the wall and started collecting your clothes from the floor.

The reason for your inability to walk properly was your husband Yuta. Flashback to last night when all of NCT had a get together. You had worn a one shoulder long sleeve black satin dress with a high slit and Yuta wore a black suit with his hair pushed back. You were sitting between Jaehyun and Yuta opposite to Mark and Johnny. Everything was going smoothly until Jaehyun complimented your dress and asked you for a dance. You couldn't possibly say no to the dimple cheeked boy, so you danced with him, completely oblivious to Yuta's stares that were boring holes in your back. Needless to say Yuta made it very clear that night that only he was the only man who could touch you in this life.

All that fucking made you hungry, so you took a quick shower and started making breakfast. While cooking Yuta quietly entered the kitchen and gave you a back hug. Sweet good mornings were exchanged with kisses. "Yutaa~ stop playing with my boobs rn, I'm cooking!"

"But their soo soft"

"noo babe not right now"

Accepting the fact that he won't get to see your tits before breakfast, he sat down at his desk with a sulky face. After breakfast you were watching Netflix and Yuta was attending a meeting.

You felt a sudden urge to cuddle with Yuta so you went up to him and started, "Yutaa- an intimidating glare was sent your way and you understood what your husband meant.

But you wanted to test the waters today, so you started crawling under his desk and sat between his legs. Your presence was completely unknown to Yuta untill he felt you touch his bulge, making him flinch.

"What the fuck are you doing Y/n?" You gave him a sly smile and made your way to the buckle of his belt. He grabbed your wrist and said, "𝑫𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒂 𝒔𝒍𝒖𝒕 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒔𝒔-"

"𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒄𝒐𝒄𝒌"

The confidence in your voice surprised you both. He held your wrist tighter , turning his head towards the laptop he said," Unfortunately we have to cut this meeting short. I have to take care of an urgent matter."

As soon as the meeting ended you were dragged to the bedroom. Yuta wasted no time in ripping all of your clothes except the panties. Yuta tied your hands behind with his tie and pushed you on your knees.

"Seriously you couldn't wait till i finished the meeting?" "Says the one who couldn't stop touching my boobs while i made breakfast"

"Oh ho ho you're gonna regret that princess"

Out of no where you felt a vibration on your clit "what-"

Impatient sluts like you deserve to have their cunt abused, looks like last night wasn't enough for you, but I'll make sure I dick you down good this time

After what seemed like an eternity of moaning and begging Yuta to remove the vibrator, He finally showed up after finishing his "work".

"How many times?"

"S-seven..."

"hmmm good, i bet you can give me one more"

Your tear stained eyes widened in shock and disagreement. "Just kidding... but if you try to pull a stunt like that ever again, you won't get dick for a month"

He untied you and helped you sit up right and brought you a much-needed glass of water. "Thank you Yuta." You started wearing your clothes but he stopped you. You looked at him with confusion. " You didn't think we were finished did you? Hahaha how sweet, you must have thought I gave you that glass of water because you were thirsty. Nah babe."

I was just prepping your throat for my cock. How innocent of you to think I'd let you go without a good face fuck

Yuta slid down his pants and boxers, you immediately took him in his mouth and started bobbing your head up and down. "Ahh fuck- keep going babe" you looked at him through your hooded eyes and suddenly got an idea. After a few moments, he emptied his load in your mouth. You removed his dick form your mouth with a distinct pop. " Don't swallow just yet y/n.. lemme see my kids before they go down your throat"

You opened your mouth to show Yuta's cum collected below your tongue. "Shit babe... Lemme just *click* *click* i wish I could explain how hot you look right now. You can swallow it now"

You got up to give Yuta a kiss but instead shoved the cum in his mouth. As you pulled away a string of cum connected your lips. "I taste good.. why did you spit it out on our first time" "what- no it tasted like battery acid, you're weird Yuta... I'm gunna take shower"

"Can I join you too?

"Nope I need some me time now"

Needless to say your alone time was interrupted and y'all fucked like rabbits

The end

[kiyoors]

of stars and cinnamon

friends to lovers! yamaguchi tadashi x reader

word count: 4.6k

warnings: smut! in the forms of oral (fem. receiving), spitting (ksjdjd like 3 times n it’s non-degrading), protected sex, uh slight orgasm denial ¿?; excessive star and cosmic references; ngl this isn’t even pwp, it’s straight up pwf (p*rn w hella feelings)

a/n: this is my longest fic so far n consequently my child, pls tell it nice things :) happy reading!! <3

maybe you’re nervous, just a little.

but the pretty rose dusting across yamaguchi’s star-sprinkled skin tells you he’s just as nervous; if not more.

it was nice seeing him again. the two of you— three if tsukishima had bothered to show up— had been busy with your own schedules, always ending phone calls a little earlier than hoped, with hurried promises of another call that took a little too long to come back, sometimes never at all; the group chat layed barren, with only the occasional check in; and, truthfully, you found out more about your friends through their private stories and internet presences than their actual physical ones. the planets must have aligned, venus-- or was it mars?-- in retrograde, for all of you to have had the third weekend of the month free.

a movie marathon, one grueling match of uno, and any kind of takeout was the shape your nights with your two best friends would take, ever since you were all little. it was a tradition, one that had withstood the test of time, and had continued to occur, although rather sparsely, now into early adulthood.

in the past two months, tsukki has been ditching them more often than not, though, leaving you and yamaguchi to your own devices. you’d just have to give his lanky ass a piece of your mind the next time he bothered to show up, but, for now, it didn’t matter. yamaguchi was enough— more than enough, if you were being honest with the kicking of your heart against your ribs, as you had opened the door for him to come in.

ever since he had stepped over your threshold, there seemed to be a perpetual pinkish flush to his star-littered skin; he couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands, either. it was as if nothing had changed: endearingly awkward yamaguchi, with a hint of snark if you prodded deep enough, standing before you with a bag of your favorite sweets and a fresh round of cherry coloring for your cheeks. he'd smiled at you, as starry as the night sky, and the tenseness seemed to leave his shoulders when you had wrapped your arms tightly around him in greeting. indeed, it was nice seeing him again.

it's also kind of nice seeing him on top of you, too, as you are now.

yamaguchi feels you shiver underneath him when he pulls away from your mouth, running his tongue over his kiss-swollen lips; he can taste your cherry chapstick on them. he's in a daze, drunk off of you, and he couldn't really tell you how the both of you got here. there's a hot want pooling deep at his belly, but he also realizes he needs to fucking think for a moment.

this was too much, too fast. he wasn't sure how much more his poor heart could take. tsukki hadn't come tonight, "because i'm tired of seeing you two eye-fuck each other every time we meet; work out your issues, fuck, get together, i don't care. just call me after...also, something came up" his words, not yamaguchi's. and, well, the original plan was to confess, to give you his heart on a silver platter (although he'd quietly left it at your doorstep a long time ago), and even if you didn't accept it, he would have let you keep it, anyway. this...this was maybe part two or three of the plan (in the scenario where you said yes to him and his heart), but definitely not to happen before letting you know that he was in it for good, for you. yet here he was: pupils blown out, skin hot, out of breath, and kissing the corner of your mouth.

you sigh contently, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair, at the back of his neck, and the other tenderly tracing at his jaw.

"(y/n)"

"yamaguchi"

you both call out each other's name at the same time, and you follow it with a shy laugh.

"you go first" he tells you, gently nudging your nose with his.

you shake your head as if to give yourself a little time before speaking, "just wonderin'," you swallow thickly, "if you wanted to move this to my room," you twirl one of his locks around your finger, "this couch isn't the most comfortable."

something inside yamaguchi twists itself until it has him out of breath, it stings a little, too. still, he finds himself nodding. he hooks one of your legs over his hip, your arms coming to wrap around his neck, and his other hand grips the skin of your thigh as he picks you up. you squawk at the sudden movement, tightening your hold around him, and he snickers as he makes his way to your room.

he gently drops you on the mattress.

it's as you sink into the plush of your pillows that you take a moment to consider what is actually about to happen. where you really about to fuck your best friend and crush of several years?

you take a moment to glance up at yamaguchi, he seems to be considering this, too, if the way he's frozen on the spot, half on your bed and half still standing is anything to go by. did you actually want this? or was it just the manifestation of years and years of quiet pining for each other?

you hear him shuffle a little closer, now fully on your bed but still not touching you, "do you want this?" he whispers to the room.

you gulp. because you do, you've wanted this for so, so long, only having been able to admire yamaguchi from a distance, the space between the both of you being called friendship. it had been enough for a while; it offered a nice view, you could see the stars perfectly from there, but you itched to touch them, to discover and trace all the tiny constellations decorating his skin. you needed a closer look, and you were about to have it, but at what cost? wouldn't it burn? to be so close to a star? a whole galaxy?

nothing ventured, nothing gained, you suppose.

"i do," you confess, "do you?"

yamaguchi looks away for a couple of seconds, and you strongly consider jumping out the window, but then he turns to look at you, meeting your eyes head on, "i do too," he says quietly but surely.

you don't miss his trembling when he meets you halfway to kiss you again.

he smells like cinnamon, and there's an endearingly odd reminder of his sprinkled skin there, as if he was dusted with the spice: a baked good that belonged in the warmth of an oven-- the warmth of your arms. his lips taste just as sweet as one, too.

his tongue meets yours in a messy clash of teeth and lips, picking up where you two had left off in your couch. he runs his hands under your sweatshirt, smoothing over your hot skin, just over the spots he knows make you squirm and huff with laughter. it's no different now, and he's smug as he swallows your reluctant chuckles, locking you under him with his hips at either side of your thighs.

you turn your head to the side, and his lips try to chase yours, but you're already working a trail of kisses down his jaw, searching, searching-

"hng-"

you grin at the strangled sound that leaves yamaguchi's lips, working on your retaliation for his earlier tickling.

"not fair," he huffs, already feeling a dull ache at the skin just at the hollow of his neck

you hum, satisfied, "you started it,"

his hands at your sides tighten, a pretty flush at his neck.

you continue to work at his skin, trying to taste off the cinnamon that's been sprinkled on top of him. it's a working hypothesis, but you're starting to believe that stars, maybe even whole galaxies, taste like cinnamon.

suddenly, you're a fan of it.

tentatively, you begin to slide up his shirt, nails gently scratching at the newly exposed skin of his back. he breaks away from you to finish taking off the offending garment, not missing the way your eyes rake up him.

you thumb at the waist band that peeks just over his sweatpants, bringing him crashing back down to your lips. he's so, so warm; a cozy fireplace comes to mind when your skin meets his.

eventually, he's taking off your sweatshirt, too, the sounds of lips meeting momentarily stopping. he takes a moment to sit back, eyes glossing over at the sight of you underneath him, admiring.

for the second time that night, you both truly consider what is about to happen.

the air around you is thick with nerves, yet it doesn't feel stuffy. you're perfectly able to breathe, but your skin is itching for something; your chest feels light, full of air, yet your heart seems to grow heavier and heavier with each beat it takes.

you’ve known yamaguchi since middle school. it’s comfortable with him, it always has been, and it still is right now, but there’s also a sort of nervousness to it, because you know him, but not like this, not in the way you’re about to know him now.

you're taking breaths that are too large for you to keep in your lungs, and somehow it's still not enough.

your eyes focus back to the man before you when you hear him exhale a shuddering breath, sinking back onto you, to hide himself at your neck, your hands immediately rubbing soothingly at his spine. seconds drang on, but you can't seem to rush. suddenly, you feel yamaguchi's breath tickling your neck, followed by a stuttering of his chest, and one of the sweetest sounds you've ever heard escape his lips: he's laughing.

“i’m so sorry," he says between shy giggles,"i just really don’t want to mess this up and- i laugh when i’m nervous”

your heart explodes at the revelation and your arms tighten around him.

hiccups of sweet laughter fill your room, and yamaguchi is poking at your sides again so you'll laugh with him. he's shining and blazing with laughter, and so are you, and, suddenly, breathing returns to being something of second nature, just like how it is being with yamaguchi.

you know him, but you're about to meet him again, and you don't know how much longer you can wait.

"'m nervous, too," you say, whispering to his hair and brushing away the bangs on his forehead, "but it's me, tadashi, and it's you, and i think we'll be okay."

he hums, pressing a kiss to your neck, "i think you're right," he continues his onslaught of sucking and kissing, now surer.

he's trailing kisses down your throat, venturing to your collar bones and the valley of your breasts. he silently asks for permission to unclasp your bra, and you arch your back in response. he sighs at the sight.

your skin pebbles when his warm mouth meets your nipple, and you let out the first moan of the night; tadashi soon follows it, and it vibrates against your skin, heat travelling to your core. he's toying with your other breast, palming and kneading at the skin with a freckled hand, rolling his hips into yours in the same pattern. you both moan at the clothed heat of each other.

deeming that he's given your breasts enough attention, the heat of his tongue travels lower, nibbling at your navel and the skin of your tummy, while your hands gently scratch and pull at his roots. dangerously close to the heat of your cunt, he presses a kiss to your clothed hip bone; your breath hitches when your eyes meet his starry ones. you pull him back up to kiss his lips again, muttering a quiet, "off," as you pull at the waistband of his sweats once your hands can reach.

he laughs again, this time more teasing than nervous when he follows your command and shoves them off, before he peels yours from your skin as well.

your lips meet again, along with the rolling of both your hips, moaning at both the increased friction and the obstruction of undergarments.

both his hands return to palm and roll at your breasts, while one of yours is still tucked in his hair and the other ventures down his torso, squeezing when you wrap your palm around his length over his black briefs. tadashi moans into your mouth, rutting into your hand.

"can i-" he sputteres between kisses and half-sighed moans, "can i eat you out?"  

your heart drops all the way down to your pussy, throbbing; you nod, feeling the heat of his cheeks when your nose nudges the skin, "please," you squeak.

your chest tingles at yamaguchi's warm breath as he makes his way south, stopping to kiss over the purpling hues he'd left earlier on the expanse of your torso. his hands squeeze and prod at your skin, setting it ablaze.

his fingers hook over the waistband of your panties, and he plants a swift kiss to the waistline before sliding them off. he moans at the sight of you, glistening; the cool air hitting your exposed core.

he eyes you once before moving to spread your legs for him, hooking one of your knees over his shoulder, as his free hand comes to gently thumb at your center, spreading your lips for a better view. he mutters a soft, "fuck," under his breath. you sheepishly turn your head to look away from the sight between your legs; otherwise, you're sure you might have combusted.

there's a soft intake of breath from below you, and you turn just in time to see tadashi move his hand to cover the lower half of his face, along with the sight of you. you're about to ask-

a soft ptooh makes your ears perk up, followed by the immediate jerk-up of your hips at the sudden feel of something cool and wet hit your center. your breath hitches. he just spat at your cunt, and you can't really find it in you to be displeased.

wide-eyed, tadashi meets your eyes, "was that alright? sorry- i should have asked first-"

you're still a little dazed, but you shake your head, "s'alright.. felt good." you can't really manage any other words at the moment.

tadashi curls his lips at that, eyes going back to the sight of your drenched core, a glistening mixture of his spit and your essence-- he feels his cock twitch.

"you're so pretty," he mutters, eyes not leaving you. he's in a trance, watching the way his spit slowly dribbles down its way from your clit to your aching hole. he's not sure when he started rutting into your mattress to alleviate some of the ache in between his legs.

yamaguchi doesn't really know how much time he spends admiring you, but your sweet, coy voice snaps him out of it, "y'know, it's rude to stare."  

you see him flush at that, "sorry"

your laugh turns into a moan at the feel of his tongue finally on you, lapping up both his and your juices. he's burying his face in between your thighs, nose perfectly nudging your clit, as if he were a starved man. he cant get enough of you: the sight of you already trembling, the sweet, wet sounds of his tongue working and wounding you up, your moans-

you taste better than anything he's ever imagined.

and, he's known it was you, for so fucking long, he's wanted you. for him, it's always been you, but this is just further confirmation to him. it’s really not as if he needed another reason to love you; being able to see you like this, because of him, was just an added bonus.

his teeth gently graze your sensitive nub, quickly soothing with his tongue after. the hand he'd been using to hold your hip down makes its way to your center, starting a circular pace around your clit when he pulls away, "good?" he checks in, cheeky grin playing on his lips.

you huff, motherfucker, as if he can't tell; nodding, you raise your hips, "come back," you whine. he has an easy smirk on his face, but his eyes are dancing with pure, unfiltered warmth and adoration for you. to yamaguchi, you're glowing.

he spits another glob of saliva, this time right at your entrance, and you can't help but arch your back, breath shaky.

he prods a finger, easily sliding in with the added wetness. after making sure you're comfortable, he adds in another. followed by another, a couple of seconds after. his mouth returns to your clit, fingers reaching in just deep enough to graze that one spot within your walls.

you're teetering between the edge, just a couple of more seconds and you're sure you'll fall over into orgasm, but the moment tadashi pulls his mouth, followed by his fingers, the delicious tightness in your chest leaves.

you goan and whine, and tadashi is kissing his way up you body with wet and messy lips and you were so close; "what the fuck," you manage in between the onslaught of kisses to your face. he hums, something that sounds like a satisfied laugh, "sorry," you can tell he's not really sorry, though, "want you to come with me inside."

you taste yourself as he kisses you deeply, "is that alright?"

"hmm," you consider it for longer than you need to, just to tease, but yamaguchi can feel your heart beating against his chest a mile a minute; not that he's any better, though.

"i suppose it's alright,"

he rolls his eyes, but you don't miss his smile. he moves to bury his nose at your temple, whispering to your ear, "promise i'll make it worth it."

your breath hitches,

"you better,"

he laughs, pulling away to sit up beside you.

"uh," he looks around your room, seemingly searching for something. suddenly, the nervous boy you had met all those years ago, in the days of your childhood, seems to peek from within the gentle man he's grown to be, "d-do you have any-?" he motions to his lap.

your eyes follow and it's now that you notice the dark patch on his briefs, he's achingly hard against the cloth, and you realize he's asking for a condom. he just ate you out, promised to make this night worth your while, but he can't seem to say the word 'condom' out loud. you're in love with one (1) sheepish idiot.

"they're by my desk," you say, voice light, "bottom drawer."

"r-right."

he's so painfully stiff he can't even move properly. you watch him awkwardly stand; he hasn't even left the side of your bed yet when you pull him back, arms wrapping around his torso from behind, and he's falling into your bed with an 'oof '

"why'd you do that forr" he whines, and you giggle under him, kissing the side of his neck.

"i'll go get it," you hum, moving from under him and standing up "just wanted to see you try to get up."

he huffs, and you mimic the words he'd told your earlier with an added wink, "promise i'll make it worth it,"

tadashi flushes at that.

you return a moment later, foil package in hand.

"lay down for me, yeah?" you smooth a hand up his thigh as he accommodates himself between your pillows. his wide eyes meet yours, and you smile prettily at him, hand finally reaching the waistband of his briefs.

"can i take them off?"

he nods silently

you leave the condom at you side, moving to straddle one of his thighs. you notice the tiny, barely-there freckles lining the planes of his chest and torso; there's a really cute one just at his hip, over his briefs, and you just have to kiss it.

finally sliding his last piece of clothing off, his shaft slaps up against his lower abs, pink tip swollen and weeping with precum. tadashi groans, finally being rid of his confines.

you give him a couple of pumps; he hisses at your cool hand around his hot skin. you roll on the condom for him, after.

tadashi doesn't miss your trembling as you pull away from his hips to help him slide his briefs off his legs, only to come back to rest on his lap. his hands find purchase at your waist when you hover over him to line yourself up.

with one final look into his green eyes and a gentle smile from him, you slowly sink into him, both of you groaning at the feel of the other.

you take him inch by inch, lip bitten between your lips at the stretch; tadashi's hold on your waist tightens as you're finally able to sit over his hips.

releasing a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, you sigh into his chest, whining at the new angle he's hitting, "gimme a minute," you mumble, sluggishly kissing a bit of cinnamon off his shoulder. his calloused hands rub soothingly at your back, releasing a shaky breath, "take your time, love"

you smile, ears perking up at the pet name, and you raise yourself a little on his chest to look back into his eyes.

although you can still feel the nervousness of the night tingling in your chest, in tadashi's hands at your naked back, at this moment, you find yourself feeling calm. you're drifting in a far off galaxy, gazing at a golden green nebula, and you're aching to touch the interstellar dusting at his face. you're at peace, because you realize, you now have all the time in the world to map out the stars.

his hands trail up and down your spine, mapping a trail of his own. you'll have forever to perfect both of your maps.

“tadashi,” you murmur, eyes still trained into his pretty green ones, “you’re staring again.” your smile lighter than air. he flushes and immediately averts his eyes, suddenly finding the hollow of your neck very interesting as he brushes gentle fingers along the path of your collarbones. “sorry,” he says again, “y-you know, my grandma used to scold me for staring all the time-“ he continues to ramble on, which is funny because who the fuck starts talking about their grandma when they’re inches deep into someone? only yamaguchi, and your heart can’t help but squeeze at the thought of the gentle boy before you until there’s a warmth spreading all across your chest, just under his fingertips, and even in the tiny laugh that escapes your lips.  

you capture his own with a kiss, mumbling against them, "help me move?" and he nods ardently before you lift up your hips and bring them back down against his. moans fill the room. he helps you set the pace, meeting his hips halfway up with yours, hands finding purchase in the swell of your ass.

he's fast, hitting in so deep that you see stars; you're having trouble keeping up, thighs aching.

as if he can read your mind, he hums, and his hands slide down from your ass to the back of your thighs, momentarily stopping to flip you over to be on top of you, keeping himself up with his arms at either side of your waist.

you're now on your back, yamaguchi pounding into you, cock kissing that delicious spot inside your gummy walls. you feel yourself climbing up to reach your orgasm.

you watch him bring one of his hands close to his mouth, seeing exactly when he spits unto his fingers and brings them down to rub circles at your clit. you're not sure if it's the added stimulation, the sight of him on top of you, or the fact that he just spat into his hand to then bring it to your sex that has you squeezing around him.

the rhythm of his hips stutters for a moment at the feel of you tightening around him, "holy shit-"

" 'm so close, tadashi," you whine, voice pitching as he speeds up both his hips and thumb at your encouragement.

he leans down to be closer to you, arm trembling over supporting his own weight and impending orgasm, "come for me, pretty," he kisses messily at your mouth, then your chin and cheeks, "wanna see you come with me inside, wanna see you come under me, please."

you're a mess of moans and mewels, thighs trembling, and tadashi doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, either. your eyes are closed, but you hear the wet slapping of skin, and the smell of sex and tadashi permeates your room, all while he's muttering dirtly sweet incohereincies to your ear, and it's all too much-

you claw at his back and tighten your hooked knees around his waist and your cuming, gushing around him, clamping down on him.

he helps you ride it out, slowing his pace but still not stopping, kissing and nibbling at your neck. you sigh contently, feeling as if your spirit is returning to your body. finally, you open your eyes. tadashi fumbles over you and you kiss the corner of his mouth.

it's when you try to move that you feel him inside you-- still achingly hard.

your brows meet in confusion, "you didn't-"

" 's alright," he kisses your forehead, "how're ya feeling?"

" 'm good-- great, actually-- but-" your head and body are still a little fuzzy from their trip to cloud nine, but you make an effort to roll your sensitive hips against his, "tadashi, finish"

he whimpers at the movement,

“b-but you just- aren’t you-“

“‘dashi,” yamaguchi meets your hazy eyes, and he swears he almost cums just by hearing how sweet his name sounds on your pretty lips, your eyes sleepy, tired, but reassuring, “keep going, please”

that’s all he needs to pick up the pistoning of his hips.

you're too damn sensitive, and you can barely do anything to help him reach his climax, but you hope the nails at his scalp and the tongue at the hollow of his neck help a little. you feel his hips stutter at the grazing of your teeth just over his pulse point and you hum. you feel a second orgasm tightening in your belly at the friction of his pelvis to your clit.

he sounds so sweet above you; he looks interstellar.

"starlight," you decide. that's what tadashi yamaguchi is made of.

he presses his forehead to yours, hips out of control now, "baby, m'gonna-"

he cuts himself off with a moan as he spills into the condom, thumb finding your clit to bring you over the edge.

all you can see, all you can feel, is white, hot pleasure-- and it's blinding. you're being consumed by a star.

coming down from your high, everything is fuzzy. you're in the dark cosmos of your room, but you're also acutely aware that the birth of a star always follows the death of one. you find it in yours and tadashi's clasped hands at your side.

you notice him laying his head on your chest, eyes closed, catching his breath. he's shining.

you hum after a couple of minutes, you're both quiet in each other's afterglows, and he takes it as a sign to get off of you and help you clean up.

it’s then that you're both back under the covers of your bed, and tadashi tucks himself to your side, bringing you a little closer to his galaxy, and burrows his face at the crook of your neck, “can we stay like this for a while?” he asks, and his voice is laced with sleep, teetering between consciousness and not.

you kiss the cinnamon at his brow, “of course,”

his arms around you tighten, murmuring, “can we stay like this forever?”

“we can”  you promise.

-

a/n pt.2: can yall tell i just absolutely love freckles?? if u have freckles you’re automatically gorgeous, i don’t make the rules <3

[washymylifeaway]

Haikyuu fanfic recs for ones I liked hehe

EDIT: I made a pt 2

Anyway, as the title suggests, I am recommending some fanfics for popular(ish) ships that I personally really enjoyed! I’m only doing one or two fics per ship (which in hindsight is KILLING me so I’m just putting the first fics I find and am like I really liked that one LOL) because I wanted to do a shorter fic rec list (tho watch this become super long LOL). I also may or may not be procrastinating finishing a couple other long posts, so there’s that hehe. For the (kinda but not really) public consensus for best fics per ship (by kudo count) check out some of my other posts. Also I’m putting some ships I don’t actually read much of (OOPS LOL) so if you think that there’s a fic that fits my type (if I even have a consistent type) better, pls tell me LOL. Otherwise, pls continue heh :)

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading to make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) and stay healthy!

IwaOI:

The Loyalty of a Traitor by DeathBelle (E) 76.9k // ok so does me liking this fic make me basic cause I feel basic LOL. I really love mafia fics, and the way the story line developed was SO good, like IN LOVE with this story. This is a fic where you should read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY before diving in, but if the length scares you, don’t be. It’s so easy to fall in and get lost in the writing!

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu (chanyeol) (T) 66.3k // again, basic? Probably LOL but it’s good so I have no shame ;) Again, pls don’t let the word count scare you (cause it scared me LOL), you get really into it after like 2 paragraphs, so just make sure you have enough time to finish hehe.

KuroKen:

Thicker Than Blood by kylar (M) 91.4k // are you surprised that there is another mafia one? You really shouldn’t be LOL. Anyway, I’ll just be here pushing my mafia fanfic agenda while you read this monster of a fic hehe :) Definitely read WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARY because there is some very sensitive topics involved! I also adore the oibokuroo friendship headcannon, so more reasons to read, right?

Liked, Commented and Subscribed by Royal Society of Pandas (Abarcelos) (T) 45.7k // this fic is SO funny omg. I read it and I had to stop so many times just to laugh because I could not stop sometimes LOL. However, there IS angst towards the end, it gets resolved, but it’s still there... But honestly, it just adds such depth and flavor to the fic, so pls read it!

BokuAka:

bang! now we're even by Authoress (M) 11.9k // so I’ll be honest, I don’t read a lot of BokuAka (...oops?) and so I wouldn’t consider myself as the best person to be recommending fics for this ship (in general too LOL).... ANyway, I love myself some good spy AUs (was gonna put that IwaOi spy AU but the LIMIT), and Akaashi in a dress? Like the tags might state, what more do you need? The characters are done beautifully, and the story development is SO good, so I give you all my humble BokuAka rec.

Crisis Converted by valiantarmor (M) 60k // man do I really love fighting in my fics LOL. This was super good and the plot itself kept me really engaged (what a twist omg). It does talk a bit about mental health issues, but it’s done so well, and they really did this AU justice!

DaiSuga:

How to Manage by SuggestiveScribe (E) 39.3k // ok so yea yea we established, I’m basic, BUT can you blame me? This might’ve been one of the first DaiSuga’s I’ve read and I have no regrets. Literally, this fic series is one of my favorites, so OF COURSE I had to add it somewhere :D Honestly, I don’t even think you need to read the first one to understand what’s going on, but I would just cause it has some funny DaiSuga moments too ;) This is explicit for PWP, so proceed with caution~~

Add New Contact by booksong (G) 8.5k // this one! It’s so cute and poor Daichi LOL. He really out here doing the most,,, Anyway, we love tech Suga, and a nice dash of snarky tsukki (LOL is he salt, yes yes he is). It’s very fluff and pine, so if you want to read Daichi having gay panic like 24/7, go right ahead LOL. 

SakuAtsu:

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle (E) 91.2k // ummmm, haha what, another mafia AU? Me, predictable? Noooo, never..... Anyway, this one was so freakin’ good like, love it so much! It’s one of my favorite mafia AU fics, and I love the story line progression. Poor Atsumu being dragged into this mess, but it’s okay because THEY are IN LOVE. Honestly, this fic is Atsumu best boy like he is the best boy. BEST BOY.

Notte Stellata by awkwardedgeworth (T) 20.9k // I ignored all of the other fics I LOVE in this ship (like the pain I’m in rn), but I love this fic with my whole heart. Like I have reread this fic multiple multiple times because I love it so much (tho I might’ve skipped the angst a couple of times cause I didn’t want the pain okay?). I keep coming back, and the second fic in this series is SO funny and cute and I love it here. Please read it, it’s so FREAKING good, angst and ALL.

KyouHaba:

Team Mom by All_My_Characters_Are_Dead (T) 2.7k // so as I was going through this tag (because that’s what I do LOL), I remembered this fic and I love it. Like yes Yahaba is the fear factor and yes Kyoutani is the DAD. I really like the team dynamics in this one, and the first years make me laugh pls.

Camellias by kiyala (T) 1.9k // IK you’re all like, you’re missing such great fics, like no I’m not I just made myself hate myself by limiting fics to two per,,, I love this fic and when I starting looking for this ship, it was the first one I thought of hehe. I really love magic and their interactions are so cute and the PLANTS ARE DOING THE MOST. Pls read both in the series, cause domestic KyouHaba is best KyouHaba ngl LOL. I love the plants, and if you read the second one, someone tell the trees to stop bullying Yahaba.

MatsuHana:

This gets annoying fast, Makki by Ink_stained_quills (G) 2.3k // IM IN LOVE WITH THIS FIC PLS I COULD NOT STOP CRYING TEARS OF LAUGHTER. This AU needs more fics PLEASE. It was SO freakin’ funny and the other teams KILLED ME. Like how they all approached the problem differently and how some of them (KUROO) asked for help LOL. Please this is so freaking funny go read it.

boiled frogs by reginagalaxia (E) 91.5k // I told myself I was gonna put my most angsty fics on another post (which I will for my other favorite MatsuHana angst fic which I love), but this fic. Omg I saw it and I was like I have to. Literally I have to. I hate angst, but read it. It, the, plot, omg, I jjfnsfknalkjdnf ljksan. Like I’m not sure you understand. This fic. asjfjfsadnldjb. I never thought I could hate a character SO MUCH,,,, like SO MUCH. READ TAGS, WARNINGS, AND SUMMARIES because some serious stuff really goes down. Bless Iwa-chan.

SunaOsa:

Accidentally in Love by pancake_surprise (T) 19.6k // JOSE CUERVO strikes. I love this fic and all the chaos in it. The way they were supposed to be the responsible couple (of friends LOL),,, sike. This one is only a slight angst and it’s mostly love and fun :) Also technically this is no longer the first fic in the series, but I’m still putting this one cause the other one is SakuAtsu orientated hehe :)

Spring Secrets by DeathBelle (T) 3.8k // Seasons might be one of my favorite (as all things also seem to be) series of all times. I don’t like rerecommending fics I’ve already said to read, which is why I’m not yelling at you to go read a certain other fic (which is my life and blood). Anyway, this fic series is all fluff barely angst (maybe that’s why I like it) but it’s so freakin good pls read it all ahhhhhh.

Komori/Suna (what is their ship name):

I wish to live in a world by hatsuna (T) 24.8k // ok ngl this fic was so sad and relatable? Like I was like wtf why are you making me cry rn even though like I shouldn’t be? My heart? Pain. (Hotel? Trivago.) Technically, this is END GAME but the main pairing is kinda SakuAtsu???? Something of the sort, but also their relationship (Komori and Sakusa) is written so well and idk guys I think you need to read this fic rn.

Ah the two fic limit hurt me, but fear not I am making ship specific rec posts (LOL I’m so dramatic), so if you wanted more of a ship,,,, its a coming hehe. And yes I did say I’m making an angsty fic rec post, but we’ll see if it gets finished before I side-track with posts like these LOL.

[requirings]

do you have any reddie fic recs?

BOY DO I! gosh these are gonna be so hard to choose so i’m gonna try to limit myself to just 10 fics

(not in order by preference)

Like a Bullet in the Back (honestly one of my fav works of literature i’m not joking)

There are literally so many good excerpts from this fic, it was hard to choose just one <:I

I love you. I’ve loved you so god damn long I can’t remember when it began. Do you remember, Eddie, that you were born the day before I was born? Five weeks premature. That’s you, Eddie. As if you couldn’t wait to meet me. And it doesn’t work like that. It never works like that. Nobody meets someone when they’re eight years old and knows I will love you forever. But I did. I did know. I didn’t know that I knew but I did.

Husband and Husband (THE CUTEST FIC younger losers, 5ish yrs old)

Richie is so overcome with happiness that he can’t do anything but run around the kitchen, whooping with joy. Eddie sits at the kitchen table, watching him and giggling uncontrollably.

Not Quite Young (i swear i didn’t know rants before reading this fic)

The laughter around Eddie felt like it was a million miles away. Everything about the way Richie talked to the way he walked around the stage felt unbelievably, achingly familiar, and yet Eddie was still clawing through his memories as if trying to string together fragments of a dream. Maybe this was a dream. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to ground himself.

Is This Thing On? (pwp vibrating butt plug)

"You look so good," Eddie says in that same low tone, the one that seems to resonate in time with the vibrations slowly taking Richie apart. "This is so hot, watching you get all worked up when you can't moan or touch yourself or beg for me." Richie grips his drink so hard he thinks his fingers might go straight through the glass bottle. "Son of a bitch," he hisses, and drains half the beer without taking a breath.

Soak Up the Sun (pwp richie’s ass is sunburnt and sensitive)

“You can’t have my dick right now, babe,” Eddie says, circling again, pressing down against his center until Richie is straining upwards, trying to push back onto his finger. “And whose fault is that?” “Ugh, mine,” Richie groans, pressing his face into his forearms. “Because I didn’t put on sunscreen. Is that what you wanna hear? I’ll never forget the sunscreen again, Eds, I promise, if you could please just— ohh.”

Adult Friends (i usually don’t read au’s but this one’s funny!)

Except, Richie hadn’t known Eddie for years and years. They’d only just met. The first time Richie made Eddie smile, he thought, oh. That’s something. And that night, when they were clutching their stomachs and Eddie was grinning at him, red-faced and whimpering and wiping tears from his eyes, Richie thought, oh. Oh, this man is beautiful.

Now What I’m Gonna Say May Sound Indelicate (stellar inner monologue)

Richie knows he’s funny. He self-aggrandizes to the point of parody, but he always has. For every beep beep the gang dished out, he got twelve laughs. Eddie never really wanted him to shut up, even when he was telling him to shut up, even when his jokes were really stupid. Even when he was hunched over his phone at the airport, waiting for YouTube videos to buffer while Richie gargled out some truly pathetic ghost-written jokes, Eddie never closed the window. He wanted to keep hearing Richie talk, like he was waiting for something.

Take My Hand, Take My Whole Life Too (short but sweet)

“But I’m okay?” He can’t help but make it sound like a question. “Tell that to my fucking brain,” Richie croaks. But his eyes are open now and he’s staring at Eddie like he’s trying to commit him to memory. Eddie lets himself smile, his cheeks dimpling, because if this is the image of him that Richie is going to think of to ascertain that Eddie is real and alive, blood still pumping through his veins, then he’ll give him this: proof that Eddie is happy.

Richie Tozier Settles Down (this one is the best media pov fic)

Like, if you want these roles, you’re going to have to put on a disguise. You’re going to have to work really, really fucking hard to put that disguise together.” Tozier, in the years that followed, would fill his routines with references to girlfriends, and go on pre-arranged, intricately choreographed dates with women. He was not out as gay, even to his close friends.

i said i was gonna add 10 but uhhhh honestly a lot of my bookmarks are just. fics that i dont remember what they’re about. and it really doesn’t help that the summaries and tags don’t allude to the plot. fic authors.... please........... tell me wtf is happening.

so! instead i will recommend a stan/pat fic! (it’ll eventually have reddie but the fic is on a hiatus rn)

Tooth & Crow (great inner monologue; unsettling but in a good horror way)

Outside in the tree the great bird rubbed its wings against its sleek body. Then it startled. A crow, ink-feathered and lean, alighted on the branch above it and spread its own black wings darker even than the night. The crow said, “Maturin, maturin,” and the owl leapt clumsily out of the tree as the crow shouted after it: “maturin, maturin,” a hoarse thing that continued long after the owl had gone and the man in the room at the end of the hall had gone away again to another place distant and strange.

[mccnyoongi]

buttercup ⇢ pt one

⇢ pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

⇢ genre: smut + slight angst

⇢ au: college!au, fwb!au, stoner!yoongi, assholeish!yoongi, fuckboyish!yoongi fwb to lovers trope

⇢ word count: 6k+

⇢ warnings: smut, honestly mostly porn, unprotected sex, recreational use of drugs & alcohol, dirty talk, praise, degradation, ridiculously excessive use of pet names, fingering, dom!Yoongi, unprotected sex, slight dumbification (whoops), hair pulling, creampie??, oral (f receiving), pussy slaping, reader has a thing for Yoongi’s hands because who doesn’t, reader and yoongi are both sarcastic and oblivious, this part is basically pwp.

⇢ synopsis: Min Yoongi wears leather jackets, fucks you like he hates you, spends most of his days on the wrong side of a blunt, and calls you the sweetest names when no one else is around. And you definitely aren’t falling in love with him.

⇢ author’s note: so yes, buttercup is being cut up into two parts thanks to a lot of my life getting uprooted this week!!! ill spare you the details but everything is really chaotic rn so im sorry this isnt exactly what i promised :( thank u for all the insane amont of love ive gotten so far. this is a pretty um... filthy piece of writing skfjsd and it’s definitely not perfect and id love to get better with everything i put out on here but i hope u guys enoy ily xx

If there was a magic lantern hidden somewhere on the campus of this university, you’d find it and your first wish would be to make it so that no one found out about this whole illicit affair you’ve been having with Min Yoongi. The secrecy was fun, sexy like you guys had a whole Mr. and Mrs. Smith thing going on. Or something. Your second wish would be to make his dick vibrate. 

But then he just had to go and go down on you in a bathroom during a party at the Beta Tau Rho house, not even a month into the fall semester, knowing you wouldn’t be able to be quiet or subtle at all. And he was so smug about it too, the fucker.

You can still feel the embarrassment buzzing under the surface of your cheeks from when you walked out that bathroom door and a dozen frat boys and mutual friends of yours and Yoongi’s were out there, waiting for the two of you to emerge and giving you a round of applause when you did. Yoongi had just laughed and rolled his eyes before leading you to the kitchen to get the pair of you some drinks. He’s always been particularly good at brushing that shit off of his shoulder. You aren’t, but you’re pretty good at pretending.

Maybe you should have ended it all that night. Of course, you didn’t. You figured, hey,  you’re young and in school so fuck making good decisions. Of course, the fact that no other guy has ever been able to dick you down nearly as well as Min Yoongi can is probably a huge contributing factor. 

Sure he might be grumpy, and sarcastic, and he tries way too hard to look cool and nonchalant, but he’s also the first guy to ever make you squirt. And you’re pretty sure that the way he waxes poetic about your pussy would make even Shakespeare swoon. So maybe the pros outweigh the cons, but only just.

“I can’t believe you’ve been getting Yoongi dick for almost three full months and haven’t divulged every single detail and vein to me, you cold, uncaring bitch-” Jimin’s voice is far too loud for the student-run coffee shop the two of you regulared every Sunday; a tradition that Jimin always insisted upon. He loves his traditions almost as much as he loves destroying any personal boundaries between the two of you.

“Keep going Park, see if I ever buy your coffee again.”

“Don’t change the subject,” You can’t say you’re surprised that Jimin is reacting like this. Self-proclaimed ‘disaster bisexual,’ Jimin was one of the very first friends you made back when you were a shy, barely functioning freshman. 

He actually introduced you to all his frat brothers, and a large number of the people you now call your friends. Including Yoongi, whose dick seems to be a reoccurring topic between you and… most people you know. Even if they weren’t at that dumb party, Jungkook made sure that every living being that stepped onto campus was aware of the newly found out fuckbuddies.

“We don’t keep anything from each other, Y/N,” He’s whining over his coffee now, full lips perched in that pretty pout that he regularly uses to his advantage. “I even told you about that time I puked on Namjoon’s dick in our second year!”

“Mmm, and I wish you hadn’t told me, Minnie-” The visual still haunts you, but Jimin has never had any predilections when it came to oversharing, especially not with people who have the misfortune of being his best friends. “‘Sides, I didn’t figure it was important, the whole Yoongi thing-”

“His dick, you mean.”

“Because it’s not like we’re getting married,” You carefully ignore him, a useful habit you’ve picked up three years into being his friend. “Just sex, remember?”

“So fucking what? You told me how you sucked Jeon’s cock in a movie theatre less than twelve hours after it happened-” You take a large gulp of your own iced coffee to busy yourself when the shameful memory is brought up. Not shameful because of the promiscuity of the act, no you’re an adult, thank you very much, but rather because of the boy you performed them on. Jeon Jungkook is now more of an annoying younger brother to you than anything. Not to mention he’s got a giant mouth that couldn’t keep a secret even if it killed him.

“Jesus you could’ve picked any other example-” You groan out as Jimin smirked, receiving the exact reaction from you he wanted. You think you’d have learned by now. “I’m sorry, okay? You big baby.”

“Hey, you’re on thin ice,” He points an accusatory finger at you and you have to fight the urge to smack it out of your face. “Now you have to make it up to me.”

You sigh- Jimin can really be exhausting when you’re only half a medium coffee in. “And how do you expect me to do that, Park.”

“Dick details, fucking obviously,” He says it like you’re a moron for even asking. And maybe you are. “Well details in general, I guess. You know, the basics; length, girth, does he make you call him daddy, is he good- I mean he must be un-fucking-real if you’ve been bouncing on it for three goddamn months, you whore.”

“I’m not giving you measurements, Jimin, I’ve yet to take a tape measure to it- and stop assuming everyone has a daddy kink just ‘cause you do.”

“Okay, vanilla bitch. You’re lucky I already know he’s got a monster cock from that time he streaked at that post-mid-term party next year.”

“Then why’d you even ask?”

“To see if you’d tell me the truth. It was a test and you failed.”

“I may be a college student but you’re gonna have to threaten me with a little more than a failing grade to spook me,” You roll your eyes playfully- there’s no real threat in his words, there never is.

“You’re right, I’m sure you’d much rather be punished by Yoongi, huh?”

                    ..............................................................................

Watching Yoongi roll a joint, his long, slender and experienced fingers moving quickly and deftly, has always had this near hypnotizing-like effect on you. His apartment smells like weed, the scent never surprising and would almost be overwhelming if you weren’t so used to it by now. The sight alone is almost enough to make you wet. But you’re stronger than that- except for when you’re not. 

Sexy hands aside, but unfortunately not on you, you’re thankful for his cannabis-related expertise because a) you can’t roll one yourself to save your life and b) despite normally reserving your consumption habits for parties, you feel like you deserve a fat one after the week you’ve had. What with, you know, the stress of having every student on campus knowing about yours and Yoongi’s torrid affair, thanks to fucking Jeon Jungkook. Brat. Plus incessant goading from both Jimin and your roommate, Irene- equally angry as Jimin about your worst kept secret- has only made you sink further into your insecure and paranoid thoughts.

The weed would help, you’d told yourself when your phone pinged with that much anticipated what’re u up 2? late night text from the raven-haired devil himself. Yep, it was the weed, the comforting blanket of getting high. And had nothing to do with the boy that was offering them. Not even his fat cock or magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. 

“Alright, dove,” He says from his spot on his worn-out single-dorm couch- the names don’t tend to surprise you the way they used to. You kinda figured that the affection-starved Yoongi had just you know… gotten comfortable with the girl he had been fucking for the last couple of months. No big deal. Sure they made your heart swell and your panties dampen, but then it could be looked at as a positive. 

He looks up at you from his spot on the couch, where he’s uncomfortably hunched over the table as he works and notices how you’re looking rather spaced out- not entirely rare for you. He’s used to the hundred-mile stare you tend to adopt when deep in thought, though it’s considerably less common for a sober you.

“Dove?” Nothing. “Y/N?” It’s the use of your actual name from his lips that finally grabs your attention.  You finally turn your head to look at him, the glaze of deep thought finally leaving your eyes. An eyebrow quirks to let him know you’ve heard him, but his gaze remains piercing and unwavering on yours. “You need to stop worrying so much, dove.”

“That’s what the weed is for, Yoongs.”

“The weed? You’re just here so I can smoke you out then, huh? No ulterior motives, hm?” His tone is as dry and sarcastic as ever, qualities he had quickly become known for around campus. He shurgs “Fine. Just here to sesh. C’mere then.”

You scoot closer to his side of the couch, not even thinking twice before listening to him. His tongue is tantalizing as he licks the rolling paper, even if he doesn’t mean it to be. He’s almost always tantalizing to you.

“Don’t be grumpy. You invited me over,” Your words are softer than you meant, but your proximity to him makes you feel stilted. He was right, you really needed a smoke, more on edge than ever.

“Well, technically,” He starts, unlit, perfectly rolled joint now perched between his lips. He grabs at your legs before continued so that you were resting sideways on the black couch, legs strewn over legs, thighs touching thighs. “I invited the best pussy on campus over.” You crinkle your nose at his bluntness.

“Yoongi-” You scold indignantly and pinch at a well-toned bicep. “Don’t be an asshole, you asshole.” He grins despite the insult like he’d expected it. Or he’s revelling in it.

“You know I’m just fucking around, angel,” His arm tucks around your waist comfortably, pulling you even closer. “Tryna chill you out. I can tell when you’re all strung out. I know how you,” He pokes you in the middle of the forehead, still grinning, as you pout from being called strung out. “Tick.” 

He really does, doesn't he? The thought is mildly terrifying, and you think that Yoongi might be too smart or his own good sometimes. When he’s not smoking himself into another dimension, that is.

He leans back into his seat, uncurling from around you to finally light up. A few sparks later and the room is fogging up with overly pungent smoke- the cheap smell makes you think that he probably bought it off of Hobi, too lazy to go any further off-campus than his own block of apartments to one of the nice but relatively affordable dispensaries. You crinkle your nose at the scent, grateful he’s too distracted to notice since he’d probably just tease you for liking the fancy shit more. At least you trust Hobi, and he lives only two buildings down from Yoongi. Truly an age of convenience.

A few passes, tokes, whatevers later, and you’re feeling substantially... floaty. You’ve completely relaxed, choosing to lie down rather than put the effort into sitting up, though your legs are still thrown across your equally high counterpart’s. What’s left of the roach is left to burn in one of many strategically placed ashtrays around the apartment, this one being on the living room table.

Yoongi has barely moved in the past while, head resting lazily on the back of the couch, black hair messy and his neck- which is somehow handsome to you- stretched out, and hands resting against your bare knees. You’ve barely paid him any mind, the silence nothing but comforting and easy. 

Which is why you can’t help but jolt just a little in surprise when those hands, the hypnotizing ones you’re so obsessed with suddenly start creeping up your legs, halfway up your thighs, carefully kneading the supple flesh he finds there. He chuckles at your reaction, finally picking his up his head to watch you through heavy-lidded eyes. “Bet you’re extra sensitive right now, huh petal?” He doesn’t have to bet because he knows it’s true, knows how needy you get when you’ve smoked. And he loves it- it’s why he never makes you pay for any of the times he smokes you out.

“Fuck off,” You whine at his light-hearted teasing, but Yoongi just giggles- he fucking giggles- in response, hands still travelling the expanse of your thighs. 

“Be nice,” His words are still jovial, but there’s a gruffness behind them that sends a shiver down your spine, despite the relative stuffiness of his living room.

“I am nice, you’re just a dick,” You pout- childish, but you can’t quite come up with anything more clever at the moment. The jab may be weaker than your usual quips, but Yoongi seems to have decided it’s enough to warrant a punishment of sorts, as he sends a quick slap onto your thigh. It’s certainly not the harshest hit you’ve received from him, it’s more playful than anything, but it’s enough to make you whine, not even noticing when your own hands jump down to grab at him and your now sore flesh.

His eyes take on a new sort of darkness, beyond the dilated pupils from the high he’s in the middle of as he grabs at your wrists, any assault you had planned halting in its tracks. His large hands that you’ve drooled over- figuratively and literally- many a time are big enough that he only needs one of them to hold both of yours steady. He uses his grip on you to yank you back up to a sitting position, where your noses almost touch and you can feel his breath fan across your lips.

“I told you, I know how you tick,” He lets his tongue swipe out to wet his lips, the act distracts you and makes you mimic it with your own tongue and lips. The smirk he gives you is all at once wicked and panty dampening. “Which means I know you like it when I’m mean. I know you like when I treat you like this, like my little slut,” The word makes you draw in a breath as your face reddens in humiliation and tension. “And- and I know you’re probably soaking through your panties right now, all over my couch. Making a fucking mess.”

It infuriates you to no end how right he is as your breaths come out shaky and uneven as you feel your pussy flutter around nothing beneath your shorts and panties. 

“Aren’t you?” His tone doesn’t leave room for playfulness anymore, and you’re nodding dumbly before you can give it a second thought. “Good girl.”

He doesn’t give you any time to bask in the praise before he’s leaning in to capture your lips in a searing and sloppy kiss. He’s domineering even in the way he kisses you, teeth biting and tongue sweeping into your own mouth as he revels in the small sounds that escape you. His hands leave your wrists, freeing them so you can grip onto raven locks with a newly freed hand as his own wrap around your waist. 

Every sense is filled with him, and it is all at once comforting and exhilarating.

He tugs and roughly manhandles you so that you’re properly astride his denim-covered thighs, your lips never untangling in the process. When your lips finally do come apart, it’s with a lewd sound and a gasp from your mouth. He’s still smirking.

“Gonna fuck you so good petal,” Yoongi has always been so blunt and unforgiving, whether in bed or out and it had been one of the things that first attracted you to him, besides his obvious good looks. 

Before the two of you had even gotten together, when you were friends who didn’t fuck on the regular, you had even mustered up the courage to touch yourself to the thought of him speaking to you like this- your own fingers circling your clit and delving into yourself without abandon. You had only been able to imagine up a fraction of his sexual prowess. 

Like the time only a few weeks ago you admitted to him in a foggy haze, high than you think you’d ever been. how you’d brought yourself to climax with images and soundbites of him flitting through your head. He’d immediately made you put on a show for him- recreating those nights, but this time with him sitting feet away from you and ignoring your pleas for him to touch you.

Right now, however, the only things keeping you grounded in reality is the feeling of the muscles in his thighs flexing beneath you, though nowhere near where you truly ache to be touched, and one of his hands brutishly tangled in your hair, pulling harshly so he can have easy access to your neck. Plush lips start soft, kissing and licking at the skin there, before his teeth join in, biting and sucking like he loves the taste of you (because he does).

“Y-yoongi-” You’re trying to keep the whimpers at bay, like maybe if you stop yourself from seeming so turned on so fast it’ll get him to fuck you faster. “C’mon, just fuck me already.”

“So demanding for such a needy bitch,” He has you squirming on his lap and you don’t know why you thought you had any power over him left. “Have you forgotten your place? Can’t think of anything else but getting fucked, huh?”

You nod in agreement, but find out he must want a verbal response when you’re met with a sharp spank to your ass that has you squealing and bucking into his lap. “Yeah, yeah Yoongi ‘m sorry, just need it.���

“I know, baby, I know, you can’t even help it when you get all messy like this, I know,” You can’t decide whether his words are sweet or patronizing when he coos at you like that, but either way he’s got you another pair of panties.

“Need you to fix it, Yoongs,” All pride is out the window when he’s got you like this, and you love pleading with him to give you what you want almost as much as likes making you beg.

“I will,” He gives you one more harsh bite to the junction of your neck and your shoulder that you know will blossom into a bruise just in time for your 10 AM class tomorrow and you hiss at the mingling of pain and pleasure. “Now fucking get up,” He pats lightly at your thigh twice at the order.

You’re in no position to disobey, and you know from experience that not listening to him will end up with a sore ass and no release in sight. You stand up on shaky, doe-like legs and he grins at the sight of you. He stands up with you, his lean form and strong stance making him look taller than he really is. Then his long fingers are pulling at what little clothing you have, stripping you of both your tank top and your shorts and your bra isn’t far behind. Soon you’re clad only in your panties while he’s still fully clothed in black form-fitting jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Thankfully he leaves his cliche, but devastatingly sexy leather jacket at the door.

He doesn’t make any move to undress at all and you hope to god he will eventually- you love seeing his honey-coloured skin covered in a thin layer of sweat as he fucks you into oblivion. But for now, he stays fully clothed and he roughly pulls you by your upper arm until he can bend you over the arm of the couch, panty-covered ass high and perfectly on display for him.

“God, you’re fucking dripping,” He taunts, fingers running over your pussy through the thin cotton, making you whine into the rough cushion your face is resting on. “All this from almost nothing, huh? You’re such a fucking slut for me, shit.” He sounds genuinely amazed by you and when you uncomfortably crane your neck back to get a good look at him you let out a proper moan. He must have stripped his shirt off when you weren’t facing him, because his chest is bare for you to gaze at, or you would gaze at it if you weren’t distracted by the hand that isn’t on you, which is lazily working over his cock, rock hard and aching through his jeans.

He smirks when he notices what’s grabbed your attention, knowing you’re only moments away from quite literally drooling on his pillows. “Is this what you want? Hm?”

“Ye-yeah your cock, Yoongi, need your cock,” Your face burns red and blood burns hot as the crude words leave your mouth.

“And you’ll fucking get it, dove,” The cute name contrasts the second harsh spank he lands on your ass and you moan at the delicious sting. 

You think that he must be about to tear your panties off and sink into you, but that would be too predictable and Yoongi loves to keep you on your toes. Instead, he disappears from your line of sight, a dull thump coming from the hardwood as he drops to his knees, feline gaze now level with your cunt. 

“Yoongi-” You’re whining again, and you even have to hold yourself back from stomping your foot childishly because, god, you just need him to do something.

And then he finally does- he licks a thick stripe, right from your clit to your entrance, still over your panties, and you gasp in surprise. He does it again, twice, three, four times until your hips are bucking and you’re whining because you need more, you need him to actually touch you and not be a giant fucking tease for once in his life.

“Be fucking patient,” He hisses out, but at least he’s finally rolling your underwear down your legs to toss them somewhere across the room. “Or I swear to god, I’ll hold you down just like this so you can’t even squirm while I get myself off all over your messy cunt,” His hand is running up and down your bare pussy as he speaks, spreading the wetness around, to your clit and your thighs and your ass and then back again. “And then I’ll send you home without touching you or cleaning you up, so you’ll have to take the subway home covered in my come and fucking trembling. So be fucking good.” At the last word, he lands a mean slap against your gushing cunt and you let out an embarrassing squeak.

“Shit-fuck- Yoongi, please, just-” You stutter through your words, needing to get them out, though you don’t know why. “I’ll be good, okay? ‘M your good girl, I am, promise, I’ll be good.”

He doesn’t respond, at least not verbally. But you have to assume he’s happy with your desperate response when he finally delves into your pussy like a man starved, tongue licking into you, the muscle sending spasms up and down your legs. You have to muffle your moans by biting into a pillow, not needing another altercation with his neighbours, but you want nothing more than to yell his name as loud as you can until your voice goes hoarse when he shakes his head from side to side, tongue still buried inside of you and one of his hands now roughly circling your clit. 

It’s too much, but it’s not nearly enough. It’s when he switches positions between his hand and mouth that you think you might explode; his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue circling and playing with it and two fingers fucking into you, preparing you for the impressive girth of his own cock.

Your teeth let go of the strong grip it has so you can warn him of your impending orgasm. “Yoongi- gonna come-” You manage to choke out between barely quieted moans.

You know that he wouldn’t be able to respond if he was still suckling on your clit, but you still whine and wiggle your hips as he pulls away, earning you yet another spank to your rear, where you can only assume a nice handprint is forming. “Yeah? Want you to come all over my face, like a good messy whore- gotta come for me before I can fuck you like you need.” 

When his mouth finds your swollen clit again, you can’t help it as your orgasm barrels through you almost violently, every muscle tensing and fingers grasping at whatever they can find, neighbour’s delicate sensibilities forgotten as you moan out Yoongi’s name. He licks you through it, fingers no longer pistoning into you. When the last of the tremors have faded he finally pulls away, using his clean hand to wipe your mess off of his chin, though it hardly cleans him. 

“Good fucking girl,” The roughness with which he was grinding his still covered bulge into your now sopping wet center would be impossible to ignore even if your head weren’t a million miles away. But for now, everything is Yoongi, every single scent is filled with him and you think that that might be making your head even fuzzier than the drugs coursing through your system, but you’re too far gone to be sure. Or to even care.

Because all you can think about is his mouth-watering hands kneading at the slightly pinkened skin of your ass, his mouth-watering cock rutting against you and his mouth-watering, well, mouth pressing wet kisses and occasional bites up and down your spine. “Yoongi,” You meant to speak with at least a little more conviction, but his name comes out as little more than a mumble.

“Hm,” He hums against your skin and even those slight vibrations reverberate straight to your heart, which starts beating faster at the thought of what’s to come. “What, is my babygirl still needy?” 

The use of the word my in front of the affectionate name makes your heart jump, but you don’t even have time to scold yourself for thinking with your post-orgasmic pussy before he continues talking with that sinful mouth of him. “Such a greedy, desperate girl, won’t be happy ‘til you’re stuffed full of my fat cock,” His words have you whining and grinding back against him, where you don’t have to look to know you’re leaving a stain on his favourite jeans.  If you’re unlucky- or lucky depending on your mood- he’ll make you clean it up with your tongue as further delicious torture. 

But smoking makes Yoongi needy too, no matter how much he teases you for the effect it has on you, and he can’t wait much longer, not with his cock so hard he was a razor blades’ edge from losing his mind. He needs to be inside you as much as you need him.

Which is why you don’t doubt him for a second when he’s murmuring things about how he’s ‘gonna fuck you so good, gonna fuck you stupid,’ and you can only respond with even quieter whispers of ‘I knows’ and ‘pleases’ as he strips himself oh the rest of his clothes, hissing from oversensitivity as his cock makes contact with the air. It’s wonderfully overwhelming and he’s not even fucking you yet.

You can’t even explain how grateful you are when Yoongi turns you around because you love just seeing his cock. You’ve never been one to describe guys’ dicks as pretty before- except that TA you managed to fuck before Jimin sunk his claws into him, Kim Seokjin, because, well, you’re not blind. But Yoongi’s dick is gorgeous. It’s not the biggest thing you’ve ever seen, and it doesn’t have to be, not when it’s girthy enough to make you salivate with a curve that points to the heavens. Gorgeous.

He’s pulling you on top of him so he can sit back down and you’re back to straddling him, and you don’t complain because you know he’s tired both from the pot and crouching on his haunches for access to your center not two minutes ago. Plus he loves when you ride him, breasts bouncing in his face, wetness making a mess out of his lap and full access of your entire body for both his hands and lips.

“Need you to bounce on my fat cock before I fucking explode, baby,” And you’d have to be some sort of a madwoman to deny him.

“Need it too, Yoongs,” You don’t know why you feel the need to remind how desperate you are for him, surely he can feel it, your swollen pussy resting only centimetres above his throbbing length. “Can’t think of anything else.”

“I know,” He’s rubbing the angry red tip against your sopping folds, tinges of overstimulation making you jolt. Or you would jolt if his hands weren’t heavy on your waist, keeping you steady so you couldn’t a) get away from his cock or b) properly sink down onto it. “So pathetic and perfect for me like this, all cock drunk and fucked out and I haven’t even fucked you yet, huh?”

You nod frantically, and you can’t even find the energy to be embarrassed when a hand comes up to pet your hair with a condescending ‘awe’ as he pouts at you. You bat his hand away with a whine and furrowed eyebrows, but all that gets you is his hand tangled in your hair, yanking sharply in retaliation. “Careful, slut, or you won’t be coming for the next week-”

“Please, Yoongi-” You don’t let him finish, knowing from experience to always take his threats seriously. “I’m sorry, I’m fucking sorry, okay just please-”

You cut yourself off with a high pitched, tea kettle-like squeak as he uses his hands on you as leverage to have you sink down onto his cock in one fell swoop. “Shit, god, you’re always so fucking tight around me, fuck me.”

I am, is what you wish you were coherent enough to snark back with, but you’re sure no one would blame you if they could feel what you feel right now. And what you’re feeling right now is how well Yoongi feels inside of you, like no cock you’ve ever had. Every ridge and vein on his cock fills you up to the fucking brim, no room left for a pinky or a thought that has to do with anything other than Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi.

And then he starts with those devilish moments of his hip, fucking into you shallowly and slowly to start and it’s all Yoongi’s dick. 

“Fucking bounce on it, dove. Fuck yourself on my cock, show me how much you need it,” He speaks through gritted teeth, each word a struggle as he tries not to fuck into you without thought. And it’s with the satisfaction you get knowing he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him that you find the strength to do as he says.

With quivering thighs, you push up and off of his cock, the two of you sharing a harmonious groan at the feeling, foreheads pressed against each other, skin sweaty. And this all just in the calm before the storm. 

It’s not long before the both of you are moving frantically, mere seconds, really. It’s intense and all-encompassing, as you grind and roll your hips, cock deeper than you knew to be possible, and his bucking his own hips into you roughly, no doubt as deeply in some sort of euphoria as you are. His hands are everywhere and so are his lips. He sucks marks into your tits and gropes your ass, controlling your movements to the best of his abilities.

All of that, plus your clit grinding against his pelvic bone every other second and your head just might be in another universe. 

Yoongi’s words are swirling around in your head, though you’re not properly taking any of it in- his velvety voice goes on about how wet you are, how tight you are, how you’re a good girl and it’s all another instrument in your downfall. You’ve never been much for heights but being with Yoongi feels like something akin to what you assume bungee jumping is like, and you’re just about at that point where your cord runs out of length and your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

“Tell me you’re fucking close, baby, c’mon,” This is as close to pleading as you can ever get Yoongi but you’re still swimming in pride. He brings a hand off of your ass to cup your cheek, brushing away your now mussed hair and a single stray tear and you drink in the look in his eyes, dark red-rimmed and needing. “Gonna fill you up with my come, just like I know you like, my perfect little cumslut, fuck, just need you to come first, yeah? All over my fucking cock.”

And with a particularly hard grasp at your ass, bringing you to grind your clit against him again, you’re gone. It’s considerably less intense than the previous one, as many second orgasms are, but your head is still spinning and you think you might have drooled a little, but you don’t mind and you know Yoongi doesn’t. Your attempts to stifle your moans are unsuccessful as the name of the man attached to your favourite cock falls from your lips like a mantra.

And where your orgasm is, Yoongi is rarely far behind- he loves seeing you fall apart around him, because of him and you always clench so fucking hard around him in the peak of your pleasure how could he fucking not. He’s grunting, moaning, damn near growling as he spurts his own release as deep into you as he possibly can, coating every inch of your delectable pussy, vague mumbles of how he’s filling you up, just like you’re meant to be that you can just barely hear.

Shakey breaths hit each of your faces as you come down, now still and worn out. Your chests move up and down and you don’t know when you’ve buried your face into the crook of his neck, but the warmth and smell are more comforting than any hit you’ve ever taken off of one of his blunts.

“Shit, buttercup,” He chuckles, the vibrations rumbling through his chest and where you’ve tucked yourself He runs a hand through his sweaty black locks, the other hand locked around your waist. “I don’t know how we’re gonna move without making this couch fucking disgusting.” Mood killer.

“Don’t give a shit.”

“Yeah, but I do. Especially if Joon or Hobi someone finds it and makes a big fucking deal out of it, like no other guy in his twenties has some come stained furniture.”

You pull back from the spot you wish he’d just let you fall asleep in so he can see your pout. He can’t find the sight of you… adorable? Your hair matted, bruises, courtesy of yours truly littering your tits and chest, a thin sheen of sweat making your skin glow and bottom lip jutted out exactly enough to be overexaggerated and so fucking adorable. 

At that moment he’s glad that about three weeks ago the two of you had started to break the unspoken no sleeping over after sex rule because he just wants to clean you up and feel you curl yourself around him like you like to.

You don’t know what time it is, just that it’s late and that it doesn't matter, because this was certainly time well spent. You wonder how much sleep you’ve given up in lieu of Yoongi’s pretty dick. Of course, it does matter... because you have a 9 am class tomorrow morning that you can’t miss, but that’s for future you to worry about. For now, it’s time to try to get up without defiling this Ikea couch (you failed miserably and giggled about it while Yoongi groaned in mock pain), burn out just one more joint, steal some clothes for bed and some snacks from his fridge, and pass the fuck out on his bed, which you think is way better than yours, but that has nothing to do with the boy in it or his comforting warmth and smell.

                     ..............................................................................

Past you is a dumb bitch. Also maybe current you. Point being, you hate you, because you’re sore and stiff and ten minutes late to your dumb 9 am class and it’s all Yoongi’s fucking fault. You texted him this much, calling him a ‘little bitch boy’ for not even waking you up to make you a cup of coffee with his fancy instant coffee machine before you left. He hasn’t responded yet because holy fuck does that guy sleep like a rock. A really cute, cuddly, sex-god rock.

But, as usual, Jimin came in clutch, handing you off a coffee as your paths crossed on campus, each of you heading to your respective classes. He gave you a one-armed-too-tight hug and a comment on how you have that very glamourous ‘I got fucked by Min Fucking Yoongi last night and you didn’t so I’m better than you look.’ You tried to take it as a compliment as you thanked him for the coffee. He gave you a cute kiss to your forehead that reminded you you could never even be annoyed at him for too long.

And now you’re in class. Headache from not getting enough sleep getting worse by the second while you tried not to think about what judgements people must be passing on you, with your sunglasses inside and hickeys you didn’t have time to cover up.

When your phone pings you assume it’s Jimin, with something slutty or sarcastic or both. But it’s not. It’s Yoongi- well, it’s what you have Yoongi’s number saved under, aka the drooling emoji three times over… You’re surprised he’s awake, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t have shit to do until the afternoon. 

You have a fleeting thought that it could be a dick pic- yeah it’s a little early for that kind of dumb fuckboy behaviour, and you’d previously thought that too, but Kim Taehyung proved you wrong last year. 

Yoongi isn’t a dick pic kind of guy anyway. No, he’s the guy that sends pictures of his hand around your throat that one night you let him take artsy photos of you two fucking on his film camera. The kind of guy that sends you audios of him jerking off and moaning your name that you listen to through your earphones in between classes because he knew you wouldn’t be able to help yourself. He’s the guy that drives you crazy because you can never quite predict what he’s gonna do next.

[9:23 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: you could have woken me you know dummy

[9:24 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: subways are gross in the morning

[9:25 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: i could have u know, driven u…

[9:26 am] From 🤤🤤🤤: cant really say no to u buttercup.

You don’t know why you’re heart’s beating so fast so you reprimand yourself for thinking with your pussy. Min motherfucking Yoongi is gonna be the death of you.

[11thstreetgirl]

Summary: PWP. Sami’s horny when he gets off stage… (Sami Yaffa x reader)

AN: soooo this is what my wine-infused brain comes up with. It’s pure p*rn. Detailed, unashamed p*rn. Be warned. 50+ Sami on stage playing fast songs will be the death of me (yup it’s Monroes-era Sami in this case) one day. I’m sorry it’s not gender neutral :( Enjoy!

He was always the most beautiful right after he came off stage. Skin glistening with sweat, strands of hair glued to his face and neck, smiling ear to ear, a slightly drunken happy haze in his eyes and  his whole being buzzing. The nights I was there he usually came straight to me, hugged me tightly and smothered me with wet, furious kisses that tasted like wine and happiness. And he was horny. He'd never admit it but I think it was the bass trembling against his lower parts all night. Today was no exception. The guys were having a blast on stage, laughing and goofing around. I stood at the side of the stage admiring them at their work, and it was bloody marvelous to watch. Bobby the roadie was pouring out shots again, god knows how many they had already had. By the look Sami gave me when he scurried over to shoot the vodka down it was many.

Rich kicked his guitar into the next song. This was my favourite part on the setlist: Got Blood and Black Ties And Red Tape back-to-back. Two fast, filthy songs with heavy bass duty. They got Sami sweating and concentrating more on what he was doing. He stood with his legs wide apart in a low stance that accented his thighs just the way I liked. He leaned back to get better control over the instrument and hunched over a little. He looked animalistic and wild and so ridiculously hot my heart skipped a beat. The man didn’t need to do anything more to get me dripping wet. He was making rough love to his bass. Not that he ever was too gentle with his instrument, but tonight he was giving it even harder time than usually and the front row girls were definitely swooning over him. On nights like this it did wonders to his ego and got him to put his everything into what he was doing. His whole body was one with the rhythm, moving almost involuntarily with the sounds, like something that wasn’t a human anymore but rather made out of noise entirely. The way he was putting all of his weight into hitting the strings did things to me. I loved the way the muscles on his arms moved and how strong and skilled his fingers were. Whenever he wasn’t making faces and laughing at his bandmates he had his eyes closed in almost a pained expression. It came pretty close to being as hot as the way he looked when he was orgasming. He definitely was enjoying himself. It was rough and hard and I was probably expecting the same treatment later. The thought send shivers all over my body and made hot lust settle at the pit of my stomach. I badly wanted to sneak near his amp and run my fingers on it, feel the rumble physically, the low-end knock-out groove that he was pouring his heart and hunger into. Hell, I wanted to strap my whole body against it and cling onto it like it was a giant vibrator. I would've laughed at the thought if I wasn’t getting too hot and bothered to think straight. Thank God the band was just an encore away from getting off stage. Bobby poured another four shots. The guys waltzed over like the owners of the world, smiling like maniacs. Michael and Steve immediately threw their sweaty shirts off and dry ones on. The guitar feedback screeching onstage went quiet as roadies hurried to tune the instruments. The audience was going wild. Sami scooped me into a quick, sweaty hug. He grabbed my face and crashed his lips on mine into a hot, open-mouthed knee-dipping kiss. It lasted only for a few seconds but left me panting and desperate. Before I got my mind straight Sami was out of my reach and laughing with his bandmates. The black-haired blur of happy musicians shouted something incoherent, clinked their glasses together and shot down the alcohol. With Michael’s lead they ran back onstage.

I watched as they reveled around. Sweaty, hungry, they had given their everything to the audience tonight. Breathing heavy and smiling ear to ear they bowed, and bowed again, and kicked their mics and left their guitars lying on the stage, feedback screeching and filling the air with the applause and screams from the audience. It was a party as soon as the band got off stage. The laughter, all the wine, all the sweaty clothes. I knew this was how things were, it took them a while to calm down and to be able to pay attention to the real world around them. But Sami definitely was paying attention to me. They were still going through the gig together but he’d steal a look at me every now and then. When he was filling his glass he’d wink at me and give me grin that made me shudder. It was like in the beginning all over again, and it made me just to get more exited. I knew the others wouldn’t mind but still sharing such looks secretly made my heart pound faster. Sami’s half-closed eyes followed me wherever I sat and chatted with someone. I noticed him trying to cover his front discreetly.

It felt like eternity. Every now and then he’d walk past me and run his hands over mine or hug me, but always he’s go back to the conversation he was having with someone. I was getting impatient when he finally came to me.

-Let's get out of here, Sami murmured into my ear. Hell yes, finally. He put his hand at the small of my back and gently pushed me towards the door. We stepped outside into the chilly Helsinki night. Sami gave me quick kiss. I was starving for more. He scrambled through his pockets for his phone and called us a taxi. He was visibly drunk; not wasted but mischievous and he had a one-sided grin on his face. And my god he was horny. He tried to be discreet when he hugged me and grinded against me but no way in hell I’d miss it. I wanted to moan and take him right there in the middle of the street. Thank god it was a hometown show so we could just take a taxi and be back home in some twenty minutes.

Sami had a hard time keeping his hands to himself. Not that mine were in my own lap either. His hand was dangerously high on my thigh, fingers massaging the flesh underneath the fabric. He had his face buried in my hair and his breathing was ragged and hot in my ear. Occasionally he kissed my neck and my face. I didn’t ever dare to look at him because I feared we’d devour each other on the spot. Constant small shivers were running on my body. In my mind I was trying to will the driver to run a few red lights.

I felt like a teenager as we almost ran to our apartment. I fiddled with the key for what felt like an eternity as Sami had his arms around me in a tight hug and was breathing hard onto my neck. I could smell the alcohol and the desire and it was making my vision blurred. I fucking adored the man.

Finally the door opened and we stumbled in. Sami wasn’t all smiles anymore but so so horny he probably wasn’t thinking at all. Seeing him like that made me lose my mind. He ripped my jacket off and then his, dropping them on the floor. I kicked my shoes off and so did he, and as soon as all the extra clothes were out of the way he crashed his body against mine. In an instant his mouth was on mine and the kiss had nothing to do with being gentle or considerate. It was bruising and wet and made my brain numb. His hands were already under my shirt on my hips and he was pushing me towards the bedroom. There was so much going on it was a total sensory overload of pleasure. I gave into him. He could do just about anything to me tonight and I’d just follow his lead.

He usually wasn’t this raw but more soft and sensitive, making it slow and sensual. But especially after banger shows like tonight he got a lot more rough. He just couldn’t stand the pressure anymore. And every time it made me putty in his hands. The way he looked at me like he wanted to eat me alive and the way he pushed all of his weight onto me got me crazy.

I was whimpering and moaning into his mouth and he eagerly swallowed all our noise. He was moaning low and i more felt than heard it. We finally reached the bed and before pushing me down Sami tugged my shirt off. He stood there for a second, panting, my lipstick all over his face and hair tangled. I lied on the bed perched on my elbows. I wanted to sit back up and undo his belt and pants but I knew he’d got the job done faster. So I just stared at him as he hurried his clothes off. His shirt and the vest he had on it seemed to have an infinite number of buttons and his hands were shaking a little. All the while he was staring at me with his eyes half closed. Finally the shirt was off and his torso bare. I licked every inch of it with my gaze. As he moved his hands to his belt I got out of my trance just enough to shimmy out of my pants. With them I threw my socks and panties on the floor.  Sami got his belt off and a second later was standing there in all of his naked glory. He didn’t waste time in savoring the moment but dived right in. He pushed my legs apart and buried his face between them. He gave me a long, slow lick before taking my clit between his lips and sucking. Air escaped my lungs in a strained moan and I could feel Sami smiling against me. He pulled off just for a second to suck on his finger before pushing it in, not that he really needed any lubricant as I was probably dripping on his fingers by now. The movement of his hand and his tongue were quickly making me a writhing mess under him. I was surprised he even had the patience for this right now. I sure as hell didn’t. On any other night I would’ve enjoyed his worship until the world ended, but tonight I was way too eager to get him inside me.

- Sami please… I got out of my mouth in between the moans. - Just fuck me already!

He moaned against me, the sound a physical tremble making me buck my hips. He gave one last lick to my clit, then got up.

- Turn around.

His voice was hoarse and his hands guided my movements. I got on all fours as he got on his knees on the bed. I pushed my ass up for him to get a better look and turned just enough to see his face as his eyes fluttered almost closed and a appreciative groan escaped him. He gave my ass a playful slap before reaching his hands around me and pulling me up against his body. He rubbed his cock on my ass and moaned. One of his hands was caressing my boob and the other slipped between my legs. I was glad he was holding me upright, I was still sensitive from all the licking. His touch was surprisingly soft as he rubbed my clit for a moment. I moaned impatiently, I was just as desperate as he was. He gave a quick kiss to my neck before murmuring:

- Mind if I get a little rough and carried away?

All I could muster was a shaky no as his finger was drawing circles on my clit. Sami groaned and removed his fingers. An involuntary sound of disapproval escaped me but was overrun with a loud moan as Sami pushed inside me with one long movement. He let out a breathy moan that sounded like he’d been holding it in all nigh. He dint give me even a second to adjust as he pulled back and pushed right back in. He set a slow but intense rhythm that left me breathless. He held his hand on my lower stomach and I angled myself so that he probably could feel himself moving inside me as I pushed my ass into his lap. He was panting and groaning and all the sounds were driving me crazy. He was holding back but I wasn’t having it. I was so far gone I just wanted him to fuck me as hard and rough as he had played his bass earlier, so I wiggled my ass on his lap every time he was deep inside me, trying my very best to make him snap. Not that I wasn’t enjoying his deep, long thrusts that I could almost feel in my throat. He was melting my brain with each movement and my little teasing wasn’t only driving him mad but me too. 

And it payed off. Sami groaned, a frustrated animalistic sound, and pushed me forward so that I was back on all fours. Yes yes yes yes. He took a bruising grip on my hips and started pounding into me with such force I knew I'd be walking funny for days. Just like I wanted it. I tried to push back to meet him with every thrust but it was getting too much too fast and I was overrun with the feeling of him so deep inside me. It made my vision blurred and hands weak.

I turned to look at him over my shoulder and the sight of him almost made me cum right away. He had the same pained expression on his face as earlier, sweat making his skin glisten, hands leaving marks on my hips. The sound of our bodies slamming together filled the room with his moaning and grunting, and I doubted he was even aware he was making so much noise. It just drove me closer to the edge. He was close too without a doubt. My mind was a blank, all there was left in the world was him slamming into me, filling me again and again, sending tsunamis of pleasure all over my body. As much as I wanted this to last forever I was desperate to cum. I reached between my legs and rubbed my clit feverishly. Sami knew I was about to come and somehow picked up his pace. It was all it took and I came, violently shaking and moaning his name. My hands gave away and I collapsed on the bed. Sami lost his rhythm and pulled my hips to his, swearing under his breath as his hips bucked and he filled me. I could feel his warm cum inside me as he fell next to me.

We lied there gasping for air. Sami was dizzy and sweaty and oh-so-beautiful so I cuddled closer, ignoring the fact that we were still pretty much steaming and probably on the verge of a heatstroke. Our bedroom smelled like sex and love and my man was a mess. He could barely hold his eyes open.

- I know you know how to make me cum so hard I see stars but this was something else, I murmured against his skin. He chuckled, a tired, strained sound.

- Thank you for letting me blow off some steam. I wasn’t too rough was I? His voice was hoarse and he was still panting.

- Anytime babe, if you blowing off steam is this good. I don’t mind rough.

- Well we do have a couple of gigs next weekend….

AN: no taglist this time because ...well p*rn lol

[yourea--stubborn--man]

read all your fics, can't ask for more, can we at least know about that stuff your working on you're excited about??

yeah that’s fair Anon! Thank you for appreciating my work!

1) So basically I’ve been hyperfixating on this Amok Time fic... it’s supposed to be a PWP they-fuck-instead of-fighting quick thing but... let’s just say I’m 8.5k words in and sex acts are just now beginning to be performed. The rest is like, jim pining, jim worrying about spock, tarsus iv trauma. 

Basically, I see a lot of “pon farr is super violent and jim gets a bunch of broken bones” fics, and while that’s great I don’t fully vibe with it, and wanted to write something where Spock is completely out of it but does feel Jim’s pain and fear and his first instinct is PROTECT MATE AT ALL COSTS. And it’s all around kinda sad too because Jim wants to be with Spock, but mentally Spock isn’t really there, or certainly doesn’t feel there to Jim, and Jim barely feels able to enjoy what is happening or feel allowed to touch Spock and kiss him because his logic is gone and would Spock be okay with this if it wasn’t? 

I don’t know how I managed to cram so many feelings into alleged porn, and the target audience is probably me, I and myself but fuck it I’m having a blast? I’m churning out 1k words some days after months of exams/basically writer’s block and I love it!

2) I really need to work on this OMS multichapter retirement fic I’ve been working on since summer 2019, I really want to finish it in time for this year’s OMS challenge so I really need to finish the other fic before I can really grind this bitch bc I feel it’s gonna be around 50k words and most of it is only vague planning? It’s been on my mind non-stop for 2 years at this point I hate it and want to ace it out of spite.

3) I really love mutual pining and all tropes associated with it, and I have a good plan for a fic where Jim and Spock have to be fake married for a mission on an alien planet, and I’m gonna cram as many pining tropes into it as I can: you see, it’s the planet’s love festival, there’s going to be several intricate rituals to strengthen the bond with your romantic partner(s), and of course the honoured starfleet guests are invited... it’s mandatory they come in fact ;)

Still planning stage, I’m struggling a lot with pacing, subplots and�� other stuff so who knows when this will make progress.

4) A shore leave fic entirely from spock’s pov. Triumvirate are on leave, what Spock doesn’t know is that mccoy is tired of jim’s pining and convinces him to use the leave to seduce spock, properly, since batting eyelashes and chees games haven’t worked. Beach setting. Jim in a riddiculously tiny speedo. constantly dripping, sweaty, needing someone to apply his sunscreen... you catch my drift. Spock is gonna die of pining in this one. Failed meditations, constant wet drams, he’ll be close to crying when he finally gives in to Jim’s charms.

Really excited about this one, it feels like it will write itself but that never seems to happen does it?

I have over 50 wips rn, but these are those I’m focusing on. Between these I feel like I’ll need to work on some one-shots to change it up and not get burn out... anyway, enough rambling! Thank you for giving me an excuse to infodump about this!

Thank you for your ask, I love getting them!