#i'm reading jaws so mood

[gigicaldwell]

JAWS 1975, dir. Steven Spielberg

[shadowcitrine]

If you do That Again--

DarlyxReader 912 words

Warnings: Some language.

Timeline: Not important, season 1-ish

Summary: Daryl is tired of listening to you blowing hair out of your face.

Darly stopped dead in his tracks, his jaw tightening as he glared over his shoulder. “Do tha’ one more time…” His tone is low and threatening, clearly irritated, but there wasn't a reason for it. 

Passing on his left you asked, “What crawled up your ass and died, Dixon?” 

Daryl chewed on the words brewing behind his teeth and marched forward. Why he was pissed off this time was a mystery. Up until now every single one of his demands to be out here with him had been followed to the letter. You'd kept quiet, stayed right on his heels and avoided every single stick you two had come across for at least the last half mile, which for you was a considerable win.

If you'd known he was going to be such an ass you wouldn't have asked to come. With the way he's been acting all day it would have been better to be bored sitting back at camp than deal with the king of grumpy walking buddies. What was worse is his foul mood was starting to rub off on you. Blowing a puff of air upwards you followed the lock of hair flying out of your field of view.

Daryl stopped again this time spinning on his heel. Eyes hard and narrowed, jaw jutting forward he seemed to be sizing you up. The last thing you wanted on this hell hike was to argue but you could see it brewing, unsaid words threatening to burst forward.

“What now?!” You snapped. Quick soured jerks of his head made you feel uneasy, doubly so when his hand went to rest on his knife hilt. The group had warned you about his temper but you'd overlooked that because he was kind of cute when he frowned. 

“All damn day!” He sneered. When you furled your eyebrows in confusion he puffed out his cheeks puffing little breaths between pursed lips. “Fuckin’ sick a’ it!”

“Oh! I'm sorry that the apocalypse didn't come with a thirty pack of elastic hair ties! I can't help the fact that I need to see!”

Daryl shook his head again, fist clenching around the hilt of the blade as he began pulling it out. “Come ‘ere.” He was going to butcher your hair, hack it off just because he was having a shitty day!

“No!” taking a step back away from him you gaped. “I'm gonna let you cut off all my hair!” 

“Ain't cuttin’ your damn hair! Come ‘ere!” he hooked a finger at you. “Gonna stop this shit ‘fore you drive me outta my damn mind.” Daryl is many things but a liar isn't one of then. Taking a cautious step forward ge tucked the blade between his teeth and pulled some string from his pocket. “Tur’ roun’.” 

A tiny gasp left your lips a smile tugging at the corners. “Are you going to do my hair?”

He took the blade from his lips, not an ounce of joy to be read. “Turn ‘round ‘fore I change my mind and saw it off your thick head.” He shoved the string at you. “Hold tha’.” When you didn't move right away he tucked the blade back between his teeth and grabbed your shoulder to spin you around.

He was actually going to do this. No longer facing him you didn't try to tamp down the nerves making goose flesh spreading down your arms. Expecting rough movements for a quick ponytail you were confused when he started sectioning your hair gently freeing tangles from it as he went. 

“Ow!” a sharp pinch at your scalp made you wince.

“Sto’.” The fat syllable sounded wrong in his mouth but you obeyed. He was deft but through fingertips massaging away the sharp pulls of tangles. You hair pulled tight at the back of your head, his actions pulling it backwards causing a strain to keep it upright for a moment. He reached over your shoulder, fingers snapping when you didn't hand him the red piece of dyed twine right away.

Handing it to him you asked, “What did you do to it? Can I see?”

He reached around and used two fingers to guide your face forward again. “Gonna fuck it up if you keep movin’.” Knuckles brushed your upper back, accidental but welcomed and you closed your eyes pretending not to hear the sound of something small snapping. “There! No more listenin’ to you huffin’ and puffin’ all damn day.” He moved away.

“How does it look?” you reached behind touching it, feeling your way down. He'd braided it. There was no stopping the grin that broke out as you pulled the tail over your shoulder to inspect his work. He'd tied off the end tightly finishing the red string with a tiny little bow. “Daryl!” 

“Ain't perfect but it'll hold. Keep it outta your-”

“It's so cute!” Suddenly seeing your inspection wasn't as important as the trees around him. You stepped around him bending to try and catch his eyes. “You even did a bow!” you held the end out for him to see.

“Stop!” the tops of cheeks were pink and while you could pretend it was from the heat you knew that wasn't it.

He started marching away and you ran ahead to try to make him look. “You made it all girly!” you teased. His cheeks were getting redder by the second.

“Stop!”

“Daryl Dixon braided my hair!” you sang out.

“Shut up woman!”

[comatosebunny09]

quickie | sylus

summary: you don't know what's amiss. but you're plucking the wine glass from his hand without thinking, setting it atop the coffee table with a soft clink alongside yours. smile pretty, leaning in all slow for a taste of his lips. warnings: smut, alcohol, female anatomy described, fwb (?), oral, unprotected p-in-v, reader has hair, fluids, cervix fxcking, dirty talk, praise, size kink, light choking notes: i'm sorry. ovulation week continues. thank you for reading this. ❤️❤️❤️

It starts off pretty tame.

With two friends seated on a couch in your living room, sharing wine, laughter, and stories of past missions gone awry. 

He has your feet in his lap, massaging them. Can't keep his eyes off you, the firelight from the mantle flickering over your visage, adding to the romance of it all. 

He's smoothing his hands up and down your leg. Grows bolder with each pass over your thigh, kneading the flesh until it craters. Smirks in that way that bleeds sex when you catch him, not at all ashamed or shrouding his intentions.

The mood shifts, the air charged with something heavy. You don't know what's amiss. Maybe it's the alcohol coloring your veins, emboldening you. But you pluck the wine glass from his hand, setting it atop the coffee table with a soft clink alongside yours. Smile pretty, leaning in all slow to sample the taste of his lips.

He encourages you. Tenderly cups the nape of your neck, sighing hot into your mouth. You move like two lovers entangled in a waltz. It's as natural as day sliding into night, and red wine tastes much better when it comes from him.

You grow more confident in your approach, easing your hand down the rigid pane of his body as you push your tongue into his sweltering mouth. He groans something hoarse. Croaky like the crackle of a fire, drawing you closer with an arm snaked around your waist.

You don’t relinquish the seal of your mouths as he tugs you onto his lap. The kiss grows more heated. Tongues twining, teeth gnashing. There’s a hand fisted in your hair. His chest heaves with unrestrained desire. Palms roam to your waist as you shallowly grind against him, his arousal making itself known between your legs.

With a gruff chuckle, he fastens you to him with one hand. Eases you both off the couch to the floor where you straddle him, pulling away from his mouth to stipple his jaw and throat with kisses. 

He sighs, craning his neck back. Chuckles, his Adam’s apple bobbing against your lips. You nip at his carotid, fingers making easy work of the fastenings to his dress shirt. He feels so good, all hot and pliant like this, palms molded to your ass, coaxing you to undulate your hips against him. 

You peel back, and he follows your cue, maneuvering your bodies until he’s lying back on his elbows. Watches you through hooded, expectant eyes, his once carefully coiffed hair falling down to frame his cheeks.

You’re devious. Slide down the sprawl of his body, kissing, sucking. You nip his pecs, drawing the prettiest sounds from him. Lick his nipple into your mouth, and he bucks against you on instinct, losing himself to the hot draw of your mouth. 

You pay his other nipple the same homage. Trail love bites down his torso, sampling the salty tang of his abs as you lick between the dips and grooves down to his navel. He chuckles, ticklish, propped on one elbow whilst using his other hand to smooth some hair away from your face.

You’re at his waist now, and you lock eyes as you press your cheek against his clothed cock. Nuzzle it like a needy kitten, and he watches you with his eyes sliding into a lustful shade of burgundy. His palm frames your jaw, and he thumbs your bottom lip, smearing your lip gloss and drawing your mouth open. 

He wordlessly gives you his consent. Lets you unravel the buckles, buttons, and zipper of his slacks without contest. Lifts his hips, helping you slide his pants and briefs down, just enough for his cock to spring free and bounce against his abdominals.

Saliva puddles in your cheeks. The head shines with a pretty bead of pre, and the warm, musky scent he exudes is so inherently Sylus. His mouth curls around a silent ‘o’ when you test the waters. Lick languidly up the underside of his shaft towards his mushroomed head, and he pulsates so nicely against your tongue. 

Quietly, you maneuver yourself into a more comfortable position between his legs once you’ve slid his pants off his ankles. You grab him at his base, licking the briny pre-spend into your mouth. Dip your tongue into his slit for another taste. He shudders, and a hand instinctively eases into the hair at the crown of your head. You giggle something innocent, thinking he’s just the cutest thing.

His gaze reads, ‘Don’t tease me’ before you take him into the torrid cavern of your mouth. Suck the throbbing head first before gradually sinking him deeper inside, loving the familiar pulse of forked veins in your mouth. You stroke the flesh where your mouth can’t reach with your hand because he’s massive and thick.

He tempers the pace of your sucking. Ruts into the tight squeeze of your throat, occasionally holding your head in place so you can agitate your gag reflexes. And you choke so nicely for him, coughing around his girth until spit and pre-spend bubble at the base of his dick. 

“So good,” he commends through pursed, spit-slicked lips. “So fucking good. You take me so deep, sweetheart. Mm, just like that.”

His praise is music to your ears. Makes your pussy throb, and you’re reaching between your legs to assuage the pulse of your clit as he fucks your mouth in earnest. 

His moans grow sparse as time passes. Hips roll like waves kissing the shore, and you know by the tightening of his muscles that he’s close. You’re about to finish him off with a flex of your tonsils, but he has a fistful of your hair, pulling your mouth off him with a lewd pop.

Globs of saliva connect your mouth to his cock, and you inhale like surfacing from a pool, a drunken, fucked-out swirl to your eyes. 

He bites his bottom lip. Taps his weighted dick against your tongue, groaning low and throaty at the sight.

“C’mere,” he croons. And without missing a beat, you climb up to straddle him once more like the obedient little thing you are. 

He rucks your panties to one side, exposing your leaking cunt and swollen labia. You roost your hands on his chest to steady yourself. Grind experimentally against his shaft, the sensation on your clit making your body pulse and your head fly back.

“That’s my girl,” he coos. Traps one of your nipples between his fingers through the thin layer of your dress while his other thumb brushes through your folds. He curls a palm around your nape, snatching you down for a kiss that’s sloppy and briny with the tang of his pre-cum. 

He grips your thigh to widen your legs. Rolls his hips until the head of his dick teases the sticky, slutty pucker of your pussy. You moan into his mouth, his thumb pushing against your larynx as he tempts you with the prospect of choking you.

“Wanna fuck me, sweetheart? Hmm?”

You nod all too quickly, and he huffs a laugh, spreading your ass cheeks until your pussy squelches with his cockhead fully sucked into the warm clench of your cunt. 

You groan in tandem at the union of your bodies, his voice strained with the effort of entering you. 

He sinks into you with shallow, sticky thrusts until he’s all the way in, kissing the crown of your cervix with the head of his dick. You lean back with your hands perched his knees, bouncing on his lap once you’re acquainted with his size. He meets you halfway, fingers clasped around your ankles, and he fucks up into you until a viscous cream of your nectar adorns his base.

“Take me, baby. Take me,” he dotes, entranced by the sight of you riding him so effortlessly.

The sound of skin meeting skin and heated sighs stain the air. He grits his teeth while you ride him. Loses himself to the hot suction of your pussy. To the way your tits bounce once he’s tugged the neckline of your dress beneath them and the sinful noises you make. 

He reaches up gradually to shove his thumb in your mouth. Your tongue curls around it, and you peer down at him through heavy lids, loving the way he feels stroking in and out. He’s such a pretty mess, that carefully constructed composure he usually boasts thrown to hell. Given all to you, only to you.

You’ve lost sense of time. Not sure how long you’ve been at this, fucking like two beasts in heat. The telltale throbbing of his cock lets you know that he’s close. And you dredge a bitten-off sound from his chest when you constrict your walls around him, quickening his descent into madness.

He leans up on his elbows. Closes a hand around your throat and squeezes. Mouth hinges open, his scarlet eyes swimming through syrup.

“I’m gonna…fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he pants, spurring you onward as you fuck him faster, your pussy hiccupping with the threat of your own release.

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck,” he breathlessly chants, the tendons in his jaw flexing.

He suddenly grows quiet. Angles his head back, and he shudders as you drag his orgasm from him. He paints the channel of your sex with hot spurts of cum. So much that it leaks down the sides of his dick, puddling in the neat patch of hair bordering it. 

He pumps into you until he’s overstimulated and you’ve thoroughly milked him. He tugs you down into a lazy kiss when he seeps back into his skin. Thumbs your nipples, softening inside you.

Sylus is a considerate lover. He knows you’ve yet to reach your peak, so he keeps your lips sealed to his while he plays with your clit. Pinches, rubs, pulls. Swallows your moans, stroking and thumbing until you’re pulsing and throbbing and quaking around his dick with your release.

You share a laugh like two enthralled lovers as you curl into him, his heart beating steadily beneath your cheek. He soothingly combs through your hair as the firelight dances over your intertwined bodies, whispering the sweetest things into the night like you both aren’t a sticky, sweaty mess of limbs and sin.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

LISTEN. HEAR ME OUT. eddie and Best friend!reader petty arguing, right, so reader says 'ooh you wanna kiss me soooo bad' and he does.

Hear ME OUT!!

What about we sprinkle in some jealous!Eddie too give it the ol'razzle dazzle.

Jealous! Eddie Munson x Bestfriend!reader

Warnings: fluff, some cursing, kissing that's about it.

Not proofread ignore mistakes.

Eddie has been in a pissy mood all damn week. He was short with you. He was snappy and just passive all around. The bottom line is that he was being a real asshole to you. You couldn't pinpoint exactly what made him this way. You chalked it up to him, barely getting any sleep. Maybe he cut back on smoking and is dealing with those withdrawals.

Doesn't matter at this point he was a dick and taking it out on you specifically. Ever since you went out on that date with his friend, Eddie has been insufferable. Little did you know that's the exact reason he's been moody with you.

He was jealous. You were his, and he had to watch his friend pick you up for a date. He sat in his room thinking about his friend kissing you. His friend holding your hand, and God knows what else you two did on your date together.

But you've had about enough of his attitude. You were sitting on his bed flipping through his heavy metal magazine while he tuned up his guitar.

"Hey, eddie, can you turn on the tv?" You looked before turning another page. You weren't even reading the comic. You were more interested in the artwork than anything the plot.

"Turn it on your damn self." He already sounded aggravated with you. "And stop turning those damn pages like that you'll rip them."

He rolled his eyes and turned his chair to face more away from you.

You huffed immediately, getting fed with him now." Alright, what hell is your problem?"

You slammed down his magazine, crossing your arms over your chest. You felt your face heating from the anger rising inside of you. You've dealt with his mood swings before, but that's because they were never directly pointed at you. Not until recently.

"I don't have a problem." He shrugged, still refusing to face you.

"Oh yes, you do. You've been a complete douche all week."

He smirked and finally turned around. "I've been a douche? Me? Maybe I wouldn't be such a douche if you weren't so fucking annoying."

"I'm not annoying!" You defended yourself, raising your voice slightly.

"Oh, but yes, you are. All you do is yap all day long, and I gotta listen to it." Eddie, let out a condescending laugh after you argued back with him.

You squinted your eyes, "Yeah, well, at least I'm not walking around with a stick up my ass."

You could hear him growl something under his breath. His lips were pressed in a tight line.

"You're right. I do have a stick up my ass. How about you get your ass up and turn on the TV because my ass is currently busy with a stick rammed up it." His voice was dripping with sarcasm while bickering back and forth with you.

You rolled your eyes and got up off his bed to turn on the TV. You messed with the volume until it was as high as it could go. You were purposely trying to press his buttons. You wanted a reaction out of him. You wanted that last word, and you were going to get it. He couldn't hear himself think or focus on what he was currently doing.

Eddie jumps up from his chair and turns down the TV. You just stay standing there, twisting the nob to it turn back up. You're both staring each other down in the process.

"You're bein- he went to speak, but you raised the volume up again, cutting him off.

Eddie let a deep breath and turned the tv back down once more. His face is all red, and sets his guitar back against his dresser. "You're being reeeeeally petty right now. I'm trying to tune up my guitar."

"Yeah?...so?" You slowly turn the TV up again with your eyes locked onto his.

His jaw tightens, and his nostrils flare. You decided to mess with him. You wanted to rile him up some more. He rubbed his hands down his face.

You watched him closely, and a little idea sparked in your head. You don't know what really came over you. Probably, his attitude with you has finally made you lose your mind or something.

"Ooh, you wanna kiss me sooo bad right now, huh?" You taunted him.

There was always this unspoken crush between the two of you that was mutual. You were being mean, and you didn't care. You were past your limit right now. You wanted to get under his skin, and it was working.

He doesn't say anything he just looks at you. He steps closer, leaving very little room between the two of you. Without any warning, his lips came crashing down into yours. His hands go up to hold both sides of your face gently. His soft lips locked with yours as his tongue slipped past them.

The kiss was sloppy but passionate. He didn't care if your teeth clashed a little bit. He needed to do this. You felt light-headed while your tongues fought for dominance. Your face felt all tingly, and your hands moved up to grip onto his forearms. Only a few seconds have passed, but it felt like hours. Time stood still as you made out with your best friend in his bedroom.

He let go of your face and moved his lips slowly away from you. He had a smug expression on his face. Your eyes flutter back open, and you swallow. You're breathing heavy, and you don't know if it's from the kiss or from the fight you and Eddie were getting into. Or a combination of both.

"Why have you been so mean to me all week?" You whispered your fingers, move up to trace over your own lips. You could still feel traces of him on your mouth.

Eddie looked at you and with a sad smile. "I couldn't get over the fact that you went on date with my friend Cody."

Your eyebrows raised. "You-- You were jealous of Cody?" You were in disbelief. Here you thought he was just annoyed being around you.

You couldn't believe he would be so irritated over that date. It was one date, and you were miserable. Plus, it's not like you haven't seen him take home his fare share of women from the bar.

Those nights where he would be out with a made you feel sick to your stomach. But you never once took it out on him like this. You shake those thoughts and try to listen and understand where he is coming from. Right now, it's about him, not you. He was never good at expressing his feelings, and because of that, he was more prone to lashing out.

"Well, yeah, just the mere thought of him being so close to you really upset me. I know I've been a dick but I just couldn't help it." He plopped back down in his chair.

You moved to sit at the edge of his bed. Your legs felt like they were going to give out after kissing him.

"Why didn't you say something?" You sighed and picked at your chipped nail polish.

"I don't know.. I don't want to mess up what we have." He gestured between the two of you. His voice was a lot softer now than is has been all week.

You nodded and understood why he felt like he couldn't express his feelings. "Can you kiss me again?"

Eddie's eyes dart up, and he looks a little surprised. "Can i?"

You couldn't have actually wanted to kiss him again? He thought to himself. He was already feeling guilty for just happened. He felt his heart start to race again.

You smiled and nodded, "I wish you would have kissed me sooner."

[heirofnight]

let's go

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: reader is arranged to be wed within the next 12 hours, and azriel is determined to not let that happen.

a/n: thank you so much for all of the love on the writing i've published so far. my heart could explode. i've never allowed anyone to read anything that i've written, and as nervous as i was, i'm so glad that i made this account. this little fic was inspired by GoT lmao. i hope you like it!

you took in your reflection in the floor length mirror that was propped against the side of the wall. your chambers were dimly lit, somber even - a perfect indication of your own feelings. you'd always loved candles, loved the romantic glow that they'd cast across the walls of your large bedroom. for that reason, you had many of them - big and small - spread across the surfaces of your space. all of them were lit now, and they, along with the moonlight that spilled through your open drapes, provided mood lighting that perfectly encapsulated your own brooding thoughts.

you were getting married tomorrow. but not in a way that was exciting or filled your heart to the brim with joy. no, this was absolutely dreadful - an arranged marriage that was put in to place solely to benefit your royal father. one that you did not want, and would have never agreed to. you didn't even know the male that you were set to wed - had never even seen him.

your father was thrilled. he would not stop boasting about how immensely important this union was (for him), how this event was going to solve so many political issues amongst the court (you didn't give a shit), how happy you'd eventually grow to be (impossible). you were furious, you felt used, and you were in love with another.

azriel.

your eyes fluttered as his name tore through every single chamber of your mind. it felt like you were physically being stabbed through the heart. at this point, you'd rather it. at least you'd die his lover.

your eyes found the floor in front of you, and you took in a sobering breath. you had one more thing that needed to be done before tomorrow's ceremony.

you crossed the wooden floor of your large bedroom, floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet. you sat before your mirrored vanity, pulling a stack of parchment from the small drawer in front of it. and, you began to write. one last letter to the male that you'd loved for close to five years now. the man that held your soul within his scarred hands - hands that had the potential to inflict such harrowing damage. but those same hands had held your beating heart with such care and unrelenting love, it made your chest physically want to split in half to think of it.

my sweet love,

as i sit here on the eve of my wedding day, a day that should be joyous, a celebration for the ages, i can't help but feel as though my heart is trying to leap from my chest. if it were able to do such a thing, i know that it would somehow journey these lands to find its way to you. it is already with you, anyhow, and it always will be. i am sick to think that my walk down the aisle will not end with me standing before you, azriel. such a handsome husband you'd be. please, if you ever wed another, -

you paused your writing as a chilled gust of air hit the back of your neck, your hair whipping about with the impact. you weren't scared, you didn't even flinch - you knew what, or who caused it.

you spun around in your chair, and were met the blanched face of the male you were just writing your farewell correspondence to.

"az," you breathed out, rushing to meet his stiff frame. he was clearly distressed. angry. his breath was heaving from his chest, and his fists were clenched at his sides - wings were flared in irritation.

his wild hazel eyes met your own, and he shook his head in disbelief, shoulders dropping in defeat.

"this can't happen, y/n," he whispered, jaw clenching. he was barely maintaining his composure. you knew he wanted to level this entire manor, storm through the halls and end the lives of every one of your father's men that he came across.

you let out a shaky breath, brows cinching. it would have almost been easier to not see him, especially not tonight. this was gut wrenching.

"az, i have no choice. i'm stuck, i've tried to think of every possible way-," you rambled in a hushed tone, hands gesturing in desperation.

"there is a way," he cut you off, his tone one that could summon death. he'd calmed himself, although just marginally. he'd become still, steady, and sure. his voice took on the same quality as it did when he was focused on a mission. it was cold, full of gravel.

you looked up at him, confused and trying not to get your hopes up. surely if there was an actual way to rid yourself of this nightmare, you'd have already thought of and executed it.

"you come with me. now.", he spoke once more, leaving no room for discussion. he wasn't kidding - even though he knew the consequences of such treason.

"az...", you winced, shaking your head as your gaze hit the floor. you couldn't bare to look at him, nor turn him down, but you had to.

"no, y/n. i don't care. i don't care what happens, i don't care about your father, or his army, or what this means for velaris. you're coming with me. i will not allow this to happen," he was breathing heavily again, hands coming to grasp at your slumped shoulders.

"he will start a war, azriel. he will know exactly where to find me, find us," you whispered, not daring to meet his desperate gaze.

"then we will go somewhere else, we'll go somewhere he won't find us. and we'll figure it out. you and i," he pleaded, voice faltering. the words came out strained, like he was trying not to scream, yell, implode.

you sighed, mulling it over momentarily.

"and rhys? my father will still go to velaris first. we can't unleash my father and his men onto rhys and his people just because of this", you rationalized. the thought of velaris facing another attack at your own expense was nauseating.

"i would level all of prythian with my bare hands because of this. for you," he gritted. he took your face between his hands gently, forcing you to meet his wide eyes. he needed to make you understand. he would not survive this.

you stared at him for a long moment, your expression one of absolute dejection. azriel's heart clenched, his head was pounding. please agree, please, please agree to this, come with me, he chanted in his mind, hoping somehow he'd will you into agreement.

"rhys knows where i am. he knows what i'm doing. and he knows the potential consequences. we've been working on solutions, on strategies. we can do this," he breathed out, his full lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

he was begging you, pleading. you knew he'd get on his knees if he had to. and gods, you wanted to go so badly. you'd never been able to choose anything for yourself - nothing. you'd had no say, no meaningful opinions, and no choice on any matter regarding your own life.

but you'd chosen azriel. he was the only choice you'd ever made, and would forever be the best one. you'd chosen him then, and you'd choose him now.

"i'll pack a bag," you spoke softly, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his. you couldn't help the smile that began to tug at your lips.

a pregnant pause lingered between the both of you as you determined whether or not this was a horrible idea. azriel was half-expecting you to change your mind. he held his breath for longer than was probably healthy, lungs beginning to burn. but then, finally:

"let's go," you stated firmly, true determination woven within your words.

azriel faltered for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he processed your decision. he was frozen as you untangled yourself from his arms, darting about to quickly pack a bag of your belongings.

"let's go," he repeated, his voice barely a whisper.

a/n: my heart !!! this one came out of nowhere and i had to write it out. sorry if it's kinda dumb. let me know what you think!

[devilyn]

stay by my side | tsukishima kei

— now playing: die with a smile by bruno mars & lady gaga

If the world was ending I'd wanna be next to you If the party was over And our time on Earth was through I'd wanna hold you just for a while And die with a smile

— synopsis: getting tsukishima kei to say 'I love you' more often is harder than you'd think

— genre: only a tinge of hurt, more comfort, needy tsukki

— word count: 1k

The first thing he sees every morning is you. The last thing he sees before he closes his eyes for the night is always you.

No matter what may be happening between the two of you, the reassurance of knowing you'd be there in the morning and at the end of the day always calmed his tumultuous heart. 

So when he opens his eyes in the middle of the night and you're not there, he jolts up in a panic.

His hand quickly skims across your side of the bed, briefly wondering if he may be delirious in his half-asleep state. When he notices the sheets are still warm, he grabs his glasses and slips out of bed in a hurry.

The kitchen, the bathroom, and the living room are empty. When he finally stops to catch his breath, he notices your keys aren't hanging by the front door, an indication that you've left the apartment.

The realization makes his heart stop.

He should've apologized earlier. He should've known you'd get sick of him. You were always so patient with him, letting him keep you at arm's length for the first year of your relationship while he got used to skinship and physical affection. You even dealt with his mood swings, and communicated openly with him as much as possible so he could understand your perspective when the two of you fought.

And yet, he reversed all that progress last night when he ignored your feelings.

How can he expect you to read between the lines all the time? He had previously promised you he wouldn't treat you like that again, and yet he took advantage of your endless patience and did it again.

“Kei?”

His head turns quickly, wide eyes meeting your surprised gaze. You're standing against the front of your apartment building in your pajamas. He's certain he looks even more disheveled, having just rolled out of bed in a panic.

“What're you doing out of bed?” He asks quickly, stepping over to stand in front of you.

Your gaze softens, and his uneasy heart finally finds a moment to relax at the sight of you right in front of him.

“Just needed some fresh air, couldn't sleep,” you say softly. There's a moment of silence between the two of you before you reach up and gently brush your fingers over his jaw.

He can't help but close his eyes and relax into your touch. He let's himself indulge in the moment further, his own hand resting on top of your own to keep your palm against his cheek. 

“I don't want to.”

“Kei, please,” you pleaded, “I just want an ‘I love you' every once in a while. I'm not asking you to profess your love to me everyday.”

“I don't think it's needed. You know I do, why do I need to say it too?” He grumbled, setting his glasses down on the bedside table. 

“Hearing you say it and convincing myself that your actions mean something are two different things,” you retorted, and you frowned at the way he rolled his eyes.

The two of you have been arguing over the same thing ever since you brought it up at the dinner table just a couple of hours ago.

“Don't be stupid,” he finally snapped, and he ignored the hurt that flashed through your eyes. “Just go to bed. I'm sick of having this talk with you.”

He turned his back towards you, but he still heard your shaky ‘okay, goodnight’.

“What're you doing out here?” you repeat his question, tilting your head curiously. 

He hesitates to answer, eyes still closed as if doing so could buy him more time.

He's sure you saw the panic in his eyes when he heard you call his name. In truth, he wasn't entirely sure why he panicked so much. The thought of you not next to him sent a coldness down his spine that he just couldn't live with. 

“...came to find you,” he finally answers, amber eyes opening to meet your gaze.

The hand on his cheek slides up to gently run through his tousled blonde bed head.

“I'm not going anywhere,” you whisper softly.

His heart skips a beat, and he can't help it anymore. His arms reach out to wrap around your waist, tugging you close so he can bury his face in the crook of your neck.

You saw right through him, reading him like a book.

“I thought you left me,” he admits, voice shaking. One of your hands rests gently on the back of his head, the other lightly running up and down his broad back.

“Where would I go?” you try to joke, “my home is right here with you, Kei.” 

You squashed his insecurities almost instantly with just a couple of words. Your ability to ease all his worries so seemingly easily always amazed him. 

“I love you,” he confesses suddenly, and he feels the way your frame shakes as you laugh quietly. 

He wants to provide that same comfort and sense of stability you give him. If saying ‘I love you’ more often was what you needed to feel that, then he'd do it.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers quietly after his confession. When he pulls back slightly to scan your expression, you're staring up at him with that look in your eyes. That look that tells him--’I love you more than I can even express’. 

Your fingers reach up to cup both his cheeks, tugging him down so you can kiss him gently.

“I love you too,” you decide to settle with those four words, and he rests his forehead against yours.

“Don't leave me,” he murmurs.

“I'm not leaving you,” you promise.

“Stay with me,” he quietly requests.

“I will, I'm not leaving you,” you reassure him again, and there's a hint of a smile on your lips. “Though, I sort of like seeing you this vulnerable.”

He rolls his eyes and makes a move to pull away from you. You catch him with a laugh, arms wrapping around his waist.

“...I'll tell you I love you more often,” he admits defeat almost begrudgingly, and you smile up at him.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Thank you.”

“Can we go back to bed now?” 

He slips his hand into yours, and the way your fingers instinctively lace with his own melts his heart.

“Yeah, let's go home.”

[brenwritesss]

Jealousy

KK Arnold x reader

Summary: KK gets jealous of you and Paige always getting shipped together when on livestreams, so you show her why she shouldn't be jealous.

Based on this request

Warnings: smut and language

a/n: this is my first smut story that I'm posting so I'm lowkey a bit nervous for this one.

“Ayo, let me get some of those,” Paige asks, holding her hand out as you drop a few chick-fil-a fries in her hand. Paige was currently on live with you, KK, and Ice in her dorm room. You and KK had been “secretly” dating for a few months now. And by “secretly” that meant that only the team and your close friends and family knew. When you and KK had first started dating, you had both mutually decided to keep it private to the public, with KK knowing how crazy some of her fans would get.

This resulted in you and KK trying not to interact as much when either of you or a teammate was live to keep fans from speculating about your relationship. However, the more lives you showed up in, the more people speculated about you and Paige, KK’s teammate. At first, it wasn’t that noticeable as it would be small things like you two sitting next to each other, or laughing at one another’s jokes. And to you and Paige, it was never anything more than two friends interacting with each other. But to the public, it seemed like the start of a future relationship. And when you first started noticing the comments, the first thing you did was talk to KK about it and she had assured you that it didn’t bother her since she knew you were hers.

But that was before the ship edits started.

You and Paige were talking to the live while KK was sitting with Ice on another couch, watching the two of you. You were busy eating Chick-fil-a and reading comments, oblivious to the stares you were getting from your girlfriend. As you read another comment, Paige stole another one of your fries. You turned to Paige, “Paige, they wanna know about the braids.”

Paige’s face instantly dropped as she turned to the live. “Never gonna let me live that down, huh?”

As you let out a laugh, the two of you can hear a small scoff coming from KK, who crossed her arms and looked away from you the second the two of you made eye contact. This earned you and Paige giving each other a look before turning back to the live. You then looked over at Ice, shrugging your shoulders at her and she returned the gesture, shaking her phone at you to let you know she was going to text you.

“She’s in a mood”

“Why is she mad?” you text back.

“You and Paige, Ima assume”

“What? Why?”

You could hear Ice laugh at your response before she texted you back. “Pretty sure she’s jealous.”

“Oh lord.”

You set your phone down and looked over at your girlfriend. “KK, you want a waffle fry? I’ve got a few left.”

KK didn’t even bother to make eye contact with you, shaking her head and saying no.

Paige noticed this and turned to her. “Yo, if you don’t take it I will.”

That seemed to set KK off because she looked at the two of you for the first time in a few minutes, more specifically at Paige. Her arms still crossed and a frown on her face. “Go ahead, since you seem to like stealing everything of mine, I might as well not even stop you at this point.”

You widen your eyes at her sudden outburst and you could tell by Paige’s jaw dropping that she didn’t expect it either. “What?” Paige asked quietly.

KK stood up, walking a bit closer to the two of you. “Mute the live.” Paige grabbed her phone and muted the live, setting her phone back on the table. KK sighed before she spoke again, anger bubbling inside her. “You know damn well what I’m talkin’ bout Paige.”

Paige shook her head. “No I don’t.”

“Girl boo,” she scoffed. “You’re stealing my girlfriend.”

Paige put her hands up defensively, looking at KK as if she was crazy. “WHAT? When the hell did I ever steal Y/n? I ain’t doing you like that.”

You stood up, walking closer to your girlfriend. “KK, Paige and I are just friends. We talked about this and you said you were completely fine.”

KK rolled her eyes. “So are you both just gonna sit here and act like you’re not reading all those damn comments and watching all those edits of you two?”

Paige shook her head. “KK, I’d never go after your girl. Like ever. I know that people ship us but they also ship me with tons of other people. It’s not that deep.”

You nod. “Yeah, and KK, at the end of the day it doesn’t matter what they think. They don’t dictate what happens in our relationship and those comments sure as hell don’t determine or change how I feel about you.”

KK doesn’t say anything more and walks off to her bedroom, slamming the door shut. You and Paige stay standing in your spots, shocked expressions written on both of your faces. Ice stayed sitting on the couch, jaw slightly open as she didn’t understand what just occurred either. Paige slowly grabs her phone and ends the live. “Didn’t seem appropriate to keep going.”

“Good idea,” you mutter before walking in the direction of KK’s room. You approach the closed door quietly, trying to see if you could hear anything before you knock on the door. But as you stood in front of her room, you didn’t hear anything. You sigh gently, raising your hand to knock on the door. “Baby?”

You earn no response from her. You knock again. “KK? Can I come in?”

Again, no response. “Can we talk about what just happened please?”

No fucking response. You took a deep breath, trying not to get angry. “Just let me talk to you.”

After a few seconds, you heard shuffling on the other side of the door which resulted in the door opening slowly. KK walks back over to her bed and you walk in, shutting the door behind you. You move closer to her, as she laid on her bed, burying her head in a pillow.

You speak softly, “you should have told me the comments and the edits were getting to you.”

“How can I do it without seeming like I’m controlling?” she muttered from the pillow.

You sit down on the bed beside her, gently rubbing her back. “You’re not controlling at all and even if you came to me and told me you didn’t feel comfortable with me and Paige, I never would think you’re controlling.”

“Why does it have to be Paige?”

“What do you mean?” you ask her, confused by what she meant.

KK finally lifted her face up from her pillow, turning slightly to look at you. “Paige is probably one of the most popular girls on social media right now. And she’s perfect and gorgeous and now people think you guys are dating.”

You look at her. “Who cares what these people think. I love you, not her.”

“Well what happens when people find out we’re dating instead of you two.”

You shake your head as you respond, “it doesn’t matter. I could care less and you should too.”

“Maybe I’m just not good enough for you and you should be with someone like Paige,” she says quietly.

“What?” you ask her, shocked she could even say something like that. “No, no, no, don’t ever say that. You’re more than good enough, do you hear me?”

There’s something that changes in her eyes when she looks at you this time. Her eyes darken and she gazes at you with a hint of lust in her eyes. The type of look that sends a shiver down your spine. “How good?” she asks you.

You return the look she was giving you. “I can show you.”

She gives you a small smirk, pulling you on top of her in one swift motion, her hands running up and down your sides. “Paige can’t do this.”

“You’re right,” you quietly say, looking into her eyes as your hands traveled up toward the nape of her neck. The look in her eyes that she gave you sent a wave of heat all the way to your core, igniting small throbs that made you close your eyes in response to the feeling.

“Hey.” KK rests her fingers on your chin, tilting your head towards hers. “Eyes on me.”

You open your eyes as you feel her fingers start rubbing circles on your waist, each rub shooting a new electrifying shiver through your body. You waste no time in crashing your lips against hers with KK’s body instantly responding to you, a low moan coming from her lips. Her hands roamed the small of your back, fingertips beginning to travel up your spine. You let your hands move from the back of her neck to her jawline.

Her tongue brushes against your bottom lip causing you to slightly gasp, allowing her to slide her tongue into your mouth. The feeling of her tongue in your mouth made you release short whimpers into her own, resulting in her grip on you becoming tighter.

KK begins trailing soft and hot kisses down your jawline to your neck as you tilt your head in order to give her more access to you. You buck your hips against her in order to try to release some of the tension your body had been building up. KK’s hands instantly fly to your hips and push you down harder on her, making you moan. She guided your hips into a grinding motion against hers as she kissed you down to your collarbone.

“Fuck, KK,” you whispered, almost breathless. You tried to speed up the motion in an attempt to feel some sort of friction between the two of you.

Sensing your urgency, KK pulls off your shirt and flips you onto your back in one move, hovering over you as she continues the assault on your neck. She whispers into your ear, “you like that baby?”

Losing the ability to speak as her knee moves between your legs, all you can do is give her a small nod. She pushes her knee harder against your clit, eliciting a moan from your mouth right next to her ear. She let out a raspy laugh, “I know you can do better than that.”

Her mouth moved lower now, hovering over your bra-covered tits. She reached a hand underneath your back, making you arch in response to make it easier for her to unclasp your bra. After successfully removing the fabric, she began to work on your nipples, her tongue swirling around one while one of her hands toyed with the other, giving you light pinches. Your moans grow louder and her knee pushes harder against your core as you feel the wetness grow more with every second that passes.

She gently holds your nipple between her teeth, sucking it softly while she looks directly at you, making you roll your head back. “Oh god,” you breathe out.

Your moans only fuel her more. She moves her leg away from you, causing you to whimper at the loss. She leans up, inching farther down your body as her fingers find the zipper to your shorts. In a matter of seconds, your shorts and underwear are now balled up on the floor as she positions herself in between your legs, pulling your legs up and hooking her arms around your thighs.

The anticipation built up inside you had you shaking to the touch, wanting nothing more than to feel her mouth on you. Just to feel her deep inside you. 

She runs a finger through your slick folds, her eyes in awe of how wet you are. The touch alone is enough to stimulate a breathless moan from you which only makes her crave you more. She looks up at you, a smile on her face. “Proud of this. That only I can make you this wet.”

You nod fervently. “Yes, only you,” you say as best you can without feeling out of breath. “No one else.”

She swipes her tongue through your folds a few times before circling your clit. Her fingers dug into your thighs, which would no doubt leave a mark later. You buck your hips up in response, the feeling of her tongue on you almost too much to handle. The increase in heaviness of your breath makes her speed up, just craving to hear you. The moans and whimpers for you are enough to make her latch her mouth right over your clit, sucking it. 

“Oh my…fuck,” you moan and that only makes her speed up more. And if that wasn’t enough, one of her fingers outlined the edge of your entrance before curling deep inside you, making you arch your back at the feeling. Thrusting her fingers in and out of you building up a pressure in your core that leaves you gripping the bed sheets.

KK lifts her head up so that she can see you. “You can take it.”

The feeling in your core caused by her mouth and fingers travels through your stomach and deep into your throat. You feel as if you could explode any second.  “I don’t know how much,” you pause, letting out another moan before continuing, “I can hold on.”

“Cum for me,” KK whispers directly onto your clit and that was enough to make your knuckles turn white and your orgasm to finally take over. KK keeps her pace with her fingers as you cum straight into her mouth. You feel as if your body has snapped, your breath hitching and your body shaking to her touch. As she helps you ride out your orgasm, her fingers begin to slow down as she detaches her mouth from you. “Did so good for me, baby.”

Your breaths were uneven and heavy as she finally stopped her movements and let you go. “Shit,” you breathed out. “KK, that was…”

KK let out a low laugh, moving to lie beside you. “Just know the next time you and Paige piss me off, I’m gonna have to break out the strap.”

Still catching your breath, you nod. “Noted.”

You and KK laid in bed, tangled in each other as you both enjoyed being in each other’s company. Your head was on KK’s chest when you both heard a knock on the door followed by Paige’s voice. “Love you guys but a little warning would have been nice.”

[b1rds3ye]

AAAA i loved that 141 + masked reader one!! omg you're filling my head with mask ideas now...

what if reader had one of those LED masks that showed different facial expressions? just walking around going ":D" ":]" "^-^" "?" ">:(" as a substitute of their real expressions. omfg imagine them coming back from a mission and price is praising them on their work or smth and they just hit him with the "uwu"

I'm glad so many people are liking the prompt, I had a lot of fun with it too!! This is very much giving me Watch Dogs 2 Wrench but also Rina Tennoji omg there are so many legendary masked characters-

The rest of the 141 were confused at first. While the mask provided anonymity, there was also the benefit of hiding facial information to an enemy. But now with these LEDs your emotions could be read like an open book, but ultimately they found it endearing.

Soap in particular loves your mask. Johnny loves surprising you to generate "!"s over the eyes and finds himself smiling every time your mask switches to a new emotion. As demolition expert, he prides himself over the one time he got you so riled up that an error message flashed across your mask. He's also genuinely curious about the mask and will gladly try to help if there are any technical difficulties or if you want a hardware upgrade. He's also the most unnerved out of the 141 if you ever turn the LEDs off, immediately by your side to comfort you as he can no longer read your mood.

Gaz doesn't often provoke you but he does find himself snickering whenever your expressions change from others. It's also an easy way for Kyle to keep track of how you're feeling, even when no one's around your mask automatically goes ";-;" when you're feeling down and he'll check up on you. Whenever he does make a joke though, he's immediately looking to your mask to see if someone will appreciate his humour. He also wishes you turned off your mask more during missions, the little angry face your mask makes isn't intimidating in the slightest and he can't risk getting distracted cooing over you during an op.

Ghost is very curious. Your own mask has him wondering if his own needs a bit of an upgrade - perhaps an LED skull mask with a moving lower jaw. Simon's heart warms up a bit at how you've picked a mask that's still so comically expressive, he enjoys interacting with someone that's so upfront with their emotions. He won't admit it but he finds it cute how your mask goes "-_-" whenever he says one of his horrendous "military humour" jokes. He's considerate of your mask and ensures that there is no water or liquids nearby.

Price's first concern was practicality (how the hell were you going to use night-vision?) but once the mask seems to work without a hitch, he now checks on your mask to not only gauge your mood but as a visual indicator of the overall atmosphere among the rest of the task force. You're now his favourite person to praise. He doesn't give it freely of course, but most of his subordinates will try to hide their smiles as they glow under his praise as they keep up their tough soldier persona. You though? The sudden "! o !" and then consequential "^_^" as you walk away with a hop in your step is probably the sweetest thing he's seen in his entire military career.

It's all fun and games until you turn off the LEDs - usually done in dark/covert missions or when you're interrogating the enemy. That's when you're truly unreadable, a masked terror. As you eliminate enemies in close combat the last thing they will see is their own face contorted into absolute terror as it is faintly reflected like a memory against the bottomless darkness of your visor.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[hazelfoureyes]

The Radio Demon Fucks a Human Sacrifice (deleted scene)

⟢Alastor x Reader - The Radio Demon fucks a Human Sacrifice (A Valentino Production)

Valentino has acquired a living, breathing human in hell. But at the begging of Angel, Alastor makes a deal in exchange for her soul.

Part 1 smut 💦 Part 2 smut 💦 Side Story Part 3 smut 💦 Part 4 smut💦 Epilogue sexual Deleted Scene smut 💦 📍

I simply couldn’t fit this in anywhere but it’s still a fun lil read so figured might as well share. Wrote back in like February 😅 you may see I cannabalized some lines from this as I never intended to post it

「Warnings/Promises: Alastor x Fem Reader short smutty scene , love making???, Alastor is oddly affectionate and loving, you got him so fucked up, cream pie, riding him like a coin operated airplane in front of the grocery store, so like slow but still super fun?, deleted scene so starts and ends abruptly, redemption is for losers, Alastor moans」

Minors, hey,

hey

💥🗞️DNI

“I’m hopeless.”

“About what?” You glanced at him, a small laugh coming.

When he didn’t reply, you looked back at him, lingering a little longer.

His smile softened, eyes seeming to dilate ever so slowly as he stared. Finally, “Redemption. What a silly little thing.”

You hummed in agreement, going back to your phone, “Right? Who needs heaven when I have everything I need here.”

Had you said it on purpose? So easily cut into him? Was this surgical precision or dumb luck?

He laughed , “You always seem to understand perfectly, my little doe. How do you do it?”

Your smile reached your eyes, “I was made to be your undoing, remember? It comes naturally, mon cher.”

He pulled the phone from your hands and set it on the blanket, mouth coming to the well of your ear, “Say it again”

A chill ran down your spine, fine hair standing on end as goosebumps ran down your arm. “Mon Cher,” the words barely left your mouth before he kissed you, swallowing them into himself. Why? How? A hunger still foreign to him, rising from his lap and igniting his chest.

You felt his hands trembling on your chin, "Are you okay Alastor?

He shook his head no. "I want all of you, my love."

A word you hadn't anticipated. Hadn’t planned for. Hadn’t even dreamed of.

"You have my eternal soul, pretty sure I also threw my body into the deal," He kissed along your jaw then down your neck, making you sigh and relax against his mouth, "What else is there?"

"I don't know. I dont know what I'm saying." He pulled you onto him, setting you on his lap with bent legs holding you steady. Bringing you down for a soft kiss on your lips, "Why does heaven get to decide what redemption looks like?"

He moved aside your sleep shorts, humming happily to find you wearing nothing underneath.

Alastor famously hated you on top. You learned intimately what inspired him to be in the mood, and you on top was decidedly not it. He pulled down his own pajama pants, and began to rub his sticky wet head against your heat.

"Alastor, you -- I thought you didn't like me on top?" You asked, trying to not discourage him.

"I have an odd appetite today, dear. Entertain me?" He began to push in, hands coming to your hips to bring you down onto him. You rested both hands onto his chest for balance, breath already quickening with the burn of him stretching you out first thing in the morning.

When he began to lift your hips and move you up and down his length, you could understand why this would still satiate him. He was still taking the lead, still the one in control.

But something unusual was happening, he was uncharacteristcally vocal. Normally, the only sounds during sex with him were your own pants, his breathing, and the sound of his body slapping into yours. A rare moan tumbled from his mouth, making you clench around him. You licked your lips, wanting another. His eyes were on your connection, watching himself sink into you and disappear entirely. His face was…indiscernable. Somewhere between entranced and desperate.

You took a chance, seeing he was in a different mood than ever before. Putting his hands in yours, you brought them off your hips and laced your fingers into his. As his hands met yours, you leaned into them and let him hold your weight as you rode him. As you tried to find a pace, you watched his eyes tighten close, another breathy moan forced out of him.

Oh, the things that sound did to you. Was this was how good he felt when he was fucking you? Was this that high he seemed to be chasing every time you eagerly let him pin you down?

Unpracticed and clumsy, your hips rolled over his cock. Soon you were letting your full body weight fall into his lap as you plunged him as deeply as you could. You leaned in for a kiss, your own motions making your mouths slide over each other as your lips tried to make contact in the right places. Failing, you left kisses on his chin, his cheek, just below his nose. Another moan, a sigh, then--- did you hear your name ghost over your mouth?

That was all you needed, you slowed and ground down on him, friction bringing you to the edge and tossing your body over it with a violent shudder.

As you stilled, trying to ride out your orgasm, Alastor bucked up into you. A little scream as your softened walls jumped at the contact. Another thrust up, until he was fucking you through the after effects of your orgasm, chasing his own. You wanted to say something, but you didn't want to push. This was already so out of the norm, you felt the moment was fragile.

He whinced, a series of moans threatening to make you cum all over again as he met his release. You could feel his cock jerking inside you, twitching as he flooded you with his seed. What a lovely feeling, warm and full. You wanted to roll off before you dripped down him, another thing you knew he was uncomfortable with. But when you tried to move his hands went back to your hips and pressed you down. His head pushing deep against the end of your cunt.

"Please, just-- stay like this for me." His voice was low and soft against your cheek, a loud crack of static peppering his voice.

You'd stay like this until the inevitable heat death of the universe if he asked. You'd never leave his cock if he so much as mentioned the idea.

[itsmrshamilton]

Be A Good Boy | LH44

Summary: Y/n flashes Lewis to end an argument.

a/n: i spent very little time on this one so its not great.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

"Do you have to go tonight? It's pretty cold out."

You sighed in annoyance as you slipped on your heels. This argument was draining your energy and ruining your party mood.

"Lewis, I'm not telling you this again. We planned this a while ago. It's happening tonight." You stood up to smoothe out your outfit. A boob-tube tight dress that barely reached halfway down your thighs and was covered in sequins.

Lewis looked pained as he watched you watch yourself in the mirror. Your braids pinned up and your dark skin glistening.

"Y/n, please. Look, if you're going to go out tonight, then maybe change?" You shot him a withering look before marching out of the bedroom. He groaned loudly.

"I'm going out, Lewis!"

Lewis followed after you.

You stood there with the top of your dress pulled down to your waist. Your breasts barely contained by the strapless bra you wore. The top part of a lacy set that Lewis bought you last week.

"Y/n. Y/n!" You picked up your purse on the kitchen counter and checked its contents. He came to stand right in front of you.

Your boyfriend had just arrived home from work right as you began getting ready to go out that night. His mouth had hardened into a thin line, and tension in the room had grown. Lewis wasn't usually possessive or jealous, but he didn't like the idea of you being surrounded by unknown men drooling over your pretty little body. It made his heart race in the wrong way. He had to try and get you to stay home or allow him to come with you. But you weren't budging. After weeks of traveling with Lewis from track to track, you were more than ready to spend some time with your girls in a club playing deafening music. Lewis would just have to suck it up and wait for you for once. Now he stood with his hands on his hips, about to say something that would make you angrier. You'd had enough.

"Y/n-" Sudden silence as his jaw dropped and his eyes grew in size.

"I'll be gone for 5 hours, Lewis. Then I'll come home, remove my dress -" You whispered as his breath hitched. "And we'll have a party of our own."

You smirked at his state - eyes glued onto your chest, hands slowly slipping off the waistband of his pants. He was gobsmacked.

"So, you be a good boy while I'm gone and I'll give you the best reward. Yeah?" You whispered.

Lewis nodded slowly. You giggled as you pulled up your dress and grabbed your stuff. You kissed his cheek before sashaying out of the apartment.

Lewis rubbed his chin as he took in what happened. You just flashed him to shut him up and win an argument. He couldn't wait til you got home. The next 5 hours were going to be long and brutal.

💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌 💌

Thanks for reading! Be sure to interact before you leave. 🫶 do not alter, repost or copy my work onto another site.

[capslocked]

KINKVEMBER DAY: 4

[prompt: roleplay] male reader x kang hyewon 8k words

“I need you,” Hyewon says in the uneasy dark of a hotel room, with two urgent fistfuls of your shirt, “need you to do to me all the things my husband never will.” “Yeah, I know,” you tell her, “you said that,” and her eyebrows move in all the wrong directions, “I’m just wondering if, you know, maybe we should give him a little more credit.”

-

Here’s the truth:

Hyewon doesn’t believe in leaving evidence behind and you don't find it particularly productive to doubt her; you’ve been talking in code for years. Parts and pieces of yourselves reduced down and bottled into set phrases that, to anyone else, would be totally incomprehensible.

"i've been thinking," she texts you, which you've come to understand means she's already made up her mind, "maybe we should do that thing we were talking about. tonight."

(You're not always so fast on the uptake.)

You send two back two texts, both of which ask "which thing?" because the hallway from the breakroom to your desk has poor reception and it never lets you send just one.

Then, right after you cross the threshold between signal-drowning-concrete and the glitzy glass-walled arboretum they've built to make you feel like you're not a total cog in their corporate machine, your phone pings the receipt of Hyewon's reply: a picture - her laptop, propped up on your coffee table with its screen angled for perusal, of a booking site that's filtered to show results for their 'king bed & view' room at a midrange hotel a forty-five-minute ride from your apartment.

"not really doing much narrowing down here hyewon."

She replies to you - her text bubble appearing over another couple still images, of herself in the vanity mirror as she curls her hair around her finger and holds this little black slip of a dress over her shoulder, black lacy lingerie in tow, the whole nine - with:

"i'm feeling kinda adventurous."

-

Five o’clock rolls around but you never really do figure it out. You spend the last three hours at work deciding which kink of hers (oh, does she have a few) this is all in service to.

There's nothing overtly sexual about her pics in the first place - not more than usual anyway, more showing off her curves and cut jaw than showcasing anything for her 'adventurous' intent. So that can't be the tell - you'd seen her in a corset once (you can't unsee it) and the angle of her hips to the mirror makes you think that if she was planning on pulling on a  pair of crotchless panties then she probably would've found her thigh high stockings, too.

You try and think of what the two of you had even talked about when discussing these little scenes - how many times you'd ended up 'in the mood' during or after such a meeting of the minds, how it'd snowballed from there, a whole list of filthy what-ifs that she'd probably put more thought into than you ever have - but you draw a total blank. It could be any of a number of things.

Until,

"i left you instructions on the kitchen island," reads a text on your phone which you definitely don’t check while you’re driving -

And then it hits you.

"ah."

"yeah, 'ah'," she replies.

-

A quarter past seven at the hotel bar is way too early for any real promiscuous activity, but then again, you're here playing at pretend and half the fun of games like this is in the setup.

Meet me at the bar, your instructions read, introduce yourself, and play it by ear.

There's some couples at the other end, some friends downing shots by the round, people musing over their aperitifs, and a woman sipping alone at the bar - Hyewon, appearing to you from the back first:

The pointed edges of her shoulders narrow out over this tiny cocktail dress that somehow covers less of her than if it weren't there at all, skin tight, accentuating even her softest curves. She has her hair fixed a particular way - teased enough to flip at the ends but still a single sweep down her shoulders, pulled together softly by a ribbon in the back, tied like a fantasy, allowing a wispy strand to fall to her face - glossy and dark and glowing to this rich, deep mahogany where it's cast in the lamplight.

The line of her throat, of her chest. Where her hips meet her waist in a rounding flare. The effort and beauty she's gone to, for you - that she puts in every day just because she knows it gets your attention, can do more than turn a head or two; Hyewon's appearance is almost indifferent of you, only coincidental, but she puts on a damn good act.

(You look a lot more worn in comparison: jacket thrown over dress shirt and khakis, tie loose at the neck. Standard office attire with just a step-outside-regulation. Disheveled.)

A drink, you suppose - approaching the bar to try and catch the bartender's attention to order a single malt.

But if Hyewon's been waiting long, she doesn't complain when you pull into the stool beside her and sit for a long moment.

"Do you mind if I join you?" you say over a pair of politely folded hands - and that's generally where her 'instructions' end.

The look she fixes you with is just this unashamed smoldering, her body language this contradictory kind of lazy - cool, like her night was going exactly the way she planned but she still had places to be.

"It depends," she replies, one slender finger curled around the stem of her martini glass - which historically, is a drink she hates. "Who's asking?"

"Just me," you offer, letting the gesture and your tone leave it up to her. And then slowly, perhaps awkwardly: "ostensibly a complete and utter stranger who knows a gorgeous woman when he sees one - and who could never pass up a chance to see how the rest of her is."

"Smooth."

"I guess it is, considering you didn't immediately run for the exit."

Hyewon nearly snorts.

"Hard not to." She tilts her head back at you, assessing. Her cheeks are rosy pink. "A handsome thing like you doesn't usually buy themself a girl's time with flattery -"

"Buy your time or your drinks?" you tease, and you can tell she wants to roll her eyes - but she keeps them carefully lowered. Eyelashes dipping down like blackened fans.

Hyewon shifts slightly, resting her chin onto the heel of her wrist like she's leaning against an imaginary windowpane and tipping her face a little sideways. It makes you smile. "One gets the other, if you catch my meaning."

Maybe it takes you a little too long to lift your gaze off her lips to find her eyes, or off the sweeping curve of the hemline sitting high across her long legs, but she watches you for just a breath. It's a more telling moment that she pretends she doesn't know you.

"You can look at me if you like," and then without further preamble, she introduces herself with a slight tilt of the head and an expectant expression: "call me Hyewon."

You figure that if you've gotta say one word to get the ball rolling you want to say her name, and as a little revenge for forcing you to think on this scene and think on what to say, what your character would say, how exactly she wanted you to go about 'meeting' her in a hotel bar, how her fucking scenario's been building up in her head for god-knows-how-long (even though, in the scheme of the two of you and your relationship, it’s nowhere close to being the most demanding sex you've had), you reply simply with:

"Pretty."

It's satisfying, how she hesitates - pausing a little longer on your face to gauge exactly what you meant. Studying. But the next beat of your heart - or hers - is effortless, easy.

"I know. That's what my husband calls me."

"Husband?" You keep yourself from raising an eyebrow. "And I don't suppose I'm also... married?"

"Different day, different you."

"Meaning I have a wife or a mistress of my own," and you flick your wrist at the barkeep for a top-up of what's in front of Hyewon. "You're telling me I'm the kind of man who'd only settle for two."

It doesn't sound quite right, though Hyewon picks up on it. Doesn't let on. "Aren't men like you always? Charming to a fault, but always voracious - insatiable, especially with women like me."

"Women like you."

"Married women. Unavailable," she simpers, and in a practiced little motion, draws her hand out to where you can see it properly, this sparkle on her fourth finger that catches the lowlight of the bar. The diamond looks real - not that you'd actually know - and your stomach flexes up mid-somersault thinking about the financial impropriety for what amounts to a gag. A practical joke. Hyewon the comedian.

Still, you go with it and take her hand in yours, admiring. "What a pity." The glint off its faceted surface - Hyewon's watchful as she allows it.

"Isn't it," she agrees.

The more unnerving thing - besides how composed Hyewon can make herself be - is how the narrative quickly becomes a whole hell of a lot clearer with the context of marriage in play. She's mentioned it before: the infidelity thing, the way it leads to the raunchiest, filthiest bits she'll dare to explore. In some ways, her desire for the untouchable makes a lot more sense -

And maybe that's what had been nagging at your mind since she brought up the idea of playing the part: you always end up kissing in that stupid 'caught up' sort of way. With an intensity that's hard to beat. Even though you wouldn't ever cheat on her. Not in a million years. You'd watch her leave before doing anything like that.

But it's thrilling, almost, and even more thrilling that this isn't entirely improvisation: how well the two of you might actually play this off, as two total strangers to this illusory little roleplay that you'd normally say was your very last interest.

"But you know there's something I've come to appreciate about married men," Hyewon continues, her voice in this conspiratorial sort of hushed.

You blink, drawing her out.

"They know how to tie a knot."

There's the flirty wink, an upward flick of the chin that draws your eye to the span of her chest. To her body in that skin-hugging dress and your fingers entangled in hers - the gentle bump and shift of the bodies behind her, moving between the tables - Hyewon a queen of circumstance, playing to the moment as it bends; as her lips part in a pleased smile, red and smooth, almost innocent, and you can't help but imagine tasting her on your tongue, the force that'd take for her to yield when you finally got your hands in her hair.

(What a character, honestly.)

"Tell me something," you say, "why would a married woman, this pretty little thing like you, be all alone in a place like this - without her charming husband."

Hyewon's smile curls at the edges like smoke. "I never said he was charming."

You raise an eyebrow. "Good-looking, then."

"Never said as much either."

“Why are you with someone you find neither attractive nor charming?”

Hyewon makes a face, slightly pitied. “If that Isn’t what I’m asking myself everyday.”

"Hm." You narrow your eyes into something more quizzical than suggestive. It works on her anyway. "That doesn't feel too much like it's in character, Hyewon."

She shrugs, but it's that coy kind of shrug. She thinks you'll let her off easy - you usually do. All considered, she's the type who thrives off the chase and, as of today, so do you.

"But he is cute." Her expression is just this side of sweet, as she takes a dainty sip of her drink. Like the taste doesn’t bother her, like she isn't pretending she doesn't hate it with every fiber of her being. Like this is easy. "And maybe -" she quirks an eyebrow at you, withholding a smirk. "-you're right. Maybe, I was looking for someone cuter to fill the bill. And luck would have it, here he is."

So - apparently - her character doesn’t mind a little light infidelity.

Hyewon takes in the vague sense that the message wasn’t as clear as she might have liked, her forehead scrunching as she tries to convey - in a way that would communicate even to an airhead - some realization to play your part.

"Maybe it's the wrong question,” you start over, taking it from somewhere near the top, “what are you doing here, with me?"

That's when Hyewon graces you with one of the soft, slow kind of smiles: the kind that manages both an air of 'you dimwit' and 'good question'. Her fingertips barely graze yours but it's noticeably electric. Just enough to feel your pulse fluttering.

(You don't care that none of it’s real - Hyewon looks to you through thick eyelashes like a goddess of temptation and sin - and it makes something wicked coil up warm at the pit of your gut. A curious thrill and a recklessness that you have to admit feels a little nice - being the man trying to talk this woman into bed. The challenge and the buildup, the want to work for it. It's new. It's fresh. Lo-and-behold, it's kinda hot.)

When you catch her stare, she fidgets. So slightly, so briefly, your chest is on fire and you're barely into the pages of her plans, of this night ahead.

"Wish fulfillment, let's say," and that is no less true. "See it’s my husband."

"Mhmm."

"He respects me too much to do the things I'm going to ask you to do."

"Like?" you continue to prod.

Hyewon lets out the tiniest shiver of a sigh, like a trickle of cold water down the length of her spine. "Take a good guess."

You finish the rest of Hyewon's martini, slow. Savoring the warmth and bitterness sliding down the back of your throat. The night's young, sure - and if you're supposed to be spending it all wrapped around Hyewon's finger. This means you can take your time.

"Show me your room?" you propose, gesturing to the empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask."

At your offering, she stands up and throws on her coat - long, double-breasted, chic - but only really just off her shoulders to have the hem hit her legs mid-thigh. One of her many personal quirks. Hyewon knows how to move like there aren't two eyes staring at her wherever she goes: not the awkward side-to-side of a girl who wasn't made to wear heels - a loping gait - nor the assured click, click of the taller kind that totter like it's all they've got going for them.

Something totally different: a little careless and a little haughty and an assurance of the highest confidence.

She winds an arm round yours like they do in movies, this parody of a leading lady - Hyewon not a seductress as much as she is someone who'll look the part just to convince you otherwise. There is a pretty big discrepancy, you find, between her bravado and her smile, her figure and her artistry - you couldn't act if you wanted to; meanwhile, she does whatever she damn well pleases. And somehow that doesn't even begin to cover the things that turn her on.

The two of you make for the stairs, winding up floor after floor until it's perfectly quiet, perfectly out of sight - hidden away from prying eyes and ears.

The silence of an empty hotel stairwell is thick - Hyewon's hand comes off the railing, as she takes to the wall and turns to face you. It's a gentle tug at the tie loose around your neck, barely any give before you're already there, holding her by the hips.

"Might've gotten us lost there," you whisper, as her finger plays at your chest and finds its way round the collar of your shirt. Your top button is already undone by the time you notice she's not fond of it. "The elevators would've gotten us where we're headed faster."

"Don't worry." She hums, leaning in close - like a magnet, like gravity. "You're getting the scenic route."

"Anything to stall the inevitable," you tease, but it isn't a thread she seems interested in developing.

"Something like that."

Hyewon shifts her weight back onto her right foot, her skirt riding up just barely. The dip between her inner thighs and the smooth curve of her leg is open and bare to your sight, her dark stockings like an unspoken challenge: the panties, lacy, loose, no crotch.

And it gets... indecent, the way your lips connect, how you realize half-way into that kiss, she's still smiling. It isn't any one way that does it; maybe it's the clever use of her tongue, or that particular position you've coaxed her up against the stairwell wall that makes it seem like Hyewon can't be any more in danger - it's too much to handle and your mouth goes slack on the reflex of an apology; her hand has a hold on you by the jaw and it won't budge.

"My husband," she murmurs into you, the trace of the words ghosting into the breath between the both of you. "Never lets me."

"What," you rasp, barely recognizing your own voice, your hand heavy on her side - the very real fear that you might tip over a banister because Hyewon's got her heel half-way into the back of your calf and any less bracing would bring you down. Your thoughts are a fog, with her cheek in one hand and your knee already up between her thighs.

"His wife," she almost swallows down, kisses turning chaste because maybe it's just easier to gently peck out her intentions, how she looks to you with dark eyes, heavy-lidded and wanting, a thumb trailing down the plane of your cheek. It'd feel like pity if you weren't thinking exactly the same.

You try to finish it for her:

"She likes it rough."

"No." Her nose traces yours before she connects you again - gentle and slow, and a shudder rolls all down the expanse of her shoulders; you think you have it about right. Until she makes the slightest adjustment and her grip in your hair turns agonizing, perfect and burning on the edge of too tight - too much. You are straining against the wall of a hotel hallway and she's saying, "not rough."

She kisses you. Hard. Until you gasp for the stolen air in her lungs.

"Filthy," she manages against the heat and sting at the side of her cheek.

(Damn.)

Your voice has gone and lodged itself firmly somewhere between her lungs - but there's something that says she knows. That you've got it in you, the brimming potential that might just say everything you ever wanted but couldn't figure the right way to put it.

It's the tone of her voice or the spark in her eyes, but one moment into the next - you're caught in this pull - like gravity's increasing tenfold at her will; her heartbeat's so strong you swear you feel it against your ribs as she's demanding:

"Messy. Dirty. A little uninhibited," and the obvious thrill of that must flare up like lightning under her skin - the way it makes her moan, soft and breathless: "fuck me like my husband doesn't."

She’s not even waiting for the comfort of the room yet, which in hindsight is probably checking more of Hyewon's many boxes - it's the sex in public thing, the fear of discovery thing, the desire to have you ravish her out where anyone can come upon you sort of thing - the thought of which has your jaw go a little slack too. Her leg up is coiled up around your hip, your fingers tangled in her hair and sliding up the length of her thigh, until you're fucking kneading up her ass and drawing out that desperate whine in her.

"Fuck," she exhales into your shoulder - a hand on the metal bannister to brace against those little circles you start to rub inside her, pushing - slowly - one, two, three knuckles deep, testing - before drawing back, and plunging forward again. This ache, slow and purposeful, pressing just enough into her until there's a wet sort of friction that has your hand slick all down your wrist.

It never takes long, with your fingers on her clit, fingers inside her, a palm covering the moans out of her mouth -

She cums just like that.

Whining and broken and bent under you, and with an elbow hard against her ribcage to make the breaths come shallow.

"Stay quiet for me, sweetheart," you find yourself murmuring, as your teeth graze the shell of her ear - the short burst of hair and silky strands across the back of her neck; you're undoing the neat ribbon tied round the length of her hair and letting her waves settle on her shoulder in time for you to swallow down the sound of her sighs, the tension in her lips, and the frantic jolt when your fingers push through the wet, heat of her pussy again, merciless and quick. You have to be careful; she nearly bites your fucking tongue out.

"Can't." Her jaw's tight on it, the slight staccato to her breathing, murmuring and slightly dazed: "if we get caught, someone will see. Someone will notice."

Her next exhale is more shaky. "Anyone could see us like this," with just her toes curling and her stomach tensing on every second beat. Your grip leaves a bruise. "Please-"

"We're not supposed to be doing this at all, are we? If you've got a husband waiting somewhere?"

You hear yourself, and it sounds sorta degenerate, though in all the right ways, you figure, like something straight out of one of Hyewon's romance novels, the dirty, smutty ones that she swears up and down she simply reads for the plot, but the dazed, hazy kind of mood they get her worked up into suggest otherwise.

You trace the rough pad of your thumb over her pussy, this delicate, ghost of a touch. One you'd have to strain to even tell if it was there or not until she whines - eyes screwed shut like she doesn't mean to, just does. The sound of it bouncing around the stairwell.

And then, all this wet: her skirt's ridden all the way up to her stomach, damp and near-transparent with slick, and you can just imagine the puffy pink between her legs - between her stockings in the afterglow of an orgasm, spent and sensitive and sore and wanting for more. Your eyes linger a little too long -

"I shouldn't let you," she manages, half a moan on it - one of her heels comes up the stair you're standing on and the way Hyewon clings onto you for balance says enough, but still, she demands, with all the strength her throat allows: "make it fast. You're lucky I let you see me like this at all -"

And she cuts off abruptly, looking at you.

(She'll play coy for a while longer. Which, Hyewon being Hyewon, will look like as much an effort as her sprawl out on the bed for you is.)

"The room," you say to her, harshly, "where is it."

"Four more floors."

-

Room 1014 as it turns out is like every other room you've ever been in, each one perhaps a little more identical than the last - except this one has Hyewon sitting in your lap while you get comfortable on the bed, and there's also the way she looks in the mirror above the headboard, the desperation in her stare, right back into the reflection.

"What all," she says, "do you want to do to me?"

This time - no explicit instructions - just an implication. You have to figure it out.

See, the image of her is like every fantasy rolled into one, wearing this thin black bra that has her breasts just about spilling over. They're amazing - the color and shape of her skin. Soft. Cradled between the cups like a godsend, and maybe that's why it drives her a little crazy how good you look biting down the ridge of her breast and flicking your eyes back up to catch her expression.

It has you feeling, if nothing else, a little ‘adventurous,’ too.

Her belly tenses on a heavy sigh and it's one hell of a thing to have Hyewon staring you down, like you're an animal or an idiot, with her eyes flashing and a thinly veiled anger in the purse of her lips. There's a thousand things she'd like to do to you - for you to do to her - but it's about the predicament: the silk necktie she'd pulled off you as you both stumbled through the door has ended up around her wrists, pinning her arms behind her back in a way that suggests a loss of control. Just the mere suggestion of a little playacting, but she's almost keening.

You feel the touch of her right calf keep rising - curving down your waist, hooked behind the small of your back - her thighs smooth, and a hot line along your sides.

"I should fuck that pretty mouth of yours," you say against the shell of her ear, because you know better than anyone, the very concept gets her wet. Uncomfortably so.

And she leans her head against your temple like she'd love it. You could be imagining the little whimper as she clenches up round nothing - until a growl escapes the back of her throat and she's saying -

"Is that how you're going to cum? With me on my knees and nothing else? Cover my pretty face? How you’ll completely ruin me?. You’re more creative than that."

“I don’t know that I am.”

Her hips move to find some friction where there isn't any until you give her some, pulling your cock out through your pants and feeling it brush, once, twice against the seam of her. Hot, and hard. Ready. And if she only tried a little, the angle was made perfectly to slot your head in, but neither of you move. She doesn't yield.

"Let me fuck myself on you," she suggests, strained, almost pleading. "Then perhaps I will."

You could take her like she is. Any which way. But this is about getting a particular reaction - one that'll leave her spent and trembling - and nothing like that will happen without a little bit of preparation and prelude. You want to watch her writhe for hours. Until she forgets she's playing a character at all, until she's panting your name and whimpering for release, her cheeks burning.

But at least it gets her writhing on you, the heat and press of her body as she leans in close, your eyes locking:

"Get your cock inside me-" the urgency in her voice. "-fuck me right now, this second-"

"Say it again."

"Fill me with your perfect cock." The words land right on your lips, frayed at the edges as the tether to her control slips another notch. "Push my thighs apart until you break me," Hyewon tells you - and then with her legs twisted up in the comforter, the creaking mattress and the sweat on the sheets: she rolls her hips like they're pleading for it.

"Pushy."

"Gentle's got no appeal for us."

"Apparently not," you reply - but then it's suddenly a lot easier, to slide one hand in Hyewon's hair, and grip at the knotted silk wrapped tight 'round her wrists to hold her. There's no hiding the subtle arching of her spine, how the pressure off her arms pulls her chest in or makes it all the more comfortable, she doesn't let on, she'll probably keep pretending she doesn't like this, that she hasn't always wanted -

You run your tongue over her collarbone and thrust up inside her, once - a warning that you're not giving in to her quite yet.

The smile that runs her lips is brittle. Like her patience isn't what it used to be - she makes a quiet little noise, pained. A flash of discomfort. But there's a moan and a curse out of her:

"Like that. Harder."

"What does harder mean?" you ask, with a deliberate repetition in motion, thrusting upward, forcing her hips to shift a few degrees further back - her knees clenching around the sheets as you're met with no give - Hyewon's resistance through a dark smile, and her grip slackened in her hands, despite you keeping a fist wound tight in the hair on the back of her head, tightening the other around her restraint.

Her throat flinches: this shudder.

She takes a couple heaving, open-mouthed breaths, before she has it in her to glare at you again.

"Harder-" The way her mouth shapes around the word gets the better of you - cute little cupid's bow in pink, full and swollen and pursed up as if in pain. Or desire. Or both, the way her head is tipped back, hair half undone - an idea is already coiling at the back of your mind. "-until I can't stand."

"Or talk?"

And when your hand loosens on her wrists, her posture slumps like it's relief, that you're finally going to move along in a direction she's getting some satisfaction from -

Hyewon shakes her head in a moment that's almost blissed.

"You," her voice breaks on the tail end, "fucking wish you could shut me up that easily -"

In a motion almost gentle, you twist the length of hair down around her, from her scalp to her jaw, and wrap it around a hand. "Let's see if you'll change your mind, shall we."

There's a sharp draw of air in past her lips, just one sound, not a word. No proper rebuttal. She bites down, teeth clicking.

So you pull.

And this isn't some revelation, that Hyewon's cunt is heaven. Slick and tight, the fit around your cock and the gasp escaping the base of her throat - that isn't new. You've been here countless times, fucked her past her breaking point, beyond what should reasonably satisfy her or satisfy you, but that still doesn't take away from this incredible, heady rush that pulses through your entire body. It never stops getting better, not inch-after-fucking-inch the way you're bottoming out inside Hyewon's body and feel how hard the rest of her muscles tense up in the contact, how her pussy tightens and quivers, and grips around the entirety of your cock, the briefest taste of pleasure and release before it's pulled back just out of her reach - overstimulated, until Hyewon cries out.

You expect, predict the fight, the whimpers that spill out of her mouth with every slap of your skin and the breathless way she begs, pleads, like she'd rather her pride take it from her than have your fingers tug her hair up, right out of her scalp, with your arm locked around her lower waist. With your cock pumping faster, faster and a pressure, hot and inescapable, right there - the friction building - the slippery-wet heat sliding along your shaft with every stroke until you bottom out and her next exhale is a sob.

A goddamn fucking sob and the warm gush of liquid down her thighs - all on you. You fingers are pressed into her ass, pulling onto you, steading her bounce - and Hyewon finds her breathing uneven, as you smear wet across the curve of her backside, rubbing circles into her lower back as you catch up on the rhythm she'd lost.

"This tight little cunt, huh," you tease, and she nods so desperately it seems like she might snap. Like she might cry again and this time for real, a drop of her eye color past the blush, streaking down her cheek. You have the wherewithal to remember your character, your blocking, your lines: "this is what your husband won't do? Won't fuck you on every piece of furniture until you're a ruined fucked-out mess? Doesn't have the decency to work over his little slutty-wife until she's passed out, dripping with cum?"

Hyewon's fingers curl up into two balls of white knuckles and she chokes on her reply. "He won't."

"Tell him. He has a hot and dirty little piece of ass right under his own roof-"

"You think," and the string of words trails off when you manage to grind in, at this angle that has her reeling, trembling at every shift and jerk in momentum. Your knuckles drag against her soft and giving curves, almost gripping at her in the attempt to hold her down on you. "-my husband isn't enough."

"Well you wanted me to fuck the domestic housewife out of you," you murmur, taking two greedy handfuls of the ass bouncing in your lap, rubbing your palms along her hips, up and around the shape of her abdomen and her ribcage like you'd map it, memorize it. She wants this, you know this: your palms come around and over and brush your thumbs against her rising gooseflesh - she's putty in your hands. "No strings attached, remember, a one night kind of thing-"

"My husband loves me."

"Then it seems-"

"He makes me cum with his hands alone."

Your jaw works tight - Hyewon's cunt feels as good wrapped around you as she says your cock feels making a mess of it.

"Tells me he'd die happy hearing me moan his name."

"Oh, because no matter where he goes," you say, fingers wrapping under and around the back of her neck, forcing her to look you in the eye, "no matter what, your sweet cunt's the only one his mouth is ever watering for, isn't that right-"

A blink, lashes thick and feathering down and over the pools of her pupils as you have a hold of her tight. 

You're having a hard time with this, and you want to give it to her, the toe-curling-crescendo that would see her cumming at your will, or worse, losing the plot completely and your entire setup falling away from the charade of characters you'd both conjured. But she looks at you like she's never loved anyone like she loves you, the naked, barefaced devotion, the tenderness - a quick breath, a second - and the game is suddenly something far more personal, a truth. It isn't exactly fair: how your heart stutters. How much her heartbeat makes your pulse flutter, the electrifying rush you get when you fuck roughly up into her tight, wet cunt and make her bite down on nothing in the throes another orgasm.

You barely have a second to think of something coherent, let alone an out before she kisses you. If that isn’t totally disarming. So you move her into the next, flipping her onto her stomach, and she does nothing to fight back: Hyewon just lies there - the side of her face plastered to the comforter - exhausted, and gives a willing, malleable moan at the contact where your hand digs into the shape of her upper thighs, spreading them out as her elbows struggle behind her back.

"Here, baby," you say, finally unwinding the silk knot between her wrists, "I'll have you like the little desperate fucktoy you really are."

There's the bite to her bottom lip, the whole five seconds it takes for her hands to spread out and twist her fingers tight in the bedspread, before she whines - full-throated - and rocks back onto her toes to arch her back.

(See, the thing: Hyewon likes being fucked within an inch of her life. On all fours and pleading for more.)

With your free hand, you reach around her to run over her inner thighs.

Hyewon brings her grip to the bottom of the bed frame, for purchase, or leverage, you don't know, and in one simple motion, you slip your cock back deep inside her pussy.

You curse under your breath.

Hyewon fucking collapses.

It's a dangerous combination, having her begging and you nearly fully clothed while she's wearing barely more than this thin strip of black silk around her waist and a stocking on one leg, but you can't help it - she looks good this way.

"Fuck," she spits out, voice lost when your hips find hers in this wet, sloppy crash of skin that gets louder, faster and more punishing on each beat. "Like that, oh my God-"

Her whimpering only gets worse - when you start only pulling out halfway, until she's gasping like she can't breathe. You think there isn't a more wonderful, more obscene, more gorgeous thing than Hyewon spread out in front of you - the curve of her spine defining each and every one of the lines, dips, and rises of her body - and you would thank God or some higher deity right about now.

It’s fuck and please and every other little pliant utterance of “fuck my brains out, use me, make me beg, I'm so turned on right now I'll let you fuck me anyway you want - harder, faster, I can do whatever, just show me how, make me, push and fuck me hard until I'm raw and aching - god - like this, let me cum, please, let me - keep fucking going, oh my god, please, like this, fuck, just like this-"

You do thank God, actually - there's mirrors everywhere in this room, and you can catch the circular swing of her tits every time you force a curse and a sigh out of her: the bared teeth and the effort to push herself back on her arms, bracing for every thrust, fighting and fumbling to keep her balance and to make sure you have to pound her into the mattress until her cries reach a pitch.

Then, the thing you'd learned she'd never ask for but oh-so-dearly-wanted - you open your palm and bring it down hard on her backside. The impact of your flesh to hers, a crack, a moan and her whole body flexes - and it's then you do it again: matching the hit to the visible red outline of your handprint. The third time, she hisses, biting into the bed sheets so as not to cry out.

"Right? This is what you want? To be fucked and used?"

She doesn't reply with words, because she may in fact be biting her teeth into the cotton threadcount at the end of the bed, but she lifts her ass higher, angles her hips like she's waiting for more. Her brow is creased in a smile, even though a frustrated groan escapes her lips - so you give her that again, and again, until the back of her thighs are turning red and she's clawing one hand back along the length of your legs - pushing and pulling.

"You want me to fuck you senseless, sweetheart?"

And then, so needy and desperate she's just saying the first word that come to mind:

"More-"

"-when I've been railing into you so hard and your husband probably knows already, has to have seen, maybe he's listening at the door- oh," and your whole train of thought comes to a sudden halt upon seeing Hyewon's hand land on the perfect round of her ass, fingers pulling her soft, reddening skin taut, up and away from where your cock is disappearing between her cheeks - to allow more of your shaft into her hot, wet cunt - allow you to fuck her and fuck her up - allow the length of your shaft to slide deeper and hit all the spots that will send her reeling into this orgasm and the next.

Your gaze is stuck however, not to her curves rippling in excess, the damage of your thrusts pounding her body to ruin, or the look of flawless pleasure twisting up the pretty features of Hyewon's reflection, but instead it's the fucking flash and catch of the diamond that adorns her fourth finger. Even when you have her completely helpless, bent on your mercy, she's still wearing that promise, that intention to have and to hold, and you think, for at least a second, this whole roleplay thing isn't the worst idea: being a surrogate to fulfill someone's wildest fantasies. It might even be enough to make you hard all over again - the thrill and the debasement of your girl, lines quickly blurring between the Hyewon you'll take home and put back together and the Hyewon you're fucking pouding into a mattress - the here and now.

"Fuck, Hyewon," you find yourself swearing - steadying the hips rolling back in your palms, bending down until the flat of your chest meets her back, until your nose is in her hair, the long strands sticking to her lips and the back of her ears. Until you feel her shaking as you suckle against her skin, at her neck, hot kisses between the shoulder blades, finding a grip in her hands. Her grip in yours - as she's muffling these exquisite, needy sounds; she is perfect. Hyewon is perfect.

The first time you cum, it's this hot splatter of white: smeared across her ass and the crease of her lower back. It feels almost dirty to think that's just how you feel about it; your heart is stuttering in its erratic pace, but your eyes are drawn and enraptured, the sight of it all.

Then second, maybe your favorite: when she slips her hand to your aching shaft and simply takes you back inside her. This soft, wet, inviting heat that pulls you back to her.

"God- please," her head tips back, you feel the arch of her back through her ribs and stomach, the way her breath catches as you slide your cock through her creamed-out-cunt so much harder and smoother. "It feels so fucking good, baby," and there are tears now, welling in the corner of her eyes, "don't stop, God don't ever stop-"

She can barely finish her sentence before she's cut off, a moan ripped from the bottom of her lungs and a gasp straight from the pain-pleasure that has your balls slapping against her pussy every other stroke. And suddenly she's sitting, or rather, squirming into your arms, her face buried in your shoulders as she starts riding you, and not-quite crying and saying again - again, the whole filthy lot of things: about her wanting you to fill her, to plug her up with your cock. Every thrust she whines in your ears, clutching onto the fabric of your shirt and making a mess of herself in you.

It's this wild and reckless thing that makes its way around the room, on every surface and bit of furniture. You fuck her over the counter, let her ride you on the sofa, the chair, the two of you managing to find some sort of assistance in the wall even, the door frame, her legs up your sides and the slippery-sticky-heat of your mouths connecting and everything that isn't exactly meant to support that kind of strain buckling and nearly giving way - once when the wooden joints in the door-frame shift, once when she begs for release in that frantic voice that doesn't sound a thing like her. And the way she comes apart under you after, on top of you - is even sweeter; you imagine there's this endless possibility for love, for pleasure, a whole world in bundled in the notion that you could do it for her again, that it was always a question of Hyewon letting you have her that way, and the rest was mere foreplay - a stretch.

Only, on the bed again, Hyewon shivers beneath you, this full-body response, and you've got her stretched as she opens up - that the slightest of movements has her already whimpering out "fuck," and "please," and "right there," and "fuck you're going to make me come like this. You're so good, just fucking," and "more, harder, please, you feel so fucking good-"

The desperation for release is so palpable in her that it's curling into your stomach as your press Hyewon's knees into the points and edges of her shoulders and fold in her half - this perfect angle of leverage. Fucking her like she's yours and no one else's - the absolute delight of her cunt, wet, hot, and desperate to milk you empty - her body quaking at the force of each thrust, and the hungry grind of your hips into hers. Her fingers digging and knotting in the sheets around you until her knuckles pale, and your own grasp on her skin threatens to bruise.

"Inside me," she gasps out, because she can feel that edge just as well as you, "I want you to fill me, just cum inside, God, you always feel so amazing, fuck, like that, cum inside me, cum in me-"

"How could I say no, especially when you ask so sweetly," you tell her, kissing into her smile, "can you take another? Baby, look at me, look into my eyes, yeah? Look right back at me."

Her eyes blink and roll back a bit, almost losing focus and her eyelashes flutter - the creases in her brow, the elegant lines of her face locking up in the overwhelming tension, then, a peak.

And a demand, meekly asking you to fill her up. Until there's nothing left. "Cum," Hyewon moans, "for the love of fuck-"

You push her past her climax until she's practically weeping, sobbing through a litany of nonsense and slurred, unfinished sentences and almost howls, struggling beneath your weight and coaxing her fingers over the surge at the base of your spine. Before a hot liquid mess bursts out of you, into the deepest reach of Hyewon's throbbing cunt - cumming inside her, while you hold her down, not allowing her to move as your hips lock and you're both left groaning in utter agony.

(This was the thing you'd told her once - cumming inside her was almost always worth the effort it took to clean it all back out. You like the possessive aspect of it, maybe the slight humiliation, and more than anything, she'll just melt: once she's gone past the immediate discomfort. If anyone could really learn to get off on feeling a little filthy, it's the two of you. And she knows that too, Hyewon's eager little pout intimates, as she blinks down to watch where the two of you connect.)

You don't say much for the next while. If there's a line where this particular escapade blends back into your normal life, where the Hyewon curled up in the sheets is your own girl and not some half-conceived entity that didn't fit the reality of the rest of the evening, or how you see Hyewon everyday, even then, it’s not clear.

She's utterly boneless - this fragile, dazed thing that runs her palms all the way around her breasts and pulls up her stockings a little further up the line of her hips, as if you weren't going to peel them back and slip them all the way off when you had the wherewithal to handle it. But the strength in her isn't entirely lost either, she looks ready to burst: this air of pride and smugness - victory, right in her grin, which isn't totally surprising. Hyewon usually gets an odd satisfaction out of your participation in whatever hedonistic or obscene thing it is she wants to try.

This was her fantasy - maybe not a deeply rooted or unattainable one, but she'd worked out some kinks of hers and has walked away a far better woman for it, knowing what a sight she is to you. Like this.

"That was... fun," Hyewon eventually says, collecting articles of clothing strewn about the room.

Her shoes are one of two sets in the shoe-rack, but she'll have to look around and under the bed to find her dress. It would probably be some strange level of easy to play dumb and wait until she comes to the conclusion on her own that she should bend down and check down there, but she looks a little too worn out to really be interested in her clothes, more like, ready for the next part.

"We should do it again," her gaze lands, intent, and serious, back to you.

"Which part?" you have to ask, because you're probably still, a little slow on the uptake.

A small laugh, the sly smirk to herself; she knows she has you wrapped so perfectly around her finger, ready to bend to whatever game she can come up with: "whichever part you like."

[mistywaves98]

I read your rules but I hope that I am not passing any boundaries! Can I request for gamer! Scara who's getting sucked off/fingering reader while playing his game? It's totally okay if you don't want!

Quick-ish little thing because I'm in the mood to write

✧･ﾟ:* ->Gamer! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Blowjob (in the beginning), Oral(m.receiving), Scara is rough, Cockwarming, Implications of Breeding, Pet names (doll), Slight degradation (slut), Exhibitionism?(he makes you wear his headphones unmuted while you sit on his dick)!

You wished you weren't so eager to suck your boyfriend off while played video games. Scaramouche's gaming capabilities weren't to be underestimated, with it nearing the third hour since he got on call to play cod with his friends. And three hours since you were put on your knees with his cock in your mouth.

Your jaw was sore and your knees hurt after digging into the coarse carpet beneath you for so long. You weren't even allowed to move or do anything whilst his dick was in your mouth. Any attempts to pull yourself off of him was met with a hand sharply pushing your head back down, making the tip hit the back of your throat, triggering your gag reflex as your eyes watered. Your only purpose was to sit there and cockwarm him till he was done. Maybe it helps him focus more?

Suddenly, you hear him curse and bang his fist on the desk, he must've died. You already know what this means as his hand reaches down and grabs your hair in a painful grip, making your scalp burn. Your body tenses as he begins to move you back and forth, fucking your throat as a way to relieve his irritation and stress of losing. He leans back in his chair to look down at you, lips twitching upward as he sees how you're struggling to take his aggressive behavior.

"Aww, what's the matter? Had enough of my dick in your mouth? Want a break?" He lets go for a moment, giving you some time to respond. You nod your head early, looking up at him with teary eyes, voice hoarse and strained,"Y-yes... Please, let me have a break..." Scaramouche reaches down and pulls you up to sit on his lap. His cock pressed against your clothed entrance beneath your skirt, and his eyes narrow as he feels the dampness accumulated there.

"What's this? For someone who's begging for me to stop, you're utterly soaked. Just begging to be fucked dumb on my cock, aren't you, doll?" He coos at you in a mocking voice, a hand coming up to trace a path along your jawline to the ring of your lips before prying them apart to admire your now sore throat. Then he grabs your hips and begins moving them in slow circles, making you grind on his dick as jolts of pleasure go up and down your spine.

Your hands come up to grasp his shoulders, holding tightly as your teeth dig into your lower lip. You're all too aware of the limited proximity between you and his microphone. Scaramouche sees how you're trying to hold back your noises in fear of them being broadcasted to the whole server and he grins devilishly as he takes the headphones off and slips them onto your head, the mic right by your mouth,"Oh doll, you have no idea how cute you look wearing my headphones... Even more so when you try not to moan."

In one swift motion, his fingers nudge your panties to the side, allowing his cock to be buried deep within your walls with a wet squelch. The sudden intrusion makes a whine escape your lips, back arching and shoulders tensing as you hide your face in his chest. He chuckles at your reaction, rubbing soothing circles on your ass before picking up his controller,"Fucking hell, you're so tight— Can already feel that sweet cunt clenching around me... Now be doll and sit prettily f'me while I play another round." Scaramouche says in a falsely assuring tone, making sure to unmute his microphone as he starts another match.

You're forced to cockwarm his dick to his heart's content, focused on trying not to move so that you don't make noise, the threat of his unmuted mic hanging over your head. At one point you attempt to remove it, but a sudden sharp jerk of his hips effectively halts your movements. The action elicits a choked moan from you, making you smack a hand over your mouth in horror, face burning with embarrassment. The voices of his friends fill your ears, questions directed at your boyfriend asking what the fuck that noise was.

He simply dismisses them, giving brief responses that leave them suspicious as to what their companion could be up to. After what feels like forever, Scaramouche finally tells his friends that he was logging off for the day. Relief fills your mind as he puts down the controller and turns off the computer, but it's short lived as he grabs your chin to make you look at him. His eyes rove over your flustered and pouty expression, pussy aching and needy for some attention after being stretched out by his cock for so long.

"Well look at you, been keeping my dick warm for barely an hour and you're already looking like a desperate slut..." Scaramouche snides as he grabs your hips and begins to move you up and down his length with unnatural strength. Whimpers and moans of pleasure fall from your agape mouth as he uses you as a fleshlight, the feeling of his tip nudging your sweet spot making your eyes roll back. Your boyfriend absolutely adores the sight, the fact you're still wearing his headphones making it look ten times hotter.

"Shit, I could cum just from the sight of you alone, doll.. Lookin' so fucking hot as I bounce you on my dick like a toy... You bet your ass I'm gonna fill you up till there's no way you aren't gonna get knocked up."

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You felt exhausted and unappealing at the start of your third trimester, but according to your husband, you were still perfect. Just as you solve one problem for your friend, you inadvertently cause another one for yourself.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Bradley eating pussy, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

As nice as your second trimester had been, as soon as it ended, you were exhausted all the time. And you were once again starting to feel nauseous every morning. Maybe your mom was right and you needed to eat more than random foods dipped in hot sauce sporadically all day long. Your belly was also starting to change from a cute bump to a tender, oversized monster. When you mentioned it to Bradley, he scoffed. 

"Don't call my Nugget a monster."

"I'm not talking about the baby!" you said as you started to get dressed for work in your maternity tent, gesturing at your body. "But there's a lot going on here."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted as he pulled a clean flight suit from the closet, eyeing you up and down. "There sure is. You look fantastic."

"I feel tired. And gross," you told him as you got dressed.

"That's just the hideous uniform talking. You didn't feel gross last night when we were snuggling. And you certainly didn't look gross."

You wanted to agree with him, but you were in a bad mood. The attic still wasn't finished even though your contractor, Bradley Ross, was at your house so frequently, it felt like he had moved in. And your parents would be here in four days. And your house still wasn't decorated for the holiday. And the only gifts you managed to buy were matching pink tropical shirts for Bradley and the baby to wear next summer. 

Your husband zipped up his flight suit and made his way around the bed to where you were standing. "Would you feel better if I picked up dinner on my way home so you don't have to cook?"

"Probably," you muttered, trying not to smile.

He kissed your forehead and gave you his most innocent looking gaze as his fingers grazed your belly. "And after that, I'll eat your pussy until my jaw locks up and you're in tears from too many orgasms?"

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you could say, "Please."

"Then it's a date, Baby Girl," he said before kissing you on the lips, leaving you to chase him for another feel of his rough mustache before you let him leave for his early flight time. "I love you and the Nugget!" he called from the hallway.

"We love you, too!"

Five minutes after he left, you were still getting ready for work. In fact, when your doorbell rang and Tramp went running through the living room, you were still buttoning your tent shirt. "I'm coming," you called out, already knowing it was your contractor. When you pulled the door open, your shirt was buttoned mostly correctly, and you told him, "I'm just about to head out."

"Okay," he replied, taking you in before you stepped aside for him. It didn't matter what your husband said, you were a bit of a hot mess right now. And that reminded you that you needed a little bit of hot sauce before you left for work.

"Do you need anything from me?" you asked Bradley Ross, and his gaze dipped down to your horrible uniform.

"Not at all," he replied, turning toward the stairs. "Enjoy your day."

You parted ways and headed for the kitchen, and you realized your shirt was even worse than you anticipated. You had to unbutton and rebutton the whole thing while your bread was in the toaster. When it came out nice and crunchy, you dipped it into a dish of hot sauce and ate it in four bites.

"It's so fucking good," you moaned at Tramp before scooping him some breakfast. "No hot sauce for you. Just for the human baby," you told him, holding your hand near your belly button as Rose started doing her somersaults. "You're up late this morning," you told her, deciding you better stop in the bathroom one more time before you even attempted the short drive to work with her bouncing on your bladder.

As soon as you were done and walked back through your bedroom, you eyed your bed longingly. "No," you told it, turning away from temptation and walking out to your red Bronco in the driveway. You backed out past the other Bradley's truck and drove to base.

You were already hungry again by the time you got there. When you turned the corner to your office, you found Maria standing next to your door. "Are you waiting for me?" you asked, and her gaze snapped up to yours. "I'm surprised you're here this early with Bob blowing your back out twenty-four hours a day." Tears filled her eyes instantly, and you rushed toward her. "Oh my god, Maria, what's wrong?"

She let you pull her into an awkward hug with your belly in the way, and she sobbed instead of responding with words, so you let her cry. She had been preoccupied at brunch with you and Cam, but she definitely hadn't been like this at all. If anything, she'd seemed like she was lost in a dream world with her French toast the other day.

She sniffed and managed to whisper, "Bob's being deployed for some special mission. He just texted me. He's leaving the day after Christmas."

"Oh," you gasped, rubbing her back as she cried. This would be the first time her boyfriend was deployed since they started hooking up a few months ago. They would be fine. You knew they would. But you recalled all too easily what it was like when Bradley was gone when you and he were first dating. It made you feel sick to recall the feelings of self doubt and uncertainty, especially now that your daughter would be arriving in three months.

You were about to tell Maria that Bob's deployment would feel terrible but wouldn't last forever when she said, "I have to break up with him."

"Pardon?" you asked, completely thrown by what she said. "I thought you were in love with him."

"I am," she cried as you finally unlocked your door with her clinging to you and managed to get her inside. "But I can't tell him that now. We've been taking things a little slower after taking things really fast right after he moved in."

You were trying your best to piece everything together, but it just wasn't all fitting in your mind. "That's good," you said gently. "So why would you have to dump him? You love him, and he'd be coming back to you and the apartment when he gets home?"

She looked at you and shook her head. "I can't expect him to go months and months without having sex. We do it like at least once a day," she whispered as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Maybe he'd agree to take a break? I don't know. But I can't get upset when he wants to hook up with someone else on the aircraft carrier."

You felt like your eyes were going to bug out. "Maria, I really don't think you should be hasty here."

She just shrugged in your arms before pulling away from you and wiping at her tears. "You're so lucky you have Bradley." She left you standing there, unsure what to say.

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

All of the holiday decorations had Bradley a little stressed out. Some of his neighbors had lights on the palm trees in their yards, and there was even a tree inside the guard house. He could remember very little about his dad, but Bradley could remember everything his mom did until he died. For the life of him, the one thing that escaped him was how she made even the most basic things feel magical.

She must have done it effortlessly, because he never took the time to look behind the proverbial curtain to see how it was done. There were always presents under their little Christmas tree even though he realized after she was gone that it must have been a struggle. And now Bradley wasn't sure how he was going to do the same when it all just seemed so stressful.

He snorted as he made his way across the tarmac to the tower. All you said you wanted for Christmas was a babymoon trip and a million orgasms. But you could have asked him for either of those on any day, and he would have given them to you. He needed to find something else for you, too.

"Are you having a baby shower?"

Bradley looked up to find his best friend was looking at him as soon as he walked into the rec room to get a drink. "Good morning to you, too," he said, reaching past her into the refrigerator. 

"You need to have one, okay?" she said. "Your wife will like it."

Bradley felt a little more anxious, because he was going to have to admit he was clueless when it came to this topic as well. "Isn't that something her mom should do?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "That's a lot for her mom to handle when she lives on the other side of the country."

He cleared his throat. "Well, what do you even know about baby showers?"

"More than you," she said easily. "Which is why I'll take care of it."

Bradley sighed in relief. "You're not going to give me a hard time about this?"

"Of course not. When have I ever done that sort of thing?"

"Literally since the first time I met you," he muttered as she walked away. But he knew he had nothing to worry about; Nat would make sure you had exactly what you wanted or needed in any scenario.

A minute later, when he got called out to the tarmac, he found his best friend wrapping Bob up in a hug. While he wasn't invited into the conversation, he could hear the dreaded word 'deployment' as he walked past on his way to his jet, leaving him to assume Bob got a notification this morning. Poor Bob, but at least it wasn't him for once.

When he took to the air, Bradley immediately felt a bit calmer. He would figure out how to take care of everything with you by his side. He would make things special for Rosie in his own way. He could share all the things with her that he loved about his mom.

But the thing that calmed Bradley down most of all was arriving in the cafeteria for lunch in time to see you. "Sweetheart!" he called out, cutting in front of Jake and Javy to get to you faster. You had a burrito bowl in one hand and a bunch of little packets of hot sauce in the other, and you still looked cute in your tent uniform. Your face lit up when you saw him, and even though he reeked of jet fuel, you let him give you a hug.

"Do you know where Bob is?" you asked after you kissed him on the cheek. "He and I need to have a conversation."

Bradley ran his hand along your belly, hoping to feel a little thump from the Nugget. "I think he's been notified about a deployment," Bradley muttered.

"I know he has," you replied with strong annoyance in your tone. "Oh, there he is," you said, looking past Bradley. "Excuse me, Roo." You kissed him and added, "I love you, but I need to take care of this. I'll see you at home later when you're going down on me?"

Bradley nearly choked as he muttered, "Okay," while Jake and Javy clearly tried to hide their surprised and amused laughter.

You hurried off in Bob's direction as Javy said, "Nobody better try to call Rooster tonight."

"Silence your cell phone," Jake said, clapping Bradley on the back while he blushed. "Eat your lunch but save room for dinner."

"Fuck," Bradley grumbled, walking away from them as they laughed. Just for that, he'd make sure he was on his A game at home. He'd also have to remind you that your voice tends to carry when you're annoyed.

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

You set your lunch down across from Bob at one of the small tables with only two seats. He smiled as you slid into the chair opposite him, and he greeted you by name. Then he cleared his throat and asked, "You're not sitting with Bradley today?"

You followed his gaze to where your husband was sitting with Nat and Mickey. "Nope. I wanted to sit with you."

"Okay," he replied, still smiling. "But I'm actually waiting for Maria?"

"She's not coming."

His smile started to fade. "She's not?"

"She's not," you confirmed. "She told me you're getting deployed soon." When he nodded, you asked, "Do you like having a girlfriend?"

His smile was back. "I like having Maria as my girlfriend."

You were shaking your head as you started emptying packet after packet of green hot sauce onto your lunch. "And are you planning on sleeping around while you're gone?"

"No." His voice sounded hoarse, and his face went pale.

"Glad to hear that," you told him as you rammed your fork into your burrito bowl.

"Why would you think I'd want to do that?" he asked, leaning a little closer to you, his brow creased in concern.

"I'm not the one thinking it. You better ask yourself why Maria might think you'd want to do that."

Bob's eyes went wide even as he blushed bright pink. "I don't know... I thought she knew how happy I am. I told her she makes me crazy... I said... I s-said I want to go at it all the time now. I've never been with someone like her." You shoved a bite of food into your mouth and chewed it up while he processed his words. "Wait... does she think I'm like obsessed with getting laid? Because I'm certain I'm just obsessed with her."

You nodded as you swallowed, proud of him for piecing it together so quickly. "Seems that way. You have about a week to put in some legwork if you don't want her to break up with you." In an instant, you were left with Bob's abandoned tray as your only lunch companion, and when he didn't return, you ate his breadsticks and baked pasta.

This was turning out to be the longest day imaginable, and when you finally climbed into your Bronco to head home, you were yawning. Then when you pulled into the driveway, not only was your Bradley not home yet, the other Bradley was still working. You grumbled as you made your way inside, where he was hammering something upstairs; you couldn't even start taking your horrible uniform off in the living room after you opted to wear it home today to get here faster.

When you let Tramp out of the laundry room and sent him to the backyard, you were fighting the urge to take your shirt off and walk through the house topless with every fiber of your being. You made it to your bedroom before tearing it from your body along with your uniform pants. You eyed the bed. You were tired enough to get in and stay there, but you wanted your reward for making it through the day.

"Takeout and head," you whispered, nodding in the mirror with a grin. You turned from side to side, examining your belly and your breasts. Rose was moving a lot today, so much so that you almost noticed it more when she took a break. And your boobs did look pretty nice. You took your bra off and added it to the laundry pile, and that's when your husband walked in.

"I brought pizza, Sweetheart," he said before his lips parted in soft surprise. "You trying to get started without me?" he groaned, reaching for his belt.

You bit your lip, and shook your head. "Do you think we should wait until the other Bradley leaves?" you asked, earning a devilish smirk from your husband.

"Didn't stop us last week when we had sex in the laundry room while he was working. And it didn't stop you from sucking my cock while he was here the week before." You squeaked as he smacked you on the butt and whispered, "You promised me I could have your pussy the second I got home."

"Did I?" you asked, climbing onto the bed, and he was right there with you, hovering over your body as you stretched out. When he nodded, you said, "Then I guess it's all yours, Roo."

But that wasn't even where he stopped first, and you shouldn't have been surprised. His lips met the valley between your very perky breasts while he unzipped his pants. Then you watched him rut gently into the bed as he licked and sucked on you. He had some particular fascination with your chest right now, and he was almost reverent in the way he touched you. 

The sounds of hammering and soft music playing from upstairs were really doing it for you. Getting nasty while you weren't quite alone was always enough to get you going, but on top of that, your husband was so turned on by your weird pregnant body. You felt like a queen as he plucked at one nipple and then the other with his lips, leaving your skin damp to the cool air. Your nipples were furled into tight peaks as he whimpered your name. 

"I can't get enough," he murmured, letting his mustache scrape along your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked from the bed as he let his teeth graze your nipple. "Where do you want my mouth?" he asked, meeting your eyes even as his tongue darted out to trace the undersides of your breasts.

"On my pussy," you gasped.

"I can't hear you."

"On my pussy!" you cried out, and he smiled that wicked smile again.

"Now everyone knows," he growled, leaning on his forearms and treating you to the flex of his biceps as he pushed your thighs apart and settled in.

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

Bradley had one perfect tit in each hand and his face buried in your soaking pussy. Each time he thought you were getting close, he lazily kissed along your dainty rooster tattoo and up to your belly. Once he even paused to say hello to his daughter while you dug your heel into his back and begged him incoherently to put his mouth back on your clit. And he did so with a smile. 

Was he rock hard? Yes. Would he love to cum right now? Absolutely. Was he enjoying every second of the way your body felt and tasted? Definitely. Could he wait until he got you off to let himself unload? For sure.

Your tits were getting bigger and more enticing by the day. And your swollen belly was clearly all his doing. He was grinding his cock into the bed as he slid his hands down to your thighs, spreading you a little wider as he licked all around both of your holes until you were whining his name.

"Fuck," he grunted. Bradley Ross had just turned off his radio. That meant he was getting ready to head out for the day, which also meant the hammering had stopped. You were getting loud as hell as Bradley pressed his nose to your clit and lapped up your wetness. He was only concerned for a split second about your volume before he decided to just carry on. It wasn't like the contractor hadn't seen how hot you were with his own two eyes. Nobody could blame a man for getting at his own wife as much as possible, especially one with massive, pregnant tits and the prettiest face imaginable.

"Roo!" you moaned when he wrapped his lips around your clit. "Let me come, Daddy."

You were tired. He could hear it in your voice. The bedding was a little damp from the mess you and he were making, and his jaw truly was starting to ache. When you released the bedding with your left hand, Bradley could see the sparkle of your engagement ring before you dragged your fingers through his hair. 

Okay, now he needed to get off pretty badly, so he slipped two fingers inside you, and as soon as he did, you came. "Damn," he grunted against your clit before circling you with his flat tongue as you rode his hand and yanked his hair. You were riding him as he pushed on the back of your thigh until he couldn't take it any longer.

He barked out your name as he got to his knees and thrust his cock inside your overstimulated pussy as you were coming down from your orgasm, and that just made you come for him a little more as you shook your head back and forth on the pillow. One more deep thrust, and he came too, with his hands on your tits and sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

When you opened your eyes, you had the most serene look on your face. Bradley kissed the tip of your nose as he pulled his cock free and grunted. "You know, the guys heard your little pussy eating comment at lunch today."

"Oops," you giggled, running your fingers softly over your tits as he stood up and started fixing his clothing. 

"I got roasted for it all afternoon." But he was all smiles, because he really wouldn't have it any other way. "Come out and get some cold pizza when you're ready. I'm going to see how it's coming along upstairs."

You just nodded, and Bradley took one more look at the messy creampie he gave you before vanishing out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. The Craftsman smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, and he was really hoping the project would be completed in the next few days so your parents could sleep up there during their stay. Otherwise he might have to gag you during sexual activities, and he was only half joking in his mind.

Bradley Ross was carrying a paint can and some rollers down the stairs, heading right for the front door. "Have a good night," he called out, barely pausing to get through the door. Perhaps he'd heard your beautiful chorus of moaning. Didn't matter, but Bradley had hoped to ask him how much longer he thought the project would be. Instead he climbed the stairs to investigate for himself.

It looked incredible, and it seemed like a lot had been accomplished today. Two bedrooms of identical size were both primed and ready for paint. The hardwood flooring looked perfect, and the new windows were letting so much natural light in. The bathroom wasn't large, but it did have a tub and a single sink vanity, and the tiles you picked out looked pretty.

He shut all the lights off and headed back down to the kitchen where you were wearing a pair of his underwear with a maternity tank top, dunking a slice of pizza in some hot sauce. "How's it looking?" you asked. He knew you were talking about the attic, but he couldn't help himself as he grabbed a slice from the box.

"It's looking sexy and pregnant and like it just had an orgasm." You burst into laughter as he added, "The project upstairs looks good, too."

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

Later that week, you got a vague text from Bradley letting you know that he'd be late getting home from work. You were expecting maybe he'd be home around six or seven, just in time to help you wrap the presents you ordered for your parents, but he didn't get home until almost eight, long after Bradley Ross left for the day. 

He was quiet and looked contemplative when he walked in. "Hi," you called out from where you were sitting on the couch, and he finally met your gaze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He made his way over to you. "Mav just wanted to chat. Is there any pizza left?"

He kissed you before heading to the kitchen, and you stared after him. "Of course there's no pizza left. I'm pregnant. And are you being weird on purpose? Why are you three hours late getting home?"

You watched as he started to pour a bowl of cereal in silence, and you weren't sure if he was even listening to you. When you made your way into the kitchen, he finally said, "There's a potential job opportunity. Remember when I filled in for a few days here and there as an instructor?" When you nodded he took a bite of cereal before continuing. "Mav seems to think I could do more of that type of shit."

Your eyes went wide at the prospect of fewer deployments for him. "That might be a good opportunity," you told him, still unsure exactly where he stood on the topic.

He just shrugged and said, "It's certainly something to think about, Sweetheart. Wouldn't really be happening until a few months from now, but I'm going to keep the conversation going with Mav."

It was then that you realized he looked exhausted. "Want to take a shower with me? I could wash your hair."

Your husband moaned softly and set his empty bowl in the sink. "Hell yes. Absolutely."

Within three minutes, you had your hands coated in shampoo, and you were working them through his thick hair while he felt around your belly, hoping to feel the baby kick. "I feel like I barely got to spend any time with her this week," he whispered with a pout. "Where's my Nugget?"

You felt her give a little thump, as if she knew he was right there waiting for her. You quickly placed his hand a little higher, and he sighed in contentment. "Hey, Rose. Daddy's tired. Can we all snuggle in bed soon?" She seemed to squirm in response. "Your grandparents are coming to visit tomorrow."

"And the attic conversion should be done tomorrow, too," you told him. "That's what the other Bradley said when he was leaving today."

"Amazing. Merry Christmas to us."

You practically tucked him into bed as soon as he was dried off, but he kept reaching for you to join him. "I need to let Tramp out. I'll be right back." You walked through the kitchen and past the refrigerator which was covered in ultrasound photos. Then you straightened up a little bit while Tramp ran around the yard. By the time you got back to the bedroom, Bradley had fallen asleep with the Nugget Notebook open on his chest and a pen in his hand. You took a peek to see what he had written.

Hey, Rosie. It's almost Christmas. I'm not really good at celebrating holidays, but your mom is. Her parents are, too. I'm hoping I'll kind of figure this whole thing out once you get here. I'm thinking you'll make everything more fresh and fun for your old man. We can get better at things together.

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

You were more than ready for a few days off. When you left work on December twenty-first, you reminded Cat that you planned on dropping off some gifts for Jeremiah over the weekend. When you got to the parking garage, you saw Maria and Bob making out next to his truck. He had her hands pinned above her head, and she was all smiles. You felt immediately better.

You knew the plan for the evening, and so did Bradley. Your parents were landing in San Diego at 6:15, and you assured them that you'd be there to pick them up. When you got home from work, Bradley Ross was finishing some details upstairs, and you were delighted by what you saw when you went to have a look.

"It's perfect," you gushed, looking around the space. The one bedroom was almost ready for your mom and dad. Someone would just need to make the bed later. The bathroom was shiny and bright and lovely, ready to be used. The second bedroom still had some wet paint, but you planned on just closing that door for a few days. "Let me write you a check for the balance," you told your contractor when he was about ready to leave. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

After you wrote out the check, you waited for both Bradleys while you dipped some grapes in hot sauce. It was almost time to leave for the airport, and you still needed to change out of your uniform tent. You undid the top few buttons and played with your necklace charms, and as soon as Bradley Ross walked downstairs with the rest of his supplies, you rushed his way.

"Here's what we owe you. Thanks again for squeezing us into your schedule so close to the holidays."

"I hope you are happy with the outcome for many years to come," he told you with a smile.

"It looks so good, I'll definitely refer my friends to you for any projects in the future."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

You didn't bother correcting him when he didn't use your hyphenated last name, because as soon as he walked outside, you had your shirt off and you were rushing toward your bedroom. But as soon as you passed your mirror on your bra on the way to the closet, you paused and smiled. Your husband would love a little treat in his text messages; it had been ages since you sent him something dirty.

You snapped a photo of your boobs as they were hugged by the black lace. Then you took your bra off, covering your nipples with your hand and forearm before snapping another. Then you removed your arm and took one last picture of your breasts complete with tightly furled nipples. You expected that your husband would run into the house begging for a quickie before heading to the airport. The thought of his flushed cheeks and raspy voice made you giggle as you attached the photos and texted them away.

His hyperfixation was so fun for you right now, and you started to wonder if he was going to be as excited by your boobs after the baby was born. Would he be interested in the breastfeeding process?

"Hey, Baby Girl."

You turned toward the doorway as you straightened your sports bra and pulled an oversized shirt on. "Hi," you said, trying to play coy, but just grinning wildly instead.

"You ready to go get your mom and dad?"

"Yeah... almost. You looked down at his gym shorts where you could see the outline of his phone in his pocket. You pouted a bit when you had to ask, "Did you like the photos I texted to you?"

His brow furrowed as he patted his pocket. "What photos?"

You sighed. "The ones I sent like five minutes ago."

You watched as he unlocked his phone and started to shake his head. "I don't have any messages from you since lunchtime. What was it?"

"Thee pictures of my massive tits," you told him as you reached for his phone. But when you checked, they definitely weren't there. "Maybe I didn't tap send?" you murmured picking your phone up from the bed.

Bradley's arms wrapped around you from behind, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he whispered, "Can't wait to see them for myself." But you froze and tried to shake him off as your stomach lurched.

"Oh no. No no no no no!"

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

You handed him your phone and covered your eyes as you started to panic. Apparently you hadn't tapped on Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3 in your contacts. After you started typing his name, you must have accidentally selected Bradley Ross as the recipient. "Bradley! I sent them to the other Bradley!"

His eyes bugged out as he saw the photos in the message for himself. "You sent our contractor pictures of your tits!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" you shrieked. "They were for you! What are we supposed to do now?!"

He pocketed both phones, heaved a deep, exhausted sigh and muttered, "I'm going to have nothing but fucking gray hair after this, I swear to god." Then he rushed from the room and you followed him long enough to watch him grab his keys and run out to his Bronco.

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

Checking in with Maria and Bob was dramatic. Like damn. At least BG got to eat his lunch. And now we have the great Bradley mix-up to contend with. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[pomefioredove]

heyyy! i really love your writing🥹🥹 btw can i request a hc with riddle and jamil (separated) with gn!reader who’s very lazy and they have a test and only study the morning before the test? but somehow pass?? i wanna see their reaction

anyway sorry if i made any mistakes, this is my very first request and english is not my first language😔 it’s fine if you can’t do it!!

-🎲

no worries! this is a great request, their reactions would be very funny

summary: reader miraculously passes a test they last-minute studied for type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, jamil additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is not specified to be yuu, reader is gender neutral, not proofread

Jamil knew that it wasn't his place to judge

after all, being raised with the al-Asims, he'd been taught to keep his bitter thoughts to himself

but something about your carelessness reminded him all too much of Kalim

...okay... maybe you weren't exactly partying, or spacing out, but your complete lack of conviction is almost identical

and, so, Jamil decides to give you a word of advice the day before the big exam

"Worried about tomorrow's History of Magic test?"

he even gives you a big smile, trying to play it off as a casual question

you shrug. "Eh, not really,"

"If I were you, I'd be a little more concerned. The grading system is very strict at NRC,"

and with that, he's gone

his sly remark, spoken as if in friendly conversation, leaves him feeling a little more satisfied with himself

he doesn't even feel irked when Kalim nearly sleeps through the test, or when he forgets his notes, or when he absent-mindedly reads the questions aloud during...

in fact, Jamil is quite confident that in any case, you'll do much worse than Kalim, which saves the both of them

after the exam scores are posted in the hall, you find him

"What did you get?"

Jamil hates answering these kinds of questions, especially knowing that he could be in the top of the class if he was allowed to try. "Passing. And you?"

"Well..." you smile. "I really thought about what you said, so I studied this morning."

Jamil's sour mood at his own score seems to lighten

you studied the morning of the exam? oh, this was going to be rich

"...And I got full marks!"

...what.

you show him the paper and it takes all his strength to keep his usual poker face

otherwise, his jaw would drop

"How did... how?"

you shrug. "Good study plan, I guess,"

"Hmph," he crosses his arms. "Well, then... you'll have to come tutor Kalim sometime. What works for you must work for him,"

Riddle spends the entire week pestering you about studying

"I just don't feel like it," you groan

goodness. you sound just like that terrible Floyd...

"It's not a matter of want, it's a matter of need. This exam counts for a significant amount of your grade!"

"Eh... I'll just wing it,"

wing it?! oh, now you've really done it

"Consider yourself lucky for not being a part of Heartslabyul. I would have your head for that!"

and then he storms out. how graceful!

when he sees you the following afternoon, that calm, unbothered look of yours is still on your face. it drives him mad

"If I were you, I'd be praying," he says. he's almost smug about it

Riddle earns full points on every exam- it's just a given. he's sure that the two of you will be on polar opposites of the grade spectrum once the results are posted

you shrug. "Yeah, about that... I thought about what you said, and decided that I don't want to have to retake this class. So I studied this morning,"

he almost smirks. "One last-minute cram won't be enough to raise your grade above failing, I'm afraid. But perhaps this will serve as a lesson, next time you-"

Riddle stops dead in his tracks as Trein posts the exam results on the wall behind you

his eyes widen

"Full... full marks?! We're in the same percent!? How is that possible?!"

You chuckle as his face goes all red, both frustrated and flustered

"Hey, you should count this as a victory for yourself. You give great advice,"

[daisybianca]

pairing: lando norris x femalereader

summary: ruining Lando's live stream is your favorite thing to do when in the mood.

warnings: female masturbation, mention of sexual actions, cursing words

(a/n): lando's recent stream look. I'm unwell.

YOUR HEADPHONES WERE filled with the sweet melody of Taylor Swift's "London Boy" and then you remembered that in the next room of the house you really did have a London Boy waiting for you.

Your boyfriend had one of his usual streams, and it was always your choice to step away from the place where he was doing them and not take part in it. You didn't like the idea of giving fans more content about your relationship than there already was.

By changing the song of the playlist, you settled on something more freaky, like the wreeknd.

Hearing Lando's voice and loud laugh echoing from the next room, you opened the app on your phone and joined his live stream.

Your username was a random name that only Lando recognized.

God, he was so hot.

Messy curly hair, an unbuttoned white t-shirt, and grey plaid pants.

He had heard your wish to let his beard grow long, and you loved every moment of it. Watching the screen intently, listening to his strong accent through the device and from the adjacent wall, you felt your heart flutter loudly. Your jaw nearly hit the floor when you saw from the screen Lando laughing at something and pulling back, spreading his legs widly while bending his head back.

Swallowing, you decided to write a message in the comments that only he would recognize "Turn off the Stream and come over here. Im in the mood."

A few seconds later, he read it. He didn't say anything. He just smiled.

Again, you chose to write the same comment in case he didn't pay much attention to it the first time.

"I'm not shutting down the live. If anyone wants to tell me something, they can come here and tell me themselves."

You smiled and turned off your phone.

Is that how he wanted it? With games?

He asked and shall receive.

You got out of bed, opening your closet and wearing the most revealing and slutty piece of clothing you owned. You also put on a pair of high heels and began to walk slowly towards the next room.

The door was closed so you touched the handle and began to open it gently.

Two beautiful eyes met yours. Then they scanned you from head to toes.

Whatever Lando was trying to tell his viewers was now forever gone.

His jaw closed and he licked his lips. His eyes were on the verge of popping out of their sockets.

Bringing a finger to your lips, you murmued "Shhh."

You felt his eyes follow you as you closed the door and sat comfortably on the couch across from him.

You weren't, of course, visible on the camera. And your boyfriend did his best not to show his viewers the uncomfortable situation he was in. He kept talking, but you were sure he didn't understand what he was saying either.

You stopped looking at him and tried to forget the fact that you had to be discreet because thousands of people were somehow in the room with you.

Spreading your legs, you pushed your warm hand where you wished Lando's was right now.

You immediately shuddered at the very first contact. Twisting your body a little, you gave your boyfriend a better angle of your wet--dripping actually--spot.

His eyes never abandoned you. At one point, you heard him hissing plaid from his breath. "Fuck." His voice made you shudder. "Thats it." He said and closed the live show without saying anything else to his audience.

You stopped the movements and touches on your body and looked at him throwing the headphones on the chair and walking briskly over to you.

That's my boy.

"You want to fucking make me come in front of thousands of people? Huh?" He walked towards you and started unbuttoning his pants. You just smirked and bit your bottom lip. "Acting like a little brat, getting treated like one, right?" He grabbed your neck and forced you to him. After taking one huge taste of your lips, he let you down and removed his white t-shirt. "Open your legs. You're lucky I didn't choose to fuck you live, baby."

[pickingupmymercedes]

Utterly gone - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Can be read as part 2 to A smile like that but it's a piece on its own.

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, oral sex mainly.

Wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +3k

a/n: Wasn't gonna post this, but I think we could all use some soft smutty comfort after the shit show this race was.

a/n.2: Special mention to Lewis adjusting in front of the cameras in the quali press conference

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

The suite was quiet when I finally slipped inside, the faint hum of the almost rising city life seeping in from the balcony. I dropped my bag by the door and kicked off my heels, feeling every ounce of fatigue settle in.

Singapore always did that—drained you without mercy, and yet, it was beautiful enough to make you forgive it.

Lewis had beaten me back to the room, not that it had surprised after hearing he wouldn’t be making the media round.

Sure enough, I found him in the bathroom, leaning his weight on the counter, fresh out of the shower, a towel slung low around his waist.

His skin gleamed under the warm lights, and his face… tired was a understatement— he could probably sleep for a week straight.

Dark circles under his eyes, the slightest furrow to his brow, as he absentmindedly worked his moisturizer into his skin.

God, how was it possible for him to look so good after almost being dehydrated?

I should probably say something snarky. After all, I had asked for a win, and what did I get?

But I knew better in that moment and honestly watching him rub lotion into his skin with those deft, practiced hands—he was so gentle with himself, it was almost unfair how much I melted at the sight of it.

My eyes trailed down his back, appreciating the little flex of muscle every time his hands moved, before finally pushing off from the door and walking toward him.

The whole thing felt so domestic, so… normal. Like this was our routine after every race weekend. Like I wasn’t still getting used to seeing him like this—bare, unguarded, with no cameras or crowds around.

“Hey,” I greeted, leaning against the counter beside him, my hand brushing his skin. He glanced at me through the mirror, a tired smile tugging at his lips.

“Hey, love” he murmured, still focused on his task. I watched the way his fingers traced the lines of his jaw as he applied the cream, and a warmth spread through my chest.

“Not quite what we expected, was it?” I tried, still feeling the mood in the room, my eyes twinkling as I caught his gaze in the mirror.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Guess I owe you a win.”

I gave a mock frown, crossing my arms. “Yeah, you do. But, hey, at least you managed to sneak in that kiss before the race, so maybe I can forgive you.”

He turned to face me now, that infamous grin spreading slowly across his lips. “Couldn’t resist” he said, reaching out to pull me toward him, his arms wrapping around my waist. I let him, his body sinking into me while my body betrayed any pretense of annoyance.

I rolled my eyes. “You know I hate that. Not in front of all the cameras.”

He chuckled again, the sound low and rich, vibrating against my chest. “You liked it, though. Don’t lie.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I quipped, trying to ignore the way his fingers trailed up and down my spine. “But for the record, I also owe you.”

He breathed in almost sighting, leaning in closer, his breath brushing my ear. “I’m knackered, babe.”

I pushed him gently toward the bed, unable to hold back my grin. “Don’t worry, this reward doesn’t require you to lift a single finger.”

I brought the lotion from the counter. Lewis was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slouched, towel still hanging precariously low on his hips.

His eyes tracked my every movement as I made my way over, like he was too tired to speak but too intrigued not to watch.

I stood in front of him, letting the lotion warm in my hands before I gently placed them on his arms. His skin was still damp from the shower, and as I worked the lotion into his forearms, I could feel the exhaustion radiating off him. His muscles, taut and defined, finally relaxing under my touch.

“Thought you said this was my reward,” he muttered, a half-hearted attempt at a banter playing at his lips as he watched me. “Feels more like I’m getting spoiled.”

“Shh,” I said, quirking a brow at him. “Don’t ruin the moment, Hamilton.”

He chuckled softly, but he didn’t argue. Smart man.

I let my hands wander further, rubbing the lotion into his biceps, taking my time. He deserved it.

God knows how much strain he puts his body through during that race, and seeing him like this—vulnerable, letting me take care of him—made my heart do that stupid fluttering thing I still wasn’t used to.

As I moved to his shoulders, massaging the knots and tension out of his neck, he let out a low, contented hum, his head dropping forward just slightly.

“This alright?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer. It was in the way he was practically melting under my hands.

“Mmm,” was all he managed to get out, his eyes fluttering shut as I continued my work.

My hands moved to his chest, spreading the lotion across his smooth skin. His breath hitched, just for a second, as my fingers grazed his collarbone.

God, he was beautiful. I tried to keep my thoughts from spiraling, but it was hard not to admire every inch of him—the way his chest rose and fell beneath my touch, the warmth radiating off his skin.

By the time I got to his abs, his eyes were back on me, half-lidded but focused, watching my every move. I couldn’t help the grin that tugged at my lips.

“You really know how to spoil a man” he murmured, his voice husky.

I shrugged playfully. “I did promise you something, didn’t I?”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, we just stood there, me between his legs, him looking up at me like I was the only thing keeping him grounded.

And maybe I was. At least for that night anyway.

I cupped his face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the light stubble on his jaw. His beard was a little more grown out than usual, and the roughness beneath my fingers made me smile at much we had grown used to each other.

“Whatever this is between us,” I started, my voice quieter now, my heart pounding harder than I cared to admit, “I’m ready for it, if you are.”

His breath caught in his throat, and for a second, I wondered if I’d said too much. But then he smiled—God, that smile—and it was all I needed.

He pulled me down to meet his lips, soft and slow at first, like he was savoring every second.

When we finally broke apart, there was a look in his eyes—something vulnerable, something real—and it made me laugh softly, because Lewis Hamilton, the man who could keep his cool under any amount of pressure, looked like he was trying to make sure he hadn’t just imagined this whole thing.

“You really are unbelievable” I teased, brushing my thumb over his bottom lip.

He gave me that lazy smile and pulled me closer, his voice low, almost reverent. “And you’re mine.”

And in that moment, I knew it was true.

As I knelt between his legs, my fingers trailing along his soft, warm skin, a single thought crossed my mind: How did I get here?

One minute, I was dodging his cheesy messages, and now the man was sitting there, half-asleep, eyes half-lidded, as vulnerable as I had seen him.

And me? I was utterly gone for him.

But, God, he looked so damn good. Even tired, fresh out of the shower, with his braids slightly damp and that towel sitting low on his hips. The way he sat, like he knew he had all the time in the world, like he could wait for me forever.

We were both worn out after the weekend, the clock read 5.a.m and the man had just lost around 3kgs in under two hours. Yet here I was, determined to give him the kind of reward he wouldn't forget.

Because, if I was being honest with myself, I wanted this as much as he did.

His breath hitched as I ran my hand down his abs, my fingers teasingly hovering near the edge of the towel. He shot me a look—half amused, half daring. His smirk was infuriatingly confident, even now.

I could tell he was fighting exhaustion, but there was no way he was going to let me out of this one.

“Don’t tempt me,” he murmured, low and sultry, as though I hadn’t already made up my mind.

I raised an eyebrow, my lips curling into a playful grin. "Oh, I’m not tempting." I let my fingers slip just under the edge of the towel. "I’m delivering."

Before he could get another word in, I tugged the towel loose. It fell open in his lap, and his throat pushed down a gulp as he realized exactly where this was heading.

His breath hitched when my fingers brushed lightly over his soft dick, and I couldn’t help but smirk. “What was that about ‘a heatstroke’ Hamilton?”

He chuckled softly, though it was a little strained, his eyes never leaving mine as I wrapped my hand around him, giving him a gentle squeeze. “Was told to not lift a muscle and be mindful of heavy activities”

“Mm-hmm, don’t worry I’ll take it from here”

As my hand wrapped around his soft dick, I could see the exact moment the cockiness melted off his face. His lips parted, and a shaky breath escaped him as I gave him a slow stroke, feeling him harden in my hand.

My inner voice was screaming with victory. That little smirk? Gone. Reduced to nothing but ragged breaths and soft moans.

I kissed along his length, starting slow, teasing. Because even though I wanted to give him exactly what he craved, I wasn’t about to let him off that easy.

His hips bucked just a little, his eyes fluttered shut for a moment and his lips parting slightly. All reminders of how much he needed this, needed me.

And honestly, I loved every second of it.

My lips grazed his tip, already glistening with pre-cum, and I flicked my tongue against him, tasting him for the first time tonight. The salty-sweetness on my tongue made me hum in satisfaction.

He groaned, his head tilting back as I took him into my mouth, inch by inch, my hand still stroking what my lips couldn’t reach. He was getting harder, thickening in my mouth, and when I peeked up at him, his eyes were half-closed, his face contorted in bliss.

“Fuck, love…” His voice was low and ragged, like he could barely string the words together.

Encouraged by the sound of his pleasure, I picked up the pace, sucking him deeper and harder, my free hand gently massaging his balls.

His breath hitched again, his hips involuntarily thrusting forward, pushing himself further into my throat.

I wasn’t just giving him head; I was savoring him, relishing every reaction he gave me. He wasn’t just a F1 champion right now—he was mine, completely undone by me, and that thought made me chuckle.

His fingers went to back of my neck, his fingers tugging at the soft skin, gently guiding my head as I bobbed up and down on him. His touch wasn’t rough, though—more like he was hanging on for dear life, trying not to lose control.

But I wanted him to lose control. I wanted to be the reason.

It wasn’t long before his body started to tense, his breath coming out in sharp gasps, his grip on my head tightening as I took him deeper, my lips wrapped tightly around his now fully engorged dick.

“Love, I’m—” His voice broke, a guttural moan escaping his lips as I felt his cock pulse in my mouth. And then, with one last thrust, he came.

His warm, slightly fruity-tasting seed spilled into my mouth, and I swallowed him down, feeling the tension leave his body in waves.

I stayed there for a moment, his dick still in my mouth, gently holding him as he came down from the high. When I finally released him, I couldn’t help but leave a soft kiss on the tip, smiling up at him.

For a moment, I just watched him, wondering how I could feel this good about someone else’s pleasure. But it was him. It was Lewis. The man who could make me smile just by walking into a room, the one who posted cheesy Instagram captions just to get a reaction out of me.

His chest was heaving, his head thrown back, and when he finally looked down at me, his expression was somewhere between disbelief and utter satisfaction.

“Jesus” he muttered, still catching his breath.

I wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand before standing up and leaning in to kiss him softly. He kissed me back with lazy, contented strokes of his lips, tasting himself on me.

“You good there, champ?” I teased, brushing my hand on the skin of his thigh.

He let out a weak chuckle as I stood up, leaving Lewis in a blissful haze, he watched me with those half-lidded, dazed eyes, his lips still parted and a silly smile danced on his lips.

“Just need a quick shower,” I said, my voice lighter now, as I brushed a hand over his damp chest. His skin was warm under my fingers, still slick from the lotion, and for a second, I just wanted to crawl into bed with him right then and there.

Lewis chuckled softly, his hand slipping lazily over mine before letting it go. “Take your time, love. Not going anywhere.”

The playful edge in his voice was replaced by something softer, and it made my heart flip. He didn’t need to say it, but I could hear the unspoken words between us: I’m here to stay.

As I disappeared into the bathroom, I let the water run warm, and my mind wandered back to him, sitting there on the bed, probably still recovering.

It felt like the most natural thing in the world, this routine between us—like we’d been doing it for years instead of months.

Under the warm stream, I couldn’t stop grinning like an idiot. My mind couldn’t help but flicker back to yesterday, to that moment in the presser where the world had caught him, not-so-discreetly, adjusting himself in his fireproofs.

I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. Not in a dirty way… okay, maybe a little dirty. But mostly, I couldn’t stop picturing his hands, the way his muscles tensed.

Like he’d hoped no one would notice. Like I hadn’t already memorized every detail about him, including that not-so-little part he was trying to rearrange.

I’d tried to play it cool, ignoring the way the image stuck with me since, but now that I’d just had him falling apart under my hands, it only made the memory that much more satisfying.

The teasing was fun, but the way he trusted me with parts of himself no one else saw—that was something else.

When I stepped out, towel wrapped around me, I found him exactly where I’d left him.

Only this time, he’d shifted to the middle of the bed, his head resting on the plush pillows, the towel from earlier discarded somewhere, and the duvet pulled over his waist.

He looked so at peace, the kind of peace you only find after you've completely let go. His eyes fluttered open as I crossed the room.

“You know,” I said, sliding into bed beside him, “I wasn’t planning on making you that blissed out.”

He chuckled, his hand immediately finding my waist, pulling me closer. “Didn’t hear any complaints from me.”

I laughed softly, snuggling up to him as his arm wrapped securely around me. My hand found its place on his chest, where I began tracing lazy circles against his skin, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breaths beneath my fingertips.

It was quiet for a moment, the kind of comfortable silence where nothing needed to be said.

The world outside didn’t matter. The race result didn’t matter.

It was just us, tangled together in a king-sized bed, far away from the noise of the race, the cameras, the expectations. It felt like we were in our own little bubble, and I didn’t want it to pop.

As his head found its way to my lap, his hair tickling my thighs, I continued my absent-minded tracing on his skin, enjoying the closeness.

His body started to relax even more, sinking into me like he was using me as a pillow.

And then, just when I thought he’d drift off completely, he murmured, his voice thick with sleep, “That was better than a podium.”

I blinked, momentarily confused. “Wait… the head?”

He let out a soft chuckle, his lips curling into a sleepy smile. “Nah, love. Having you here… as mine. That’s what’s better.”

My breath hitched, and for a second, I wasn’t sure how to respond.

My heart did that stupid thing where it felt too big for my chest, and all I could do was smile like an idiot.

The man could win championships, sure. But moments like this? When it was just us, no pretense, no show—this is where he truly wins me over.

I looked down at him, his eyes closed already, lashes brushing his cheeks, and I brushed a soft kiss to his forehead.

“Mhm…” he muttered, already half-asleep. “Love you too.”

And just like that, I was a goner. The words weren’t even fully processed in my mind, but my heart knew.

It always had.

I didn’t even need to say them back. Not yet. He knew. And he’d wait, just like he always did.

As he drifted off, his breathing slow and even, I felt a warmth settle in my chest. I could’ve sworn he was smiling, even in his sleep.

And yeah, maybe I had fallen hard for him, but if this was what it felt like? I wasn’t in any rush to stop.

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