#imagine traveling with him for a while then you leave and come back to this scene

[pricegouge]

an increase of interest and sweet, encouraging asks and also these posts (i, ii) have led me to do the unthinkable: write a little extracurricular for haul, can you even believe it?

went in a bit of a different direction here. i've gotten a lot of asks about past victims and while i don't really wanna get too bogged down in the specifics of their time with the boys, i thought it might be fun to see how different price is from simon when he's hunting so. here's a different doll not knowing what's good for her.

cw: prostitution, coercion, kidnapping. implied murder. unedited cause i'm freaking out to be touching this again lmao. MDNI

You know something's wrong with him. Beyond the pale, beyond the knowledge you could never introduce him to your mother. That you're used to, well-versed at. It's something worse, something unsettling. something that clings to you long after he leaves, the very cells he sheds infecting, spreading.

Within and without.

You'll be like on of his soon if you're not careful - that pack of rabid dogs that follow him. It disturbs you, how easily you can see yourself among them sometimes, glinting eyes and too-sharp teeth. One more desert predator, runt of the pack and yet a par of it.

Better never to know. Better to leave it like this - small doses. Better to let him fuck you in a truck stop shower so you can scrub yourself clean after, pretend you remain unchanged by him. Ignore all the evidence suggesting otherwise, the undeniable ache and the trail of come he always leaves to trickle down your thigh.

You should know better, but it's hard to remember when his thick cock is driving up into you in one slow drag, splitting you open cruelly just to hear you cry about it.

He like them, your tears. Too much, probably, but you like the drag of his tongue on your cheek too, hot even in the tepid spray of hard water. You feel the rough scrape of his beard at your temple and wonder - is he actually infectious, or were you always predisposed? Was this something you were always capable of? Letting a customer add your services to their tab? Take you out back with their to-go bags and their travel-sized toiletries? You like to think nit, like to blame John and that strange quality of his, the way he can somehow manage to make you feel less-than and wanted for it all at once, sells you some unspoken promise of betterment if you just play along.

You sweat you know better, but you've said that before. It's how you wind up back here, always back here, his bulging bicep wrapped around your throat as he grunts in your ear.

He's pressed against your back as closely as he can be, so tight you imagine the runoff can't even slip between you. But that can't be right because he's slick against you, streams of soap finding their way down your spine through the follicles of his thick chest hair, coating your skin to let him work against you in slick, slow grinds. You can feel his belly settled against the small of your back, forcing you to arch your spine just so, let him fuck in deep to the very end of you, cock head leaking against your cervix.

He'd asked you if you were on some sort of contraceptive once, much too late for it to have mattered. You'd told yourself you wouldn't take his money again when you'd caught the look of disappointment on his face, but you'd told yourself a lot of things.

It's hard to feel shame, in the moment, at least. And maybe that's the worst part - the fact that you ache for him when he's away. Empty, hungry. But if there's something wrong with him that means there's something wrong with you, right? That means the long nights spent with your fingers stuffed in your cunt just wishing for something thicker are just as bad as this: bellied up against a dirty shower stall with a strange man's cock buried so deep inside you you're sure it'll take this time, that seed of doubt that makes you want to climb in his truck when he inevitable offers. Why settle for lot lizard when you could just be his?

Of course, he never phrases it like that, never admits he'll keep you. And maybe he won't but he'd take you Arkansas, maybe, where his plates are from. North, where he's headed tonight perhaps. Usually you see him returning form out West and you wonder… He doesn't have to keep you. You don't need to hear him say it. Cause whatever's wrong with him, it's catching.

But he doesn't ask, not when he's still panting like a bellows in your ear, rocking his hips against you aimlessly as he works you both through it. He doesn't ask when he slips free and immediately cups his callused palm against your cunt, groaning when he feels his own spend leaking onto his hand. He certainly doesn't ask when he makes you lick it clean, salt and the heavy tang of grease which Irish Springs will never fully cut through. You think maybe he'll ask when he goes to shove the money in your hand, as is his usual. But he doesn't, so you do, your own stomach acid boiling up your esophagus as you try (and fail) to keep the desperate edge out of your voice.

And John, well. You did know there was something wrong with him.

"What's is to you?" he grunts, hand snapping back out of your reach when you go to take the proffered money.

"But… you said -?"

"Know what I said. Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothes, a balm for the fear you hadn't even been able to voice. "Just… maybe it'll look different now?"

"How do you mean?" you hedge, and John steps closer, blots out the flickering overhead light. Behind him, the door to the shower room opens and rapidly closes, the soft pad of boots treading back down the hall confirming your would-be voyeur had wanted nothing to do with this scene.

At least your reputation remained undamaged.

"I mean. I'll keep you fed. Clothed. Keep you out of the elements. You really gonna make me pay on top of all that?"

"Oh," you wilt. "I guess not."

John's eyes crinkle when he grins at you encouragingly, that same deceptively endearing quality that had first drawn you to him all those months ago. He pulls you against himself, lets you bask in the warmth of his soft, furry chest as he continues to soothe your fears. "But don't worry, not gonna let you put yourself in a bind, hm? You still got something saved from my last visit, yeah? And if you ever need some more, we'll find you some work." He swats you on the ass before you can protest, leaning away to collect his flannel. "Now get dressed. Running behind schedule and I'm already gonna have to skip a stop in Oakley."

"That why you didn't take the time to stretch me open properly?" you ask, cheeky - testing your boundaries. You're pleasantly surprised when he just huffs a laugh, leans close to grown in your ear about how he'll never have to stretch you open again.

It's surreal following him out, ducking behind his broad frame to let him weather the stare of the would-be voyeur. John doesn't flinch so neither do you, head back to your post behind the till with the same confidence you've seen among his boys. A runt still maybe, but part of the pack now.

"Where're you off to?" John asks when he sees you slinking off in the wrong direction. You wait until the other driver disappears down the hall to unlock the register, grinning at your partner as you lift a few hundred from it.

"I know what 'some work' means," you say by way of explanation, and frown when it fails to earn any sign of chastisement.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, love," John warns instead, eyes rolling warily to the overhead security camera.

You wave him off, a loose fiver fluttering free of your fist. "Take this," you order, shoving the hills into his chest. More spill free but the ducks to collect them as you pull up the feed on the laptop behind the counter. "Retired truckers don't know much about security," you impart wisely.

"That so?" he drawls, voice rich with a humor you don't quite understand.

"Yeah, word to the wise - always have a live feed backed up to a separate, private location." to illustrate the importance of this, you cut the feed and then proceed to delete all evidence of the night's recording. It won't stop Roy, the owner, from knowing who's shift if was but it would keep John safe from all but that other driver who apparently already knew enough to keep his head down any way.

When you peel yourself away from the screen, John's eyeing you with a sort of appreciation that makes your tummy flip, a low simmer of excitement building just there, just where you feel him most when he's inside you. Infecting. Spreading. "Clever doll, you are," he praises as you step back around the counter. He hands you your loot back, now properly shuffled into a neat stack. "I'll have to remember that. Now go on out to your car and get what you need. I'll just be a minute, he says, nodding to a display of beef jerky like there's nothing of more value to him in the whole store.

It seems to take him forever deciding, but when he comes back the other trucker still hasn't left.

[ccaptain]

   ' ━Ah, so that's your brand new hiding place. '

   A pair of familiar, inadvisable shoes seemingly materializes out of thin air. There's a grin on the man's face as he bends down to eye level, red hues exploring the hiding space his stray snuck in and slowly turning on the side of incredulous concern.

   ' How in the hell did ya managed to get in here? You're taller than me, and almost as bulk, too! Only someone like Brother Hanu could get cramped in here, and even he... '

   They both know how. the Enigma doesn't answer him, limiting himself into quietly staring at his adoptive father as the playfulness in his voice disappears.

   ' One of these days, huh? ' A sigh. ' Come on- scoot over, 'm coming in. '

   There's a long pause. Kaeya doesn't move- but he resumes speaking, a tad on the side of incredulous.

   ' Dad... It's too big for both of us, We'll both be stuck if you come in. '

   ' That so? ' The man named Gallagher sighs with relief, chuckling in the same breath. ' Right. Would have been worth a shot, though- look who's speaking again. '

   It rips a chuckle out of him, for the way it always works- his dad is never afraid to do something scandalously funny to shock him out of overthinking. This includes trying to reach for him in a small, battered metal closet.

   Sometimes, it's just a thing that needs to be done.

   There's a can of something similiar to SoulGlad in violet-hued fingers, the comfortable silence, and his father's leg pressed against his as they sit with their backs on the wall. 

   A drop of condensation comes in contact with his thumb, unfelt. This is where Enigma breaks the silence.

   ' Dad... '

   He hesitates, a million questions in his mind. He picks the closest one, reels the others in.

   ' This feeling of emptiness... when will it stop? I thought it was going to go away on his own, but it never did. Never does. '

   There's an awry sound coming from his side. ' Hard to say, ' he starts, the movement that turns his face into a small grimace of sympathy. ' 'm kinda afraid that you put yourself into a bad situation, kid. '

   ' I did? '

   ' Yup. This... ' He gestures at Kaeya entirely, careful, ' avatar that you took, the one you told me belongs to your friend... you're really not supposed to do that. Take his looks, I mean- it just makes everything more complicated than it needs to be. Adds a whole lot of weight where there shouldn't be. Kinda jumbles everything that should be simple... ' 

   His dad trails off, irises taking on the looks of his stray without the irony shining in his eyes.

   ' You still haven't told me why ya picked him, out of all traits you could have taken. Of the amalgamate you coulda been. '

   No- no, he has not. The reason only makes sense in his brain, only tie together when Kaeya Alberich has been in the life of someone for a while. And Kaeya Alberich never got to know his father at all.

   His mouth opens, words lost. Impostor closes it, opens it again, shakes his head almost helplessly, the faint buzz of confusion starting behind his eyes before a warm hand ruffles his hair, stays in place over mussled cobalt locks.

   ' Don't sweat it, ' the man that is his father tells him, a lopsided grin on his face. ' As long as it makes sense to you, it's alright. You gotta solve this emptiness thing yourself- I can't help you much, here. '

   A few pats on his dusty behind, and his dad is up and going again. Kaeya shakes his head at the hand being offered to him, signaling that he'd like to be alone and in here a little longer.

   ' You gotta be glad we have a lotta time to think about stuff, no? 'is the last thing he tells Kaeya before he's out, leaving a wink and the bark of a laughter behind.

   and a cold can of soda, untouched.

   The hut is empty. There's nobody else but him, and the unheartly silence of the abandoned planet hs picked as his residence.

   Kaeya's digits follow the jagged edges of his newest wound, a gaping hole where pale diamond should be. The skin has been broken like porcelaine, long cobalt strands trying to hide the lack of eye and the emptiness where skull and human gore should be.

   Gray materia floats around his head, trying to recompose him and shoo his fingers, foreign, cold objects, away from the problem. But the wound is fresh, terribly big, and the effort requires an addictional component to speed up the healing factor. 

   The surviving eye is as faulty as the one he took from Kaeya Alberich: all he sees are shadows dancing out of his reach, the blurry, darkened form of the table, the chairs, the kitchenette and the items he so loves to decorate having become hostile obstacles he has to avoid.

   In the corner of the main room, there are two big tanks of the liquid coming from the Misty Sea- it's what he needs to fix the missing side of his head.

   It's what he needs. A few steps ahead, and he'll close his digits around the neck of one. Feel around the tab in the bathub, plug it in, and pour.

   Simple actions to restore himself.

   But he thinks. And thinks. And he can't do this.

   He can't do this.

   He just can't do this.

   He can't move. 

   But he has to.

   The next minutes, perhaps hours, perhaps days, are a blur. All he knows is that, when he comes to some sort of consciousness again, his fingers are still tight around the plastic neck of a much lighter tank, the smell of the restoring liquid is right under his nose. His location seems to have changed.

   Kaeya doesn't remember doing all this. All that he knows is that the ceramic of the bathub is so wonderfully cold and grounding against his warm, cracked skin, and he doesn't want to move. He has no will to, but something in his body has reacted to try and make him fix himself.

   But he can't do it. His legs feel like lead, like cement.

   He can't do it.

   He wants to.

   But he just can't do it.

   Triumph and progress feeds people with some sort of frenzy, an injection of adrenaline putting them on top of the world, wanting to shout to look at them! They can accomplish ANYTHING!

   But he isn't a person. It makes sense that the little energy he had after completing his mission has oozed out of him from the gaping wound.

   An injury won't kill him- simply slow him down. His dad and mentor said that he has all the time in the world to do what he needs and wants to do, figure out when the emptiness ends.

   Today, it doesn't. It presses him against the cold surface, and he's happy to allow his heavy body to surrender, letting his warmth disperse over it.

   He can stay like this for a bit. He did what he had to do, and now it's time for him to give in to exhaustion. Just for a little bit of time, just for a small nap.

   With the part of his forehead that can still feel, Kaeya curls against the side of cold marble, and lets his eyelid fall shut over the mocking of shadows dancing just out of his reach.

   Maybe the emptiness never goes away. But I can rest for a bit... just for a little bit... and then I'll be good to go.

   Just for a little bit...

[ozzgin]

Just read your arranged marriage kidnapped by a most post and the humor in the servants always thinking reader is in peril. The same going for monster hubby (He just thinks they're submissive and breedable)

Like none of them realize they are a moster fucker cause they hide it so well. Like just imagining reader be like "oh be gentle with me I'm a dainty maiden" and then giving him the night of his life is hilarious. Or them having dinner and the servants feel bad for them cause monster hubby is eating human meat but their just thinking about other things he can use his tongue on.

Or maybe someone comes to rescue them from the terrible monster finally. But they don't wanna leave and instead fight the knight off. The knight thinks they've been brainwashed or something. Meanwhile the servants think the knight just wasn't good enough to rescue them.

Content: gender neutral reader, monster romance, NSFW! [Part 1] | [More Monsters]

The servants are not blind by any means: they can tell, quite plainly, that their monstrous Lord has a soft spot for you. Not only that, but the beast nearly worships you! They've come up with many theories, the latest one involving witchcraft. Surely you must have some sort of magical trickery under your sleeve in order to subdue their Master. There's no other way around it. All previous humans have been devoured, or have died in a pitiful attempt to escape, terrified to the bone upon gazing at his blasphemous Majesty.

You can't blame them. It's probably better for everyone involved if you omit the fact that your source of witchcraft lies in your...genitals. Well, not just that, of course. Your husband had started to lose hope. His appreciation of humans never came to fruition before your arrival. He was expecting you to cower in fear, not throw yourself at him.

He wondered if you wanted something from him in return, but no one could possibly pretend so flawlessly: the way you clung to him unprompted. The way you hungrily took him in, tears welling in your eyes, refusing to let go until you could feel his load avalanching down your throat. The way you'd trap his hips with your legs, despite being weak and feverish, asking that he doesn't stop yet. If that wasn't proof enough, your whines and moans were loud and clear. To think he could have his own little human, one who isn't repulsed by his monstrous form. He would've been content with mere tolerance, yet someone who begged to be fucked by him? He's been delirious ever since.

He loves everything about you, naturally, but he can't deny the shameless addiction he's now developed towards your body. He'd pound you anywhere and anytime if he could. If he needs to leave for official matters, know that the return will burn in the back of his mind.

"An important date, Sir?" one traveling servant will ask, glancing at all the scribbles in the calendar.

"Indeed", he answers solemnly. It's the times when he can finally fuck you dumb.

While the servants worry about their devilish Master being put under leash, for the other fellow humans the opposite seems to be true. You recall your last "rescuing" attempt distinctly. During one of your evening walks, burly, foreign arms swept you off in an instant. Before you knew it, you were holding onto the armored shoulders of an unknown man, as he made his way out of the traditional garden.

"I'll get you out of here", he promised between heaving breaths.

You stared in confusion. What was he saving you from? A good dicking? No matter how much you explained that you do actually like your newly appointed husband, the hero wouldn't budge.

You ended up just walking back home when the man fell asleep.

"That was quite the long walk", your monster partner remarked, polishing his weapons.

"Oh no, I was kidnapped", you state casually. "Got us some fruits on the way back."

Would it have been better to lie about it? On one hand, you do feel terrible for whoever attempted to retrieve you from the claws of the tyrant. Your husband is very possessive, and you know he'll scorch the Earth until that treacherous pest is gutted and fed to the pigs.

On the other hand...he becomes particularly savage after such incidents. You won't be able to sit properly for the next few weeks, but it's worth it.

Tough luck, you tell yourself, lounging in bed with a satisfied smirk and torn apart hole.

[eufezco]

LIKE THE FIRST TIME

it has been a long time since you and logan had sex. you should show him that despite everything he hated about himself, you still craved him.

logan x afab!reader (smut, angst) + no use of y/n. english isn't my first language (!). gif credit to @/asgardswinter

it was a shitty place where you were living with logan. it was always dirty, no matter how many times you cleaned it, it was noisy, because despite being in the middle of nowhere, the train tracks were very close to it, and it was the least home-like thing in the world. both of you were working your asses off to get out of there as soon as possible.

in your free time, you helped caliban with the housework and took care of old charles xavier while logan spent the whole day out, driving and having to deal with one of the things he hated most in the world, people.

he always came home late, tired, with his whole body aching. some nights you would fall asleep while waiting for him and even though logan asked you to do it, to not to wait up for him, most times you stayed up so just to make sure he arrived safely. you waited for him curled up in bed. when he was a minute late, your heart began to beat faster and you imagined the worst. but then he would come into the room, dragging his feet and with his head bowed down.

—how was your day?

logan grunted as he sat at the foot of your bed, you felt how the mattress sagged with his weight.

—did something happen?

you crawled to him and rested your chin on his shoulder. he let out a sigh of relief when your arms wrapped around his body and you hugged him from the back.

—just a tired fuckin' day, that's all.

you hummed, understanding. —well, now you are home so you can finally relax. would you like something to eat?

logan shook his head as he let it fall back and rest on your shoulder. he just wanted to stay like that a little longer with his body between your legs and his eyes closed. he placed one of his hands over yours resting on his stomach as you hugged him. one of his big hands was enough to cover both of yours.

—i've missed you, lo. i always miss you when you are away.

you placed a kiss on his neck. the first thing he did when he entered the house was to get rid of his shirt, keeping only the white tank top he was wearing underneath. his broad shoulders were at your disposal, his muscular arms and warm skin as well.

logan swallowed when he felt your lips on his neck. you noticed so you placed another kiss there.

—i miss you too. every second i spend away from you, i miss you.

you hummed, your heart gave a small jump of joy. while your love language was words of affirmation and you were always reminding him how much he was loved by you, logan was more of an act of service man. removing makeup from your face when you got home and were too tired to do it yourself, washing your hair and massaging your head when you showered, and leaving your coffee ready when he went to work earlier than you. hearing those words come out of logan's mouth meant the whole world.

your hands traveled down his abdomen until they reached the hem of his tshirt and easily slipped under the fabric. you felt his perfect abs under your fingertips and the hairs growing below his belly button as well. he took a deep breath, it had been so long since the last time he had allowed you to touch him like that.

you took your hands out of his tshirt and moved one of them to his neck to make logan turn his head resting on your shoulder and look at you. you connected your lips with his, his bushy beard pricked your face as you kissed him, but you didn't mind, it had been so long since you and logan had kissed so passionately that you could take it.

your tongue slipped past his lips and logan moaned, allowing his to go inside your mouth as well. you moved on the bed, putting one leg on each side of logan's body and sitting on his lap, all this without stopping kissing for a second. his hands now rested on your lower back, yours were on the back of his head to deepen the kiss.

his cock got rock hard the moment you sat on his thighs and you started to roll your hips timidly against his crotch. you felt his growing bulge rubbing against your clit through the thin fabric of your underwear. god, how bad you needed to feel him.

your hands slid down from his neck, caressing his entire torso, until they reached again the hem of his tshirt. you tried to pull the white tank top over his head, but logan stopped you. his lips parted from yours and he shook his head.

—it's okay. i want you, logan. i promise everything is fine.

you held his cheeks so he would look you in the eyes.

he was getting old, there was nothing left of the young and charming boy you met at charles' academy. his body had changed, his hair and beard were becoming whiter every day, and you were still young and full of light while he was fading away. yet you still loved and desired him, like the first day you craved his body. you found him just as hot, even hotter now, but you didn't want to force him to do something he wasn't going to enjoy.

you kissed him so he could stop worrying. —let me take care of you. i want you, lo, i need to feel you —.you mumbled against his lips. he let out a grunt when he felt you pressing your pussy harder on his bulge.

your hands traveled the same path down his chest one more time until you reached the edge of his tshirt again. you expected him to take your hands off him again but he not only allowed you to keep going but he also lifted his arms so you could pull the white tank top over his head.

—fuck —. you let out in a mix of moan and gasp. his body was breathtaking. your hands were quickly attached to his chest, hairy, hard under your touch, warm, with each of its muscles perfectly defined. abs, pecs, perfect broad and muscular shoulders, and wide strong arms, with veins running from his shoulder down his arms to the back of his hands. you ran your fingers along the thick scars that marked his body. —fuck, you're so hot.

with his hands on your back, logan gently pushed you to keep rubbing yourself against him and you moaned, he was harder if possible and you were so wet that you knew that your panties would be completely soaked. you kissed the crook of his neck while his fists clenched, clutching at the tshirt of his that you were wearing as your pajamas. logan fought against his instinct, against the animalistic way you were making him feel, but his grip became so tight that he ended up ripping the fabric.

—it was one of your favorite tshirts.

—don't care.

and logan kissed your lips as he ended up tearing the fabric completely and threw it on the floor. you grabbed the back of his head when his lips moved down your neck and collarbone. your nipples were already painfully hard when logan cupped one of your tits and wrapped his mouth around your sensitive bud.

all of a sudden you got up from his lap and he had to let your nipple go. he was worried about the way you had moved away from him, had he done something wrong?

now you were standing in the middle of the room, in front of him, only wearing your panties. your body was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever witnessed, with scars very similar to his, with all those things you hated about yourself. was that how you felt about him? if it had not been for the pain in his whole body he would have fallen off the bed on his knees in front of you.

he huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes once you started swaying your hips from side to side while you slid your underwear down your legs. you laughed too, you felt stupid, but at least you had managed to make him smile. you two weren't the type to do those things, things were always more animalistic, more passionate, rougher. you walked towards him and leaned in to kiss him as your hands worked on the zipper of his jeans.

—you're beautiful —. he whispered.

logan helped you to straddle him again. you held your body over his thanks to your knees on the bed. with one hand you grabbed his hard cock resting impatiently against his stomach. he gasped because of your firm grip and squeezed your hips when you lined it up against your aching entrance.

you lowered yourself just enough for his tip to go in. he let out a deep grunt straight from his chest, you let out all the air you had in your lungs in a moan. you never forgot how big he was, the thickness of his cock, the patch of hair on its base, and the veins running along his shaft, but you did forget about the way it stretched you open, about the sting that his dick going deeper inside you caused.

—careful —. logan mumbled against your lips.

you kept taking him, closing your eyes shut and biting your lower lip, hissing every time you took a centimeter more inside of you. you rested your forehead against his and whined when his cock finally bottomed you. —i need a moment.

logan nodded. one of your hands sneaked in between your bodies and found your clit while his hands lovingly caressed your back. it had been so long since you had sex. logan wouldn't let you touch him, he was disgusted by his own body and he was afraid that you would see him the way he saw himself. that's why that night you decided that you would make him feel so good that he would never doubt the way you felt about him or his body.

you started by slowly rolling your hips as your fingers worked on your clit. his jaw tightened while he felt your body moving with his whole cock inside. his big hands on your hips helped you to move, setting a pace and keeping you from going faster so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

—that's it, take your time —. he said. young logan wouldn't have given you a second to get used to it, he would have fucked you mercilessly and you would have loved every second of it. but now, his eyes were focused on where your bodies became one, enjoying how your pussy adjusted to his size thanks to your fingers rubbing your clit.

he moaned once you lifted your body just a little and then dropped back onto him. you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed his lips while you repeated that same move again and again. your cries and his moans mixed in your mouths. all his body jerked every time you lifted yourself a bit more and then sucked his cock completely inside you again.

—you make me feel so good, logan. always have, fuck—. you purred in his ear. his hands, previously resting on your hips, slid all the way to your ass your hands and squeezed it. in those little details you could see how he was gaining confidence, which encouraged you to keep moving without changing your pace. it was slow, passionate, intense and intimate.

between moans and cries, you kept worshiping him, telling him how much you had missed feeling him inside you, how your fingers were no comparison to his cock, how you didn't want to share these moments with anyone other than him. there was no one like him. you didn't care about his scars, his moodiness, the gray of his hair, there would never be another one for you but logan, you did not want another one.

you were close, he could feel it in the way your walls were squeezing his cock and he knew he wouldn't last longer. logan wrapped his arms around your body, pressing you against his hard chest, and your fingers knotted into his hair. he groaned, your little jumps became irregular, your legs began to shake. logan hugged you tighter and sunk his teeth into your shoulder, getting a little choked cry from you.

—cum inside me, lo. fill me up, please, i need it. let me have it, please.

oh god, your words were driving him insane and after how well you had treated him, who was he to deny your wishes?

logan held your body down on his cock as he came, hugging you tighter against him. you buried your head into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin while your legs shook and your pussy clenched around him. it was too much. as he released himself inside you, his claws came out and trapped you between them and logan's body, you had no escape. he groaned when he felt the pain of the adamantium ripping the skin off his knuckles mixed with all the pleasure of cumming inside you.

—shit —. he immediately put the claws away when he realized. —i haven't hurt you, have i?

you shook your head, still coming down from your high. he exhaled with relief. once you had caught your breath, you straightened your back, still sitting on his lap and feeling his cock getting soft inside you. you brought his hands to the front.

—are you okay? that probably hurt —. you caressed his knuckles.

—felt too good to even think about it.

you smiled proudly and kissed him. when you broke away, he noticed the mark of his teeth on the skin of your shoulder. —'m so sorry, fuck.

—don't be. i wish you had bitten me harder.

he shook his head, keeping himself from laughing. —you're a freak.

[tbaluver]

caught wet handed!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader, caleb x fem! reader summary: they caught you touching yourself requested by: @xylanhio, @batatahahaha, + 3 others anons ( mssged them priv ! ) tags: will be listed below each name special thank you to my beta readers mwah mwah: @ilovemitsuya, @justwinginglife ₊˚⊹ ᰔ a/n: hihi my luvs! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i apologize that this took so long to write i hope you all enjoy reading and i added an extra bonus at the end for each one hehe! thank you for your patience and lmk what you think mwah! (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

tags: female masturbation ( humping his pillow ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader getting eaten out

You had a rough day, frustration was just an understatement. Your teammates were uncooperative, your boss insufferable, the food at home was the last thing you wanted, and to top it all off, Xavier wouldn’t be home until later.

Dragging yourself to your shared bedroom, you slip into more comfortable clothes before collapsing into bed with a huff. You roll over to look at the empty spot beside you where he usually sleeps, pulling his pillow closer and hugging it for comfort. You breathe in the scent of your lover, the familiar smell instantly comforting you. You nuzzle your head deeper into his pillow, wishing it were him instead. 

Checking your phone for any updates on when he’ll be back home and if he could grab food on the way. You lower the pillow slightly to have a better view of your phone, pressing the pillow between your thighs and mindlessly rocking your hips. The more you rock your hips, the more it feels good and the more heat travels down to your core.

Your cunt throbs desperately for more friction as you rub yourself against the plush of his pillow, slipping your fingers down to your heat to tease yourself. The arousal pooling in your panties remind you of the night you both went round after round, minutes turning to hours of getting stuffed with his hot, creamy cum. That night leaving you both sticky and wet. You moan breathlessly riding his pillow to match the pace from your memory making the bed shake from how hard you rub against it.

It was no doubt his pillow was nowhere near what he’s given you. He would be so deep inside you, your wetness perfectly coating his entire thick base of his cock. 

You ran your fingers across your hardened nipples as you imagine Xavier sucking and placing sloppy wet kisses against the back of your neck, huffing out shallow breaths that send chills down your spine. He was so greedy that night for finding deeper angles in you, his cock exploring every part of your pussy with ease. His hands grip tightly on your hips as he thrusts in and out of you relentlessly, chasing his orgasm with you again.

Your hips glide effortlessly against his pillow, fast and faster until you feel the grip on his pillow slip away from your grasp. A soft whine escapes your lips, frustrated from the emptiness in between your legs. You flutter your eyes open to find Xavier standing beside you, staring down at his pillow, specifically the wet patch from your arousal. “Don’t you think this is unfair?” 

Immediately heat floods your cheeks as you quickly avert your gaze and scoot back to your side of the bed. Before you can explain, he climbs up in front of you, his hands grasping your legs, drawing you closer. “You should use me instead.” His eyes burn with hunger as he glares into you.

Bonus For Xavier:

The moment he walked into your shared bedroom, it took him a second to realize what was happening in front of him. Your eyes close shut while he listens to the pretty sounds that slip past your lips, your hips moving effortlessly against the pillow- his pillow. He loves to hear you and see you come undone but not to his pillow. With quick strides, he rips the pillow out of your arms, thinking of burning all of his pillows or maybe just keeping this pillow with the wet patch of your arousal on it.

Xavier is always greedy and selfish when it comes to you. He wants you all to himself and he only wants to give you pleasure, nothing else. The moment he tugs your panties down and sees the mess between your legs, he immediately burries his head in, making sure no more drops are wasted. He loves to be between your legs, kneading your thighs while his warm tongue eases all your tension away. His pretty blue eyes looking up at you occasionally to take note of your reaction, his long eyelashes fluttering as he sucked on your clit.

You don’t remember how many rounds he’s gone for but your body felt mushy and boneless, completely forgetting about your worries and frustrations that happened today. He made such lewd noises as he sucked and slurped your cum again and again into his mouth as if it were water, his tongue devoted to every single drop you’ve given him. The noises you made only spurred him on, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he held you down.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your hands digging into the sheets of the bed while your back arched. He groans into your cunt, the sound sending vibrations deep inside your weeping cunt as you cream all over his face again. He holds your trembling body tightly, making sure to not waste all the juices gush out of you. “One more time?” 

Zayne:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), fem! reader receiving fingering

Recently Zayne’s schedule has become unpredictable lately. His pager would buzz at the most inconvenient times, during your meals or when he was just about to settle in next to you for bed. You could see the apologetic look on his face when the call came in and you knew without a doubt that he had to leave. 

As the chief surgeon, his role at the hospital was always crucial and you understood the weight of his responsibility. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before trailing down to meet your lips. His arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close for a brief moment before he pulls away, heading back to the hospital again.

No matter how busy his days would be, he always found a moment to reach out to you. Whether it was a quick message before his surgery or a brief text after his meetings. He doesn’t let you feel completely alone.

☃︎:‘Make sure you’re taking breaks.’

☃︎:‘Eat well and drink plenty of water’

☃︎:‘Don’t stay up too late waiting for me again. It’s important to get rest.’

☃︎:‘Have a goodnight. Sleep well.’

You could hear his voice reach out to you across your screen but it wasn’t the same. No amount of text or calls could replace the warmth of his presence. You missed him deeply and it was hard to ignore the empty space beside you at night. Life has felt frustrating lately, with work and everything else outside of it added more pressure while his absence lingers in the air. You craved some kind of relief.

You roll over to his side of his bed, his scent still lingering on his pillows. You can imagine him there, half-lidded eyes watching your head fly back as you bounce on his cock. Your hands rest on his defined abs to keep you steady while his large hands rest on your hips, occasionally slipping down to squeeze the plush of your ass.  

Heat travels down between your legs the more you think of him. His lips on your clit, sucking so harshly that it makes filthy noises echo in the room. Zayne hasn’t messaged you yet, so you assumed he was busy in another meeting and you couldn’t ignore the heat building up between your legs, so you decided to take care of yourself for now.

You laid back against his pillows with your legs spread wide, slowly sliding your finger up your folds before sliding it in while the other pinches your hardened nipples, something Zayne would do. Adding another finger in, you feel the slow stretch and start a steady pace.

Your fingers were much smaller compared to what Zayne offers you. He’s reached places that you didn’t even know were possible and only he can reach. Two of your fingers were nowhere near to what you want but you’ll manage to make it work for the night

You thrust your fingers in and out of you, sliding them as deep as you could. Soft noises escape you as your fingers rocked in and out of your weeping cunt, sending lustful waves throughout your whole body.

You were so consumed by your own euphoria, the relief after days of frustration, that you didn’t even notice Zayne opening the door to your shared bedroom. He was at a loss of words with what he saw play out right in front of him. Your eyes were clenched shut as you focused on trying to reach your high that you didn’t even notice his presence. His eyes were so fixated on your body that he couldn’t look away, the heat traveling down to his cock. He watches the way your fingers pick up the pace, the sound of your fingers dipping in and out of you while you softly moan his name against his pillow. He can feel his erection straining against his trousers.

You whimper out his name, your back arching, meaning you were close. He watches you pull out, your warm slick arousal drip down your fingers while your eyes flutter open, finally realizing he was there the entire time.

You yelp, your face flushing with embarrassment as you scramble to pull the blankets around yourself. “Z-Zayne?!” Your eyes trail down to see the visible erection that begged to be free.

He shakes his head slightly, a small smile tugging at his lips as he steps closer and closer while loosening his tie. “You don’t need to cover yourself. I’ve seen you countless times.” He hovers over you, his voice low. “It seems you’re taking longer finishing by yourself. Have you been having issues while I was away?" He lowers himself to meet your height, his breath fanning against your lips before he captures them with his own. "I can help fix that for you if you'd like.”

Seems like you’re not the only one who’s been missing some company.  

Bonus For Zayne:

His large hand cradles your cheek as he kisses you hungrily, wanting more of your soft lips on his while his fingers work wonders on your other lips. “I’ve missed you,” He whispers breathlessly, quickly chasing your lips again as if he lets you go for a second, you might disappear completely from his grasp. 

You pull away gasping, his fingers sliding across your folds, stroking them at a painfully slow pace to get you even more wet. You wanted to reply, tell him that you’ve missed him too but he was quick to close the gap between both your mouths. He wants to take his time with you, knowing that currently it’s rare for both of you to have that but he doesn’t want to keep both in agony any longer.

His fingertips drag over the opening of your cunt, arousal seeping out of you like honey. Every movement he makes is methodical, taking note of every reaction you make. "You're so wet.." He groans, coating his fingers with your arousal. The glide of his fingertips over your clit before slipping inside feeds the pleasure you craved in your gut. His other fingers wrap around your nipples, adding more pleasure straight to your core. The way your lips parted, whines turning into whimpers lets him know you feel good.

It didn’t take long for you to melt against him as he murmured sweet praises of you’re doing so well for him. His fingers thrust in and out of you, slipping a second one in when you’re ready and you already feel so full. Your fingers that tried to match his girth and length weren’t able to touch spots he can. His eyes averting occasionally to watch the way your face contorts from the pleasure before trailing down to watch your breasts slightly jiggle from the movement.

His digits are knuckle deep inside of you, prodding at the sweet spot within you as they thrust in and out of your velvety walls. Obscene squelches of your soaking cunt as he angles his wrist and curls his fingers. It’s not long until your walls are clamping down on his fingers, pleasure flowing through your body and veins. Your hands that rest on his chest run up to his shoulders, holding onto him tightly, trembling from the sensitivity.

You ride out your high, his fingers slowing down as his free hand caresses and knead your hips.

He presses soft, lingering kisses to the top of your head, the silence in the room only broken by your shared breaths. Neither of you need to say a word to feel the weight of how much you’ve missed each other.

Rafayel:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader getting eaten out with a mix of fingering

You were exhausted. After a long day, you finally got to come home late as your boss had let you leave early once your mission was complete, letting the rest of the team pack it up. Rafayel wasn’t home, he was off at some art event Thomas had dragged him too. All day long, he had been glued to his phone, sending you messages about how boring the event was without you and how he wished you were there so you two could run away together. He would sneak off by himself but running away alone just wasn’t the same. As you stared at your phone, your eyelids grew heavier. You barely had a chance to let him know you were home early before you drifted off into deep sleep.

Meanwhile

He felt so hot, his head spinning. He had to excuse himself from the guest, ignoring what Thomas had to say as he entered the bathroom. The burning heat surged through his body and traveled through his lower half. It was getting unbearable. His head was throbbing, he needed to get away and go home. He needed- no, wanted you. His mind and body called out for you.

-

You shifted slightly in your shared bed, your eyebrows furrowing as your dreams started to unfold, unaware that arousal seeps through your panties. The familiar bedroom around you felt hazy but Rafayel on top of you was clear as ever. You could feel spit drip down your chin as you both pull away from the messy and sloppy kiss, the tip of his cock sliding against your throbbing clit made you gasp. 

Soft whimpers escape his lips as he listens to all the sweet delicious sounds you make for him, his large hands grip your thighs as he presses his cock into your cunt, watching how you swallow him up so easily.

He lowers himself, littering kisses to your chest as you wrap your legs around him. His balls smack against the curve of your ass with every powerful thrust, sending shockwaves of pleasure to your core. Just as you were about to meet your high, you woke up abruptly, feeling the wet patch in between your legs.

You sigh, trailing your fingers down, making small circles around your clit before slowly inserting them in easily from how wet you are. Your fingers slid in and out of you, your mind wandering between how the dream would finish or the times Rafayel has touched you.

You’d imagine how he’d insert himself deeper and deeper into you, pulling out just a little, then dipping further back in while rubbing circles around your clit. How his hair tickles your skin while his tongue works circles around your perky buds before swirling his tongue around the base of mounds of flesh.

You ran your fingers across your perky nipples while your other hand slid in and out of your wet walls. Soft noises and moans of his name escape your lips, the relief you anticipated for picking up.

Until the door abruptly opening startles you from reaching that, your fingers slipping out of your wet hole, making you close your legs shut.

“You...” Rafayel pants, his eyes looking at you hungrily. It was as if he was starving and you were his only prey. “Dirty girl..” He mutters under his breath, inching closer and closer towards you with some sway in his walk as if your body was luring him in. He crawls onto the bed you, the bed shifting it's weight as his body pins you beneath him. "Wouldn't it be much..." He groans, spreading your legs to look at the mess between your thighs. "better if it were me instead?"

Bonus For Rafayel:

He wonders if you could feel the way his heart pounded when he saw you in front of him, legs spread open as you played with your wet cunt. You were calling out to him and he wonders if you did it on purpose or did it to tease him. He can’t seem to think straight, his entire body felt hot with need and he needed you badly.

Rafayel is face deep into your pussy, lapping up the juices while his thumb lightly brushes your clit. His other hand settles around your thigh, kneading the flesh deeply as if he were trying to feel more of you all at once. You were too lost in the pleasure, not noticing the way he ruts against the mattress. He wants more of you but he can’t seem to leave between your legs, lapping up all the drops that you give him as if your arousal was the water he needed to breathe.

“yeah? like that?” he groans softly against your cunt when your hands grab a fistful of his hair, the familiar heat in the pit of your stomach building up. He hums, the sound adding more stimulation to your core. He knows you like that. The way he glanced up at you, studying the way your breasts rose and fell, your lips parted let him know you were absolutely enjoying it.

He continues adding his fingers into the mix, switching between his tongue. You rock your hips back and forth against his mouth, panting his name again and again, breathy moans until your orgasm washes over you.  You grind your high out, bruises slowly forming on your thighs from his tight grip. Your juices and spit coat his lips and drip down to his chin. However he was not finished with you yet, his eyes still clouded with hunger and need. 

Sylus:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader getting eaten out

You laid on your shared bed, legs spread with your fingers curling inside of your tight cunt, your thighs rubbing desperately. After a long time apart due to both of your busy schedules, you finally had the chance to be together but just as you were about to make up for lost time, an emergency on his end pulled him away the next morning. Rushed wet kisses and lingering touches on your soft bare skin as if he was leaving for a long time. He held you for a brief moment, taking one last good look and stealing one last kiss before he had to leave.

You kept his shirt from the night before on, afraid his scent might disappear from you completely. The sleeves of his shirt occasionally slipping down your shoulders as you move your fingers rhythmically in and out of your slick folds.

You thought about what happened last night, soft breathing fanning against each other's lips while his large hands held onto your hips tightly as he thrusts into you at a slow pace, making sure you feel every inch and vein of his cock.  Your name leaves his lips once, twice, again and again while constantly hitting your sweet spot. Your breasts bounced as his thrusts started to hit harder, shaking the entire bed. Just as you were about to recall how you met with pure ecstasy, a call interrupted your thoughts. Your eyes fluttered open, revealing none other than Sylus’s name on your screen.

‘Sweetie I hope I didn’t wake you. I know you must be tired from last night's events.’ You can hear his smile through the phone, your movements slowing. ‘I bought Mephisto a new hat on my way back- I think you would find it cute.’

You hum in response, your voice hoarse. ‘Hurry home Sy..”

He chuckles on the other end, ‘I’m almost there. I can’t wait to finally spend some time with you.’ But your mind was so dazed, your core aching for more after hearing him, his words barely registered as you set the phone aside.

You sigh, starting over the pace you set again, completely unaware that neither you or Sylus had ended the call. Two fingers rub circles on your clit while the other hand pinches your exposed nipple that was peeking out from his button up. Soft moans of his name fall from your lips as your fingers deliciously rub against your clit.

Shamelessly, he doesn’t end the call. Instead, he rushes back home, muting his side to avoid disturbing your relief, even though you probably couldn’t hear him from your series of lewd noises on your end.

You match the pace of your imagination of what Sylus would do, his name desperately spilling from your lips.

His pace would build up faster and faster, you imagined, feeling yourself inch closer to your peak- until you suddenly hear his actual voice, clearing his throat. Your eyes snap open, locking with his crimson gaze. “Enjoying yourself?” He leaned against the doorframe, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips as he scans your entire body. His eyes trail lower, amused at the mess between your legs, nothing on but his shirt.

“S-Sylus?” He can’t get enough of you hearing you say his name, how he craves to hear it over and over again.

He nods, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt but..” He stalks towards you, crawling onto the bed, his body hovering over in between yours. “won’t you let me have a taste?”

Bonus For Sylus:

Your arousal settles in quick the moment he enters you with his tongue, earning a gasp from you. “Like this princess?” He hums into you, the vibrations sending pleasure down to your core. He holds you close to his face, buried face deep inside you, encouraging you to make a mess on him- maybe even suffocate him if you want. Your back arches with every drag of his tongue along your wet folds as he loudly slurps up your slick. 

The pink wet muscle tip laps up your wetness eagerly, filling you up while stroking the sensitive bud delicately with his thumb. It didn’t take long for his chin to be dripping quickly. He groans softly into your heat when he dives in, feeling your walls twitch against his fat tongue. 

His tongue explores every centimeter of your gummy walls before speeding up. His dark heavy gaze filled with lust flicker up at you, watching you in awe. Your stomach clenched, your legs trembling under him.  Your legs are trembling as his tongue works against you mercilessly. Your thighs shake as your juices coat his face. 

He licks his lips, making sure no remains of your sweet substance goes to waste before diving right back between your legs to lick off the juices off your skin and entrance, earning a yelp from you. He places gentle kisses over the marks he left on your thighs from his tight grip, while his other hand traces soothing circles on the other.

Caleb:

tags: female masturbation ( fingering ), mentions of p in v, fem! reader recieving fingering from his metal arm

Your eyes flutter open slowly, Caleb’s scent wrapping around you, yet he is nowhere near you. The shirt he wore last night oversized on you while the lingering comforting scent surrounds you as you roll to his side of the bed. It was too early- it was the afternoon, to be up right now. You were still exhausted from last night, your mind dazed to worry where Caleb disappeared too.

You close your eyes, your mind drifting back to the night before, your fingers lightly tracing the marks he left on you.

How did it go again? Your fingers trace the marks he left on you, attempting to copy the movements he made last night.

Ragged breaths fan over each other's lips after a heated kiss, his erection pressing between your thighs. Caleb whimpers, running his tongue down to the side of your neck, leaving a wet trail down to your breasts. The top of his tongue circles around your hard nipples, letting one go with a wet pop! before moving to the other one. His cool, metallic hand traces delicate patterns along your inner thigh, sending chills up to your core as he pushes your legs further apart. He continues to tease you by slowly sliding his hand up higher and higher, tugging the hem of your waistband.

“Caleb please..” You whine, feeling his smirk against your skin. Without any remarks this time, he dips his fingers in slowly, coating them with your arousal. Slowly he slips a finger in with ease, feeling the way your walls clench before adding another one. He picks up the pace, savouring the sounds of your moans for him. You were already getting off just by his fingers alone, he can’t imagine how much of a mess you’ll be on his cock.

“Caleb..” Soft moans of his name slip past your lips as you curl your fingers inside of your tight cunt, your thighs rubbing together desperately to match up the friction from last night. Your fingers were no match compared to his cock and hands. They were much smaller and less girthier than what he has given you.

The way you were absolutely drooling on his pillows, your eyes rolling to the back of your skull whenever you tried to fill yourself up from his cock. You couldn’t see it, but he was enjoying it. Your eyes were completely shut, missing out on the way he was completely enjoying your disheveled state. The way you held onto him so tightly so you two wouldn't disconnect. He starts with a few slow strokes, the bulge in your belly could've made him finish in you immediately but not yet. He needs more of you, he needs to hear more of how good he makes you feel.

You clenched your eyes shut, concentrating on the pleasure from last night, making sure the rhythm matches the pace in your head. Your moans and whimpers grow louder after each few trusts as Caleb listens quietly by the doorframe. You clench and spasm around your fingers buried inside of you, pleasure washing over you.

Pulling your fingers out, the warmth of your slick clings to your fingers. As you flutter your eyes open, you’re met with Caleb standing in front of you, his chiseled chest and his grey sweatpants that hung dangerously loose on his waist. His gaze locking onto the mess you made between your thighs, his erection is clearly visible from the thin material.

He approaches you slowly, the mischievous smile still playing on his lips as he sets the plate of brunch he prepared for you earlier on the nightstand. He climbs onto the bed, pinning you beneath him. “Now that I’m here..I don’t think you need these anymore.” With his free hand he grabs the your hand coated with your arousal, inspecting it for a moment before licking it clean himself.

Bonus For Caleb:

Every day Caleb is grateful that the world advanced to the point where they finally built in the sensation of touch in his robotic arm, allowing him to finally remember how it feels to hold you and know what it’s like to feel you clench down on his metallic fingers.

“I can feel you..You’re so wet down here..” His eyes are half lidded, both of you panting breathily, his stiff cock twitches in his confinements of his sweatpants as he watches your mouth part as the cool metal fingers pump in and out of you. He imagines how it would feel so much better to have you clenching around on his cock instead but he is a patient man. His cock was aching to be coated with your weakness but he’s waited much longer.

You whimper, moaning out his name breathlessly while rolling your hips against his hand. Caleb watches your trembling form as he finds that sweet spot only he can reach inside you. Each thrust of his cold fingers pushes you further into a state of pure ecstasy. He sped up the pace, targeting your sweet spot over and over again until your body washes over with absolute pleasure. He helps you ride out your orgasm before withdrawing his fingers from your throbbing cunt. He raises his metal arm, his fingers still warm from your core, licking it out of satisfaction.

if you haven't already read it, here's the other version where you caught them! caught white handed!

my other works: masterlist pg. 1 , p.2

[gloomwitchwrites]

Hello, hope you're a having a good day

Could you write something about 141 x reader where the sparring session turns a little too not your usual sparring (if you know what I mean). The reader and them being all sweaty and shit and like the sexual tension that's been there for a while. This idea has been plaguing my mind since forever. Thank youuuu

Haha! Yes! Omg, I love it. Okay, for this, I didn't go full smut. When someone mentions sexual tension, I tend to hyperfocus on that and want to bathe in it. Give me naughty thoughts and flirting-maybe even some actual physical contact that borders on dangerous territory. Give me the yearning! I want to giggle and kick my feet and think about what might happen later.

So, I indulged in that regard! I had lots of fun with this. Thank you so much for sending it in!!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x TF141!Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, suggestive themes, knife play, grinding, rough kissing, caught in the act, training, naughty thoughts, mutual yearning

Word Count: 2.4k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“Come on. Come at me.”

Soap rolls his shoulders and then brings his fists up in a fighting stance. He makes a “go on” gestured with his hands.

Every muscle in your body is sore. Tired doesn’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling. But you want to best Soap. He’s been on your ass for weeks now—insisting that the two of you should spar together. It’s not the sparring that makes you warm and tingly but the way he suggests it.

Always leaning in. Standing far too close. Bumping your shoulder with his.

Soap waits, but you’re not sure how to proceed. So far, you’ve been completely unsuccessful. As if knowing all your moves, Soap has dodged each blow and kick, effortlessly taking you down to the mat every time you thinking you’ve ensnared him.

Stealth is more your thing. Creeping around in the shadows. Taking out opponents from afar. A sniper scope is your friend. Hand-to-hand isn’t.

You lunge for him and Soap steps back. Fist missing him, you sidestep and go for a jab in the stomach. Soap slaps your hand away, and you want to yell in frustration.

“Sloppy today,” chides Soap, grinning like this amuses him.

It probably does. He’s one for a good laugh.

This time you feign, and Soap takes it, moving in. You’re ready for him, turning out of his swing to duck beneath and then aim for the face. Soap rises to block, and opens a clear line to his groin.

Fucking beautiful.

Lifting your foot, you don’t tap him hard, just enough for his cheeks to go pink. Soap grunts, and you chuckle.

“Shouldn’t have left yourself—”

With an oof, your back smacks against the tumble mat beneath you. Soaps snags your wrists and pins them above your head. You go to kick out at him, but Soap’s knees are between your legs. He shoves them wider.

You’re completely trapped beneath him.

And in a completely inappropriate position.

From where you’re pinned, you notice the small beads of sweat on his brow and how a few pieces of hair stick to his skin. Though his chest is covered by a shirt, it’s snug, with every muscle on display. Those powerful thighs of his press against yours in such a way that you’re imagining nothing between your bodies.

Would he feel this powerful over you if the two of you were elsewhere? Perhaps, somewhere more private. Somewhere without a tumble mat. Somewhere with a bed.

“Can’t harm the goods, love,” says Soap, his voice husky. You’re not sure if it’s from the close contact or from the tap you gave his crotch.

“Then don’t leave them vulnerable,” you reply, almost not recognizing the sound of your own voice. It too is husky as if dipped in desire.

The middle of Soap’s brow scrunches slightly. His gaze travels downward to linger on your lips and then further still until you sense him admiring more than he is observing.

“Soap—”

His gaze snaps upward. “Johnny,” he corrects. “Think we’re on closer terms.”

“Are we?” you ask, as his hips start to relax.

The press of him against you is apparent, and the hardness there is poking at you. Insistent. And you don’t want to ignore it.

Instead, you press upward, grinding against him.

Soap—no—Johnny, makes a sound in his throat.

One moment you’re under him and then you’re in his lap, the two of you sitting up, staring into each other’s eyes. Your heart hammers in your chest, and your hands fists the front of his shirt.

“You—”

“Are we interrupting something?”

You and Johnny turn just as Ghost and Gaz enter the gym. Gaz has a towel draped over his shoulder. The water bottle he holds it half-way towards his mouth before he freezes, gaze locked on you and Johnny.

Ghost cocks his head, arms crossed over his chest.

You’re speechless. Lost. Your mind hasn’t caught up.

But Johnny’s has.

With a twist, Johnny rolls and then lightly tosses you off him as if the two of you were simply practicing and not staring into each other’s eyes.

“You want a go, Lt?” asks Johnny.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“You up for another round?” asks Kyle.

The man is grinning like he could do this all day. You’re sore everywhere—ready to collapse from exhaustion. Hand-to-hand combat is not your thing which is why you’re here in the training room with Kyle.

Yes, you need practice, but you’ve also had your eye on him, admiring him when you think no one is looking. It’s an excuse for some alone time.

“I’d rather eat glass,” you mutter, snatching up your water bottle and drinking the last of it.

“Hate me that much?” he teases.

“So much so that I wanted to spend the afternoon beating your ass.”

Kyle bursts out laughing. He snatches the water bottle out of your hand and aims it at you, squeezing. There’s nothing in it. A few measly drops hit your face and then you lunge for him. Kyle jumps back and extends his arms outward.

“One more round.” He winks. “Come on, love.”

He’s being cheeky, and your blood is pumping.

Kyle tosses your water bottle to the side as you stride forward. His arms go up, and then the two of you are nothing but flying fists and feet. He’s faster, blocking every blow you send his way.

Sweat accumulates on your brow and on the back of your neck, dripping down your spine. You lick your lips, taste the salt from the sweat.

You duck. Swing. Kyle snatches your wrist and twists, pinning your arm behind you. With a sharp jab of your elbow, you nail Kyle in the stomach, freeing yourself.

As you spin to lash out, Kyle is right there, in your space, blocking all movement. You try to step back, to allow space in your next strike, but Kyle rushes in. The two of you are twisted up. Falling. Slamming into the mat on the floor.

You shove and Kyle resists, his strength outmatching yours. With cheek pressed into the mat, you have nowhere to go. You’re completely on your stomach, and all of Kyle’s weight is on you. He breathes heavily, chest heaving. You feel his breath against your skin, and the contact only sends your skin into a shiver.

Your mind drifts, lingering in places it shouldn’t. Worse—Kyle is aroused. His hardness pokes at your ass. But whether he notices or not is unclear.

“You’re improving,” he says.

“I have a good teacher.”

Kyle makes a noise that sounds like agreement. Every muscle is tense, and even Kyle’s hold on you seems laced with something harsh. But then it eases. Softens. His grip loosens enough that you roll onto your side, glancing up at him.

He is so goddamn close. Just a gentle tilt of the head and your lips would meet his. It wouldn’t be that hard. He’s right there.

Kyle blinks, and then his gaze trails downward, lingering on your lips.

“We,” he begins. “We shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

His thumb traces along the side of your throat, and your eyelids flutter with contentment. A little moan escapes you, and you hear Kyle’s sharp inhale.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck it.”

His thumb becomes his whole hand. Holding you in place, Kyle goes all in, claiming your lips with his. It is dominating, and you happily give in to him.

John Price

Your back hits the tumble mat with a sharp slap. The exposed portions of your shoulders and back sting from the contact.

"Again."

Groaning, you push up to a seated position. "We've been at this for hours."

"And you need practice," counters Price.

He's hatless. And shirtless. Only in cargo pants and boots, Captain Price's bare skin glistens with sweat. You won't pretend that the sight of him like this doesn't intrigue you. For months now you've been observing Captain Price in more than just a professional manner. It's hard not to, and the sweat-drenched man before you isn't helping things.

Captain Price runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step back. The casualness to the movement causes your stomach to twist with desire. Your body betrays you, and you have no idea if these feelings are entirely one-sided. Sometimes you think you might gleam a notion of his thoughts, but it always manages to slip through your grasp.

Price offers his hand, and an idea forms.

You extend yours, but don't close the distance. Price is the one that leans forward to do so. It's the perfect opportunity. When your fingers close around his, you tug back, throwing him off balance.

Price tips forward, and you turn to the side as he crashes down to the mat. In one fluid movement, you roll Price onto his back and straddle his stomach.

"Never let your guard down. That's what you always say."

Price's eyes widen slightly before softening. The corner of his mouth twitches into a hint of amusement. It immediately sends heat flaring through you.

"I do," he replies, and it's nearly a coo.

That smirk of his widens into an actual smile, and then it's you on your back and Price straddling. You strike out with an elbow but Price catches your swing, trapping your arms above your head. He bends forward a bit, and it is then that you feel the stiffness against your stomach.

Price makes no move to hide it, and you don’t dare glance downward.

"You need to do better-"

"Captain."

Price immediately recoils, sitting up and releasing your arms. You twist to look behind you, only to find Ghost and Soap standing nearby. Ghost is ever the silent observer, but Soap's head is slightly tilted to the side, the middle of his brow pinched like he's not sure what's happening.

"Meeting starts in five,” says Soap. “Came to find you."

Price coughs and then he's off you, kneeling and offering you a hand again. You don't try to knock him down.

"Just going over some pointers,” replies Price.

"Pointers?" deadpans Ghost and you shoot him a look. He shrugs at you, gaze lingering before moving to his captain.

"Give me ten minutes. Shower. Then I'll be there."

Captain Price gives you a quick glance before walking off with Soap. Ghost crosses his arms over his chest and just stares.

“What?" you snap

"Pointers," he repeats.

"Oh, fuck off, Simon."

He chuckles and turns to follow the two out of the training room.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Your posture is terrible."

"That's very helpful, Lieutenant,” you deadpan.

"Are you sassing me?"

"No."

Simon shakes his head and sighs. “Can’t throw a knife accurately if you’re hunched like a goblin.”

“Goblin,” you mutter under your breath. “Asshole.”

“What was that?”

You clear your throat. “Seems easy, Lieutenant. You just throw the pointy end at the enemy.”

Simon grunts and then grabs your raised arm. "You won't hit anything standing like that."

You resist his pull but you're outmatch when it comes to strength. With one hand on your arm and one on your waist, Simon shifts you into position.

"Like this," he instructs, bringing your arm back. "Firm grip. Feet pointed forward." Simon releases your arm but his hand on your waist remains. "Throw. At the target."

You let the knife fly. It strikes just right of the bullseye.

"Again,” nods Simon.

"Really?"

Simon slowly drops his hand from your waist, the tips of fingers lingering a second longer than necessary.

Removing a knife from his boot, Simon flips it end over end. "We could hone your skills a different way."

"What way?"

“Grab your knife and find out.”

Stalking toward the bullseyes, you yank out the knife, joining Simon in the sparring ring. He bends at the knee, crouching into a fight stance. You mimic the movement.

Simon lunges first and you sidestep. But he's quick for such a large man. He moves around and behind you so fast he's almost a blur.

Grabbing your wrist, Simon lightly twists and pins you against his front, the knife tip pointed at your throat.

"Again,” he growls.

Simon lightly shoves you away. You spin. Striking out. He slaps your arm down and raises his own, the knife tip pointed at your throat for a second time.

"Again."

Showing your teeth, you charge at him, barreling into him at the middle. Simon staggers but doesn't faulter. He attempts to toss you off him, but you remain firm, grabbing hold.

This unloads him, his weight toppling with you. The two of you go down. Simon rolls you onto your back, his body pressed to yours, knife at your throat again.

"Better,” he says. “Still needs improvement."

You go to shove him off, but Simon doesn't budge. He remains where he is, and every point of contact is like an electrical spark. Even his face is close, balaclava nearly scratching against your skin. There is not part of him you’re not touching.

Awareness settles in.

Simon is all hardness over you.

"Have any tips you can give me?" you reply.

His gaze slowly lowers to your lips. His hips shift slightly, something stiff poking against your inner thigh.

“I have one,” he murmurs.

Bet I can guess.

“How do you want it?” he continues.

"You're the expert," you reply softly, hooking your leg over the back of his.

It's an invitation, one you aren't sure he'll take.

There’s a brief pause, and then Simon hums in agreement. It’s a pleased sound, one that instantly makes you shiver. Without taking the knife from your throat, he closes the distance, lips pressing against yours through the balaclava.

Heat erupts, the knife in your hand forgotten on the floor as you grab at him, fingers digging in.

It's only a tease. You want the real thing.

"What's the tip?" you ask once he breaks the connection.

Simon answers by grinding his hips against yours.

That one. Got it.

“We should—”

A door slams from somewhere down the hall. Simon’s head snaps up. The knife disappears, and then Simon is pushing himself away, kneeling beside you. His head is turned toward the main doors, but no one enters.

“It’s late,” you say. No one should be coming this way.

He turns back to you. “Your knife skills are shit.”

You groan. “I know. Goblin hunch. Got it.”

Simon snorts, and offers his hand. You take it, and he pulls you into a seated position. “Just a few more rounds,” he says, and then with a husky twinge to his tone, “and then I’ll go make sure the locker room is clear.”

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[devilishchaos]

Shower | Lando Norris Imagine

Rating / genre: M (18+); smut, fluff

Pairings: Reader x Lando Norris

Summary: Y/N and Lando have soft shower sex.

Warnings: Explicit smut, explicit talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected vaginal penetration (don’t do it!!! stay safe!), hair grabbing, swallowing, use of pet names

AN: domestic Lando, because I'm a sucker for domesticity <3. also..not me and yet another shower sex fic. also pt.2..am I back? I don't know, just wanted to write about Lando. enjoy x

Word Count: 2 517 words

This is a work of fiction. The story, names, characters and incidents either are product or the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

You had it coming for a while, you knew it in the back of your mind. And it’s not like you weren’t looking forward to it, but just that the urges, that were slowly growing stronger for Lando, inside of you took a backseat as real world deadlines threatened to overcome you.

Lando had been staying home a lot more than usual, and found himself with a rare two-week break between races, a welcome pause in the relentless pace of the Formula 1 calendar. After months of high-pressure performances and grueling travel schedules, the weariness has started to catch up with him, coupled with the need to be with you and make up for the lost time, due to his hectic schedule, caused him to not want to leave the house. 

Coming back from work every evening, you were greeted with the sight of him whipping up something simple but delicious for you to feast on, his eyes getting all crinkled up as a smile covered his face whenever he heard you yell “I'm home!”. He was playing the part of a perfect boyfriend to the T and you really couldn’t have been more thankful for everything that he was doing for you, even though you couldn’t always say it out loud. 

But behind his loving exterior was something he wasn’t really telling you, for fear of coming across as selfish when he could clearly see the amount of stress you were already in. You weren’t blind though and just like him, you too could see that he was in need of some affection and some attention, was in need of someone telling him he did well on the circuit and was still doing well at home, and you also knew you were that someone. 

You could feel it in his touch, lingering just a second longer than necessary, his fingers dipping under the hem of your shirt to rest against your skin. You could feel it in his kisses, turning hot and fervent despite starting out as soft and gentle. You knew he needed it and you knew he wasn’t going to be explicit enough and say it out loud nor was he going to pressure you into doing something you didn’t have the energy to do. 

Yet upon hearing the slow pitter-patter of water as you came back home, you had found your feet leading you towards the bathroom, your heart picking up its pace at the thought of Lando taking a shower. The bathroom door unlocked as always, his steamy silhouette could be seen through the glass wall. You couldn’t tell what came over you in that moment, but before you could stop yourself, your hands were moving on their own, getting rid of your clothing piece by piece, until you were naked. 

Your hand came resting against the glass as you peeked inside, taking in the sight in front of you. Lando looks gorgeous, the water trickling down his body and hugging him at all the right places, his shoulders and hipbones, making you want to lick the wetness away. The sight alone is enough to make you press your legs closer together, a need growing inside of you as you take your time admiring the beauty that is your boyfriend. 

Lando had his head under the water, his wet curls sticking to his forehead and the side of his face, his mouth slightly parted to let the warm water hit his tongue as he was lost in thought. And to say that he was beyond surprised when he opened his eyes and found you on the other side of the glass, naked and looking nothing but breathtaking to him, would be an understatement. A groan escapes his lips under his breath as he stares at you, his eyes trailing down, taking in your completely naked body and swallowing thickly, a hunger rising in him, just looking at you.

That is, until a voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your eyes meeting Lando’s as he calls you out. 

“Baby?” He murmurs, his voice sounding low as the water still hitting his face causes his words to come out muffled, but you could still hear that his tone was filled with need and anticipation. His left hand moves from where it was against the wall to press against the glass, his eyes meeting yours. There’s a silent conversation happening between you within just that moment, his eyes full of want, making his desire for you clear.

"I'm home" you say in a soft murmur.

“Yeah I can see that..” Lando mutters, his eyes still glued to you through the glass, his mouth going dry as his eyes rake you up and down, taking in every inch of you as if it was the first time he was seeing you like that. He was trying to focus hard on not letting his eyes linger between your legs, because the thought of it already has his brain short circuit.

“You want to join me in here?” He questions, his fingers tapping the glass lightly, giving a small smirk.

Lando can’t fight the grin that appears on his face as you nod, his mind already racing over what the two of you would do. He grabs the shower glass and pushes it open, his arms spreading out towards you as a silent invitation for you to come inside. He can’t wait to touch you again, to feel your skin against his, to hear your soft moans, but even amidst all of that he still has a tiny voice inside his head reminding him that you’re probably tired.

Lando closes the glass door back when you make your way inside, and all it takes is a couple of seconds for him to pull you into his chest against his wet, warm body, his strong arms wrapping around you gently. He lets out a sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he buries his face into your neck, the stress melting away from him just from having you close. His hands move up and down against your wet back, the water trickling between you.

He can tell what you’re planning and while it is something he’s been craving all these past days or weeks, now that you were right in front of him, he feels as if just having you so close to him is enough. And so he decides to show you, placing the softest of kisses to your crown as his grip tightens around your waist, the sensation making you lift your head up from his chest, a smile on your face. 

“You are so beautiful.” Lando whispers and that’s all you need to lose your footing. 

Before either of you can realize, your lips are moving in sync with his, a rhythm both familiar and new, being set up as you dance around your desires. You don’t know who started it, but it’s not like it matters anyway. All you can think of in that moment is the way his tongue explores every inch of your mouth, his teeth digging into your bottom lip as you get lost in the love only he can give you. And it’s the same for Lando, his senses getting overwhelmed as he finds himself getting high on you, on the way you make him feel. You’re all he could ever want and more, and every time you touch him, it feels like you’re reminding him of the reason he’s alive. 

So he takes it in his stride, finally letting go of his fears and his worries, completely losing himself in you, in the love he feels for you. His hands roam all over your water-covered body, from your cheeks to your neck to your breasts and hips, and he takes his sweet time caressing and feeling every single one of them, just like you do too, your own hands lying pressed flat against his toned body. You touch him everywhere, letting your focus shift from his hair to his biceps to the round cheeks of his ass, and as you do so, you also find yourself pulling away from his lips, kissing down his body, crouching lower and lower till you’re on your knees in front of him. 

The sight makes something turn on inside of Lando’s brain, his hands making their way to your cheeks again. But this time, he’s just a little more assertive, pulling you closer to his crotch, because he can tell you already have eyes for his cock. 

“Want a taste?” he asks, his voice hoarse already and a lazy smirk playing on his lips. You can only nod at that, biting your lip as you lean in, placing a kiss to his tip. And from the sigh that escapes from Lando’s mouth at the small gesture, you know it’s just like the first time for him, over and over again. 

“Then suck on it, baby.” his voice calls out again, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

With that, your hands are quick to get wrapped around his shaft as you take him into your mouth, making him throw his head back in the slightest of pleasure. As your tongue begins to roll around his head, you make sure to savor the heavenly taste of his finest delicacy, your teeth grazing against his flesh as you decide to make up for the time and the rounds you���ve lost out on. 

His tip was already leaking, his body eagerly reacting to your touch, the anticipation building within him. He swallowed, his words caught in his throat, all he could do was let out a groan in response. His hips instinctively moved forward, pushing his cock further into your mouth, his body seeking more pleasure, more of you. He was powerless to the sensations coursing through him, every swipe of your tongue sending a jolt of pleasure through him.

"More," he found himself whispering, his voice rough "I want you to swirl your tongue around the tip, take it into your mouth, then-" he whispered, his eyes flicking down to you, the intensity in his gaze burning with need "Push your tongue into the slit, please.” 

Lando's body tensed, a low groan escaping him as you did as he asked, his eyes falling shut, his face flushed, his jaw clenched in an effort to hold back.

"Good girl," he groaned, his words husky, his voice filled with appreciation and a hint of dominance. 

Lando's eyes fluttered shut, a low moan escaping him as your free hand found his balls. His body tensed, his fingers gripping your hair a little tighter, his hips instinctively pushing forward in a shallow thrust.

"That's right," he growled, his voice filled with need, his words a husky rasp as he tried to control himself, his body trembling. 

As you pick up the pace, your surroundings fade away, the sound of the water acting as background music while you continue to give head to Lando, enjoying the effect you have on him. His hands guide you along, resting at your head, as your own take to worship his cock, your cheeks hollowed out to the max. Maybe it’s the lack of touch that he’s been forced to go through for the past weeks, or maybe it’s the way you seem so determined on bringing him to his knees, but Lando can’t seem to control the urge to cum right then and there, his body involuntarily thrusting his dick right down your throat and making you choke. 

“Go faster, please.” he groans, pretty sounds emanating from deep inside his chest as you oblige, going faster and harder as you begin deepthroating him. Countdown from ten in your head and that’s all you need to have him lose it, his seed seeping into your mouth as you lap every bit up. He tastes just as you remember or maybe even better because it’s been so long. As the last drops trickle down your throat, you let out a sigh of satisfaction, licking your lips before gripping his thighs to pull yourself back up. 

Your eyes meet his and you don’t miss the way he smiles at you, and you can’t help but ask, “Was I good?” and make him chuckle at your cuteness. 

“Incredible as always, love.” Lando says, leaning in to catch your lips in another kiss, his body weight pushing you flat against the glass wall. Maybe it’s you imagining things, but he somehow tastes even sweeter now, the aftertaste of his cum still fresh on your tongue as you make out with him once more. Parting your mouth open with his own tongue, he doesn’t leave a single spot untouched as his cock prods around your heat, silently seeking entrance. 

And you’re only too keen on granting him that, a whimper making its way out of you as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer than closer. 

“I n- need you..” you whine, kissing him harder as you feel yourself grow more needy by the second. Lucky for you though, your boyfriend is a great listener, listening to your demand as he thrusts himself into you, penetrating into your pussy at long last. He feels so delicious like that, moving in and out of you as your thighs squeeze around his, your walls tightening around his length as he fills you up with himself. 

You’re a moaning, struggling mess within seconds, the water making everything foggy and slippery as he continues to thrust in you, massaging all the right places you didn’t even know existed inside of you up until you started dating. Every move of his hips, as they roll against yours, sends you into a frenzy, gibberish rolling off your tongue as he starts speeding up more and more. Your bodies mold into one as you claw at each other’s skin, wanting to be as close to the other as possible. You’re in bliss at that moment, the pent up stress from work and the sexual frustration finally coming to the fore and bursting like a bubble as you make love. 

He cums first, his cock still sensitive from your lip-service as his load fills you up to the brim, his thrusts not stopping as he leads you to your own orgasm. It feels like an eternity and like a single second at the same time, your sense of being completely distorted as you focus only on the pleasure, your nails digging into the skin of his back as he pumps into you one last time, making you ride out your climax in style and leaving you panting for air. 

As a new slew of moans racks through your body, he vows to drown them out in a kiss with his hands holding you in place. When he pulls away, the expression on his face is the most lovesick one you’ve ever seen. 

“Thank you.” is all he says, but it’s enough to fill your heart up with warmth as he pulls away, ready to dry you up and lead you to the bed for another round.

[frmisnow]

THE SWEETHEART NEXT DOOR ! (nsfw)

summary. maybe you were a little naive believing that your pretty neighbour only invited you for some drinks..

notes. TUMBLR CAN NOT TAKE ME DOWN! i come back stronger, better- nastier.. also i learnt how to do multi colored gradients, are y'all proud of me? anyway enjoy! 𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖🎐

warnings/includes. SMUT!, pervy! neighbour! jungkook x sweet? f! reader, masturbation mentioned, god awful horny thoughts, jk has a short skirts kink?, cumming on tummy

Getting invited by your pretty neighbor for some drinks was definitely not weird, right? I mean, maybe you were a little naive, not noticing how he'd look at your laundry line and the panties you hung up, not noticing how his eyes wandered to your tits when you casually talked— he just was such a sweetheart.

you also brushed of how jungkook always seemed to be just outside of his yard when you came back from your little morning run, how his eyes traveled over your tight leggings while he passed you a cold water bottle. or how he starred just a bit to long when you bent over to pick something up when he helped you carry groceries.

all those times were just him helping you, silly!

and late at night, when you heard loud moans from his apartment side, you didn't try to think much of it. the walls were thin! you lived so close! and masturbation was completely normal! the thought of him with his hands wrapped around his own length definitely didn't make your mind all fuzzy, because you were a good neighbour just like him- and good neighbours don't think about stuff like that!

so when he invited you over to his for some drinks, the fact that you picked the shortest of your dresses - and "forgot" to wear some panties - was just a thoughtless 'mistake' on your part! you most definetly didn't do that on purpose, right?

you swore you were listening properly when he was going on and on about his boring job, your nipples definetly did not harden at just his voice, right?

you didn't flinch, when he spilled whiskey accidently over your top as he apologised, grabbed some paper towels and his fingers stayed just a little to long, a little to intimately on your tits.

you yourself couldn't quite believe the words that slipped out of your mouth to be truly yours, "can you just fuck me already?"

for a split seconds his lips parted in response, a light dumbfounded look on his face, you enjoyed way more then you should've. but he regained composure so quick like he had waited years for this, "then be a good girl and pull up that dress for me"

you do as he says in one swift motion the second you hear the words leaving his mouth, pulling up your dress. your bare pussy revealed in front of him, maybe you were a bit to eager. but your pussy ached to be taken care of!

"did you come here with no panties on, just on the hope that i'd play with you?" his voice cut through the air filled with thick tension as he opens his belt.

oh god please fucking play with me. the words lingered on your tongue but all you managed to do was nod

his pants drop down, and he makes the mistake to look at you as you look up at him with innocent eyes and the little pout on your lip - and he groans, because no one has looked at him like that, grunting, "you're so damn pretty" while his thumb brushed over your lip, the motion gentle though his words weren't, "how often did you to yourself? thinking of me? all the time, huh?"

you admit that you tried to be quit about it with a quit whine, all that your eyes could focus on was his dick right in front of your swollen pussy.

"i always imagined you'd be all cute when i'd finally get my hands on you... but i always imagined you with a tight little skirt, you know the ones i mean?" he starts talking, his fingers almost in a torturous manner wandering over your thighs, slow.

why was he talking? stop talking, fuck me. you suppress, biting your lip in response, "was a tight dress not enough? i thought of you y'know"

"it's cute," he played with the ridden up hem of it, "it'll do for tonight"

'for tonight' the words ringed in your mind, all of the filthy positions running through your head, this was the first time but it certaintly wouldn't be the last. he made himself a mental note to buy you some of the tightest skirts he could find, and some cute thigh highs, later.

his hands moved to your ankles, spreading you just how he wanted, positioning himself infront of him.

"you're so pretty," he mumbles once more though it seemed more like it was a thought that had just escaped him. for a second he thinks he's going to be rough with you, just take you. but then he changes his mind - the first time, he'd go slow. he'd be gentle. you deserve somebody gentle.

he slowly pushes himself into you, hands wandering over your hips reassuringly, a silent 'you can take this, i know you can'

he was thick, scretching you out just right.

"i can take it, please, don't be slow" your hips bucked against his, even as you whined, the words coming out more demanding then you had intended, "please"

he groans and grips your hips harder at that, you're so impatient - he's trying so hard to be careful and sweet about this, for once in his god damn life and there you go.

"can't go too fast, you hear me? you're so tight, i just want to make you feel-" he groans, having a hard time keeping himself together.

you bite your lip, throwing your head back slightly, you could feel him somewhere in your tummy. fuck how was he so big?

jungkook takes the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, finding the same place on your shoulder he always imagined putting his teeth on.

he gives you a second to catch your breath, before he starts to move, slow and deep, making sure to hit that sweet spot inside you.

a string of sweet nothing's leave him on 'how you were made for this' and 'how you had such an innoccent fucking face but you were such a slut'

he picked up pace, grinding into you whilst cursing something under his breath.

this was nothing like the times you had touched yourself. as he pushed his tattoed fingers into your mouth gently as you licked with a passion that was concerning.y

"you like this, huh? you like feeling big dicks in you?" he moaned out, knowing you wouldn't be able to respond.

"so this is what it's like," he groaned, his hand left your hip, finding their way up to your tits. "you're the best damn fuck i've ever had."

"fuck, jungkook...i'm cumming"

"fuck" he breathed out, his orgasm not far behind. he pulled out, only for a moment, jacking himself off and coating your stomach with his release. jungkook leaned down to kiss you lazily, groaning against your lips hkw sexy you were with the cum painting you.

his tongue peeked through to lick his release of you himself, sensualy.

"we're not done"

[blacknailsandheartbreak]

Imagine the group cannot understand how you and Zuko are so close with you being a literal saint and Zuko being... well Zuko

AN: I am back! Man, it's been a hot minute since my last post! ...Lets not think about that because I am back! :) woo hoo

~1400 word count

Part 2 once your done reading :)

SO, lets jump in and see what this Zuko fic about??? Well, imagine this...

The whole group is together and you are the newest member joining from an encounter at a local market. You'd travel alone from town to town, trying to help in any way you can to help fix the wounds the war had created. You fit in well, very polite and nice, never showing any anger, but very capable of defending your own with a bow. You became close with Katara, almost like sisters. Though, unknown to the group that you were a fire bender, you wished to keep that a secret. Your nation had done too much damage and could not bear to be tied to such a name. You hadn't practiced in a long time and were contempt on keeping it that way. You were good enough with your bow, you could protect yourself without the aid of bending. But one person saw through your mask, the only other fire bender in the group. You had a feeling he knew, as he was finding ways to spend more time with you, offering to walk with you to the market, to fetch water or wood, and he seemed to only ask you questions while it was just the two of you. If he did know you were a fire bender, then let it be so.

You volunteered one night to gather firewood, and Zuko promptly offered his assistance, in your nature you gladly accepted, you did like the company. While you two walked, you held a wicker basket against your hip and did most of the talking. Zuko hummed in response, keeping note of their far distance from the camp. As the conversation seemed to die out, Zuko stopped walking and you walked a couple more steps before realizing his halt. You turn around and lock eyes, both of you stand straight and still like statues. You knew what was coming next, your hair swayed slightly in the wind, the setting sun leaving amber shadows across you both.

"You're a bender, a fire bender." Zuko states, no question to his voice. You couldn't deny it, there was no point, he knew. You looked at him and smiled. You confirmed his suspicions, and explained to him that you have been building a new reputation for yourself outside of a fire bender label, trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had affected. Zuko seemed sad, he apologized for his nation, our nation. He had promised things would change after Sozin's comet, once he overtook his father. You smile and agree that Zuko would make a fine Fire Lord, you talk to him about how much you believe can change. Ever since that night You two became close, very close. Close in ways the group could only suspect, but no proof.

On the last night of the Gaangs regrouping, before they had to pack up camp and keep moving, everyone had gone to bed, except for Zuko. He had a hard time trying to get to sleep that night, so he went out for a walk to try and clear his head. He sat by the nearby river and thought about what you had said, to rebuild a new reputation as to not be associated with the fire nation, start anew. Zuko balled his fists in anger at his country, the horrible things, unspeakable notions they had unleashed. Zuko scrunched his nose in disgust and felt the pull of his scar, a sensation that he was use to, one that would usually bring more frustration but only brought him sorrow tonight, as your words passed though his mind, 'trying to heal the brand the fire nation left on your skin as well as all its people and the ones it had effected'. Zuko felt the shame of his land pile on his shoulders, but he decided to head back to camp before he got too far into his head.

Back at camp, everyone was in bed, Toph slept alone in her stone tent, the boys had their own tent, while You and Katara shared a tent. Katara took a leap on that last night and decided to ask you about you and Zuko. She thought now would be the best time over any. Katara looked at you laying with your back to her, she gently poked your shoulder and you turned over.

"Sorry for waking you, but I had a question and I hope you take no offence, but you and Zuko... you guys have seemed to be getting very close... so um... are you guys... you know... together...?" Katara asked you in a quiet whisper with wide curious eyes.

While Katara spoke, Zuko had made his way back into camp and heard the faint whispers. It was unlike him to listen in on others' conversations but they had obviously not heard him return, and he seemed to be the topic of their subject so he decided it was fair game to listen. He caught on quickly as it was something about you and him.

You smiled and replied in a steady whisper, "Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more." You and Zuko knew there was a bond beyond your secrets you shared, but you two were not together, just close.

Zuko had his arms crossed across his chest, he felt no offence towards the statement you shared, it was true, it was a neutral answer he could respect.

Katara responds "Oh okay... um if you don't mind me asking another question," You nodded her on, Katara continued, "Zuko and you seem to be very different, as in you are so... vibrant and kind, I don't think I have ever seen you mad." She said giggling quietly, and you smiled. "But Zuko... well you know Zuko, he only ever... scowls. Spirits, I think a smile might split his face in half..."

Zuko furrows his brows at the comment, and grabs across his mouth, 'I can smile', he thinks to himself, lowering his hand.

Katara continues, "and... and it's like pulling teeth trying to get him to talk..." Katara looks at you, "How do you- being your bubbly self, connect with someone like him? How can you talk with him for as long as you do when he seems to barely listens half the time?"

'Barely listen??' Zuko thought as his eyebrows shot up at the comment, 'Is she serious? How could she possibly think that!'

You smile at her observation, "Zuko is very kind to me," you say sweetly.

Zuko's face relaxes to your answer, and he uncrosses his arms.

You continue, "But you're right, he never says much, and yes, he is indeed quiet, but when one has gone through so much, it is understandable. We all know that feeling to some extent and we all have our ways of dealing with it. I have accepted how Zuko conveys himself as he had accepted me for how I present myself. But over all, yes, he does listen, even if it seems he is not, he always does." You conclude with a sweet smile.

Zuko is almost taken back from your answer in a way he cannot explain, but it feels as if an unknown weight has lifted off his shoulders from your response. He decided to leave the conversation there as he had heard all he needed to, and turned to walk away. But the next thing you said had caught his attention.

"Who knows," You add, "his ears are probably burning right now with the mere conversation of us talking about him...". You both giggle and say your goodnights. Zuko smirked and rolled his eyes and walked back to his tent. Although, as he replays the conversation over in his mind, something sits like a small rock in his stomach. 'Zuko and I have become good friends, nothing more.' Nothing more, he thought over and over in his head, maybe with time that could change. Once Zuko becomes Fire Lord and is able to start the change that the world needed to heal, you would embrace your bending and be proud of your nation. But that would come in time, so for right now, he could work with good friends.

[mssorceressupreme]

Your Warmth | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: gryffindor quidditch team throws a celebratory party at the lake after their win, and you decide to go though you were not one for parties. someone then pulls a prank on you (not fred), throwing you in the lake, not knowing you can’t swim.

Warnings: shy!reader, drowning, reader can’t swim, slight anxiety, fluffy towards the end, Fred's a sweetheart here <3

———

The crisp autumn evening air whispered through the open windows of the Gryffindor common room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls as Ginny and Hermione practically bounced in front of you, eyes wide with excitement.

“Come on, just for a little while!” Ginny urged, her hands gripping your arms, pulling you toward the door. “You’ve been hiding out in here with your books for days! Gryffindor won, you have to come celebrate!”

You frowned, clutching your book tightly to your chest, hesitating. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to go, it was just… crowds, noise, all those people—too much. You liked the quiet, the solitude, the comforting silence of the common room and the feel of pages turning in your hands.

The idea of leaving it all behind to go to the lake where everyone was partying felt like stepping out of your comfort zone, and you didn’t know if you could handle it.

Hermione's voice cut through your thoughts, gentle but persistent. “It’ll be fun, you know. You don’t have to talk to everyone, but you can be there with us. It'll be good for you.” She flashed that soft, reassuring smile of hers, the one that always made you feel like everything was going to be okay.

You looked between the two of them, and in the end, their enthusiasm was too much to resist. “Alright,” you muttered, resigning yourself to their relentless encouragement. "But just for a little while."

Ginny grinned, throwing her arms around you in excitement. "That's the spirit! We’ll help you get ready."

They pulled you upstairs to change, their infectious energy filling the room as they found an outfit that suited you perfectly. Hermione worked on your hair, braiding it with practiced ease while Ginny picked out a soft sweater, something comfortable but still fitting for the occasion.

You stood there, feeling awkward but somehow right at the same time, allowing yourself to be swept up in the moment. You hadn’t even realised how much you needed this until now.

With a deep breath, you followed them down the stairs, your heart picking up its pace as you neared the lake. The chatter and laughter from the lake became louder, mixed with the occasional splash of water. You could feel your nerves gnawing at you, but you took each step with Ginny and Hermione by your side.

When you finally reached the party, the sight of everyone laughing, swimming, and dancing around the fire made your stomach do somersaults.

There were Gryffindors everywhere, but the mix of Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, and even a few Slytherins made it feel like you were walking into something chaotic. But it was him that you noticed first.

Fred.

He stood with his teammates, his usual mischievous grin plastered across his face, as he exchanged a joke with Ron. His red hair was slightly messy from the wind, and his hazel eyes sparkled with the same energy that made your stomach flip every time he was around.

You quickly averted your gaze, not wanting to stare too long, but you couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered when you saw him laughing with his friends.

The warmth of his smile made everything feel brighter, and for a brief moment, you let yourself imagine that maybe, just maybe, he might notice you—someone who was always in the background, too quiet, too shy, too invisible.

You quickly looked away, not daring to let him catch you staring.

But Fred did notice.

As if on cue, Fred’s eyes flicked in your direction. His gaze traveled down your body and back up to meet your eyes. For a split second, time stopped, and you quickly looked away, cheeks flushing hot.

He didn’t even say anything, just went back to his conversation, but you felt the lingering heat of his attention like a whisper against your skin. You were so used to staying in the background, a quiet observer, never the centre of attention. The thought that Fred might actually see you felt surreal.

"Stop being so shy," Ginny teased, nudging you gently. "Go talk to him if you want."

You flushed, but didn’t answer. Instead, you clung to Hermione’s side as the three of you mingled, laughing with others but always staying in the background. You stayed close to them, watching as some people danced by the water and others swam, their voices blending with the evening air.

You excused yourself after a while to grab a drink from the punch table, your nerves creeping back up. But before you could even reach the cup, Lee Jordan appeared beside you, fresh from the lake with his wet hair and a wide grin on his face.

"Woah!" Lee laughed, his eyes bright. "Put your books down for once, yeah?"

You smiled awkwardly, pausing from grabbing a cup. "Yeah, decided to get a drink in the open air."

Lee’s grin widened as he noticed the hesitation in your eyes. "Come on, join us! The water’s amazing. Just relax and have some fun."

You bit your lip, glancing nervously at the water. "I’m fine, thank you."

Lee raised an eyebrow. "Don’t be shy. Come on! It’ll cool you off." He stepped closer, his energy infectious but overwhelming. "It’s nice out here, you’re just standing by the punch the whole time!"

You shook your head, trying to retreat slightly, but Lee wasn’t taking no for an answer.

"Go on! The water’s perfect, you’ll enjoy it!" He laughed again, completely unaware of how out of place you felt.

"I really don’t—"

Before you could finish, Lee had picked you up without warning, hoisting you over his shoulder like it was nothing.

You shrieked, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. “Lee, no! Put me down!” You slapped his back lightly, trying to wiggle free, but he held onto you with ease, his grip too strong for you to escape.

The crowd around you burst into laughter, thinking it was just some fun little game and that the two of you were sharing a moment of banter.

You could hear them cheering, but your pulse was racing in a panic. The water loomed ahead, and you couldn’t shake the fear rising in your chest.

But it was too late. Before you could protest again, Lee tossed you into the water with a loud splash.

The world became a blur.

Cold water flooded over you, and you sank beneath the surface. Panic gripped you instantly. Your body went into a wild frenzy, arms flailing, legs kicking.

You tried to force yourself back to the surface, gasping for air, but it was like the water was swallowing you whole, holding you under. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t see.

You were drowning.

Fred’s gaze had never left you. The moment Lee tossed you in, Fred’s eyes locked onto the water, his body stiff with concern. His friends were still laughing, unaware of the danger, but Fred saw it—saw the way you struggled, your head bobbing beneath the surface, unable to rise.

The laughter stopped in his chest, and without a moment’s hesitation, he shoved his drink into Ron’s hands, his face hardening.

Without even looking back, he sprinted and dove into the lake, cutting through the water with swift, powerful strokes.

He swam down, his heart hammering in his chest as he spotted you, desperately thrashing, your face pale with fear. His hand reached out, pulling you up from the depths, and he didn’t let go.

Fred’s arms wrapped around you like a lifeline, and before you even knew what was happening, he was carrying you out of the water.

The world came back into focus, the laughter replaced by silence as the others watched in stunned silence.

Fred was with you in an instant, his hands gently carrying you as he guided you back to the shore.

His shot Lee a death glare, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he turned his full attention to you. His jaw clenched, eyes scanning your trembling form.

Without a word, Fred wrapped you in his arms, his warmth and strength a stark contrast to the cold, shaking fear still in your bones.

You pressed your face into his chest, the relief washing over you, the fear ebbing as his body heat seeped into you.

He carried you all the way back to the common room, not caring that his clothes were soaked through nor did he care about the party. He just needed to get you dry.

Once inside, he moved quickly, pulling his hoodie from the back of a chair and wrapping it around your shoulders. The soft fabric of his shirt still clung to his skin, but he didn’t care. He just wanted you to be okay.

He sat beside you on the couch, watching as you trembled. “Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you…"

The two of you shared a moment of silence, Fred scanning your body for any injuries.

Feeling like you could trust him, you decided to share a secret of yours, "When I was younger, my family went on a camping trip. The place was too beautiful not to explore, so I ran off on my own, exploring every inch of the forrest I could..."

He listened intensely, leaning in, his head tilting as you told your story.

"I came across a lake with a dock and ran across it without hesitation...silly of me though, I should've checked my laces before sprinting without a thought..."

"A bit silly of you, yeah." He teased, and you chuckled lightly.

"Shove off." You rolled your eyes playfully.

"Let me guess, you fell in?" His voice was now soft, empathetic, his eyes glistened with concern.

You nodded, tearing up slightly as you recalled this traumatic moment. "Felt like forever. Felt like I was being dragged down deeper and deeper. I yelled for help but only muffled sounds came out...thought I was going to die. Never entered a lake since."

Fred’s hand brushed over your hand gently. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should’ve stopped Lee, he just gets carried away sometimes, doing things without thinking, that git. I won’t let anything happen to you again..”

You stayed still for a moment, his voice a comfort as it settled over you. But then a small voice inside you urged you to speak, to break the silence that had fallen between the two of you. You lifted your head slightly, looking up at Fred, his face inches away from yours.

“Why… why did you help me?” you asked quietly, your words almost a breathless whisper. "I mean, you didn’t have to, you could’ve just let Lee—"

Fred’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he interrupted, his voice tinged with sincerity. “I couldn’t just leave you there. You looked terrified. I’m not gonna stand around and watch someone I care about struggle. Not like that.”

His words hit you harder than you expected. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate it—you did, more than you could say—but the fact that he cared, that he’d seen you struggling and rushed to help without a second thought, made your chest tighten with excitement.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. “I… I’m glad you did, though,” you said, the words feeling vulnerable, too open, but you couldn’t take them back now. “I don’t know what would’ve happened if you hadn’t. So… thank you.”

Fred smiled softly, his eyes lighting up with a mix of relief and something you couldn’t place. “No problem,” he said quietly. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

There was a pause, a comfortable kind of quiet between the two of you. Fred shifted slightly, looking down at you with an almost nervous energy that seemed at odds with his usual confident demeanor. “You, uh, you don’t have to stay on the couch,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, as if the question made him uneasy. “I mean, you could… you could rest here if you want.” He patted his lap.

You blinked up at him in surprise, and for a second, you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right. “Rest there?” you echoed, your voice hesitant.

“Yeah,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling up in a shy grin. “If you want to. I don’t mind. You look like you could use a little rest after… all that.”

You swallowed hard, the idea of being so close to him both thrilling and intimidating. “I… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you replied, voice a little shaky despite your best efforts to sound calm.

Fred tilted his head, the concern and warmth in his gaze making your heart flutter a little. “You won’t. I promise. I’m just making sure you’re alright. Besides,” he added with a slight smirk, “I am pretty comfortable, so I wouldn’t mind.”

A small laugh escaped you, the tension between you both finally starting to ease. “I guess it’s only fair, then,” you said, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you slowly let yourself relax against him, laying your head in his lap, in his hoodie.

You felt like you were about to explode, from barely talking to Fred to resting on his lap, it all felt surreal.

Fred shifted so you were sitting more comfortably. “I’ll stay right here, alright? You’re safe with me.”

You hesitated for a moment, the vulnerability of the situation sinking in, but then, surprisingly, you felt a sense of trust that you hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the way he had been so kind, so protective without question.

His warmth and the steady beat of his heart made you feel like you were in a cocoon, safe and protected.

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the quiet between you now comfortable, almost soothing. Fred absentmindedly brushed a strand of hair from your face, his hand lingering for a second longer than necessary.

“You’re alright now,” he murmured again, his voice soft, like he was reassuring himself as much as you.

You nodded, your eyes closing as the tension of the past few minutes started to fade away. “Yeah,” you said, your voice quiet but content. “I think I’m gonna be okay.”

You closed your eyes, exhaustion pulling at you. Slowly, the warmth of Fred’s presence washed you into a wave of calm. You drifted to sleep, your head resting in his lap, his fingers softly stroking your hair.

Fred watched you, his heart swelling with something he couldn’t quite put into words. He could’ve stayed there forever, his hand resting gently on your head, keeping you safe.

And in that moment, he couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful girl he had seen, and that he would never let anything harm you again.

[hellobykittys]

sooo i have a idea if you want obvi, i think about Lando's girlfriend who is best friend with the 2 Lilys and not with Alexandra or Francisca and Rebecca? I think these last 3 are like idk antipatic but not antipatic...(Not hate for they, its my personally opinion)

𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ✦ 𝐋𝐍⁴

SUMMARY: You're going to accompany your boyfriend on a racing weekend and you're taking the opportunity to spend time with your friends. NOTES: English is not my first language! I hope I understood this request correctly. PAIRING: Lando Norris x Reader! Girlfriend. WARNING: girls meet and some fluff. WC: 1.6k

MASTERLIST

Y/N wasn’t a constant presence during race weekends. Balancing the demands of college with the travel needed to accompany her boyfriend was a challenge, but she made it a point to be there whenever she could. The Singapore GP was one of those rare occasions where she managed to escape to the paddock and cheer for Lando.

Y/N had been at the McLaren hospitality suite for a few minutes. Lando had to leave her alone to handle some team-related matters, so she settled at a table, trying to pass the time while waiting for him.

“Y/N?” A sweet voice pulled her out of her thoughts. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here already?”

She turned around to see Lily Zneimer, Oscar Piastri’s girlfriend and one of her closest friends. Ever since they met—thanks to their boyfriends’ insistence—their friendship had quickly blossomed. At first, both were too shy to make conversation, but with a little nudge from Lando and Oscar, they discovered just how much they had in common. Since then, their bond had flourished, and they stayed in touch even outside of race weekends, constantly texting and planning meet-ups.

Lily flashed a radiant smile as she walked toward the table where Y/N was sitting.

“Oh, I just got here,” Y/N replied, smiling as she stood up to greet her friend. “I sat down to wait for you and got a little distracted.”

“Should we go find Lils?”

“Lils” was the nickname they gave Lily MuniHe to avoid confusion since the two girls shared the same name.

“Let me just ask where she is,” Y/N said, quickly pulling her phone out of her bag to text Lily MuniHe, while Lily Zneimer chatted enthusiastically.

“Are you feeling good about this weekend?” Lily asked with a hopeful smile.

“Absolutely! I’d love to see a double podium for our boys,” Y/N replied, tucking her phone away after sending the message. “Imagine if one of them wins? It’d be perfect!”

“I think we’ve got a good chance,” Lily said optimistically. “The track suits them, and it’s all going to come down to today’s qualifying.”

“Ah, Lils just replied!” Y/N announced, glancing back at her phone. “She said she’s at the Williams hospitality.”

“Then let’s go find her,” Lily suggested, already grabbing Y/N by the arm. “And after that… we should grab some food. I’m starving!”

The two started walking through the paddock, exchanging laughs and comments about the drivers and the bustling atmosphere around them. Singapore’s heat was relentless, and Y/N was already regretting her choice of a long-sleeved top, even though her outfit looked amazing.

“Fingers crossed the Williams hospitality has strong air conditioning,” Lily remarked, fanning her face with her hand. “If not, I might pass out before we even get to the food stand.”

“Not if Lils convinces us to stay and gossip,” Y/N joked, laughing.

When they arrived at the Williams hospitality, they found Lily MuniHe waiting outside, looking like she was melting in the heat.

“Took you long enough!” Lils exclaimed, pointing dramatically at the sky. “I almost turned into a puddle of sweat out here!”

“That’s because you can’t stay in one place,” Lily Zneimer teased with a playful grin. “You could’ve waited for us inside.”

“Well, now that we’re here, let’s get something to eat!”

“Let’s go!” Y/N said, grabbing both of their arms and leading the way toward the VIP area’s food court.

“I was thinking,” Lils began with a mischievous grin, “why don’t we grab some snacks to try? I saw some really interesting options around here.”

“I love trying savory snacks!” Y/N said enthusiastically, her eyes lighting up. “Let’s get all the flavors.”

“I’ve never been here before,” Zneimer commented, looking around with curiosity. “But I saw some desserts that look amazing.”

They reached the snack kiosk, which was relatively quiet, making it easy to pick their choices. Soon, they sat down at a nearby table with their selections.

“It’s such a shame you two don’t come to races often,” Lils commented, pulling a funny face. “Imagine how much fun we could have if you were here more often!”

“I’d love to be at every race, but college doesn’t make it easy,” Y/N said, with a wistful smile. “Some days, it feels like there’s no time to even breathe!”

“Same here,” Lily Zneimer added, sorting through the snacks she had picked. “Between work and travel, it’s hard to keep up with everything.”

“You’re both so boring!” Lils teased with a mock pout.

“Not everyone is born with the talent for sports like you,” Y/N quipped, raising an eyebrow. “It’d be great if we were pro golfers too, but sadly, I’m just a struggling student.”

“Lucky for me, I’ve got the best of both worlds!” Lils joked, earning laughs from the other two.

The trio continued joking and chatting about silly topics, losing track of time. It was amazing how, despite the chaos of race weekends, they managed to carve out these little moments of fun.

“By the way,” Lils said with a cheeky grin, “what happened to your boyfriend’s hair? I saw him earlier, and it looked like he just rolled out of bed.”

Y/N burst out laughing and rolled her eyes. “I know! He swears it’s ‘casual style,’ but really, he’s just too lazy to use a comb.”

“At least he’s not as careless as Oscar,” Lily Zneimer chimed in, laughing. “I swear he doesn’t even know what a hairdryer is.”

“And he doesn’t care!” Y/N added, raising an eyebrow. “I try to fix it, but he always says, ‘I’m comfortable like this.’ At least he still looks good with messy hair.”

The laughter flowed naturally as the girls joked about their boyfriends’ quirks. Between the pressures of the season and the intensity of race days, these lighthearted moments were crucial to keeping their spirits up.

“Speaking of our boyfriends,” Lily MuniHe said with a mischievous smile, “how about we plan a double-date dinner? What do you think?”

“That would be perfect!” Y/N exclaimed, excitedly. “It’s been ages since we all went out together.”

“I’m in!” Lily Zneimer agreed. “I just need to talk to Osc first.”

“Osc! So cute!” Y/N teased, watching as Lily Zneimer’s cheeks turned pink.

“You can’t tease her!” Lils defended with a laugh. “You’re always calling Lando ‘Lan.’”

“Oh, but ‘Lan’ is adorable!” Y/N replied with a shrug, playfully provoking the two.

The three kept chatting animatedly as they finished their snacks, but the announcement that qualifying was about to begin had them scrambling to get up.

“Time to head back,” Y/N declared, adjusting her bag on her shoulder. “I need to see my boyfriend secure pole position today.”

Lily Zneimer and Lily MuniHe followed her, still laughing and joking as they left the VIP area. The paddock was busier now, with mechanics and engineers rushing around, but the girls’ energy remained light and cheerful.

“So, what’s your prediction for today?” Lily asked, casting a curious look at her friend.

“Easy,” Y/N replied confidently. “Lando on pole and, with a bit of luck, Oscar right behind him.”

“Alright then, but if that happens, Osc and I will pay for the dinner we’ve been planning,” Lily countered, crossing her arms with a playful smile.

“Deal!” Y/N said, laughing. “And I’ll take care of dessert.”

Both girls laughed, sealing the agreement with an exaggeratedly dramatic handshake. As they reached the entrance to the garage, they shared a quick cheek kiss before parting ways to cheer on their respective boyfriends.

As Y/N stepped into the McLaren garage, her eyes immediately found Lando. He was already suited up in his signature orange racing gear, deeply engrossed in a conversation with one of the mechanics. She approached slowly, not wanting to interrupt. The moment the mechanic walked away, Lando noticed her presence and broke into a warm smile.

“Hey, honey! You finally showed up,” he said, his tone light and affectionate. “I was starting to think I’d have to get in the car without my good luck kiss.”

“I was with the girls, just wandering around the paddock,” Y/N explained as she stopped beside him. “But, of course, I wasn’t about to let you head out without seeing you first. By the way, I made a bet with Lily—if you get pole, she’s paying for dinner.”

Lando’s grin widened, clearly pleased with her confidence. He placed his hands gently on her waist, leaning in closer.

“Well then, I guess I’ve got one more reason to give it my all today, don’t I?” he said, his voice full of affection. “I’ll do it for you, my girl.”

Y/N smiled and stood on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I know you will,” she said with conviction. “But now you need to focus.”

“Just one more kiss,” Lando pleaded, his playful tone one she knew all too well.

Y/N gave in, brushing her lips against his again. What was meant to be a quick kiss deepened as Lando held her firmly by the waist, prolonging the moment. When they finally pulled apart, she rolled her eyes, trying to sound stern but failing to hide her amusement.

“Lan, you can’t kiss me like that in the middle of the garage!” she scolded, though her voice carried more laughter than seriousness.

“Why not?” he replied, raising an eyebrow. “You’re my girlfriend. I’ve got every right.”

Y/N sighed, shaking her head but with a smile tugging at her lips. “Alright, Mr. Confident. Now go. Show everyone what you’re capable of.”

He grinned from ear to ear, pressing a kiss to her forehead before finally pulling away to get ready.

[suguann]

✎. you've been on the run for a while. you knew someone would come eventually—but not him.

tags. fem!reader, old west era, bounty hunter simon, size difference, size kink, implied the reader's husband is a terrible human, accidental voyeurism, period-typical sexism, masturbation [18+ only]

masterlist

You’ve been running for months, first from your husband (the phantom grip of his hand still sending an ache through your wrist) and now as a wanted conwoman for stealing the clothes from an unsuspecting cowpoke who thought he was getting lucky. You can only imagine what Mama would say about trading your ruffled skirts for grass-stained trousers and boiled-leather suspenders.

(It’s unbecoming of a respectable woman, dear. Uncouth.)

She’d probably have a lot to say if she knew everything you’ve done to survive.

You hop from one place to the next only by the mere chance someone was willing to let a helpless woman accompany them on their travels. Nearly a month has passed since being stranded in a dusty old mining town after a man and his wife dump you off and leave you behind. Washoe’s a little gritty and not welcoming unless there’s money to spend.

It’s not exactly safe, not unsafe, either, but nobody asks questions as long as you keep your head down and play the part of a mourning widow just passing through.

You know you’ve overextended your stay when you can’t leave your room during the day without worrying about a noose and the open end of a barrel meeting you outside. 

(That your husband or that gun-waving cowpoke finally found you.)

Sleep practically clings to you like a second skin, but you don’t dare close your eyes—you can’t.

This is how you end up sitting in the corner of the saloon, using the last of whatever you have in your change purse to order something strong, something your husband kept locked away, and anything else he thought women shouldn’t have a part in. 

You don’t even realize that your eyelids begin to feel heavy, steadily blurring out the flickering lantern on the wall while you wait for your drink. 

You catch yourself once or twice before your head can hit the table, rapidly blinking away the exhaustion before your eyes slide to the swinging doors.

You should stay awake. 

You need to stay awake just a little bit longer—

Your luck runs out that day. 

It’s one thing to know it’d happen eventually, and something else to realize that you make it easy for him—the man with an infamous name and a faded black bandana covering half his face—how he walked into the saloon and scooped you up (all unladylike sleepy dead weight) out of the weathered booth without a fight.

When you’d woken up to find yourself trussed up and thrown over the back of his horse, you cursed him out with every word you could think of that would make Mama clutch her skirts. Your captor ignored you, only talking to you whenever he warned you he was about to set up camp. 

“Did my husband send you?” Acknowledging him after all this time tasted like pennies on your tongue.

The man, Simon Riley, had leaned back against his bedroll and tipped the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Go the fuck to sleep.”

That was several weeks ago. 

Now, you find yourself stranded in another state that’s more green and vibrant than anything you’re familiar with, stuck with a man who refuses to answer the questions you throw at him. He doesn’t talk outside a few cursory words you greedily latch onto. Anything’s better than silence and the sound of hooves hitting earth. 

The pace he keeps you at is exhausting. You complain about it enough until he moves you in front of him, tying your hands to the saddle's horn.

“I would strongly advise you to shut that mouth for the rest of the ride unless you want me to do something about that, too.” The low growl of his voice in your ear makes the fine hairs on the back of your neck stand up, muddling your brain.

You’re distantly aware you had something to say to that, but you don’t. 

And that is really saying something.

It’s because there’s someone he needs to meet in town—an errand that lawbreakers who run their mouths aren’t allowed to go on.

This is how you end up sitting in camp alone, twirling around a knife he gave you solely for emergencies. 

(Surprise, sharp and quick through your middle, when he tosses his pocket knife into the grass beside you. “What’s to stop me from leaving?”

You could’ve sworn he rolled his eyes. “Will you?”

It doesn’t seem worth dignifying with a reply. You don’t want to travel alone, and there’s a high possibility of getting lost, finding yourself saddled up with worse company than the one you’re stuck with.

Until he evidently catches you again.)

He’s a lot nicer than you first gave him credit for—if only by a fraction—not that you know much about Simon other than what you overheard from gossip circles before you became Mrs. Thornton. Afternoons spent sipping tea laden with honey and lounging around a table full of cakes in the sun parlor while wealthy women talked behind their lace-covered hands to hide secret smiles you were too naive to understand. 

Trying not to stare at the bulge of his arms with thin pink scars—unlike the men you’re used to who got through life with a silver spoon hanging from their mouth—as he places his saddle back on his horse, you think you finally know what they smiled about.

You learn those scars also litter his torso from the time you accidentally walked upon him mid-way through putting his trousers on after washing in the river. It’d been too dark for you to see much else, and you quickly returned to camp before he could say something that would embarrass you both. 

Then, of course, tucked away into your bedroll, you can’t help wondering what the rest of him would have looked like if you had stayed a second longer. 

If his jaw is sharp or soft behind that mask he insists on wearing—that’s if he’d let you see at all. 

Simon’s always so serious that it’s often hard to determine whether he’s merely tolerating your existence until he can get rid of you or if he’s unused to traveling accompanied for so long. It’s not as if he goes out of his way to make pleasant conversation with you for you to assume otherwise.

You look off in the direction where he disappeared into the dense line of trees hours ago, wondering if you should go out looking for him (mainly because you’re hot and sticky from the humidity) despite his order to stay put. 

But after four hours turns into five, you head off, searching for something to help cool you off.

Luckily, unlike the heavily eroded lands you’re used to, there isn’t any water shortage in a place that sees rain three times a day, so it doesn’t take long to find a lake. You set your knife down on the stone-covered beach, followed by your boots, until you’re left in nothing but your undergarments. 

The water is icy cold and laps gently at your feet when you step in. You can’t find it in you to complain as the heat from the day slowly washes away the further you walk in and find a wide ledge to sit on. 

Your thoughts drift back to Simon, incessant and intruding even though you shouldn’t be thinking about him while wet and naked. And suddenly, you can picture it: his hands replacing yours as they trace along your neck. You have a feeling they’re probably rough and scarred from years of living hard and gunslinging, extracting the readily available knowledge that they’re big enough to encase your waist.

He could maneuver you around however he wants (you know this), and you feel dizzy just thinking about it.

Sighing, you sink deeper into the water while your hands smooth over the tips of your breasts and down your stomach. 

You wish you could see him without violating whatever personal preservations hide him from the rest of the world. Instead, you’re left with your imagination—the benefits of being a married woman and the little experience you have in the bedroom finally coming into play. 

Closing your eyes, you picture what he might look like under those sun-weathered leathers, knowing that the broadness of his shoulders isn’t only due to his vest and holsters but also from how his job has shaped him.

Your hands travel lower, fingers brushing through the creamy, soft wetness between your legs, evidence of what Simon does to you even when he’s not around. A moan, too high and breathy, slips past your lips as you use your middle finger to circle your clit in slow, clumsy swirls from lack of practice and patience that spreads warmth through your middle despite the cold water. 

It’s good, your fingers discovering places your husband always ignored—too many nights spent with your hand under your nightgown long after he’d tucked his cock away and gone to sleep—but probably don’t compare to the ones you’ve caught yourself staring at far too many times. 

They don’t fill you nearly enough, unlike how you know Simon’s would—thick and unrelenting. Rough and long, reaching deep enough to make you breathless.

Your breath hitches from pinching the tight, sensitive peak of your nipple until you feel a slight sting, and then it slips out, a tiny thing that’s only audible to your ears—Simon—a secret you now share with the lightning bugs and crickets.

“Dirty, no good rotten—” he’d tell you for thinking such lewd thoughts about him, for sinning so easily. Maybe you are, for getting so worked up over a man who isn’t your husband (no matter how terrible a husband he may be).

A man who’s so big that he makes you feel small, the type that gives before he takes. It’s enough to make you work your hand faster—your body vibrating from the chill of the water and the ache between your trembling thighs.  

Fantasies aren’t enough to sate the deep longing in your chest. Yet you’re slipping over the edge of ecstasy before taking your next breath—all of it builds up and gradually crests inside you like the lake rippling against the shore.

Afterward, it leaves you feeling soft and blurred around the edges, a watercolor painting drying under the sun while you wait for your rapid heartbeat to slow.

You don’t realize your eyes have fallen shut until they flutter open, and you’re startled to find Simon standing at the shoreline, his chest heaving as if he ran here. 

(Though he probably did to see if you took the opportunity to leave.)

You’re glued to your spot on the rock, suddenly struck with the mortifying realization that he’d seen you come—that he possibly heard you cry out his name so intimately.

You watch him remove his hat and hang it on a branch with wide eyes. Followed by his undershirt, guns, and—

He keeps removing clothes until he’s completely naked on the shore—aside from his face that stays hidden—scars marred his chest, spreading to his collarbones and below the water as he steps into the lake and sits on another ledge across from you.

His mask makes him look more menacing, erasing any trace of softness there. And you wonder if he’s angry at you for wandering off.

"Come here." His voice is low and deep, rumbling in his chest.

You don't think he'd hurt you. If he wanted to, he would have done it by now.

At least, that’s what you’re going with to settle the nervous fluttering in your middle.

Water laps at your arms as you wade through the water, each shaky step bringing you closer until you stop before him.

"In my lap."

Your breath sticks in your throat as you do as he says, settling down onto his sturdy thighs, palms falling flat against his broad chest. That same breath comes out in one large exhale as his fingers slide along your jaw, to the nape of your neck, curling into your hair, wet and falling around your shoulders.

“Like this?” you ask, trying to ignore how breathy you sound.

He grunts, apparently in confirmation.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt so conflicted in your life—fear and arousal turning into a messy cocktail in your veins.

“Why do I always have to use a heavy hand to make you listen?”

Your lips part. Breath growing short. “I’m sorry.”

And then—

Simon pulls your head back sharply, exposing your throat.

Your body goes slack against his. Mind blissfully blank.

“No,” he says, tone flat. “But you will be.”

[enhard]

park sunghoon — “code red”

let it fall, call it code red

: you send your boyfriend some risky photos, knowing he’s about to perform in front of thousands. the punishment you’ll get is well deserved.

pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader

cw: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions about multiple rounds, sunghoon using your body for his own pleasure, he ties up your hands, degrading kink, hair pulling, slight masturbating, sending explicit photos and texts, lots of teasing.

not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)

it’s been an hour ever since you kissed your boyfriend goodbye, wishing him luck at his upcoming concert. an hour ever since you couldn’t stop thinking about him, closing your eyes just to imagine him being right there between your legs.

you’re laying down on your bed, the need to touch him sinking you in the mattress. you sit up to look into the mirror that’s by the bed, deciding to tease him a bit.

you know that he’s with his members right now, having to perform any second.

you keep looking at your body in the mirror, lifting your undershirt just enough to show your abdomen. you take off your shorts, leaving yourself in your panties.

biting your lip, you open your camera app. you lay back down in your bed to take a few pics from the neck down. your boobs sit so nicely for the picture, almost like knowing you’re taking them for your love.

after you take some pics, even a short video for you holding your phone up with your right hand while running your left hand all over your body. you slightly smile and the camera picks it up perfectly for him.

you squeeze your thighs together, starting to grind on your own panties while thinking about him again.

you quickly open up the texting app, seeing that he was active 2 minutes ago. “perfect” you mumble to yourself, letting out small sounds as you’re squeezing your thighs tighter.

you send him a little text first, to see if he’d reply in the first place.

hey baby are you still backstage?

heyy my love yeah im still here, they’re delaying the concert a few minutes lol. what’s up?

oh if he knew right there.

mm i’m glad then, i miss you alreadyyy 😓

🫣 what do you mean by that darling?

and then you just go for it. you smile as you send him one photo of the ones you took, along with that short video. the blinding red led light hovering over your skin.

as soon as he sees the photos, he covers his phone screen to not leak it to anybody by accident.

he gulps, examining every part of your body visible. oh how he wishes he could throw kisses all over your pretty body. he hates what you’re doing to him but oh how much he loves how hot you look for him.

he can feel his bulge getting harder with each passing second staring at the material you sent him, looking down and cursing under his breath.

he immediately texts you back, struggling already.

you fucking slut, you got me hard already how am i supposed to perform now?

you smile even harder at his text, travelling your hand down to your panties just to rub yourself. you want him inside you badly, but teasing him is equally as fun.

letm help u get rid of it go smwhere whereno one can see u ;)

i don’t have time, if i get caught you’re so dead whore. i’m coming home right after this but why are you typing so weird all of a sudden?

ifs hard typingwuth one hand love 😜

oh you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now. when did i let you touch yourself? you’ll see what will happen when i get home. you better be all ready cause you’re not going down easy.

you don’t get to even text back, cause you get another few ones from him.

fuck i need to perform now

you’re getting punished when i get home

ill fuck you so good you’ll need me all the time from now on

you better not cum until i get home

you close your eyes, replaying his texts in your mind on repeat as you rub your panties faster. you keep his promise on not cumming, figuring you already pissed him off enough already.

your nipples get hard from the cold air coming from the open window. you get such heat in your stomach you can’t tame, only way you can tame it now is by letting sunghoon do whatever he wants to you.

you wonder the whole time how he performed with a boner but he did quite well, hiding it as well as he could. of course all he could think about was you.. those photos you sent floating in his mind on loop.

he forgot a few lyrics here and there being too preoccupied remembering the curves on your body he loved so much. how he was going to trace his fingers over every bump and curve on it.

feels like hours passed since his concert started, but the concert’s duration was only an hour, way shorter than the usual concerts he holds.

when they were done performing, backstage he quickly changed his clothes and took his things to run home. he didn’t even care enough to greet his members, all he wanted was you.

when you hear the front door open, you almost squeal out of excitement. you fix up your hair a bit, covering yourself with the blanket on your bed.

he drops all his things just to burst through the bedroom.

he eyes you up and down, his gaze changing suddenly when he sees you.

he walks over to you, already talking his jacket off.

“let me give you what you want love, you deserve it.” he growls, dragging you out of bed. your body gets exposed to him like this, and he can’t help but run his hands all over you. he picks you up just to squeeze you between him and the wall. you feel his hard cock against your panties as he’s smirking.

you grab onto the collar of his shirt, whining at him. “pleaseee fuck me already. i was a good girl, i didn’t cum yet.” you feel proud of yourself, and he gives you a kiss for that.

“you are a good girl, but not good enough for me not to punish you. know that right?” you nod. but you don’t mind. you wrap your arms around his neck, hoping for the best.

he throws you back onto the bed, getting on top of you. he doesn’t hesitate taking off his shirt while smiling at you. he leans in for another kiss before running his hands up your undershirt to cup your breasts. he plays with them, tugging on your nipples and pinching your skin. you know how much he loves them, and you love when he plays with them. then he just takes off your undershirt, wanting to see them in their glory.

you try reaching to touch his abs, but he quickly takes off his belt to tie your hands above your head with it. you look at him while pouting but he doesn’t buy any of it.

“no pouting and no touching slut, this is what you get. next time watch what you do.” you nod, looking down.

as he’s about to take your panties off, he notices how wet you are, scoffing.

“talk about me being hard, look at you slut. you’re so wet just for me.. that’s how i love it.” he chuckles, sliding them off you too easily.

he parts your legs, rubbing your pussy a bit before inserting his fingers inside you.

you instantly moan, bouncing up and down trying to move around on his fingers.

he slaps your pussy, making you stop. “did i tell you to do that? oh you’re getting on my nerves whore. sit still before i have to tie you up whole.”

you gulp, apologising in a sweet voice. “im sorry.. daddy.” he clicks his tongue. “that’s better. keep your legs open for me.” he takes his fingers out of you, leaving such emptiness within you.

he takes off his pants and boxers in one move.

he’s way too needy to waste time right now, but he’s down to teasing you any time.

he starts fisting his cock, right with you watching with your legs open. he gives himself deep strokes, groaning a bit with each one. you’re sitting there craving his cock too bad to be cutting with this right now. you start doing what you’re best at, whining.

“what are you doing… please fuck me alreadyyyy i feel way better than your hand pleaseee..” you’re pathetic whining and begging like that, but it does the job in convincing him.

without saying a word, he shoves it all inside you. he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, making you scream out of frustration.

“you stretched yourself enough with your fingers thinking about me, be quiet before i make you keep your mouth closed.”

you try keeping quiet as he’s thrusting into you at whatever pace he wants, moaning every few thrusts. the heat in your stomach gets more and more unbearable, you let out small noises and he’s fine with that.

“you’re such.. a slut..begging me.. to fuck you.. you’re all mine.” you nod frantically.

“..i’m all yours… only yours.. fuck daddy pleaseee..”

he picks his pace up upon hearing the new nickname you chose again, pulling at your hair little by little.

you clench around him as you’re about to cum and he keeps your legs wide open, grabbing them harder. “let me.. make you cum pretty girl..”

and you do just that, you furrow your eyebrows as you cum all over him. all over his abs and the covers.

he hisses as you’re cumming, enjoying your quiet moans.

he leans in to rest his head in the crook of your neck, fucking into you even faster than before.

you wrap your legs around him, expecting for him to cum soon.

you’re right, and without saying a word he’s convinced you’re letting him cum inside you.

he thrusts into you a few more times before letting out a moan as he’s cumming in you filling you up.

you roll your eyes back, enjoying the feeling too badly.

after a bit he sits up, making you sit on his lap. your arms still tied, you give him a kiss.

“i’ll use you the whole night you whore, you’ll regret sending those pictures.” he says in a low voice.

you’re willing to let him use you, this was your reasoning on why those photos exist. you want him to use you, knowing that you give him more pleasure than anyone could.

you just smile, knowing your plan worked.

“use me up, cum inside me just how you love it. until you stop seeing red.”

[thebestsetter]

Isagi loves your thighs. And even though he isn't the type of guy to answer "personality" when asked "Boobs, thighs or ass?", he doesn't want to outright say how attracted he feels to them, mainly because he doesn't want you to think he only cares about your body (even though you know he doesn't).

So, imagine how heavenly it felt the first time he got to sleep on your lap. He remembers it as if it happened yesterday.

He had come home after a tough day of practice, in which his coach seemed even more angry than usual and just determined to make the whole team's day a living hell. Everything in him was aching, from his back to his feet, and he could swear he had a fever or something, because his head was starting to throb too. All Isagi wanted to do was get home and lay down, even if it means sleeping without showering (which shows just how tired he was).

"Honey? You're home!" he heard you saying from the kitchen "Welcome home!"

He tried to answer your sweet voice welcoming him home. He really did. But his mouth just wouldn't answer his brain's commands. So, he was just standing, staring at you with his mouth wide open, looking like an idiot.

"Isagi? Are you feeling alright?"

He couldn't even register what he was doing, but the next thing he knew, he walked closer to you. His body was just moving on it's own, as if being as close to you as possible was as natural for him as breathing.

"Sweetie, you're starting to scare me. Do you need to go to the doctor? Did something happen today at practice?"

He couldn't resist the urge to hug you anymore, even though he was trying to restrain himself because he was still stinky from practice and he knew just how much you hated it when he hugged or kissed you without showering first. He couldn't explain it, but you looked so huggable at the moment! He took a step closer, hugging you tight and burying his face in the crook of your neck, innaling deeply and letting out a satisfied sigh. One of his hands was travelling your waist while the other was playing with the hem of your shirt.

"Yoichi!" you exclaimed, voice worried yet still not loud enough to make his head ache even more (he doesn't even think your voice will ever be capable of doing him any harm) "You're burning up! You have a fever! I can't believe it, I told you to take better care of yourself!"

Ah. So he was right. He had a fever. That's why training was so hard today.

"Hm" he muttered, still with his head in your neck. He closed his eyes, enjoying the moment you both were having.

"Stay at the couch, I'll go grab some medicine at the bathroom."

"Noooo, don't leave me here" he said, clearly affected by his sickness. It looks like his mouth finally started to work again. "I don't want to be away from youuuu"

"Yoichi, my honey, you're clearly not thinking straight right now. But I won't go away! I'll be back in like 30 seconds. Sit on the couch and count, I swear it won't take long"

He sighed, but complied anyway, sitting at the couch and waiting (im)patiently.

You were right, because in almost no time you came back with pills and a cup of water. If there was a sport where the champion had to be the person who brought a glass of water and medicine to their sick boyfriend the fastest, you would win, Isagi thought (and that thought made him strangely proud).

"Here. Drink it up" he obeyed

"Everything hurts"

"I know it does, love. What you need right now is sleep. Come here" you said, patting your lap. If Yoichi was in his right mind, he would've blushed hard and maybe even denied at first, but he wasn't. He just wanted to rest, and he always dreamed about laying in your lap. So, he quickly grasped the opportunity.

And boy was it as good as he imagined it would be. Even better, actually. Your thighs were fluffier than any other pillows he had ever used before, and he felt like he could hibernate there. And as if it couldn't get any better, you started playing with his hair. He was in heaven. He couldn't even fell the pain anymore, and he was sure it wasn't just the medicine doings.

"I love your thighs" he admitted, a honesty he wouldn't have when he was healthy, which made you chuckle "And I love you too. Thank you." He kissed the inner part of your thigh to show you just how serious he was about it

"I love you too, Yoichi. Now, rest. We don't want the best striker of the world to be sick all week, do we?"

"If it means getting to lay on your lap everyday, I would be sick my whole life"

"You're silly"

"And you're the love of my life"

"Good night, Isagi"

"Good night, my love"

Masterlist

[yourmidnightlover]

grumpy!bucky x sunshine!reader where sunshine reader turns out to be the dominant one in bed

this is just filth.

warnings: handjob, dirty talk? (reader)

bucky never expected this from you. from your sweet, innocent smile. the way you giggle, even at steve’s jokes that are never really that funny. there was no way he could guess that you would be taking him apart like a damn lincoln log set.

“does that feel good, jamie?” you tease him as you work his cock. you knew the effect you were having on him

sitting on the couch in his apartment - a couch you insisted that he get so you could comfortably cuddle while watching movies together - you poised on his lap, just on the edge of his thighs. what had started as a makeout session has now turned into something much more heated.

having been together for nearly 4 months and still not done the deed, mostly because bucky didn’t want to make it seem like that’s the only thing he wanted you for, bucky was pleasantly surprised when his sweet innocent girlfriend was suddenly taking charge of him.

you were pressing open mouthed kisses to his neck, your hand pressed to his still clothed cock. his hands were roaming from your waist to your back to the back of your head, wanting to touch all of you, feel all of you.

“so-oh shit,” bucky nearly fucking whimpers. this strong, beefy super soldier, turning into putty in your small hands.

the team was so fooled. you would bake cookies for them every week. on missions, you never dared to say a single swear word - something steve has come to respect. always wearing the most innocent, frilly little sundresses when you can. and here you are, whispering the dirtiest things in bucky’s ear.

“so hard for me already, baby,” you whisper in his ear, his hips bucking up to press harder against your hand. “and already so eager, too.” you giggle. you fucking giggle.

“please?” he begs. “god, please, sweets,” he whispers oh-so-needy, his hips still rutting into your hand.

“please what?” you take your hand away from his cock. “use your words like a big boy.”

he lets out a frustrated huff as he throws his head back, his hands settling on your waist and gripping you for dear life.

“please touch me?” he asks. “please touch me, please?” his desperation is palpable as his chest rises and falls.

“… here?” you ask, your hands gripping his broad shoulders firmly. he shakes his head. “how about… here?” you move your hands to his hair, gently yanking on his longer locks.

“fuck,” he moans as his head is tilted up, your lips connecting with his neck and leaving the prettiest marks he swears he’s ever seen. he can’t even complain, so lost in your touch, grateful for whatever you were willing to give him.

“or…” you continue to kiss his neck as you trail your hands down to the front of his sweatpants. he lifts his hips to help you push the waistband down. “here,” your hands finally connect with his member, your touch so gentle he wouldn’t even be able to tell if he weren’t so hyper aware of you right now.

he whimpers at the feather-light touch. “yes,” he nods eagerly. “right there, please?” he opens his eyes, looking down to see your small hand wrapped around his member. truth be told, the sight is better than he’s imagined - which he has… a lot.

“so polite for me,” you praise him and his hips rut into your touch. “there we go, baby,” you firmly wrap your hand around him, moving your hands up and down teasingly slow. you give him this smirk, making sure he knew what you were doing.

he moans for you, a debouched, wanton moan. a sound that he’s never elicited in his overextended life on earth. yet, you brought it out of him. he rests his forehead against yours, his hands still gripping your waist but now traveling to your hips. to rest there comfortably.

your hand picks up the pace, gripping him a bit tighter as you sweep your thumb over his leaky tip. “suck a pretty cock, jamie,” you say as you look down. “all mine.”

“yours,” he mimics your words. “all yours, sweets. forever.” he assures you - not that you ever had any doubts.

you pick up the pace, working your hand over his a bit quicker as his breaths come in shorter. his eyes shut as your foreheads remain together; he’s getting close. “so pretty like this,” you praise him. “coming undone for me. being such a good fucking boy, too.” his hips buck up again at the praise, he’s teetering right on the edge, just needing one more push. “finish for me, baby. cum all over my hand. make a dirty fucking mess for me, jamie.”

and he’s gone. his jaw drops as his hips work up to meet your hand, a cry of your name leaving his lips as his come spills from his pretty cock. his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer as you work him through his high.

he swears your the best things that’s ever happened to him. it’s not just this - no. it’s your sweet voice cooing to him when he wakes up from a nightmare when you decide to sleep over. it’s you cooking his favorite meal ‘just because.’ it’s just you, dammit. everything about you made him want to hold you close in his arms and never let you go. he wanted to protect you and guard you with his life. he wanted to marry you - fuck. yeah, yeah. he did want to marry you. he wanted you to have his kids, too. this life-altering realization coming just as he… quite ironic, isn’t it?

[chlorinecake]

imagine taking care of riki while he’s sick and he can’t resist the urge to give you kissies all over bc he’s so inluv with you :(

[Vitamin C]uddles —⊹ N.RK (西村力) 🛏️

Pairing… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ sick boyfriend!niki x gf!reader

Warnings… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ kissing, lots of teasing, fluff

Words… ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 521 -> “I’ll take care of you. Duh.”

Despite his usually intimidating appearance, Niki was a huge baby on the inside, and those attributes were only amplified whenever he wasn’t feeling well.

The poor boy had been sick ever since he got back from traveling, so you took it upon yourself to care for him until he got better.

“Hey, this needs more soy sauce… I can hardly taste it,” Niki whined, taking a dissatisfied sip from the chicken soup you ordered.

“Niki, there’s already so much in here that the broth turned brown. Now eat up before it gets cold,” you said, placing a napkin on the table tray beside him.

“I will, but only if you stay with me this time.”

You turned your head at his words, “Aww, d’you miss me?”

“No, I’ve been in bed all day and I’m just bored.”

“Riigght,” you said, spoon feeding him a glob of the grape flavored medicine.

He made a weird face, trying to get over the bitter taste of the cough syrup, “My God, that tastes like poison!”

You giggled at your boyfriends words, climbing in bed next to him with a large plate of assorted sushi rolls, “Try some with wasabi, too! It might help unclog your sinuses.”

Using the chopsticks, you dipped a sushi roll into the chunky green paste, bringing it to his mouth with an airplane motion.

You must’ve put too much, because his eyes immediately started watering as he ate it.

“Do you have any other talents aside from torturing me everyday?” He asked, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Yup,” you said plainly, escaping his side, “I’m pretty good at leaving sick people to fend for themselves.”

He watched as you walked toward the door, “Byeeee… wait! NOO!! I miss you already!”

“But you just said bye?”

“I didn’t mean it, baby. Come back please!! You forgot to give me vitamin C.”

“Vitamin what?” You asked, turning to face him with your arms crossed.

“Vitamin C… for cuddles,” he clarified, pouting.

“Fine,” you said sharply, “but only if you promise not to say anything else stupid… or mean.”

“Ok, ok, just stop stalling and get over here already!”

You walked back to the bed, lying next to Niki under the covers as he put the sushi platter on the bedside table.

“Wahhh, you’re so warm,” you giggled, your silly boyfriend swinging his leg over your body.

“Okay, now what are you doing?”

“Making a cage for you, my naughty little kitten,” he smiled, poking your nose.

“But I don’t like cages,” you sulked.

“Well then pretend it’s a seatbelt instead,” he chirped.

“Fine…”

“Double FINE! Can I get a kiss now?”

“What? No, what if you get me sick?”

“Then I’ll take care of you. Duh… and before you ask, yes, I promise,” he chuckled, resting his hand on your neck before cradling your face in his hand, leaving feather light kisses all over your face.

“Thank you for not rejecting my heebie-jeebies,” he said in between pecking your cheeks.

“Well when you put it like that, it kinda makes me want to,” you teased, squirming in his warm embrace.

More like this: Kisses with Riki in the dressing room

౨ৎ Thank you for reading this quick little fic, and special thanks to the lovely anon who requested this piece!

౨ৎ Feel free to check out more cute and fun reads like this at the pinned post on my blog :3

౨ৎ Tags: kinda got lazy here but bear with me ~ @squoxle @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @nikisdubblchococake

update 12/03: Thank you all so much for 1,000 likes!!