#i think i just stared at it way too hard in making it so i was nitpicking it for forever

[sugussugar]

boyfriend! satoru with a reader who struggles with an eating disorder and body image issues.

boyfriend! satoru who, before finding out, steals your food all the time. it's intended to be silly. “ooo, haha, we're sharing food that was supposed to just be for you!” is essentially what he thinks; he unintentionally stays ignorant to how he's the only one eating, how he's the one who finishes the whole plate of food, not both of you.

boyfriend! satoru who, before finding out, pokes your stomach a lot. it's mindless, like a habit. he doesn't notice how badly it affects your vision of yourself. he doesn't see how you stare at your naked body in the mirror and remember how he poked your stomach; “does he not like my body? is this his way of saying i look fat?” you think to yourself as tears bead up on your waterline.

boyfriend! satoru who finds out by pure accident. you were in the bedroom, on a phone call with a girl friend of yours, and somehow your eating disorder came up as a topic. you didn't think he'd hear, he was all the way in the living room, after all. but what you didn't know was that he'd started to miss your presence and went to your shared bedroom to relieve the ache, only to hear what you and your friend were talking about.

boyfriend! satoru who starts picking up on all the signs he neglected to notice before, such as you never wearing certain clothes he bought you if you deemed it ‘too revealing’, your stomach growling at the most random of times, when you would poke at your own stomach and frown, how you'd always hug a pillow to your stomach when you're sitting in bed or on the couch, eating slowly, never scolding him for stealing your food, skipping meals by ‘accident’, always ‘not hungry’, ect.

boyfriend! satoru who feels so ashamed for not noticing beforehand, because how could he not? the signs were there, he just wasn't looking hard enough.

boyfriend! satoru who has no clue how to bring it up after that. because, realistically, how would he? “hey, babe! the other day i heard you telling your friend about how you hate your body and have an eating disorder, wanna unpack that?” no, that sounds intrusive and insensitive.

boyfriend! satoru who, instead, tries to do little acts to try and get you to like your body without directly bringing it up.

boyfriend! satoru who litters little kisses all over your tummy right before bed. it turns into a nightly routine.

boyfriend! satoru who rubs your stomach whenever he's spooning you from behind while kissing your shoulder every now and then.

boyfriend! satoru who murmurs soft: “you're so pretty”'s, and “such a beautiful body”'s every time the two of you get sexually intimate.

boyfriend! satoru whose new favorite position is missionary, because it means he can watch your face heat up while he tells you how gorgeous your body is.

boyfriend! satoru who stops stealing your food.

boyfriend! satoru who starts cooking homemade meals for you. he makes a mental list of all your favorite foods alongside a list of foods your friends have said you liked and gets to work. he knows you're more likely to eat it if you know he made it, rather than if it's just an instant can of nothingness like normally.

boyfriend! satoru who watches your plate whenever the two of you eat together. it isn't an intense stare, just looking down at it every now and then, smiling a little whenever he sees you actually eating.

boyfriend! satoru who realizes it's working when all the tiny things you used to do stop happening. you eat at a regular pace now, you slap his hand when he steals your food, you tell him when you're hungry, you eat three meals a day, you wear all the clothes he buys you, you stop hiding your stomach, you're happier.

boyfriend! satoru who is ecstatic to have you feeling happy with yourself again. he thinks you're so pretty, you deserve to feel that way just as much as he does.

[kxsagi]

hii, i hope you're doing well ^^ I really enjoy your style of writing :) i was wondering if you can make my request with tooth rotting fluff the reader's love is so gentle and she takes time trying to understand her S/O and she will always ask for permission to touch them even if they given her permission already, the reader cares for her S/O so gently and delicate like something so dear to her life? Feel free to do this with any blue lock characters ^^ and you can also ignore this if it's way too much work haha, another thing is that i love your works and please take some rest whenever you need it.

“𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞”

a/n: hi! i'm doing well and i hope you are too beautiful :) and thank you so much!!! take rest whenever you need it as well

this was some good needed fluff

ft. itoshi rin, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, chigiri hyoma, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, ness alexis, niko ikki, hiori yo

itoshi rin

at first, he doesn't understand why you're so soft with him. you’re careful when touching his hand, always asking “can i hold you?” like he’ll shatter if you don't ask. 

it overwhelms him. the kind of love that doesn't demand, doesn’t press, but patiently waits for him to be ready. 

you’d brush hair from his face with trembling fingers and say, “is this okay?” even after years of dating, and he’d nod, ears pink, mumbling, “you don’t have to ask.” 

“i want to,” you’d smile. “you’re important to me.” 

that sentence alone makes his chest hurt (in a good way). 

sometimes he stares at you while you're fussing over his bruises, and all he can think is how the hell did i get this lucky? 

isagi yoichi

he melts like butter in the sun. absolutely smitten with how gently you love him. 

the first time you tucked a blanket around him after a long match, whispering, “can i kiss your forehead?” he blinked at you like you'd just proposed. 

he’s not used to being treated like he’s fragile, but you do it so sincerely that it never feels emasculating. just loving. 

you’ll brush your fingers over his knuckles and ask, “can i?” even though you’ve kissed him a million times, and he’ll smile like it’s the first time every time. 

he tries to match your softness. fails most of the time because he’s clumsy with words, but the love shows in how tightly he holds your pinky when you're walking together. 

bachira meguru

thinks your gentleness is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

he’s so used to loud, chaotic love that your careful affection hits different. it makes him slow down. breathe. 

when you cup his face and softly say, “can i kiss you right here?” pointing to his cheek, his grin goes all lopsided and shy. 

“why do you always ask?” he teases, nose bumping yours. 

“because you’re someone i never want to take for granted.” 

he’ll blink, then full-body tackle hug you like a golden retriever in love. “you’re my favorite human.” 

you take care of him in the little things: asking if he wants to be held, if he’s overstimulated, if he needs quiet or chaos, and he falls a little more in love every time. 

nagi seishiro

was confused at first. “you can just touch me, y’know. i’m fine with it.” 

but when you still ask every single time – "can i sit closer?" "can i touch your hair?" – he realizes something. 

you don’t do it because you think he’ll say no. you do it because you respect him. you love him with your whole heart, but never assume. 

“you’re so… careful,” he murmurs once as you gently rub lotion on his sore hands. 

“you’re important to me. and i want you to feel safe with me.” 

he didn’t even know he needed to feel safe until you made it so easy. 

now he’ll pout if you don’t ask first. “you forgot to ask,” he says, even though he’s already curled up in your lap like a sleepy cat. 

mikage reo

falls so stupidly hard for your gentle love. 

he’s used to grand gestures and flash, but your love is quiet and reverent, and it wrecks him. 

when you brush your thumb over his temple and whisper, “can i hold you for a little while?” he just nods and pulls you in like he’ll never let go. 

he’s amazed at how someone can be so kind, so considerate, and yet still make him feel absolutely cherished. 

you remember all the little things – asking before touching his hair, checking if he wants space after a stressful day – and it makes him fall in love a little harder every day. 

sometimes he’ll just stare at you and go, “you’re seriously the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

chigiri hyoma

you love him like he’s made of porcelain, and it gets him every single time. 

he acts cool about it – rolls his eyes when you ask for permission to touch his hair – but the tips of his ears go pink and he can’t stop smiling. 

after injuries and fear of fragility, your tenderness heals something deeper in him. 

“you can touch me,” he’ll whisper. “you don’t have to ask.” 

“i know,” you smile, “but i like knowing you still want me to.” 

that? that makes him blush so hard he covers his face with a pillow. 

he feels like a beloved treasure when he’s with you, and it makes his heart ache in the best way. 

kaiser michael

used to flirty, shallow affection, most times none, so your pure, patient love absolutely unravels him. 

you treat him like he’s so much more than his ego or his game. 

“can i touch your hair?” you ask, even after months together. and he just stares, like you’re something otherworldly. 

“you already know the answer,” he says, softer than he means to. 

“i want to hear it anyway.” 

you care for him like he’s someone worth loving for who he is, not what he shows, and for the first time, he believes it. 

when you hold his hand with both of yours and treat it like something precious, he suddenly forgets how to flirt. he’s just… quiet, overwhelmed, grateful. 

shidou ryusei

surprisingly receptive to your gentle love, even if he plays it off with grins and jokes. 

“asking permission? what is this, kindergarten?” he smirks. 

but the way he goes quiet when you softly say, “can i hold your hand?” gives him away. 

you’re the only person who touches him like he’s not a weapon, just a boy who wants to be held. 

sometimes, in rare moments of vulnerability, he’ll whisper, “you’re the only one who makes me feel... human.” 

and when you cradle his face like he’s something beautiful instead of dangerous, he leans into your palms like they’re the safest place on earth. 

itoshi sae

at first? he's confused. suspicious, even. 

he’s used to people either putting him on a pedestal or wanting something from him, so when you gently tuck his hair behind his ear and whisper, “can i touch you?”, he just blinks. like, actually short-circuits. 

“you’re already doing it,” he mumbles. but his voice comes out softer than he intends. 

and you just smile and say, “i still want to ask. you matter to me.” 

and that? that undoes him. 

you treat him like he’s not a prodigy, not a golden boy, but someone worth loving gently. and that’s something he didn’t know he needed. 

when you ask, “can i kiss you?” even after you've kissed him dozens of times, he’ll whisper, “yeah… but don’t stop asking.” 

he doesn’t say it outright, but he lives for the way you love him like something fragile. because sometimes, deep down, he feels like he is. 

he’ll rest his head in your lap during quiet nights, pretending to scroll on his phone. but the second you whisper, “can i play with your hair?”, his screen’s forgotten and he’s quietly nodding, eyes closing, letting himself exist in your love. 

it takes time, but eventually, he starts asking too. awkwardly. stiffly. like: “can i hold your hand?” “can i lean on you?” “can i stay over tonight?” 

all while pretending to be nonchalant, but his ears are burning, and he gets so soft when you say yes like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

ness alexis

he’s so touch-starved and desperate for validation that when you treat him with gentle respect, he thinks he’s dreaming. 

you’ll brush your fingers along his arm and softly ask, “is this okay?” and he just blinks, stunned, because no one’s ever cared enough to ask. 

he says “yes” every time – quick, eager, needy – but the way you keep asking anyway? it makes his heart ache in the best way. 

“you’re so careful with me…” he murmurs one night as you tuck a blanket around his shoulders. “like i’m someone who matters.” 

“you are,” you say it simply, like it’s fact. 

and ness hides his face in your shoulder because he’s never felt so loved before.

he starts to mirror your habits – asking “can i hug you?” or “can i play with your hair?” – because you’ve made him believe love can be soft and mutual. 

niko ikki

gets really flustered at first. like, blushing to the tips of his ears when you ask, “can i hold your hand?” 

“y-you don’t need to ask,” he stammers, already squeezing your fingers. 

but when you keep doing it, every time, even for the smallest touches, he gets it. 

you don’t ask because you doubt, you ask because you respect him. and that’s what makes him fall so hard for you. 

niko’s love language becomes sitting in comfortable silence, your pinkies linked, as you glance over and softly whisper, “can i lean on you?” 

he nods every time, too stunned to speak. 

“you treat me like i’m precious,” he says one day, voice quiet. 

“you are,” you reply, just as gently, and niko short-circuits on the spot. 

hiori yo

oh, you destroy him (in the softest way possible). 

he’s always been scared of getting too close, of being a burden. but then you come along – so patient, so kind – and ask, “is this okay?” before every hug, every kiss, every forehead touch. 

and hiori just… melts. fully, completely, beautifully. 

you cup his face with both hands and ask, “can i hold you like this?” and he’s already nodding, eyes glossy with emotion. 

you ask him if he’s okay when he zones out. you check if he wants to be alone or held. you don’t assume, you care. 

“you make me feel safe,” he confesses one night, voice barely a whisper. “like… no one’s ever done that before.” 

you brush your thumb under his eye, smiling softly. “you deserve to be loved that way.” 

and hiori hugs you tighter than he ever has before, like he never wants to let go. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[wordsofwhimsy]

𝑺𝒉𝒚 𝑮𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝑺𝒖𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒄𝒚 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

Pairing: No Goggles/Lensless!Mark Grayson x Reader

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, so good, so dirty, Mark’s losing his MIND

Tags: Praise kink, dom!reader (kinda, you try, bless your heart), sub!Mark (again, kinda, he’s encouraging tf out of you), Mark is literally the best hype man to ever exist, reader is shy as hell typically so she’s coming WAY out of her shell, porn with no plot (but will one develop? 🧐 we shall see)

Word Count: 1,312

Synopsis: You & Mark have been going steady for awhile. You’re the personal assistant to Cecil – handling all the jobs that are too low for Donald (think coffee runs, taking calls, etc.). You’re shy, reserved, and quiet. So the night you come crawling out of your shell and take the reigns in bed? Mark becomes your biggest fan, your personal hype man, and a man on the edge of religious experience.

a/n: this is so absurdly self-indulgent and i won’t even apologize. i’m not even gonna lie to y’all no goggles/lensless (i like lensless better but seems like the fandom’s collectively sided with no goggles *sigh*) is my new fav. he is just so uugghhhh – like, the perfect balance of psycho with room for being OBSESSED and just, yeah, he’s that man. this was also so cathartic to write after an otherwise traumatic day.

gonna focus on my inbox after this & rebuilding what was lost in the southern belle series 😭

The room was a mess. The bed creaked under the frantic rhythm you were setting, your hips moving with reckless abandon. You’d never felt more alive—this wasn’t like you; not fitting into the quiet, reserved version of yourself he’d come to know. This was something else.

And Mark was eating it up, his eyes burning with dark, primal excitement as he lay back with his hands behind his head, fully relaxed but completely obsessed with the sight of you.

“Yeah, babe, fuck yeah!” he shouted, his voice thick with lust, practically buzzing with excitement. “That’s it! That’s how you do it! You look so fucking good like this. Go harder, don’t hold back, babe, I wanna see you lose it.”

Mark wasn’t just into this. He was thriving, watching you like the goddamn Super Bowl — except the MVP was you, on top, riding him like you owned him.

“OH my god—yes, yes, that’s what I’m TALKING ABOUT!” he yelled, voice echoing off the walls, like you were hitting home runs instead of grinding down on him so hard his abs twitched. “Shy little thing, huh? Where?! I don’t see her anymore—this version? She’s my favorite.”

Your thighs shook, pace relentless even as your breath hitched, lips parted, face glowing with sweat and something far more dangerous — confidence. You didn’t look at him much, still half-embarrassed to meet his eyes even now.

But Mark couldn’t stop staring.

“You feel that?” he groaned, lifting his hips just enough to meet you halfway. “That’s you wrecking me. This is insane. I’m literally being blessed right now.”

You bit your lip, eyes fluttering shut, trying to stay focused as your rhythm wavered under the weight of his praise.

“Ohhh, don’t get quiet on me now, baby—nah, nah, nah—talk to me, moan for me, let me hear that pretty mouth, c’mon—GOD, you’re so fucking hot right now, are you kidding me?!”

He was so hyped it was almost absurd — panting, ranting, eyes wide with disbelief like he couldn’t believe this was real. His arms were still behind his head but twitching now, dying to grab you, help you, worship you. But no. He was loving being your seat, your toy, your audience.

“You’re slamming down like you’re mad at me—are you mad at me, babe? ‘Cause you’re gonna make me fucking cry,” he gasped out, then broke into manic laughter. “Shit! Wait—do it again! That grind? That little twist right at the end? HOLY—yes! YESSSS.”

You whimpered, breath catching as your pace faltered again—but he wasn’t about to let you stop.

“Oh no, don’t you dare stop now—look at me, c’mon—ride it out, ride it all the way down, you’ve got this, you’re doing so good, I swear to god I’m gonna blow just watching you.”

You finally looked down at him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed, and Mark just about lost his damn mind.

“There she is! YESSS, there’s my girl, look at you—on top of the fucking world. Queen shit. Certified. I should be PAYING you right now.”

Your body stuttered—overstimulated, trembling—but you kept going. And he felt it.

His grin snapped into something wicked. His arms finally dropped to grab your hips, not guiding you—just feeling the way you moved, grounding himself while you used him.

“Fuck, fuck, yes, you’re gonna cum, I can feel it—so tight, so wet, baby you are milking me, are you trying to kill me? Is that what this is?” he babbled, delirious now. “Oh my god I love you. Wait—marry me. I’m serious. I’ll give you the moon.”

And when you finally shattered—silently, jaw slack, body stiffening as you came hard around him—Mark practically screamed.

“THAT’S IT! THAT’S MY GIRL! TAKE IT, BABY, FUCKING TAKE IT—”

His hands snapped to your hips, slamming you down as he buried himself deep, coming with a violent groan, his entire body locking under yours. His head fell back, chest rising like he couldn’t breathe, muscles twitching as he emptied into you.

He held you there—still, trembling, connected—until the last pulse faded.

You collapsed against him, shaking and spent, and he caught you immediately, wrapping you up tight, still grinning like a man who just won every lottery ever invented.

“...That was... beyond,” he muttered against your hair, catching his breath. “You just blew my entire fucking mind. I think I blacked out for a second.”

You made a tiny, worn-out noise.

He smiled wider.

—

It was a normal debrief. Supposed to be, anyway.

Cecil was droning on about some black ops mission Mark had technically been assigned to but never showed up for, and a few other heroes were milling around the room. You stayed close to the wall, sipping your coffee quietly, trying very hard to pretend you weren’t being stared at like a snack.

Mark was across the room. Or, more accurately, posing across the room. Back against the wall, arms folded, smirk in full effect, eyes locked on you like you were the only person there.

He hadn't stopped looking at you like that all day.

Your cheeks were already pink, but it got so much worse when he suddenly spoke—loudly.

“You know what’s crazy?”

Everyone turned.

Cecil’s eye twitched. “What now.”

Mark pushed off the wall, casually strolling into the middle of the conversation like he hadn’t just derailed the entire room.

“I just think it’s wild,” he said, grinning, “how someone can be all sweet and quiet in public, but the second they’re on top of you—” You choked on your coffee. Actually, physically choked. “—they go absolutely feral,” Mark finished proudly.

Your soul left your body.

Every head turned to you. Even the intern looked scandalized. Cecil let out the slowest, longest sigh you’d ever heard.

“Oh my god,” you whispered into your hand.

Mark kept going. “Like, I knew she had it in her. I knew. But the dedication? The power? The whole—” he mimed someone slamming down onto a seat, complete with sound effects, “—Boom boom pow, I mean—chef’s kiss. 10/10. Academy Award performance. And the STAMINA? Un-fucking-real. Her thighs were shaking like—”

“MARK!” you hissed, face flaming.

“What?” he said, half-laughing. “I’m complimenting you!”

You were about to melt into the floor.

And that’s when Rexleaned in from two chairs down, elbow propped on the table, face lit up like fireworks.

“Wait, hold up,” he said, pointing at you with his half-eaten protein bar. “You mean quiet girl over here? She was on top?”

Mark beamed. “Oh, on top, in charge, out of body—I was literally just lying there like ‘is this how I die?’ Would’ve been a good way to go out too.”

Rex whistled low. “Shiiiit. Okay. I see you.” He turned to you, eyes dragging way too slow. “Damn, quiet ones really are the freakiest, huh? I knew it.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Rex.”

He didn’t stop. “No no, this is important. For science. So like… did you do the thing where you—”

And then Mark moved.

Slow, calm, still smiling. But the air in the room dropped ten degrees as he crossed the space between them in half a heartbeat and leaned down to Rex’s ear with that same shit-eating grin still plastered on his face.

“If your eyes so much as blink in her direction again, I’ll pop your head like a grape,” he whispered casually.

Rex blinked.

“Like—pshhht. Just… juice,” Mark added with a cheerful hand gesture.

Then he clapped Rex on the shoulder, straightened up, and turned back toward you like nothing happened.

You were bright red, half-horrified and half trying very hard not to laugh. “Mark—”

He winked. “Still thinking about last night, baby.”

“Please stop talking forever.”

[moondustbaby]

Backseat Confessions

Bsf!Rafe x Bsf!Reader

cw: smut, piv, oral (f. rec), unprotected sex

mdni 18+

Summary: A late-night drive with your best friend turns into something filthy and unforgettable when years of tension finally snap in the backseat of his truck — and Rafe makes it clear he’s done pretending you’re just friends.

⸻

The truck was too quiet.

Engine ticking softly in the heat-soaked silence, windows cracked just enough to let in the summer air. My thighs stuck to the leather of the passenger seat as I shifted, trying to ignore the way Rafe kept glancing at me every few seconds — like he was waiting.

Like he knew.

We hadn’t even planned to go anywhere. Just ended up driving around after the bonfire like we always did, the two of us laughing too loud, avoiding the weight of everything that hung heavy in the pauses. His music low, my feet on the dash. Same routine we’ve had since we were sixteen.

But tonight was different.

“Why’re you all quiet now?” Rafe’s voice cut through the stillness, low and cocky. “You were talkin’ my ear off ten minutes ago.”

I glanced at him, heart ticking faster. “I’m not quiet.”

He smirked like he didn’t believe me. One hand on the wheel, the other resting on the console — close enough to touch. “Yeah, you are. You only get quiet when you’re thinking about doing something you shouldn’t.”

I swallowed hard. “Do you always have to say shit like that?”

He leaned back in his seat, turning his head to look at me fully now. That lazy grin. That look in his eyes — like he was already inside my head and had no plans of leaving.

“What, am I wrong?” His voice dropped. “Tell me I’m wrong, baby.”

I hated the way he said that. Baby. Like it meant nothing and everything at once. Like it was some inside joke between us and I was the only one laughing nervously at the punchline.

I looked out the window. “You think you know everything.”

“I know you.”

The air thickened.

“You been squirming in that seat since we left the party. Wearing that little dress—” he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip. “Knew I shouldn’t’ve let you leave the house lookin’ like that.”

I turned to him slowly. “Let me?”

His smirk widened. “You know what I mean. All those guys staring at you and you still ran back to me the second it was over. Wonder why that is.”

I hated how much I loved hearing it — the me in his voice, all cocky and territorial. I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.

Rafe leaned closer, voice low and dirty. “Bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

I choked on my breath.

His hand slid across the seat and landed on my bare thigh, hot and possessive. “C’mon, don’t lie to me now. You been sittin’ over there all quiet, all flustered — got that look on your face like you want me to do something about it.”

“You’re not serious.”

His hand crept higher.

I shivered when his fingertips brushed beneath the hem of my dress. He raised a brow, daring me to stop him — knowing I wouldn’t.

“You gonna make me check for myself?”

God, he was filthy. Shameless and smug, and I loved it. Loved the way he looked at me like I was his even if we’d never said the words out loud. Not just friends, not yet lovers. Just two people tangled in something too hot to name.

“You’re all talk,” I muttered.

That did it.

Rafe shifted fast, climbing over the console with zero hesitation, forcing me back against the door as his mouth crashed into mine. Hot. Desperate. Possessive.

I gasped when his hand cupped me over my panties, his thumb pressing right where I needed it. “Yeah?” he growled against my mouth. “Still think I’m all talk now?”

“Fuck—Rafe—”

His fingers moved with purpose, slow and taunting. “You wore this little dress just to tease me, didn’t you?” His lips trailed down my jaw. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra the second I looked at you.”

I whimpered when he pinched my nipple through the fabric, making me arch into his touch.

“Look at you,” he whispered. “Always actin’ like you don’t want me, then you let me touch you like this. So fuckin’ easy for me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” I breathed.

He smirked. “Still lettin’ me feel how wet you are, though.”

He slid my panties to the side and dipped two fingers into me in one slow, slick motion. I gasped, nails digging into his arm.

“That’s it,” he murmured, curling them just right. “So fuckin’ tight. Been thinking about this for months. You have no idea.”

“Then why didn’t you do something?” I whispered, breath shaky as he fucked me slow with his fingers.

“Didn’t wanna ruin it.” His mouth found my neck, tongue dragging over my pulse. “Didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

“You already did,” I moaned. “The second you touched me.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I breathed.

He pulled his fingers out and sucked them clean, slow and filthy, eyes locked on mine the whole time.

“Backseat. Now.”

My whole body jolted.

I scrambled clumsily into the back as he shoved the front seats forward, watching me with hooded eyes and a grin like he’d won a prize. By the time I sat back against the door, he was already between my knees, tugging my dress up, dragging my panties down and tossing them somewhere in the dark cab.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” he muttered, pressing open-mouth kisses to the inside of my thigh. “How fuckin’ long I’ve been dreaming about this exact moment.”

I bit my lip as he licked a stripe up my center, slow and possessive. “Rafe—”

“Say it,” he growled. “Say you’ve thought about it too.”

“I have,” I gasped. “God, I have—”

“Say it.”

“I think about you all the time,” I confessed, panting. “When I’m alone. When I’m—fuck—when I touch myself, it’s only ever you.”

That made him snap.

He dove in, tongue working me over like he was starved, moaning against me like the taste of me was his new religion. I cried out when he sucked on my clit, when his fingers slid back inside me and curled just right.

“I’m gonna come—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t let up until I was shaking, legs clenching around his head, hands fisting in his hair as I came hard against his mouth.

When he pulled back, his face was flushed and wet and smug. “So fuckin’ pretty when you come for me.”

He undid his belt with one hand, the other stroking himself slow as he watched me come down from it. He was thick. Hard. Leaking at the tip.

“C’mere,” I whispered, already reaching for him.

“You sure?”

“Rafe,” I breathed. “Please.”

Instead he pulled me onto his lap, my knees bracketing his hips as I lowered onto him inch by inch. The stretch made me gasp, made him groan.

“Fuck—so tight—so fuckin’ wet for me—”

When I sank all the way down, our foreheads touched, breath mingling.

He didn’t move right away. Just held me there, his hands on my waist, his chest rising and falling like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“You feel like heaven,” he whispered.

I kissed him soft, slow, until he started to move — thrusting up while I rode him hard enough to make the whole truck rock. The windows fogged. The air turned thick with moans and skin and gasped confessions.

“Fuck—fuck, you were made for me,” Rafe grunted, fucking up into me harder. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else touches you like this, you understand?”

“Yes—Rafe—please—”

He pulled my dress down to free my tits, sucking one into his mouth, then the other, moaning around them like he was worshipping me.

“Gonna fill you up,” he gasped. “Gonna come so deep inside this pussy you’ll feel me for days.”

“Do it,” I whispered, clawing at his shoulders. “Come in me, Rafe, please—”

He growled and fucked me faster, rougher, until my vision blurred and I was coming again, crying out his name as he spilled inside me with a curse and a moan that sounded like ‘mine’.

We stayed like that, panting, trembling, stuck together in the heat and sweat and quiet.

Then he kissed my shoulder. My collarbone. My mouth.

“You ruined me,” he whispered. “There’s no going back now.”

“I don’t want to.”

He smiled against my lips. “Good. ‘Cause you’re mine now.”

And I knew — with the way his arms locked around me and his come still dripping down my thighs — that I’d never belong to anyone else again.

༶⋆���ﾟ☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾ﾟ｡⋆༶

a/n: this fic is brought to you by sexual tension, a hot truck, and the complete inability to act like normal best friends. rafe went feral and honestly? good for him. if your bsf isn’t fingering you in the passenger seat while saying insane shit like “you’re mine now,” what’s the point. thank you to my brain for cooking this up at 2am and thank YOU for reading my backseat filth.

♥️ lani

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Masterlist

𝒯𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉:

@psychicnatural @superlegend216

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

COMFORT IN THE CHAOS

PAIRING: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Female Reader

RATING: Explicit

WORD COUNT:

SUMMARY: 1258

Robby gets home late from work and joins you in the bath.

TAGS/WARNINGS:

established relationship, no use of y/n, domestic fluff, sharing a bath, pet names (sweetheart, baby), no plot, single pov - robby

explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI): fingering, hand job, hair pulling, kissing, light edging, begging, switch behavior

LINKS:

main blog | ao3 | masterlists

Robby gets home late, closer to nine than to seven like he was scheduled. His back aches and his feet are tired but none of that matters because as he unlocks the door to his apartment, he knows that you’re going to be there waiting for him.

He drops his bag to the floor and kicks off his shoes. You’re not in the living room, watching TV, or in the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you dig a spoon straight into a pint of ice cream. He checks the bedroom and you’re not curled under the quilt but he can hear soft music through the slightly open bathroom door so he peeks inside.

You’re in the bath, bubbles up to your neck and your head tilted back on the edge of the tub. You’ve left the vanity lights off, opting instead for the singular light above the shower so the room is only dimly lit. Your eyes are closed and if it weren’t for the way you move your hands in the water, he would think you were asleep.

“Are you going to keep staring or join me?” You ask, lifting your head to look at him. He steps further into the room, crouching down by the tub.

“I don’t know, you seem pretty happy in there by yourself,” he says, reaching in to flick some of the warm water at you.

Despite his reply, he stands and removes his clothes and you shift forward in the water, giving him space to settle in behind you, his legs on either side of yours and your back to his chest. A bit of water escapes the tub but you’re not bothered and he doesn’t care, too content with the way the heat soothes his pain and the weight of your body against his.

“How was work?” You ask. He settles his palms against your belly, traces his nose against the shell of your ear.

“I’m two hours late. How do you think it was?”

“I’m just making conversation,” you reply. He can hear the accompanying eye roll in your tone.

“Maybe,” he says, sliding his hands lower, “I don’t want to talk about work.” You hum, head dropping back against his shoulder. Your thighs part just enough for him to fit his hand between them. “In fact, I don’t really want to talk at all.”

He uses two fingers to circle your clit and brings his other hand to one of your breasts, squeezing it before pinching your nipple until you gasp. You squirm in his hold, your ass rubbing against his hard cock. He plays with your pussy to his heart’s content, slowing down when he thinks you’re close and picking up the pace when you whine for more.

You reach your arm up, wrapping it around the back of his neck, anchoring yourself to him. You lift one leg over the edge of the tub, opening yourself up. He wishes he could see past the bubbles as he slides two fingers inside of you and your body tenses against him.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he whispers against your neck. “That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you manage, voice hitching on the word when he curls his fingers.

He sinks his teeth into the side of your neck, right over your pulse, making you gasp and tighten around him. He grinds his palm against your clit on every thrust of his hand and curls his fingers every time he withdraws until he knows you’re right on the edge.

“Ask me if you can come,” he says.

“Can I come?” You dutifully respond.

“You can do better than that.” He slows down just slightly but it’s enough to make you groan in frustration. “Ask nicely.”

“Please can I come?”

Robby resumes his earlier pace, giving your clit extra attention with messy swipes of his thumb. It’s not long before you’re arching your back and tightening around his fingers as you come, pretty mouth open wide in a silent gasp. You collapse against him, chest heaving with labored breaths, and he slowly withdraws his fingers, sliding his hand up your body until he’s cupping your jaw and turning your face toward his for a kiss.

You turn your body to face him, straddling his thighs and reaching down to take his cock in your hand, making him hiss. His hands roam your body as you start to pump your fist and lean forward for a kiss that’s hungry, messy, tongues moving together in shared desperation.

Your other hand fists his hair and you tug, hard, breaking the kiss. His eyes open and you’re looking down at him, haloed in the dim light, and for a moment he thinks that this might be a glimpse of heaven.

“You take such good care of me, you know that?” Your voice is a low murmur, your lips close enough to touch but your tight hold on his hair makes it impossible to bridge the small distance. His fingers flex, digging into your hips. “You must be exhausted.”

Robby makes a noise of agreement. You twist your hand around the head of his cock, smooth your thumb over the slit. His thighs flex and toes curl from the overwhelming sensation.

“Come on, baby.” You lick his throat, nipping at his earlobe. “Let go for me.”

His orgasm washes over him with another two strokes, the combination of your voice and touch too much to bear for too long. You ease him through it before letting go of his softening cock and releasing your grip on his hair.

He cups your face and brings you in for a kiss, pouring his gratitude into the movement of his mouth against yours. When you pull away, he watches you lean back to turn on the faucet and grab a bottle of shampoo.

You unhook the spray attachment from its holder, turning it on low. He tips his head forward to let you spray his hair.

“You don’t have to—“

“Hush,” you interrupt. “Let me do this.”

He doesn’t argue after that. Not when you pour a bit of shampoo in your palm and lather it up, carding your fingers through his hair. Not when you drag the suds down into his beard and lightly scratch, a sensation almost as good as the orgasm you gave him.

You rinse the soap from his hair and face with a level of care that makes his chest ache. After that, you wash what you can reach of his body with some of your body wash, ensuring he smells more like vanilla and less like hospital antiseptic.

When you’re done, you both stand to do a cursory sweep of the sprayer to get the lingering bubbles off. He opens the drain and climbs out of the tub, holding out a hand to help steady you as you get out.

Robby dries himself off and drops his towel to the floor, kicking it around to soak up the small puddle of water that’s formed around the tub as a result of your activities. You leave the bathroom, wrapped in your towel, and he grabs another towel from the closet to wrap around his waist before following you into the kitchen.

You heat up the plate of dinner you kept for him in the microwave. He pulls out a pint of ice cream and a spoon. You eat together, leaning against the kitchen counters, and Robby knows one thing for certain.

At the end of the day, you’re his comfort in the chaos.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging if you enjoyed 💕

[leriexoxo]

Angry Boys - Chan

Now Be A Good Girl

Tags: dom chan, angst, blow job deepthroat, bondage, unprotected sex, edging, oral sex, slight degradation, smut 18+

Word count: 4k

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANGRY BOYS MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You weren’t supposed to go out.

That was the only rule he gave you tonight.

He was busy working late in the studio, and when you texted “I’m bored,” he replied fast and sharp:

“Stay home. Don’t make me come get you.”

But you didn’t listen.

You got dressed.

Put on that little top he hates—tight, black, cropped way too high.

And you left.

⸻

You knew you fucked up the second the door closed.

Not slammed. Not banged.

Just… clicked shut.

It was quiet. You didn’t even turn around—you didn’t have to. You could feel him behind you. The weight of his presence. The fury he wore like a second skin.

The same fury he never said out loud.

That was the worst thing about Bang Chan.

He didn’t yell. Didn’t threaten. Didn’t explode.

He watched and he waited.

And when he was mad? Really, truly pissed?

He got quiet, scarily quiet.

Like right now.

You stood in the middle of the kitchen, fingers still wrapped around a glass of water you suddenly didn’t need anymore.

Your voice cracked first.

“Chan, I—”

“Where were you?”

Three words. Low. Measured. Like a warning wrapped in silk.

You swallowed hard, staring down at the countertop. “Out.”

“Not what I asked.”

You flinched.

He hadn’t even moved, and still, your entire body tensed like prey sensing a predator.

“I was with friends,” you said, softer now.

“Whose?”

You hesitated and he stepped forward.

Your breath caught.

“I told you not to go,” he murmured. “Didn’t I?”

You nodded.

“And you went anyway.”

You nodded again.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

You turned then, slowly, unsure why your legs were shaking. “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to—”

“To what?” His head tilted. “Piss me off? Test me? Show me how little you think of my rules?”

Your mouth opened. No sound came out.

That’s when he smiled.

Not the sweet, boyish smile you were used to.

No. This one was sharp. Slow. Dangerous.

The kind of smile you’d never seen on him before.

It made your stomach drop.

“I see,” he said softly, dragging the words out like honey.

He stepped forward again. One step. Then another.

You backed into the counter.

He didn’t stop.

“I give you rules,” he continued, “because I know how this works. I know how you work. I know what happens when you get bored.”

“Chan…”

“And what do you do?” He was close now. Too close. “You run off to some guy’s house. Let him touch what isn’t his.”

“I didn’t— No one touched me—”

Chan’s eyes darkened.

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stared at him, chest rising and falling too fast. You didn’t understand why your thighs were clenching together. Why your pulse was racing in fear—or was it something else entirely?

Then his voice dropped to a whisper.

“Take your clothes off.”

Your lips parted. “What?”

He leaned in. His breath hit your cheek. “Now.”

You didn’t move.

He exhaled a humorless laugh.

“Still so stubborn.”

Then, without another word, he turned around and walked away.

You blinked.

Where was he going?

But he didn’t leave. He went to the living room. Sat down in the middle of the couch. Then spoke loud enough for you to hear:

“You’ve got ten seconds to come kneel. If I get to ten, you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Your entire body pulsed.

That was the moment you realized…

This wasn’t casual anymore.

This wasn’t the friends-with-benefits arrangement you thought you had control over.

This was Chan, taking the reins you dropped the second you disobeyed him.

And he wasn’t going to give them back.

You didn’t even remember moving. One second you were frozen in the kitchen, heart punching your ribs. The next, you were walking—no, drifting—toward him like your body knew what to do even if your mind didn’t.

Ten seconds had passed. Probably more. He hadn’t called out again. He didn’t need to.

You found him on the couch, legs spread wide, head tilted back, one arm draped along the backrest like a king on a throne.

Your place was already waiting for you.

On the floor. Between his knees.

You stopped in front of him, fists clenched at your sides, your pride flaring up in one last flicker.

He looked at you then.

Not your face. Not your eyes.

He looked down.

“You’re not kneeling.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Then don’t act like one.”

That landed like a slap. Your breath caught. He didn’t take it back.

The silence that followed stretched razor-thin.

And then, slowly, like the smallest white flag—

You sank.

First to your knees. Then to your heels. Hands in your lap. Eyes cast low.

There was a sharp inhale. His.

A beat. Maybe two.

Then he leaned forward.

“You disobeyed me,” he said quietly. “And then you lied to me. And now you’re on your knees.”

You nodded once. Shame bloomed low in your stomach—but it curled up with heat too.

He reached out and tilted your chin up.

His gaze was fire and ice.

“Do you think I like punishing you?”

“I…” You swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“I don’t.”

His thumb brushed your bottom lip.

“But I will.”

You almost whimpered.

He stood up, moving around you like a wolf circling its prey. The air behind you shifted as he knelt, leaned in, whispered at your ear.

“I want you to sit with it,” he murmured. “The guilt. The tension. The ache.”

Goosebumps swept your skin.

“I want you to feel how different everything is now. This isn’t just casual anymore, is it?”

You shook your head, lips trembling.

“Say it.”

“It’s not casual anymore.”

“Why?”

You blinked, breath stuttering. “Because I broke the rules.”

His hand slid down your arm, slow and deliberate.

“Because you’re mine,” he said. “And you’re going to learn exactly what that means.”

“I’m sorry”

“You want to play games?” His voice was low—barely above a growl. “Then open that bratty mouth and show me how sorry you are.”

He didn’t wait for you to obey.

Chan stood up, pulled his cock free, and slapped it across your face with a sharp smack that made your cheek sting. You flinched, but he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced you to look up at him.

“That’s right,” he sneered. “Eyes on me while I fuck that pretty little throat raw.”

You barely got your mouth open before he shoved his cock in, thick and heavy, filling your tongue and pushing deep without hesitation. You gagged around him instantly, but he didn’t ease up—not even a little.

“You thought you could act like a fucking brat and not pay for it?”

He shoved deeper.

“Now look at you. Exactly where you belong.”

You choked, drool already spilling down your chin as his hips snapped forward again—rough, punishing thrusts that didn’t give you space to breathe. His grip in your hair was brutal, controlling every movement of your head, using you like you were nothing but a hole to fuck the rage out of.

“Cry for me,” he bit out. “I want to see tears. I want you wrecked.”

And you were—mascara running, jaw aching, throat tight around his cock as he kept pushing deeper, harder. He slapped the base of his cock against your lips again just to watch you flinch and moan, then shoved it back down your throat until your eyes rolled.

“You hear that?” he grunted, voice ragged with control. “That sloppy little gag? That’s the sound of you being put in your fucking place.”

You gasped when he pulled out suddenly, your body sagging with the rush of air.

But it didn’t last.

He slapped his cock across your tear-streaked face again, then shoved it back into your mouth—deeper this time, holding your head still as he forced you to take every inch.

“Fucking useless unless you’ve got my dick in your throat, huh?”

You moaned around him. Shameful. Desperate.

“You better cum from this,” he growled. “You better be soaking the floor while I fuck your face or I swear—”

He cut himself off with a curse, thrusting once, twice—then groaning as his cock twitched deep in your throat. Your eyes watered harder, lungs burning as you swallowed around him like you were made for it.

And even as you choked, you reached between your legs, rubbing yourself frantically—because fuck, this was what you needed.

He yanked you off him with a wet pop, spit and cum dripping from your lips as he stared down at your wrecked face.

“You’re not done,” he hissed. “Get on the couch. Now.”

⸻

You were already begging and he hadn’t even touched you properly.

The sharp look in Chan’s eyes was enough to undo every ounce of bravado you had left. You backed up a step—then another—bare feet scuffing against the floor as you tried to put space between the two of you.

“Don’t,” you whispered, voice shaky.

His stare dropped to your trembling legs, then dragged up your body with slow, dangerous precision. His jaw flexed once—tight, controlled—before he moved.

You turned to run. It was pure instinct.

But you didn’t get far.

In seconds he was behind you, one strong arm hooking around your waist as he dragged you back against his chest. His other hand clamped down over your mouth as you let out a gasp, muffled and desperate.

“I warned you,” he breathed against your ear. “Didn’t I?”

You shook your head frantically, but he ignored it.

He lifted you—just picked you up like you weighed nothing—and tossed you onto the bed. Your breath caught, wrists scrambling to push up, but Chan was already crawling over you, his thighs caging yours in, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you down.

“Stay,” he said, low and clipped.

Your heart was pounding.

You heard him shift behind you, the sound of fabric rustling—and when you turned your head to look, he was already looping a long strip of black cloth between his fingers.

“No—wait, I—”

He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, using the cloth to bind them together. His knot was tight and fast, practiced.

“Too late for begging now,” he said. “You wanted to act like a brat?”

You whimpered.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Chan sat back on his heels behind you, dragging your hips up into the air with a single, rough tug. Your chest stayed flush against the mattress, arms stretched out above your head, wrists locked tight in the soft fabric. You could barely move.

“Look at you,” he muttered, staring down at your soaked thighs. “Soaked, and I haven’t even touched you.”

He palmed your ass, spreading you open, watching the way you clenched. You whined, trying to push your face into the sheets.

He landed a hard slap across your skin.

You gasped, body jerking.

“That’s not where your attention belongs.”

He spanked you again—harder—and then again, until you were crying out with every strike, breathless and squirming.

“You backtalked,” he growled. Smack. “You disobeyed.” Smack. “And now you’re gonna take every second of this.”

He leaned down, his chest warm against your spine.

“You’re gonna thank me for it too.”

You swallowed hard, barely able to think through the sting and heat of his hands. “Th-Thank you,” you whispered.

He chuckled—cold, low.

“Not yet.”

And then you felt it—his fingers, slipping between your legs, stroking through your slick folds, teasing you with slow, cruel pressure that didn’t give you what you needed. You cried out, frustrated, your wrists straining against the binds.

But Chan was patient. So fucking patient.

“You don’t get my cock,” he murmured, “until you’ve earned it.”

Your wrists ached in the best way—tied tight, stretched out, your whole body bent into a position you couldn’t fight even if you tried. Not that you would.

Not when you felt Chan kneel behind you again, his rough hands trailing up your thighs like he was deciding what to devour first.

“You’ve made a mess of yourself,” he muttered, running his thumb through your soaked folds.

You whimpered at the contact, body twitching.

“Didn’t even get fucked, and you’re already dripping down your legs.” His voice was low, dangerous. “What kind of girl are you, hmm?”

You didn’t answer.

You couldn’t.

He grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back just enough to speak into your ear.

“Answer me.”

Your voice was broken, breathless. “Y-Yours—”

He shoved your face back into the mattress with a grunt. “That’s right.”

Then he dropped lower behind you, spreading you open like it was nothing—hands firm on your ass, forcing you wide, fully exposed.

You gasped when you felt his mouth.

His tongue licked a slow stripe from your clit to your entrance, teasing, almost gentle—but the grip on your hips said otherwise. Said you weren’t going anywhere.

And then he groaned.

The sound vibrated through your core, deep and feral.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You taste unreal.”

And then he dug in.

His mouth was ruthless, tongue working in steady, unrelenting circles over your clit while his hands held you down. Your knees trembled under the force of it. You tried to rock your hips, to chase that pressure—but he just tightened his grip until you couldn’t move an inch.

He flicked his tongue faster, then slower, dragging your orgasm right to the edge before pulling back, lips slick with you.

You whined—high and needy.

“Thought you were bratty,” he said. “Didn’t realize you were this easy.”

He lowered again, this time sucking hard on your clit, letting his nose bump against your skin as he groaned into your cunt. Your moans were broken, loud, shaking into the mattress.

And when he slipped his tongue into you, thick and slow, you screamed.

Your thighs shook, the knot in your stomach pulling tighter and tighter until—

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, pulling back just enough to speak. “Don’t you fucking come.”

You sobbed into the sheets, shaking from the denial. “C-Chan—please—”

But he dove back in, tongue moving faster, lips pulling you apart until your vision went white and your body betrayed you—

You came. Hard.

He felt it instantly—your muscles clenching around nothing, the sob that left your throat, the taste of you spilling over his tongue.

And then he froze.

He pulled back slowly, breathing hard, his mouth wet with your release.

You barely had time to gasp before he was speaking again—calm, dangerous.

“You didn’t just do that.”

Silence.

“You really came without permission.”

Your breath hitched.

“Alright,” he said, voice low and final. “You want to act like that? Fine.”

And before you could blink— He was grabbing your hips, lining himself up, and thrusting in.

The sound he made when he sank into you was feral—a low, guttural growl that vibrated through your bones. He bottomed out in one brutal thrust, hips flush to your ass, so deep you could feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice gravel. “You really came without my permission?”

You tried to speak—but all that came out was a wrecked little sob. He grabbed your bound wrists, yanked your arms back, and used them as leverage to pull you onto his cock again. Harder.

“Answer me.”

“I—I’m sorry—!”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I—I couldn’t help it—!”

He laughed—cold, dangerous. “Then let me help you.”

He dragged almost all the way out before slamming back in, again and again, every thrust deeper than the last, until your breath stuttered and your thighs shook. You were already so sensitive, so overstimulated from the orgasm he explicitly told you not to have, and he was nowhere near done.

One hand released your arms only to close around your throat, pulling you up until your back was pressed to his chest, your knees barely stable under the weight of his body.

“You like being used?” he whispered into your ear. “Being just a hole for me to fuck until I decide you’re worth more than that?”

You whined—completely at his mercy.

He tightened his grip on your neck, choking you just enough to make your vision blur at the edges.

“I said,” he snarled, hips snapping into you with punishing rhythm, “do you like being used?”

“Y-Yes, Daddy—”

That name. That name.

He groaned darkly, slamming into you so hard your toes left the ground for a second.

“Of course you do. Fucking brat.”

His free hand came down hard on your ass—smack—then again, until the skin stung, and all you could do was take it, let him rut into you while you cried out into the sheets.

Then he bent you forward again, one hand fisting your hair this time, the other dragging down your back possessively. “Look at this,” he murmured, watching your body ripple with every thrust. “Taking me so well for someone who doesn’t know how to fucking listen.”

You were babbling by now, some mix of apologies and moans and desperate pleas for more—words you didn’t even know you were saying, your body already starting to tighten again, dangerously close to coming.

He noticed. He always noticed.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growled, slapping your clit once, sharp and precise. You screamed.

“Please—please, I can’t—!”

“You can.” He leaned over your back, kissed your shoulder almost mockingly, then bit it. “You’ll come when I say so, and not a second before.”

Your hands struggled against the cloth binding you, but there was no escape—only the relentless rhythm of his hips, the stretch of his cock, the burn of need threatening to swallow you whole.

He pulled out suddenly, and you cried out at the loss—only to be flipped over roughly, legs pushed wide, knees to your chest. The look in his eyes was deadly.

“You want to come so badly?”

You nodded, eyes wild, begging silently.

“Then earn it.”

He shoved back in, deeper than before, and started fucking you like a man possessed. Sweat dripped from his brow, muscles tense, his voice a constant stream of filth between gritted teeth.

“Losing your fucking mind on my cock… Look at you. Crying for it.”

Your vision blurred with tears.

“Say it,” he snarled, grabbing your cheeks to force your eyes to his. “Say whose you are.”

“Y-Yours, Daddy—!”

“And who does this pussy belong to?”

“You—Only you—!”

He growled again, nearly folding you in half as he drove into you harder, faster, until you were screaming his name into the room, your second orgasm detonating like a bomb inside you, every muscle locking tight.

And this time?

He let you have it.

He watched you fall apart, eyes fixed on your trembling body as he finally gave in, pulled out just in time to stroke himself fast over your stomach, cum spilling hot and thick across your skin with a ragged moan of your name.

“Fuck… fuck—”

Then silence.

Only the sound of your shattered breathing, the tremble in your thighs.

Then soft hands untied your wrists. Warm fingers cupped your cheeks.

“Hey…” he whispered, thumb brushing away a tear. “You okay?”

You nodded, dazed.

“You really drive me insane, you know that?”

You smiled, weak and ruined.

“I like making you crazy.”

He laughed, kissed your forehead, and whispered, “Good. Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He stayed there for a moment, just kneeling between your legs, his breathing still ragged, sweat dotting his flushed skin.

You were a mess—trembling, legs spread, slick and cum coating your thighs and stomach. But the moment he looked at you again, all that brutal dominance melted into something tender. His expression shifted.

“Hey, baby.” His voice was soft now, impossibly gentle.

He leaned down, kissed your forehead. Then your cheek. Then your lips—slow and unhurried, like he hadn’t just ruined you minutes ago.

“You okay?” he murmured against your mouth.

You nodded, but your body was still twitching.

“I’m gonna clean you up, yeah?”

You hummed in response, eyes fluttering closed as his hands moved over your body—soft now, tracing bruises with guilt-lined fingers, kissing your wrists where the cloth had pressed into your skin. He wiped between your legs with warm, damp cloths, whispering apologies when you flinched.

“There we go… good girl. You did so well.”

You should’ve been spent, drifting. But then he kissed your chest—first out of affection.

Then again.

And again.

And then he lingered, mouth warm and open over your nipple, and your eyes snapped open.

“Chan…”

He hummed around you, tongue circling before he gently sucked, wet and slow.

“I thought…” you breathed. “I thought we were done…”

He looked up, and his eyes were anything but innocent.

“I said i wasn’t.” he murmured, switching to the other breast, dragging his teeth softly over the tender skin. “And I remembered how good these taste.”

You whined, arching as his hand slipped up your ribs, cupping one breast while his mouth worked the other.

“You’re still sensitive,” he said, almost in awe. “Still twitching every time I touch you…”

“Chan—!”

“You can take it. One more.” His lips curved into a wicked grin as he latched on again, tongue flicking fast against your nipple while his fingers rolled the other.

The ache between your thighs returned like a flame sparking to life.

Your hands found his curls, tugging, and he groaned softly against your chest, only sucking harder, sloppier now—like he couldn’t stop, couldn’t get enough.

Your hips shifted on instinct.

“You gonna come just from this?” he murmured against your skin. “From me sucking on your pretty tits like this?”

You moaned, and he didn’t stop—licking, sucking, kneading you like you were his personal obsession.

“I could do this all night,” he whispered. “Look at how wrecked you are already. One more, baby. Let me have one more.”

And honestly?

You were helpless to deny him.

His hand trailed down your stomach, fingers brushing over your puffy clit like a ghost. Just enough to make you jerk.

“Fuck, you’re soaked again.”

He chuckled darkly and sucked harder at your nipple, flicking the tip with his tongue before gently biting down—just enough to make your back arch.

Then his fingers returned, sliding over your folds, deliberately avoiding your clit.

“I didn’t even touch you yet,” he said, licking a circle around your nipple. “You’re dripping already.”

“Chan—” you gasped, but he cut you off with another deep suck, tongue dragging over the wet, sensitive skin as he slipped two fingers between your legs and finally rubbed tight circles on your clit.

Your whole body jolted.

“Oh my god—”

“There it is,” he purred, watching you squirm. “Look at you—hips rocking, tits bouncing while I suck on them and make you come on my fingers like a good girl.”

The pleasure was building again, sharper now, and too fast. He was sucking you like he was starving, moaning into your chest, fingers relentless on your clit while you writhed beneath him.

“C-Chan—!”

“You gonna come for me again?” he murmured, still flicking your nipple with his tongue. “Gonna soak my fingers while I suck on your pretty tits like they’re mine?”

You cried out, thighs shaking, hips jerking up as that pressure snapped.

You came—hard—legs trembling, moans strangled, head thrown back against the pillow while his fingers slowed down just enough to let you ride it out.

He didn’t stop licking your nipple, though. Didn’t stop dragging those sinful fingers in slow, wet circles.

You twitched again. And again.

Too much.

“Too much—!”

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered, lifting his head to kiss your mouth this time, swallowing your desperate whimpers. “So good. So perfect. I could fuckin’ worship this body all night.”

You collapsed, breathless, overstimulated, skin on fire—and Chan was still there, touching, kissing, whispering sweet filth like he had all the time in the world to love you apart.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Authors note: And we have come to the end of the Angry boys series! It was fun writing all that smutty angst lol 😂 NOW WE CAN START TAKING REQUESTS!

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @sagestarlight @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @universeyuto @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss

[bernardsbendystraws]

You Don’t Own Me

SERIES MASTERLIST

Chris Sturniolo lives by his own rules, refusing to be controlled. Some see him as a rebel, a troublemaker—but is that the full truth? Meanwhile, Y/N is focused on making the most of her last year of high school, determined to have a normal teenage experience. But when their worlds collide, they realize they may have more in common than they ever expected.

WARNINGS: COPYRIGHT NOTICE. PLEASE READ AND LOOK UP DEFINITIONS OF WARNINGS FOR FURTHER CLARIFICATION. HUGE TW FOR THIS CHAPTER. CSA (only mentioned, not described), angst, fluff, fighting, physical altercation, lying, and more.

A/N: This is long as fuck and have fun on this emotional rollercoaster lol this is barely proofread btw

With love and big tits, Rose

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

P24: Too Soon?

A week. My mom would be gone on some work trip for an entire seven days.

I really don’t believe it. Part of me always thought she would lie about them being ‘work trips,’ but now I was sure. What kind of work trip didn’t have cell service?

She’s lying. I know she’s hiding something, I know deep down this probably isn’t the first time she’s done this before. But that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is that she that she left Byalen in charge to ‘watch’ me—like a fucking babysitter, since I couldn’t be trusted anymore because of the time she caught me coming home with Chris early in the morning.

Fucking hypocrite. 

Sure, I wasn’t telling the truth—but neither was she. Like mother, like daughter, I guess. 

Currently, I’m on my bed, staring up at the ceiling as my phone rests on my stomach. Chris’ voice echoes through the device. We’ve been talking for hours. I really want to just go over and see him—see my boyfriend, but I can’t. Not while I’m being fucking babysat. 

“Are you sure you don’t wanna sleep over? You need to sleep.” Chris says.

God, the offer is tempting. All of me wants to say yes, walk over to his house, and cuddle up in his arms. But I can’t. I’ve slept like shit for the past three days and it keeps getting worse. I need him to hold me in order to feel okay, I wanna sleep in a house that feels like a home too. 

It’s not even just him. It’s Jimmy, it’s Matt, and hell—even Trevor. I love being around them, it makes everything feel so much easier. 

I huff, shaking my head against my pillow as I roll my eyes. “I can’t, I’m being fuckin babysat at 18 years old.” I remark. 

A wave of silence washes over for a minute. I can practically hear Chris thinking, the slight vibration of a curious hum sounding through the phone. My fingers callus over my lip, the slight graze of my nails making the muscle tingle in a way that mimics how Chris’ lips feel against my own.

Fuck. I miss that. 

It’s like he has something that I need and crave all the damn time, like he possesses some sort of energy that makes my body feel better—lighter, even. 

“Well…what if I came over there?” He offers. 

My eyebrows twist together. I lick over my lip, gnawing on the muscle as I think of his statement. 

“But…but what if we get caught?” I question. 

I could imagine it. Baylen would see Chris and all hell would break loose. 

I doubt he’d cover for me, he’d probably enthusiastically go telling my mom the second she walks back into the house. 

Chris lets out a dry laugh. “Has he really ever bothered to check in your room? I mean, even if he does, I’ll just hide in your closet or something.”

“That’s kinda gay, bro,” I joke, gnawing on my lip as I hear Chris let out a fit of chuckles that make my heart echo in my ears. 

I love being able to do that. Hearing him laugh—making him laugh, it all feels so pure. It honestly feels as intimate as him in between my legs, just in a different type of way. 

Either are addicting. It was hard to miss only one or the other, I craved both. 

I wanted to feel the euphoric relief from his touch. I wanted to laugh with him to the point where I couldn’t think of anything except how bad my stomach cramped from giggling. 

I wanted everything and all of it—I just want him. 

It’s only been a bit over a week since we made things official, but god—I could feel emotions building so rapidly, so much that they felt like they were consuming every corner of my mind.

Some of it made me sick. 

I never felt this way with Ryan, my ex. The butterflies were there, but not to this extent—not to the point where I caught myself trying to imagine he was holding me in order to fall asleep. 

“Do you want me to come over and not?” Chris remarks, pulling me back to reality as his voice echoes through my phone. 

I bite back a sore smile, humming in approval, “Yes please.” 

___

It feels good like this. Every inch of my body is content, my limbs melted in his hold as I let myself breathe in the fresh air from the cracked window in my bedroom.

His hand is combing through my hair. I hear him clear his throat, his chest rumbling as he begins to speak, “So, um…I…I’ve really missed you.” he says—again.

My lips tug into an unrelenting smile. We’ve been cuddling for hours and he’s repeated the same statement at least ten times. 

It should be annoying, but it’s not. It makes me feel warm—it makes me feel a part of the moment, like every wave of the breeze is infiltrating the pores on my skin to ground me with a profound amount of peace. 

“I missed you too.” I reply, scratching my nails over his chest as I let out another hum of contentment. His lips press against the crown of my head, a lingering kiss placed on my scalp as I feel his warm breath tickle into my hair. 

It’s dark now. We should be tired, but we’re not. A short nap had rendered us a bit sad since we wanted to watch the sunset together, but it was okay since now we got to watch the night sky illuminate with a crescent moon and thousands of stars varying in vibrance. 

I wonder who’s watching. Maybe my dad is one of those stars, maybe he gets to see me finally living after all these years without him. 

The gap of his presence still aches in my heart, but it’s not as exhausting. A tiny splinter of a gap still remains in the pumping muscle, but it seems to be soothed by the added layers of security from Chris’ arms around me. 

“What’re you thinking about, pretty girl?” Chris asks, combing through my hair. 

I crane my head to stare up at him, sparing a soft smile as I give a slight shrug of my shoulders. “I just…” my words float into the air, unfinished as I gulp the lump in my throat that seems to build with how his eyes are piercing into me. “-I really like this. I…really like you…being here with me. It’s just–” 

Chris leans down, pressing the tip of his nose against my own as he blinks, his eyes lashes fluttering against my own with a ticklish sensation that makes a soft sigh fall from my lips. 

“-good. I’m glad you like it because I love it. You don’t understand how much I missed holding you, really,” he whispers, his breath fanning across my lips in a way that makes my stomach swarm with warm butterflies. “-this makes me so, so, so fuckin’ happy—holding my girl, in my arms—”

“You’re never gonna stop saying that, huh?” I tease, biting on my lip as his eyes open and gleam into my own.              

Chris purses his lips, shrugging. “Nah. Getting to call you my girl?” he puffs, his eyes going with before he offers a playful smile, “-could never get old to me. Makes me feel all….” he wraps his arms tighter around me, pulling a gasp from my mouth as he pulls my chest plush against his, “-warm.” 

Ugh. He feels the same way I do—maybe even more so. 

I let myself bathe in his stare, the reassurance of his gaze making me feel like moonlight—calm, radiate, and important. Part of me doesn’t wanna speak at all, the fear of this exact moment ending making my heart pulse in my chest with a sharp sting. 

But it’s okay. 

It’s okay because I know there will always be more moments like this with him. It’s okay because there’s no doubt in my mind that he’ll ever let me feel anything less than cared for. 

Words linger on the tip of my tongue, words I know I shouldn’t say—not yet, at least.

But it’s true. I love him, I really, really do. I don’t know when the realization happened. Honestly, I think it might’ve been when we first met, like some sort of cautious feeling that was warning me of destiny. 

Chris licks over his lips, his smile fading into a serious look as he swallows thickly. “I…I know we haven’t been official for very long, but—I…I feel things for you, I feel so much it hurts,” he breaths. 

My breath halts in my chest, my ears ringing as my bones seem to vibrate inside my body. He feels it too. It’s like everything about us is connected, like everything is falling into place so effortlessly it feels like magic. 

“I…” The words fall flat on the tip of my tongue, my eyes glazing over with pure emotion as I let my eyes wander over his face.

It’s so comfortable. All I can hear is our hearts beating in sync, the way my entire soul is burning for me to say it—say everything. 

“I love you.”

My eyes widened in shock. The words had rambled off my tongue so rushed, the devotion hanging in the air with an accompanied echo of his own voice. 

“Oh.” 

Our words are still in sync. We both let out a small laugh, the giggles falling quiet as we just breath in each other’s presence. 

“I guess that wasn’t as scary as I was making it out to seem, huh?” he tuts. 

I shake my head, laughing under my breath as I shrug, “-I guess so.” 

___

Chris’ POV

I keep waking up. I’m not sure what time it is, but it’s like my body doesn’t want to sleep, even though I’m very comfortable, I just wanna look at her in my arms. 

The slight sound of crickets echoing with the cool night air makes me sigh. My eyes drift over to her nightstand, her empty water bottle catching my attention. She had jugged all of it and fell back asleep within an instant a while ago, waking up a bit later, disappointed to find the bottle empty. 

Maybe I should fill it for her.

Yeah.

Slowly sliding away, I wince hearing her let out a small whimper, reaching out for me as I stand up fully. Her eyes peek open. I pet over her shoulder, cooing, “-hey, go back to sleep—’m just gonna fill your water, okay?” 

She nods hazily, her eyes falling shut with a slight scowl printed on her face. 

God, she’s pretty.

My stomach flutters with warmth as I watch her bottom lip pout slightly, her arms reaching out and tugging the pillow that was beneath my head into her hold as she greedily takes a large breath.

Fuck.

She’s barely awake and she still wants me. 

With light steps, I carefully make my way out of her room, venturing through the halls in hopes of finding the kitchen. It doesn’t take long. I walk into the tiled room, the cold flooring against my feet making me miss the warmth of her touch. 

“Ugh,” I sigh, walking over to the sink and filling the bottle, trying to tilt the object to create as little noise as possible. 

My lips roll together, my mind racing with thoughts as I reminisce on earlier. I was so scared to tell her that I loved her, I was scared it was too soon, too much, or purely insane to feel so strongly when we only made things official a bit ago. 

But she said it at the same time, and somehow that was better than her saying it back. 

“Who the fuck?” 

My eyes go wide as I screw on the cap to the water bottle. I turn around, finding her brother with messy hair and sunken eyes staring at me with a scowl. 

Fuck. 

“Shit.” I mutter, squinting my eyes shut in hopes I’m just having a nightmare. 

But no. 

I open my eyes, he’s still there—closer. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he interrogates, his shoulders broadening as his nostrils flare with an angry huff. 

“I, uh,” I look towards the hallway, mentally cursing myself as I think of her getting in trouble because of me, “-I’m Chris. I’m…uh—”

I don’t get the chance to finish. Baylen’s eyes shift to the bottle in my hand, his tongue prodding on the side of his cheek as he shakes his head disappointedly. 

“What? Are you her boyfriend or something?” he asks, lips tugged into a straight line. 

Gulping, I nod. Surely me being her boyfriend is better than being a stranger breaking in, right?

“No.”

The fuck?

My brows furrow together at his statement. Baylen seems to analyze the confusion on my face, shrugging as he repeats the words with a more tense voice, “-I said no.” 

“What? No? Hate to break it to you, but that’s not really your decision.” I point. 

No wonder she can’t get along with him, he’s a prick. He barely acts like a brother, yet he’s trying to dictate our relationship? 

Fuck that. I’ve done more for her than he has with a fraction of the time. 

I mean, how hard is it to be there for his sister? 

After losing my mom and Nick, no matter how distant or hurt I was, I still hugged Matt when he needed it. I might’ve grown distant, but I never grew heartless.

Baylen couldn’t even suck it up to play video games with her. 

His face contorts with distaste. I let out an angry sigh, my eyes rolling while he let out a scoff. 

“She’s my sister. I’m the one who gets to look out for her, not some guy she’s known for what, a couple months?” he remarks, a slight snort echoing at the end of his sentence. 

His words seem to make my heart pummel against my chest with rage, the statement making my blood boil as I lick over my teeth. “Look out for her? You can’t even sit down and play a video game with her for more than five minutes. Just…” I shake my head, watching as his face shifts into shock before the fury in his eyes starts to become more intense, “-it’s whatever.” 

Baylen clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth, shaking his head, “Shut the fuck up. You have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

My nose twitches, my eyes squint as my jaw becomes tight. Who the fuck does he think he’s talking to? 

“Oh, I have no idea what I’m talking about?” I huff, my brows lifting as I let out a dry laugh, “-no, you have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re an awful fucking brother, you have no say in anything when you’re treating her like…like a fucking dick.” 

His jaw clicks. Baylen stalks forward, his hands twisting in the collar of my shirt as he yanks me to the side, pushing me against the wall as his eyes glare into me, the anger radiating off of him making the ache in my head from the impact seem less apparent as I drop the water bottle and clutch onto his wrists, trying to yank him off of me. The loud clunk of the bottle hitting the ground makes me wince. I huff at his unrelenting grip, taking a heavy sigh as I try to calm the pulsing anger in my body. 

I can’t hit him. She cares about him—even if he hurts her, I know that would make her upset.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeats, his voice dangerously low as he pushes me harder against the wall.  

“You abandoned her when she needed you most. What kind of brother does that?” I spit, the emotions in my voice leaking with a bit of hypocrisy. 

I wasn’t always the best when it came to comforting Matt after my mom and Nick had died, but at least I came around. Someone had to knock some sense into me—that someone being my dad, but it didn’t seem like anyone was ever gonna set Baylen straight. 

“You—you don’t get it. Stop. Just—just shut up,” he yells, shoving me even harder as I feel the back of my head pulse. 

“I do. Just…ow, fuck—” I hiss, the pain becoming evidentally apparent as my skull aches, “-I lost some of my family. Someone had to knock some sense into me. She—she’s your sister, you both lost your dad, she’s hurting and—shit.” 

It fucking hurts. The back of my head is pulsing, an echoing pain bursting through my forehead as I try to move, only to have him shove me harder. 

“I didn’t lose anyone. You…you don’t understand.” 

My eyes peak open, curiosity accompanied by pain as I hear a slight crack in his voice. His face drops with sadness, the anger fleeting into some sort of sullen emotion as he swallows thickly. 

“You…you don’t understand. That man—he’s not my father. He’s a sick excuse of a man that traumatized her and she doesn’t even fucking remember,” he spits. 

“I…what?” I breathe, my chest tightening as Baylen loosens his grip around the collar of my shirt, his lower lip wobbling. 

“I’m never supposed to tell her. I…I have to hear her mourn a man who would…who’s the reason she’d have to sneak into my room—he’s the reason she could never make it through the night without having an accident. Something was wrong—everything was wrong.” 

“What—what’re you saying?” I ask, my mouth falling open as I let my hands fall from his wrists. 

Baylen’s eyes sink with sadness, his cheek hollowing as he gulps. “She wasn’t potty trained for a long time. At first, I didn’t get it. But…but…he was touching her, her body was showing all the signs of sexual assault, but I was just a kid, I didn’t…I—by the time I understood what had happened, it—it was too late. Now I have to hear her mourn a man who is the reason I feel—he’s…he’s the reason I can’t comfort her, he’s the reason I can’t look at her,” he says, his head tilting as his face scrunches with pain;

“He’s the reason I hate myself—the reason I can’t let myself get close to her without seeing how much of a failure I am.” 

Oh.

[hearts4hughes]

HE’S NOT ME | ANAKIN SKYWALKER X READER

note: first writing for anakin! my obsession for him is reawakening, and yk my fav trope is bsf x bsf!reader 🤗

you’re sparring again.

fourth time this week. sixth time if you count the ones that end with him lying flat on his back, laughing, arm flung over his face like he’s hiding something (he is.)

the training room is warm. dusk curls at the windows. your saber slices through the air in a clean arc, but he parries it fast, almost cocky.

“you’re slow today,” he smirks, gaze falling to the way your fingers grip your saber. he shakes his head, trying to free himself from his thoughts.

you glare. “you’re annoying every day.” you lunge at him, your braid whipping through the air with the movement. he simply side-steps you, like he’s calculated your every move.

“true,” he says, and winks.

it should be harmless. you’ve known him since you were both initiates. slept in the same bunks, snuck into the same mess halls after curfew. sparred until your arms shook, until your breathing fell into the same rhythm.

but lately… something’s off.

his touches linger. his jokes cut deeper. and his stare? his stare burns.

“where were you earlier?” he asks, not even trying to sound casual.

“with quinlan,” you mutter, distracted by the way he circles you now. he’s measured, sharp, a little too tight.

he freezes. “quinlan vos?”

“yeah?” you raise a brow. “he asked me to train. we ran drills.”

anakin’s grip on his saber tightens. knuckles pale beneath the glove.

“he’s not your partner.” his voice is lower now. something deeper, darker sparkles in his eyes. “he’s not me.”

you blink. “are you seriously jealous?”

he doesn’t answer. instead, he lunges. his saber collides with yours so hard it makes your arms tremble.“you think he can protect you?” he grits out, eyes locked on yours. “he flirts. he doesn’t care. not like I—”

he stops. chest heaving.

not like what, skywalker?

“what’s your problem?” you snap, breathless. you throw your saber on the ground, and turn away from him. your arm cover your chest as you stare at the ground.

he drops his saber and steps into your space.

“you don’t get it,” he says, eyes dark and storming. “i see the way they look at you. vos, kenobi, every soldier in the hangar bay. they think they can.”

“can what?” your voice falters. curiosity lingers in your gaze as his muscles stiffen.

then, he leans in. heat rolls off him like wildfire. “touch you. take you. love you.”

you stifle our a dry laugh, absent of any humor. “and you think you’re any different?”

his eyes flash.

“no,” he says, voice breaking open. “i know i’m not. i’m worse,” his voice falters. “but at least i don’t pretend.”

then his hands are on your face, pulling you in like the force itself is dragging you together. and when he kisses you, it’s not soft. it’s not sweet. it’s desperate. possessive. like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing that could ever feed him.

you gasp against his mouth, fingers curling in his hair.

his hand slides down your spine, anchoring you to him, like you might vanish if he lets go.

“you’re mine,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “not theirs.”

you don’t say anything.

you don’t have to.

your mouth just finds his again.

and for the first time, he stops pretending to be your friend.

[shimmering-starsun]

there’s been an insane resurgence of headcannons in the marvel fandom thanks to thunderbolts, so heres my masterlist of headcannons i’ve seen from others that I will continue to add to :)

Yelena

her guinea pig is the group pet—named Nat

insists on doing karaoke every saturday night, she and Ava eat everyone up.

Cooks for EVERYONE. makes sure they all eat enough.

laughs at her own jokes, especially the bad ones. Ava can’t help but laugh with her.

Bucky

leads group therapy seasion every tuesday.

tries* to use brainrot and slang terms, but it catches onto Alexei, so now nobody can convince him otherwise.

helps Bob with his nightmares. Sees pre-serum Steve in Bob so he feels like he needs to protect him

talks about Sam a lot, everyones tired of it.

argues with John constantly, but they always work well together on missions.

It’s a competition to see who can sneak up on and scare bucky. He’s expressionless every time and just says “wow that was so scary”

Insists on silence breaks, everyone starts speaking again after 3 minutes.

says he never cares, but makes sure there’s water and first aid for every mission.

Bob

THE little brother.

has to have some amount of light on when he sleeps. He also loves to sleep in the living room on the couch when other’s are there to listen to the soft of their voices.

May or may not be on Booktok, either way, he reads romance and mystery.

always in the corner drinking tea or a milkshake when the others are fighting.

hates cucumber, any way it’s prepared.

He always beats John in every card or board game. when it’s more than 2 people playing, it doesn’t matter if Bob comes out on top, he always gets a higher score than John. They’re the two brothers who hate eachother.

watches cartoons to heal his inner child, doesn’t let anyone know.

>800 hours on minecraft

hard for him to accept gifts from others, even if it’s a bag of chips, he’ll say he doesn’t deserve it.

actually has a great sense of humor, can make the entire team cry from laughter just by saying something small. Takes him a couple weeks to loosen up and start joking around

Ava

likes to jumpscare people by just appearing out of thin air. Steals everyones snacks because she can.

Ultimate gaslighter, especially towards Bob. shows him those ai videos of sad cat stories and obvious rage bate and he gets pissed about it.

loves halloween and horror movies (a menace on halloween night, especially to John who she would just stand in the hallway and stare menacingly at while in a clown costume or something)

has trouble sleeping. Bucky once found her on the floor of the training room at 3am

once passed out from overworking herself, woke up and found Bob sitting next to her watching over her like a big golden retriever.

Kendrick Lamar enthusiast

Red Guardian

runs a tiktok account where he posts videos of the team (bonus, he puts filters on them and doesn’t tell)

will make the most heinous food combinations and swear they’re good.

hugs a little too tightly.

always gives a big dramatic speech before they go out, even if it’s just for coffee.

tells stories that are 90% lies, but everyone listens anyway.

John

acts as if he doesn’t care for the group, but gets worried if they don’t all text him back.

thinks he has a niche movie collection but it’s not neiche at all. horrible taste in movies (this one is very popular)

resident chef, along with Yelena.

the only one who has an actual schedule.

Gets really quiet after missions, especially if things went bad. Extremely self-critical even if it’s not apparent.

[papayainsectorone]

uhm I kinda love the stuff you recently uploaded

so i thought maybe i´ll suggest something maybe? like if you like the idea i mean...

okay hear me out: after a rainy qualifying session gets delayed, you and Lando are stuck waiting out the storm. Wet clothes, bored energy, and shared glances turn into something far more hands-on against the hotel window with the sound of rain pounding in the background.

storm’s not over

════════════════════════

summary: A rainstorm interrupts qualifying, leaving you and Lando alone in a humid hotel room with nothing to do but wait.

content: 18+! smut, nsfw descriptions, penetrative sex, PWP, hotel room setting, oral (f & m receiving), rough sex, window sex, semi-public risk, mutual desperation

word count: 3,3k

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

a thought: i loved this anon idea and i love how it turned out :)

════════════════════════

The storm outside had picked up before qualifying, and the rain beat down on the windows like it was trying to break through. Inside the hotel room, everything was damp. The room smelled of wet asphalt and something warm, musky—the mix of your clothes, Lando’s and yours both clinging to your skin in the humidity. The only light came from the soft, yellow glow of a bedside lamp, casting shadows on the walls and stretching across the bed.

You and Lando had been chatting, mostly about the dismal rain delay and how it had wrecked what was supposed to be a quiet evening, but the conversation had faltered, hanging in the air, thick and heavy like the storm outside.

Lando was sitting on the edge of the bed, his soaked team gear discarded haphazardly on the floor. His hair was still damp from the rain, and his eyes, even though tired, were fixed on you like he was calculating something—something that made your pulse pick up in a way you weren’t quite ready for.

"Think the storm’s gonna let up anytime soon?" he asked, though his voice was thick with something else—something more suggestive than innocent curiosity. You didn’t answer right away, your eyes drifting to his chest, where the fabric of his wet t-shirt stuck to the contours of his body, outlining every muscle.

The rain rattled against the window, the only sound filling the room, but the tension between you two felt louder, heavier.

“Not likely,” you muttered, your throat suddenly dry. “Guess we’re stuck here, then.”

You weren’t sure if it was the way he was staring at you, or the way his fingers absently drummed against his knee, but something in the air shifted. The playful banter from earlier had disappeared, replaced by a charged silence that only seemed to draw you closer.

Lando shifted slightly on the bed, his hand brushing against his waistband in a way that made your stomach twist. He hadn’t moved closer, not yet, but the space between you felt smaller, like gravity was pulling you two together despite the distance.

Then, as if on instinct, you stood. The urge to move, to do something to break the tension, was too strong. But as you took a step towards the window, your foot slipped on the slick floor, and you caught yourself, nearly tumbling into him.

Lando’s hand shot out, steadying you before you could fall. In a flash, he was off the bed, stepping toward you without hesitation, his grip firm as he caught your arm. His fingers lingered a beat too long, anchoring you with surprising steadiness.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low—just rough enough to make your heart skip.

You nodded, but the closeness of him, the heat coming off his skin, made it hard to focus. His hand was still on you, grounding and electrifying all at once. When you met his gaze, something shifted. His eyes were darker now, pupils wide, lips slightly parted like he was holding back more than just breath.

The rain raged on outside, but inside, everything was still.

“Maybe we should, uh... distract ourselves while we wait,” you suggested, your voice a little shakier than you intended.

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Distract ourselves, huh?”

You nodded, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips as you stepped closer to the window, the wet fabric of your clothes feeling heavy against your skin. The way his gaze followed you sent a thrill through you—something primal, something teasing.

Lando didn’t hesitate. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you into him so suddenly that you barely had time to react before his lips were on yours, hot and hungry. The kiss was frantic, desperate, like he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. His tongue brushed against yours, sending a jolt through your body.

When you pulled away for a breath, the air between you was thick with tension. “Do you feel that?” he muttered against your lips, his hand slipping lower, brushing the curve of your hips. “The storm outside’s nothing compared to what’s happening in here.”

You smiled against his mouth. “I think we’re about to make it worse.”

Lando's breath was warm on your neck, his hands skimming under your damp shirt like he couldn’t decide whether to go slow or devour you whole. The storm outside howled, wind howling outside the windows, but the only thing you could hear was the way your pulse thrummed in your ears.

You let him push you gently back until your shoulders touched the cool glass of the window. The contrast made you gasp—hot skin, cold surface, Lando’s body pressing close in between. One of his hands found your thigh, gripping firmly, while the other slid higher, under your shirt, brushing over bare skin.

“I should be good,” he muttered, lips at your jaw. “Should take my time, do this properly…”

You tilted your head to let him mouth at your throat, your fingers curling in his still-damp curls. “Then why aren’t you?”

He groaned softly, like the words hit something deep in him. “Because I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

He dropped to his knees before you could even blink, hands moving with a kind of reverence that sent goosebumps rippling up your spine. Your leggings were halfway down your thighs in seconds, and Lando’s gaze lifted to meet yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Let me take care of you,” he said simply, voice low while pulling your pants down all the way

You barely had time to nod before his mouth was on you, hot and unrelenting. The cold glass behind you only amplified the heat of him—his tongue, his fingers curling just right, the way he looked up at you like he’d never wanted anything more than to make you fall apart right there against the window, with the rain as his only audience.

Your hand slid into his curls, anchoring you to something solid as the tension in your stomach coiled tighter and tighter. His fingers were slow at first, curling with practiced care, then quicker, deeper, until you were half-moaning his name into the storm.

“Lando—fuck, don’t stop.”

He didn’t. If anything, the encouragement made him go harder. His grip on your hips tightened, holding you still while his tongue worked in tandem with his fingers, dragging you closer to the edge.

The thunder cracked outside, loud and sudden, as if punctuating the moment your body tensed, your orgasm hitting you like the lightning above—bright, sharp, unstoppable.

He pulled back only once you’d come down from the high, lips wet and eyes dark with something smug. You barely had time to catch your breath before he stood, crowding you back against the glass again, pressing his mouth to yours like he wanted to taste what he’d done to you.

“Storm’s not over,” he murmurs against your lips, voice low and smug, and you barely have time to catch your breath before he’s kissing you again—deeper this time, slower, like he wants to taste every sound you made for him.

The glass behind you is still cool against your back, but Lando’s heat makes you forget it. His body presses close, damp shirt clinging to his skin as his hands roam—up your sides, under your bra, down to the curve of your ass, squeezing like he can’t get enough. He kisses you hard, messy now, like patience has officially left the building.

Between breathless words and the insistent press of his hips, Lando moves—turns you with ease and pushes you up against the window. His body crowds yours, upper half pressing flush against you, caging you in between the cool glass and the heat of him. In one fluid motion, he lifts you like it’s nothing, your legs wrapping instinctively around his hips.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” he murmurs into your mouth, voice rough and reverent. “Pressed up against a window, shaking… all for me.”

You let out a breathy laugh, but it dissolves the second he grinds against you—slow, deliberate, and all-consuming. He’s hard—aching—and there’s no mistaking the way he rolls his hips, showing you exactly what you’ve done to him, like he wants you to feel it, memorize it.

“Want you,” he breathes, voice wrecked. “Right here. Want to see your face when you fall apart again.”

You pull at his shirt, dragging it over his head, and he makes quick work of the rest—yours, his, whatever’s left between you. It’s frantic in the best way. The sound of rain is still heavy outside, thunder low and rumbling, like the world is holding its breath just for this moment.

When he finally pushes inside, it’s slow. Deep. He curses softly, burying his face in your neck like it’s the only way to stay grounded.

“Fucking hell, you feel…” he trails off, teeth grazing your skin. “Perfect.”

You wrap your legs around his waist tighter, the position forcing you even closer, deeper. Every movement is amplified—every thrust, every breath, every moan. The window fogs around you, cold glass warming with the heat radiating off your skin.

His rhythm builds, just on the edge of rough, hands steadying your hips like he can’t bear to let you go. You’re gasping into his shoulder, nails digging into his back, the pressure building fast and sharp again.

“Come for me,” he whispers against your skin, and that’s all it takes.

Your whole body tightens, back arching off the glass as you clench around him. He follows soon after, stuttering into you with a groan that vibrates down your spine.

You stay like that for a moment—still tangled together, your breath fogging the window as the rain finally starts to slow.

Lando leans back, sweaty curls sticking to his forehead, and grins at you, dazed and beautiful. “Best rain delay ever.”

You don’t let him go far.

As Lando starts to ease back, breath catching, fingers still trembling where they rest on your hips, you lean in close—mouth by his ear, voice low and warm, like a secret meant just for him.

“Storm’s not over.”

His breath hitches.

You feel him still against you, twitching slightly, the aftershocks barely settling. His eyes flick to yours, wide and dark, and it’s almost comical—the way one whispered sentence resets him completely. A groan rumbles from his chest, hands already moving, hungry again.

“Fuck,” he laughs, voice raw. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You tilt your head, innocent. “That a no?”

He narrows his eyes. “That’s a yes to whatever you’re thinking.”

This time it’s you guiding him—pressing him back toward the bed, trading the cool of the window for the warmth of the sheets. The rain keeps falling, softer now, steady and rhythmic as you straddle him, skin on skin.

His hands roam like he’s trying to memorize you, but yours are slower—purposeful. You trace the line of his jaw, the hollow of his throat, the curve of his ribs. When you roll your hips, it’s slow and deliberate, and the way he moans under you—ragged and wrecked—makes your stomach twist in the best way.

“You like watching me fall apart,” he breathes, looking up at you like he’s already half-gone.

You smile. “I love making you fall apart.”

You ease down his body, leaving a trail of kisses over his stomach, smiling when his breath hitches again.

He props himself up on his elbows, watching you with parted lips and eyes already glassy. “You’re serious?”

You hum, nuzzling against the inside of his thigh. “Dead serious.”

His head drops back with a groan. “You’re really gonna ruin me.”

“Mm. That’s the plan.”

You take your time.

Fingers wrapping around the base of him, you drag your tongue up the length slowly, deliberately, tasting the salt of skin, the heat, the way he twitches under your mouth. One hand rests low on his stomach to keep him grounded, while the other strokes in tandem with your tongue.

When you finally take him in fully, the sound he makes is desperate—choked and needy, hips bucking up before you press him down again.

“Baby,” he gasps. “You’re—fuck—”

His fingers tangle in your hair, not pulling, just holding, like he needs the anchor. You hollow your cheeks, pull back with a soft pop, then dive in again with even more purpose. It's messy. Slow. Too much and not enough. You moan around him just to hear the way he whines at the sound.

The storm still rumbles, rain streaking down the windows, but the real thunder’s coming from him—the way he pants your name like a prayer, the tension in his thighs, the way his whole body trembles under your control.

When he comes, it’s with a strangled sound, one hand covering his eyes, the other still buried in your hair like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t rush. You stay with him, slow licks, gentle strokes, kissing his hipbone afterward like a thank-you.

He blinks down at you, flushed and wrecked, and gives the softest, dumbest smile. “I’m in love with you,” he says, still breathless.

You crawl back up, kiss his cheek, and whisper against his skin.

“I know.”

[notarmedandnotdangerous]

+18 mdni! reader finds out bucky has been hiding a secret (vibrator) all along

cw: sub!bucky, dom!m!reader, forced orgasm, overstimulation, use of vibrator, reader has a thing for hair pulling, new pet name guys bucky calls reader 'babydoll'

word count: >1.6k

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

bucky was sitting on the couch, staring into the ceiling as his phone charged at the coffee table next to him. you walked out of your shared bedroom, letting him watch as you held something that looked way too familiar for his own good.

“found this under the pillow, wanna explain what you’ve been up to?” you held a small bullet vibrator in your hand, it was small, yet strong. this finally explains the buzzing you’ve heard during bucky’s ‘workout sessions’

“uh.. nothing?” he looked at you, feigning his innocence. he knew you wouldn’t believe him, but he could at least try.

“and you’re telling me ‘nothing’ involves a vibrator?” you dropped the bullet vibrator on his lap, watching in enjoyment as his body tensed up while his face burned with embarrassment.

“i.. might’ve used it on myself a few times..” he admitted, looking away from you.

“there’s a perfectly healthy human being here, who happens to be your boyfriend, and you’re resorting to using a vibrator? really, buck?” you watched as his fingers twitched, not daring to pick up the bullet vibrator laying in between his thighs.

“well.. i didn’t think you’d be interested..” bucky slowly but surely tilted his head upwards to look at you. his cheeks still flushed from your teasing.

“never assume, buck, trust me. honestly speaking, i’m curious as to how you use this on yourself.”

“you.. wanna watch me use it?” he swallowed hard, his heart racing as he couldn’t believe you were actually interested.

“maybe. or maybe i wanna overstimulate you with it. you’d like that wouldn’t you? being forced to cum until you’re sobbing?” he let out the quietest whimper, just loud enough for you to pick up on it. “gonna record a video and save it for later, you’d let me, right?”

“i wouldn’t mind that..” he bit his lip, feeling a rush of excitement.

“god, you’re so painfully honest about everything, i love that.” you got down on your knees in between his thighs.

“up.” you signalled for him to lift his hips up, and he did. you slid his pants and boxers off, leaving him in just his shirt. you grabbed his cock, and teased it for a bit, running the vibrator all over, not turning it on just yet.

“don’t.. don’t tease..”

“you think you deserve this, buck? after hiding this from me?” you put his thigh on your shoulder as you kissed his inner thighs, pulling your hands away from his cock.

“please?”

“not enough, buck. keep going.”

“please, need you to touch me..”

“i am touching you.”

“mm.. not enough.”

“desperate.” you sighed, turning the vibrator on the lowest setting and gently running it up and down your cock, making him shiver.

“fucking finally..” bucky hissed when you dragged the vibrator along a vein on his cock. his back arched, while his hands reached out to grab onto your shoulders, needing something to hold onto.

“he’s so desperate for me, isn’t he?” you traced it up and down before settling on torturing the tip. you abruptly turned it on to the highest setting, chuckling as his hips bucked frantically.

“please.. i can’t take it.. feels too good..” bucky practically whimpered as his voice cracked.

“ah ah, you can, and you will.” you dragged the vibrator around his tip, making him whine before cumming hard. his entire body shuddered as you kept the vibrator pressing tightly against his tip to let him ride out his high. the moment he came back to his senses, his body burned with overstimulation, as he rambled for you to stop.

“wait- oh, fuck, too much..” he panted. his voice was cracking as he struggled to think straight. he looked down to see you with your phone, recording yourself playing with him.

“you’re okay with this, right? just miss you too much sometimes, need some.. ‘material’ to keep me busy, you know?” you moved the vibrator down, giving his tip some relief. you dragged the vibrator down to the base, making him squeal out.

“didn’t know you made these kinds of noises, buck.”

“i.. didn’t mean to.. just felt too good” he blushed, looking away from you after realising you had caught it on camera.

“don’t worry” you kissed his thighs lovingly, before mischievously dragging the vibrator back to his tip.

“oh- oh god..” his body tensed up as he neared his orgasm.

“i know, baby, i know.” you blew cool air on bucky’s cock, and he came almost immediately. his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he cried out. his fingers tugged at your hair roughly, making your brain short-circuit for a bit.

“i- i can’t anymore.. two is.. a lot..” he panted heavily, his free hand grabbing onto your wrist tightly as he tried to push the vibrator away.

“no.. you.. fuck..” you were losing focus the more he intertwined his fingers in your hair. his plan worked though, your hand absentmindedly moved itself away, while you were in your daze. “let go..” he let go immediately, blushing.

“sorry, didn’t mean to.. just couldn’t control myself..”

“ah.. no it’s okay.” you realised you’ve already taken the vibrator away from his tip now, so you pressed it back, making him scream out. his brain was almost mush now as sweat dripped down his neck.

“i- i can’t..” bucky gasped, his thighs shaking in an effort to hold himself back. you traced light circles around his tip, making his eyes squeeze shut as he came once more.

“you cum so much.” he was just about to speak, before you cut him off mid-sentence. you turned the vibrator to the lowest settings and pressed it to his balls. you leaned forward to lick the cum off his body.

“b- babydoll, please..” he groaned, his body still trembling from the aftershocks.

“you’re nasty, you tell me it’s too much for you, but you’re still here taking it.” you slapped his cock playfully, the sensation making his hips stutter.

“can’t help it, just feels too good..” he blushed, looking away from you. he tilted his head in curiosity as you sneaked a hand into the drawer next to you. you grabbed a small roll of medical tape, taping the vibrator to his tip. thank god it was on the lowest setting, or bucky would explode.

“take it.” he was so fucked out now, he wanted to speak, but the words had died down in his throat. “aw, too fucked out to speak?” there was no response from him as he writhed.

“i- i can’t, oh, please..” he whimpered, he was on the verge of another orgasm. he could easily tear the vibrator off of himself, but he chose to let it stay, let it torture him.

“gonna do you a favour.” you tore the vibrator away and jerked him off quickly. bucky’s hips jumped and bucked away from you. “no, no, you’re gonna stay here, and you’re gonna cum.”

“i.. babydoll, please..” his body tensed as he came for the last time that night, he couldn’t take any more. even if he did, he’d pass out, probably.

“woah, you’re shooting blanks? that bad, huh?” bucky’s entire body shuddered, so you backed away and gave him some time alone.

“didn’t.. didn’t know i could do that..” he panted heavily, hands reaching down to brush the stray hairs from your face.

“trust me, i didn’t know it was possible either.” you kissed his forehead, not wanting to clean him up yet, as it would be too overstimulating. “feel better, handsome?”

“yes, fuck, feel.. so much better..”

[wonderjanga]

Are you… Romancing me?

No one can tell if Cap is coming onto them or not. It’s just that the guy is so nice that it’s kinda hard to tell.

Marvel: “I got you this flower reminded me of you.” *hands him glowing flower in a clear box*

GL: “Thank you…? Why is it in a box?”

Marvel: “Ah… it’s practically fused with Mercury, the element, not the god, I don’t think you wanna open that.”

GL: “Oh… okay. Cool.” *just staring at the flower* “What would happen if I touched it?”

Marvel: *shrugs* “You might shrivel up like a prune and immediately die.”

GL: “I see… I see… Would you report me for killing Sinestro if I threw this at him?”

Marvel: “No? But make sure not to touch it when you throw it at him, okay?”

GL: “Okay.”

or

Marvel: “Mr. Batman sir!”

Batman: “Yes, Captain?”

Marvel: “I was wondering if you wanted to go to this Grey Ghost movie rerun thing with me.” *holds out the tickets*

Batman: *remembers the various times he’s yapped to Marvel about Grey Ghost and how Marvel is the only one who understands what the hell he’s talking about* “Sure. Out of uniform?”

Marvel: “Nah, I’m not comfortable with it. I don’t think you would be either.”

That was true. Bruce would rather not show up as Bruce.

Batman: “Then disguises?”

Marvel: “Yup.”

That’s how Matches Malone and a random Hawaiian-print-dressed tourist pulled up to this thing.

Later, at the Batcave…

Alfred: “It’s quite early, Master Bruce. Were you out?”

Batman: “I went to a Grey Ghost rerun with Captain Marvel.”

Alfred: “Finally opening up to the prospect of romance?” *teasing*

Batman: *knows he’s teasing, but has to pause because surely it there wasn’t romance, right*

Right?

There was no way, right? Yes, Marvel invited him, but Bruce didn’t pick up any romantic intentions. Though, do you invite another man to a movie rerun just cause? The Captain didn’t seem that much into it despite knowing what Bruce talks about whenever he goes on a tangent about the franchise…

Batman: “Surely not.”

Alfred: “…You sound unsure.”

Batman: “I said surely not.”

Bruce was left internally panicking about whether or not that was actually a date. Bruce was praying it wasn’t, because that was actually a really enjoyable evening for him and he didn’t want the Captain get the wrong idea. Meanwhile, Billy was fast asleep, and his little tiny apartment, curled up under a ratty blanket, minding his business.

Billy was just trying to be nice. That goes for Hal too.

[iloveaustinelvisandmannymore]

Don't save me.

Pairing: Geum Seongje x reader.

Summary: People told you that he was dangerous. A wild card. Not to be trusted. The redist red flag but didn't they know you're colorblind for him?

Warning: Toxic relationship, Bullying, Violence, Cheating?Arguing, Verbal abuse, Choking, Cream pie, P in v, Dirty talk, Plot with Smut?

You can't recall the last time you felt truly and undeniably happy. It has been so long since you laughed so hard that your stomach ached or smiled so broadly that your cheeks hurt. It's been a while since you experienced that exhilarating feeling of euphoria.

Middle school, you think.

Faint memories of laughter and jokes circulating, untouched lunches, and that once warm sensation. High school. Little you thought how cool and wonderful it would be.

What a load of bullshit.

A pained grunt escaped your clenched teeth as a strong kick to your stomach sent your body crashing against the steel gray lockers. Your head struck hard against the metal, and your body crumpled to the floor.

"Are you going to open that smart-ass mouth again, or should I just keep going?" Ha-yoon's makeup-caked face sneered. You didn't know why you snorted back a chuckle nor why a small, sarcastic smile had crept onto your lips.

"You think this is funny?" she screeched, her hand rearing back.

"Ha-yoon, cut it out," Eun-kyung's angelic voice said as her dark eyes finally glanced up from her manicured nails. She pushed off the wall, and Ha-yoon backed away immediately.

'Just like a loyal puppy. Obeying her Mistress's order'

Eun-Kyung sighed through her nose like she was tired of wasting her time. She squatted down, allowing her silky raven hair, which was pulled into a ponytail, to fall over her shoulder. With her elbows resting against her thighs and her cheek resting on the ball of her fist, she gazed at you with a look of boredom and disinterest.

"You're fucking pathetic when you run that mouth. It almost seems you like pissing me off." Rage flicked through her irises as she quickly grabbed your hair and slammed your head against the lockers. "Unless cunt!" She yelled and slammed your head again, harder.

Your vision blurred and your ears rang. Black surrounded the edge of your vision before you passed out. Cruel laughter and fading footsteps were the last thing you heard.

When you came too and began to walk to your small apartment, your head ached and throbbed. Despite that, it was manageable if you took some pain medicine.

You were going out with Seongje, your long-time boyfriend, at a new club with some guys from the Union and you won't let a headache and a few stupid bruises stop you from seeing him. Being with him made you feel so alive; with him, you were respected by the gang. You were Seongje's girl. And nobody was foolish enough to mess with you unless they wanted to be beaten to half to death.

Dating him wasn’t always a smooth ride. Arguments were common, and so were screaming matches. Things were thrown, and surfaces were punched, but he never hit you, nor did he aim at you. You understood he wasn’t a good person, yet he loved you in his own flawed way.

The dark club pulsed with music, and you could feel the rhythm with every step you took as Seongje led you, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. Flashing lights danced wildly around the room. Bodies moved, jumping and grinding against each other.

The group chose a round table to sit at, and soon it was cluttered with cigarette ash and empty bottles.

Sang-Ook, Dae-Ho, and Du-Ho were boys who attended the same school as Seongje and played together at Internet cafes. The twins were already drunk, laughing to themselves, and talking to Sang-Ook about which woman he was going to try to fuck and making crude jokes. Normal gross boy talk.

Seongje didn't say much; instead, he stared blankly while listening to the other boys, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You weren't interested in their conversation, so you simply snuggled into his side. You didn't know why he wanted to be there, but you followed him wherever he went unless it was related to gang activities.

Your eyebrows furrowed; the sudden pressure on your bladder was becoming too strong to ignore.

"Seongje," you whispered in his ear. He responded with a low hum of curiosity, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly with the sound. After a moment of hesitation, you shyly admitted that you needed to use the bathroom. Seongje chuckled, pulled out his favorite pack of cigs from his tiger-printed windbreaker, and lifted one to his lips, "Go," he ordered, nodding toward the direction of the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." You quickly got out of the booth. "Better. I don't like waiting." He lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled the gray smoke into his lungs.

You sighed in relief as you exited the stall and turned on the sink water. As you washed your hands, you remained unfazed by the sounds of the bathroom door opening and the clicking of two pairs of heels on the tiled floor. The two women giggled among themselves, and you could feel their intense stares directed at the side of your face. While drying your hands, you glanced at the wide mirrors above the sink.

A sickening dread dropped into the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar coral dye and blue highlights. Ha-yoon and Seo-Yeon.

'How were they here? Did they know you were going to be here? If they were here, doesn't that mean..'

You dared to meet Ha-yoon's gaze in the mirror. A mischievous cruelty sparkled back; she knew something, and if you didn't feel dread before, you certainly did now. Your breath quicked as you rushed out of the woman's bathroom.

You need to grab Seongje and go.

You stopped a few feet from the booth. This had to be a dream, a messed-up nightmare, but the painful shattering of your heart told you this was all happening.

Eun-kyung's honeyed giggles cut through the roaring music. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders like a river, her skimmy pastel dress fit her like a second skin and her soft pink lips curled into a flirty smile that beamed brighter than the lights that painted her and Seongje in rosy red as she idly played with his sliver chain—the chain you got him.

He simply sat there, his arm resting on the top of the booth above Eun-Kyung, his eyes intensely focused on her. His expression was unreadable, and when her beautiful eyes met his, you couldn't bear it any longer. You choked back tears as you pushed and squeezed past the people having the time of their lives.

You sniffed, your legs aching from the many rounds of walking you did in the nearby park for almost an hour. You didn't want to go home immediately; too much of him was there, from the many nights he stayed over.

You wiped the fading tears from your cheeks as you bent slightly to take off your shoes, throwing them down carelessly. Dragging your feet toward the couch, you paused and squinted your eyes. A figure was sitting there, a small red dote appeared from the darkness and the following smoke floated out in the illumination of the kitchen light. You inhale sharply and switch the living room light on.

Seongje stared at the blank TV screen for what felt like several seconds before adjusting his glasses. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, and his eyes fixed on your face. To anyone else, he appeared cool and unbothered, but you knew him better than that.

He was enraged.

"Where were you?" He leaned forward to put out his cigarette. "Why does it matter? You clearly were very busy when I came back from the bathroom." you shot back, your words sharp. He paused at your pointed response before finally extinguishing his cigarette in the wolf-shaped ashtray. "You let her..you let her touch you..and you didn't tell her to back off. Did you enjoy her company that much?" you asked, your voice breaking at the thought of the two of them together.

"You think I'd cheat on you? I may be a lot of things but a fucking cheater Isn't one of them." He spoke in a faux calm tone as he backed you into the hallway and into your bedroom.

"S-Seongje.." You warned.

"I thought My girl wasn't a dumbass." He ridiculed, a cruel smile stretching on his lips as he backed you more and more towards your bed

"Don't call me dumb! I'm not stupid! You jackass!" you snapped before letting out a surprised noise as you fell onto your bed, trying to escape from him. "Oh no, baby," he cooed mockingly. "I work with incompetent, useless punks. You're stupid if you think I would cheat on you with some one-and-million whore. Don't worry, though. I'll show you who I really belong to." Seongje shrugged off his windbreaker, letting it fall to the floor, and crept onto the bed after kicking off his pants and underwear.

You should be mad, pissed at him, shouldn't feel your treacherous cunt heat up, and gush slick but watching as he took off his shirt and threw it to the side, bare except his glasses and his chain. He was lean, and muscular in ways that counted, and his cock. His dick twitched as if sensing your admiring gaze.

He was above average length, so thick it struggled to stand up completely, and veiny. The glans was a darker shade than the rest of his skin; the slit oozed a pearl of pre-cum. And a trimmed bush around the base of his dick. His member was just as fine as him.

You happily helped him take off your clothes until you were both as naked as the day you were born. Seongje smirked smugly, the bedroom look you gave him made him want to take you right there but the urge to tease you won over. Seongje wrapped his arms around your spread legs and pulled your ass on top of his thighs. His dick slid between your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and the tip rested on your bud; he drew back and snapped forward, giving himself a pussy job.

"Just fuck me!" You cried as he continued to fuck your lips and clitoris. "I don't know. Should I?" He questioned. You cried, frustrated, and bucked your hips to try and fail to trick him inside, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I accused you of cheating. Now fuck my brains out!" You screamed; Seongje simply hummed a 'good enough,' drew back until his cock head caught on your entrance, and he rolled his hips.

You both let a groan as he pushed into your tight, wet, gummy depths. The action alone was close enough to make you cum. His cock, lay heavy on your walls, and his veins brushed against those spots until he bottomed out. You grabbed his hands that gripped your hips and threw your head back, moaning loudly as he pulled out and slammed into you, "Can't believe, you think I'd give up this pussy," He grunted, thrusting harshly, the bed banging against the back wall "this is my fucking pussy. Mine." He growled pushing his hair away from his face before grabbing your neck, his fingers squeezing the side of your throat.

You gasped and moaned as you held his wrist, your eyes rolled back, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-" you blabbed, drooling. Seongje laughed meanly, his eyes shined amused "Look at this. Did I already fucked my girl cockdrunk?" He released your throat and lifted your hips up more, making him reach deeper; the loud clapping of skin, the moans, groans, and cures along the embarrassing squelching of your cunted filled the room. Seongje's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and his chain smacked against his sweat, glistening chest. Frustrated, he tore the glasses off his face, tossed them beside your head, and leaned down, his body covering yours. His large groped and knead your ass as he kissed you passionately. You wailed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cummed.

Seongje pulled back, grunted as his eyes flutter shut, his hips slamming into your hips, his fast pace because sloppy as his dick twitched. He grunted one more time as his hot cum spilled into your pulsing pussy, painting you white from the inside.

"You were meant to be mine.." Seongje spoke up after you both cleaned up and laid together. Your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat lull you to sleep, "We were meant to be" he whispered into your ear, your eyes finally closing. If this was a dream from your otherwise miserable life you didn't want to wake up.

[imzhouxinyu]

BROKE GiRLS CODE ( l.hs )

──── pairing : bsf brother!lee heeseung x fem!reader

──── synopsis : Heeseung was the unapologetic rebel your sister warned you about: tattooed slacker who always hung around your house because he happened to be your best friend’s older brother. But after a tipsy truth or dare that ends with a secret the two of you had promised would never get out, the last thing you expected was for his friends to blab everything… to your sister. Now, while your family’s trust is on the line, your friendships are on the verge of collapse and Heeseung seems to be the only one remotely interested, you find yourself asking what truly happened that night: was it a mistake brought on by too much alcohol, or had both of you broken the code long before then?

──── theme : slowburn , friends to lovers , best friend’s brother trope, smut , angst, fluff.

──── warnings : nsfw mdni , unprotected sex , oral (f.rec) , dom!heeseung sub!femreader , light degration & praise , manhandling , rough sex , size kink, possessive and jealous hee !

──── taglist : @shyoko

You met Heeseung the summer before your second year of college.

You knew of him because he was Yunah’s older brother, he was attractive, nonchalant, he had the perfect body and he was cool. The type who made everyone shut up when he walked into a room.

He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was always clever. Smooth.

He had this stare that stayed in your mind, forever.

You used to think it meant nothing.

You were wrong.

The thing was: you saw him everywhere.

He was always crashing on the couch after basketball practice, walking around shirtless in the kitchen, teasing Yunah with his other friends while she was with you.

You weren’t supposed to be watching him. But you did.

And maybe he noticed.

One night, you were curled up on the floor in your pajamas, scrolling your phone while the others argued over movie picks, and Heeseung leaned against the wall, eyes on you, and said, “You always sit like that?”

You blinked. “Like what?”

He gave a lazy half-smirk. “Like you want someone to pull you into their lap.”

Your breath caught.

You didn’t respond.

You shouldn’t have.

Because it wasn’t just teasing anymore.

It was something else.

Things were changing slowly.

He’d offer you sips of his drink when no one was looking. Sit next to you even when there was a free seat across the room. Brush your hand on the staircase, low enough no one noticed.

He called you princess once, just once, and the way your thighs clenched was embarrassing.

You told yourself he didn’t mean it.

You told yourself he did.

It got worse when your friends started teasing you.

“Why do you blush every time Heeseung breathes?” Karina said.

“He literally just exists,” Winter added, rolling her eyes.

But Ningning looked at you knowingly. “You want him, don’t you?”

You denied it.

Too fast, almost suspiciously.

Because you didn’t want to want him.

He was Yunah’s brother.

Your best friend’s brother.

That’s girl code 101.

You didn’t break rules like that.

Until the night he found you crying in the kitchen.

You’d just failed a midterm. Your group project fell apart. You fought with Minji. Everything collapsed at once.

You thought everyone had gone to bed.

But Heeseung walked in, sleepy-eyed, shirtless, holding a glass of water.

And paused.

“You good?”

You were sobbing , wiping your eyes fast. “Yeah..just, ugh..I can’t even..”

He leaned against the counter. “What happened?”

You didn’t mean to tell him.

But you did.

And he listened.

Really listened.

No teasing. No smirks. Just quiet understanding.

Then he reached forward, brushed a thumb under your eye, and whispered, “You work so hard. You don’t deserve to break over things like this.”

Your chest cracked open.

Heeseung kept his hand there. Just long enough to make you feel safe.

Wanted.

After that, it spiraled, you guys started to get closer and closer each time. Late night calling, private talks, gaming.. things he used to do with only his ex.

That moment on the balcony when he pressed you to the railing, breath warm on your neck.

The way he looked at your lips but didn’t kiss you.

“Why do you keep doing that?” you whispered once.

He smirked. “Doing what?”

“Acting like you want to kiss me, then pulling away.”

His eyes darkened.

“Because I do.”

You froze.

“But if I start,” he murmured, leaning close, “I won’t stop at just kissing you.”

Your knees went weak.

You thought about that line for weeks.

You told yourself you were over it.

That it was just lust. Just tension.

But one night, lying in bed with Giselle and Ningning gossiping beside you, you realized it wasn’t that.

You liked his voice. The way he called people out gently. How he always handed Yunah the remote even though she never asked.

You liked him.

Really liked him.

And that’s when it hit you.

You were absolutely fucked.

Because you didn’t just want him for just fucking and getting over ur shitty ex..

You wanted his heart.

And then , it came Jake’s party.

You hadn’t planned to go. But everyone was going. Yunah insisted. Ningning dressed you in a tiny black skirt and told you to “act like you own the whole house.”

Heeseung was already there when you walked in. Leaning on the kitchen island. Red solo cup in hand.

He looked up.

And froze.

You knew that look, it was hunger.

The game of truth or dare started halfway through the night. Loud music. Too many drinks. Heeseung beside you again, drunk.

“Truth,” he said.

Jake grinned. “Ever thought about fucking someone in this room?”

Everyone laughed.

But Heeseung?

He looked straight at you.

Didn’t say your name.

Didn’t have to.

The air shifted.

Your whole body flushed, your thighs clenching.

After that, it was a blur.

You went upstairs.

His hand in yours.

Heeseung didn’t wait.

The second the door clicked shut behind you, he had you pressed against it, his mouth crashing into yours like he’d been starving. The taste of alcohol lingered between you, but nothing dulled the heat. His hands gripped your hips tight—too tight—and you moaned into the kiss, letting him devour you.

“You know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” he growled, voice thick and ragged. “Watching you walk around like you don’t fucking know what you do to me?”

“Heeseung—” you gasped, dizzy.

“Wearing that tiny skirt,” he murmured, sliding a hand beneath it, his fingers dragging up your thigh. “All night. Like you wanted me to snap.”

“I did,” you whispered.

That was all it took.

He spun you, pressing your chest to the door, grinding his hard cock against your ass.

“You’ve got no fucking idea what you just gave me permission to do,” he breathed, kissing up the back of your neck.

You whimpered when his hand slid into your panties—fingers instantly finding how soaked you were.

“Fuck, baby,” he growled. “You’re dripping.”

You arched into his touch. “Please—”

“What do you want?” he asked darkly, slipping one thick finger inside you. “Tell me.”

“You. I want you.”

He turned you around so fast your back hit the wood with a thud. His mouth crashed into yours again, desperate, hungry, needy. He walked you backward toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, until your knees hit the edge.

“You’ve got no idea what you do to me,” he said, dragging your panties down. “Every time you laugh. Every time you act all innocent when you’re clearly just waiting for someone to put you in your place.”

He shoved you gently onto the mattress and dropped to his knees.

“You’ve been teasing me for months,” he muttered, spreading your thighs wide. “It’s only fair I get to make a mess of you now.”

You barely managed to gasp before his mouth was on your pussy—tongue licking a long, slow stripe up your center.

Your head fell back. “Oh my God—”

He groaned against you like he couldn’t get enough. His tongue moved with precision—circling your clit, then flicking fast, then sucking just enough to make your legs tremble.

You fisted the sheets, arching off the bed. “Fuck, I’m gonna—”

“Go ahead,” he muttered between licks. “Cum for me, pretty girl. Right on my fucking tongue.”

You shattered.

Your thighs clamped around his head, your hips jerking as waves of pleasure tore through you. He held you down, let you ride it out, his lips never leaving your heat until you were whimpering from the overstimulation.

When he finally pulled back, his mouth was glistening. And his eyes? Ravenous.

“Still with me?” he asked.

You nodded, breathless.

“Good. Because I’m not fucking done.”

He stripped in seconds—shirt, jeans, boxers—until he was standing in front of you, hard and heavy between his thighs, his veins popping, tip flushed.

Your eyes widened.

He smirked.

“Think you can take it?”

“Please,” you whispered.

He leaned down, kissing you slowly this time. “You sure about this? Because once I fuck you, baby, that’s it.”

Your heart pounded.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

That’s all he needed.

He climbed on top of you, lined himself up at your entrance—bare, hot, throbbing.

And slid in.

Raw. No condom. No barrier. Just you and him and all that heat and skin and emotion crashing into one breathless, broken moan.

“Fuck—you feel too good,” he hissed, burying himself deeper. “So tight. So warm. You were made for me.”

You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his back as he filled you to the hilt.

The stretch was overwhelming. He was big—thick, heavy—but you took all of him.

“Look at that,” he whispered against your neck. “Taking me so well. Letting me fuck you raw. So fucking desperate for me.”

He started moving—slow, deep thrusts that made your whole body tremble.

The room was filled with the sound of skin on skin, moans, whispered curses. Your name on his lips. His name on yours.

“You’re mine,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped.

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Heeseung—fuck—I’m yours!”

He wrapped his hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding—and drove into you harder.

“You’re gonna cum for me again,” he growled. “Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock.”

You were already there.

Your body tensed. Your legs wrapped around his waist. You came with a cry, pulsing around him.

That sent him over the edge.

“Shit—gonna fill you up,” he groaned. “Gonna cum inside this perfect pussy.”

You gasped.

And then you felt it—warm, thick, deep. His release spilling inside you with a low, broken moan as he buried himself to the base.

He didn’t pull out right away.

Just hovered over you, breath ragged, forehead pressed to yours.

“You’re fucking mine now.”

You nod, frantically, still panting.

You didn’t know what you got urself into.

Because a week later, everything shattered.

Someone blurted it out at another party.

“Yeah, Heeseung and her? They fucked upstairs at Jake’s. Ask him.”

The room went silent.

Yunah stared.

“What the fuck did you just say?”

Your blood went cold.

You were done for.

You ran out of the room.

He didn’t follow.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t defend you.

And that hurt worse than anything.

You cried for days.

Minji threatened to kill him.

Winter said “I told you so.”

Karina and Hanni held your hands.

But nothing helped.

Because it wasn’t just sex.

You loved him.

And he let you think it meant nothing.

The night it rained, he showed up on your street, hoodie soaked, eyes wrecked.

And whispered, “I love you.”

You slammed the door in his face.

He knocked again.

“I was scared,” he said. “Scared that I wanted something I couldn’t have. But I never meant to hurt you. Please—let me fix this.”

You looked at him.

At the boy who broke you.

The boy who made you feel like everything.

And you whispered, “One chance.”

He pulled you into his arms like he’d never let go.

Now with heeseung?

He kisses you slow.

Loves you softer.

Fucks you like he means it.

You still catch Yunah giving him death stares. But she’s trying.

Because even she sees it now.

Heeseung doesn’t just want you.

He’s yours.

And he always was.

Even when it broke every rule in the girls book.

[formulaonecrumbs]

junie ik ive requested a lot today (take your time. my brain is working overtime rn) but can you do reader just biting osc out of nowhere? also when osc calls reader baby it has me kicking my feet

-🧸

just a little nibble

Oscar Piastri x PCOS!reader

summary: reader bites oscar out of nowhere.

warnings: biting, but just fluff

A/N: i think i hate this but i also haven’t written in a WHIILLLEE so i’m cutting myself some slack. ive come out of hibernation to write a few fics. i already have a few written out so i’m getting those out rn. enjoy, my love 🫶❤️

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

you’re in bed, legs tangled with oscar’s, both of you half-asleep and half-annoying each other in the way only two people who are completely obsessed can be. he’s lying on his stomach, arms tucked under the pillow, eyes closed, mouth twitching with that smug little grin he always gets when he knows he’s winning.

“stop poking me,” you mumble.

“i’m not even touching you.”

you reach over and press your fingers into his side. “you’re breathing too loud.”

he snorts without opening his eyes. “you’re so dramatic, baby.”

and that’s when you do it — lean in and bite his shoulder. not hard enough to hurt, just enough for him to flinch and jerk away with a gasp.

“what the—” he twists around to stare at you, blinking like you just threw a punch. “did you just bite me?”

you grin. “maybe.”

he stares at you in disbelief, like you’ve lost your mind, then laughs. “you’re such a menace.”

“you love it.”

“i do,” he says instantly, leaning in close, voice low and amused. “but i’m gonna need an explanation, baby.”

you shrug and crawl back into his space, cheek pressed to his bare back. “you looked biteable.”

he hums, and you can feel the smugness return instantly. “can’t blame you. i am irresistible.”

you bite him again — gentler this time — and he makes a surprised sound before flipping you over and pinning you down with a grin.

“okay,” he says, “you asked for it.”

and the night turns into tangled limbs and laughter and kisses that taste like love, all with oscar calling you baby every chance he gets, because he knows exactly what it does to you.

THE END :>

[loovser]

loser!ellie at hooters headcanons

synopsis loser!ellie meeting you at hooters

wc: 550

loser!ellie that met you when dina and jesse took her to hooters — where you worked at — on her birthday.

loser!ellie that couldn’t stop looking at you from the moment she saw you

loser!ellie that almost killed her friends when they asked you to get their orders, noticing the way she was staring at you.

loser!ellie that was blushing like crazy when you approached their table.

loser!ellie who watches you mesmerized, trying not to let her eyes roam your figure, eyes freezing on your face as jesse and dina make their order.

loser!ellie who gets so distracted with staring at your face that doesn’t realize it’s her turn to make her order.

“so… what would you like, ellie?” you ask, after her friends tell you her name.

she blushes even harder. you notice how hard she tries not to look at your body, being respectful and you flash her a smile.

hearing how pretty her name sounds coming out of your lips and seeing your smile makes her feel like she’s gonna pass out. you are one of the prettiest girls she’s ever seen and she really doesn’t know how to act.

“um… i- what do you recommend?” ellie manages to ask.

“well, my favorite is the twisted texas melt, if you are into burgers i’d definitely recommend that” you lean a bit closer to her, to show it on the menu she’s holding.

loser!ellie who can’t help but glance down at your boobs when you are this close to her, immediately looking back at your face and cursing herself mentally for not being any better than a man.

loser!ellie whose friends make fun of her after you leave their table because she’s so damn obvious.

loser!ellie who stutters a ‘thank you’ when you bring their order

loser!ellie whose wallpaper is some unfunny arcane meme and she almost dies when you catch a glimpse of it.

“oh, i love this show” you point out as she widens her eyes at you

“arcane?” she asks, dumbfounded and you chuckle.

she thinks that that is the greatest sound she’s ever heard. “yeah, i’m a bit obsessed with vi.”

“oh my god that’s so gay” it just blurts out of her mouth before she can stop herself. jesse and dina hold their laughs and she’s about to start apologizing — until you laugh. really laugh.

“that’s cause i am” ellie’s heart nearly stops. did she hear it right? at this point she might just start jumping out of happiness.

“me too, yeah, go lesbians” she facepalms herself mentally. her friends can’t even pretend they are not laughing anymore.

“figures,” you chuckle “but totally, go lesbians.”

loser!ellie who smiles widely as you wink at her and go to someone else’s table.

loser!ellie who definitely checks you out as you do.

loser!ellie who nearly faints when you bring a little cake over to her table.

loser!ellie who makes a mental note to kick her friend’s ass when she recognizes her favorite chocolate cake being put in front of her — by you.

loser!ellie who cackles as she reads “happy 20 years no pussy” written carefully with green frosting.

loser!ellie who blushes when you sing ‘happy birthday’ to her with dina and jesse.

loser!ellie who feels like she’s dreaming when you press a kiss on her left cheek and say “happy 20th birthday, els”

loser!ellie who is sure she is dreaming when you tuck a piece of paper with your number on it into her hand.