#it was just my hair. and then it was just my hair again then it was just my bra strap and then it was just
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partiallysame · 3 days ago
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Ghost Gets No Bitches pt. 3
Word Count: 2300
Content warnings: smut, Sub!simon, unprotected sex, P in V, this got a lil freak nasty 
(ahhhh this is my first smut im big nervous)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 2.5
Simon followed you up the stairs to your apartment, palms sweating, pants tight. The second the lock clicked and the door swung open you grabbed Simon by the belt pulling him inside, immediately leaning up against the now closed door he had to put his hands out to stop from crashing into you. Caged between his arms you tugged his shirt bringing his lips to yours. Your hands began to roam all over his defined chest while one of his gripped your hip pulling you into him. “Couch” you mumbled between kisses, barely pulling away enough to speak the word. Feet fumbling, both refusing to separate enough to look where you were going. Once the back of his calves touched the couch you pushed his chest forcing him down onto the couch, taking a moment to look at the way his pupils were dilated, chest heaving and arms reaching to bring you back to him. Lifting one leg on either side of his lap, you straddled him, lips finding their way to his neck. Leaving a wet trail of bites and kisses on his neck you began to tug at the hem of his shirt, prompting him to take it off. The moan that left your lips at his exposed torso made his grip on your thighs tighten. Simon had never been ogled like this. You were looking at him like he was a full course meal that you were going to eat and lick the plate clean. Your lips found his again, body beginning to grind onto his. His large hands pulled your dress up enough to expose your ass, his fingers digging into the flesh helping you grind onto him. The friction of his jeans on your clothed crotch had you letting little mewls in his ear. His hands began to tug a little more at your dress until you pulled away from him. 
“Use your words.” Your lips were puffy and the way you were looking at him, Simon didn’t think any coherent thoughts could come out.
“Off.” You cocked your head to the side slightly, not moving to follow his request. 
“What was that?” Your voice dripping with innocence but he knew it was anything but.
“Take this off.” You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Fuck take this off, please.” The last word came out more of a breath than an actual sound. 
“Good boy.” You pulled the dress over your head exposing the matching lingerie set you had been wearing. Fuck you were wearing this all night? Simon took a deep breath, groaning at the sight in front of him. You started to remove yourself from him but his hands slid from your thighs to your hips keeping you in place. “Just taking this to the bed, thats all.” you reassured him.
“Tell me where, love?” His grip tightened as he stood with you still attached to him, legs wrapping around his thick torso. This time his lips found your neck trailing their way across the vein there until he found a spot that made your breathing pick up. As he neared your room, your hand found its way into his hair. A hard tug at the roots of his blonde hair pulled his mouth from you and the whimper that he let out was a noise he didn’t know he could make. You moved his head to the side to give space to bite down on his neck, sucking and leaving a deep purple mark. Fuck his legs were gonna give out if you kept doing that. He walked the two of you further in until he could set you down on the bed. Leaning back onto your hands, you looked at him with hooded eyes. Simon never thought he’d get into heaven but here he was, staring at your almost naked body, sitting waiting patiently for him. “Off” your foot trailed up his thigh before putting the smallest amount of pressure on the outline of his cock over his jeans. 
“Yes Ma’am.” The words left his lips before he knew what he was saying but the phrase went straight to your core. His pants fell to the floor and you licked your lips, staring shamelessly at his fucking huge cock pressed against his stomach. 
“You know Simon,” You slid from the bed to drop to your knees in front of him, “You’ve been so good today. Do you think you deserve a reward?” Hands sliding up and down his thick thighs, feeling the way they would tighten and flex under your touch. He started to nod but stopped himself. Words Simon.
“Yes Please.” Simon Ghost Riley couldn’t remember the last time he used the word ‘please’ but here he was whimpering it for the second time. His breath was shaking as you got closer to him. Simon’s cock twitched, your breath fanned over it, but you hadn’t touched him yet. Lowering yourself so your face was centimeters away from the base of his cock, teasing him with your warm breath, lips so close to doing what he needed you to. His hands were in fists, trying so hard to keep composed, to let you tease him, to not put his hand onto your head and pull you closer. Looking up and locking eyes with him, your tongue traced a long line from the base of his cock to the tip, eliciting a long moan from him. Hands gripping the base, adjusting the angle, you took him into your mouth fully, without warning. You hummed, tasting the salty precum, the vibrations making his legs shake. His hand found its way to your hair so gently, scared to make the wrong move. Your mouth worked up and down his length, tongue pressing into the prominent vein on the underside of his cock and swirling around the tip. It only took a few seconds for his grip on your hair to tighten. He felt like a fucking teenager, about to cum this fast. 
“wait not yet” He tried to pull himself from you but you pulled the back of his thighs, cock hitting the back of your throat, you swallowed around him and he was a goner. A broken moan left him as he shot his load down your throat. Slowly removing him from your mouth, you stood up and pulled him down into a kiss, making him taste himself from your lips. You spun the two of you, hands pressing onto his chest pushing him down onto the bed.
“I’m not done with you yet, Lieutenant.” His cock twitched hearing you use his rank. Pressing into his chest until he laid flat, your legs wrapping around to straddle him again. Your hand found his jaw, gripping and moving his head slightly so your lips could brush against his ear, “the first one was your reward. But you’re going to beg for the next one.” Lowering your hips enough, Simon could feel your soaked panties slide across his already hard cock. His hands tried to slide their way up your thighs, but you gripped his wrists, pressing them above his head. “No touching without permission, Lieutenant.” He nodded and kept his hands above his head, gripping the pillow when you let go of him. You pressed your lips onto his and Simon tried to lean into you as much as possible, loving the feeling of your control over him. He let out a disappointed whine when you pulled your body from his, clothed pussy no longer dragging against his cock. A wet trail of kisses were left from his neck down to his chest, tongue swirling over his nipple, his hips bucked up involuntarily at the sensation. Your hand found his jaw again, grip tighter than the last time, “Behave.” 
“M’sorry fuck please.” His accent thick as he began to whine. 
“Please what Simon?”  You started the trail of kisses again, moving down his stomach getting so close to his cock again. 
“Please can I touch you?” His knuckles had turned white from the death grip he had on the pillow. Your lips were now hovering over the tip of his cock, teasingly you blew air over his slit and his hands shot down to you. Before they could reach you, you made a “tsk” noise and his hands found the sheets next to his thighs. You hadn’t given him permission yet. Fuck he can do this, he can be good for you. 
“Good boy.” You smirked as you moved further from his cock, nails dragging lightly up and down his muscular thighs, watching as this giant man twitched under you. Removing yourself from the bed just long enough to slide your panties down your thighs, Simon couldn’t look anywhere but at your glistening core. Straddling him again, you leaned back against his thighs, giving him the perfect view of your body and your dripping pussy. 
“Please let me touch you, please.” His hands lifted slightly trying so hard to behave for you. 
“No.” He wanted to let out a groan but the sound stopped in his throat when he watched you trail your own hand down your stomach and further down until your fingers spread your folds open, coating themselves in your slick. “Open.” It was an order and Simon oh so happily obeyed, opening his mouth as you leaned forward, pushing your wet fingers into his mouth so he could taste you. His tongue wrapped around your fingers and you bit your lip at the sight in front of you. Removing your fingers from his mouth, you slid your pussy across his painfully hard cock. How wet you were and the pressure on him had his head spinning and pleads pouring from his mouth. 
“Fuck please, need to touch you.” His eyes had started to get glossy from all the teasing.
“Go ahead Simon. Touch.” Large hands immediately found your tits, palming at them for a moment before one hand slid down to find your clit, rubbing soft circles. The moan you let out almost broke whatever resolve he had left. Lifting your body just enough, you reached down to grab his cock and line it up with your slit. You lowered yourself slightly, the tip of his cock pressing ever so slightly into you, but stopping there. “Do you want it?” Simon’s eyes were pulled from where you two were connecting to your eyes, head nodding fast. “Then beg for it.” You pulled your body up until his cock was no longer touching you and Simon had never felt more desperate in his life. 
“Fuck please. Need it. Need you Please lovie. I just… please” Hearing his gruff voice whine and beg for you made you lower yourself again but just enough to how you were, his tip barely in you. “Please please please let me make you feel good. Please use me.” Tears were threatening to spill at the feeling of your walls gripping him but knowing you could pull away at any moment. 
“You’re so good for me Simon.” You slowly slid down until he was fully sheathed in you. Your hands placed heavy on his chest, nails digging in as you tried to adjust to his massive size, eyes rolling back in your head at the sensation. Beginning to bounce at an agonizingly slow pace, his hands found your ass, wanting to urge you to speed up but knowing he’d be in trouble if he did. Fuck you’re so tight around him. Whimpers had been falling from his mouth the second you slid down on him. Bottoming out, your pussy clenched around him and he bucked his hips. Fuck he didn’t mean to. He was scared you were going to pull off of him but instead you let out a pornographic moan at the action, his cock hitting that spongy spot in you. 
“Again.” You said trying to keep control but fuck did he feel good, you were losing your grip on reality too. He thrust again and again, your hands planted firmly on his chest holding on for dear life. “Make me cum Simon.” Fuck you didn’t have to tell him twice. He brought one hand to your clit again rubbing messy circles as you bounced up and down on his cock. He could feel you tightening, he could tell you were so close. Fuck he was trying to keep his own release at bay. A few more thrusts from him and you were falling over the edge. He didn’t think you could get any tighter but the feeling of you cumming on his cock was nothing less than pure bliss. His thrusts started to get sloppy and you could tell he was getting close. One of your hands slid from his chest to his throat, hand gripping his neck with just enough pressure to capture his attention. “I told you, you’re gonna have to beg for this one.” You slid off of him slightly, once again only keeping his tip inside of your velvet walls, backing up your statement. Not letting him get too close without following your orders. 
“Please fuck please I’ve been so good. Been a good boy.” His cock could feel you tighten around him, clearly liking the way he was begging. “Let me be your good boy. Fill you up. Please, please please.” The ‘please’s continued as you sunk back down onto him. Leaning down to whisper in his ear. 
“Fill me up then.” Moving back to look at his fucked out face, Simon pulled you into a messy kiss, needing to feel your lips on his, a few final thrusts he emptied his load in you with the most pathetic sounding moan of his life.
He could never tell the 141 about this.
Tag list: @zoexme @booboobear-12 @pileofmoss77 @monnikashui018 @jovialwerewolfarcade
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rafescvntyclubgf · 3 days ago
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𝓕𝓮𝓫𝓻𝓾𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓮𝔂
🇱​​🇴​​🇸​​🇹​ ​🇹​​🇮​​🇲​​🇪​
𝙻𝚘𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝙸𝚗𝚜𝚙𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙾𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚉𝚘𝚎𝚢
𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
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+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘
𝙰𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚗𝚘 𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚙, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚕𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎. 𝙴𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚟𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚐𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚙𝚊𝚜𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚒𝚜𝚗’𝚝 𝚓𝚞𝚜𝚝 𝚠𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚒��𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛; 𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚢 𝚝𝚘 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚒𝚗 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗.
cw | smut, swearing, pet names, unprotected p in v, fingering, cum tasting, oral (female receiving), heavy angst, reader gets hit by a car
𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙
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You adjust the weight of your shopping bags, looping them higher up on your arm as you step out of the bookstore. The crisp February air nips at your cheeks, but the warmth of the two coffee cups in your hands makes it bearable. You balance your phone between your shoulder and ear, voice light with amusement.
“I still don’t get why you made me leave the bookstore,” you sigh.
Rafe chuckles on the other end of the line, the sound deep and familiar. “Because we got plans, princess—you’d still be in there if I let you.”
You roll your eyes as a smile slips across your lips. “Not true. I would’ve left eventually. Maybe.”
“Mhmm… Yeah, sure.”
You stroll carefully on the busy street, walking with the flow of traffic, getting in their last-minute Valentine’s Day shopping. “You almost done with your errand, baby?” You ask, shifting your bags again.
“Mhmm… Walkin’ toward you, sweetheart.”
“I got you your favorite,” you smile as you lift his coffee slightly, watching as he smiles. 
“My girl. Thank you—” You barely register the car driving through the alley before the force slams into your side. The world tilts violently as your feet lift off the ground, coffee cups slipping from her grasp. You hit the pavement hard, pain jolting through your body. Your phone skids across the sidewalk, Rafe’s voice cuts off,  and everything goes dark. 
Your eyes flutter open, a steady ring sounding in your ears. People gather around you, rushing to see if you're okay and what’s happened. 
“Oh my God—Oh my God, baby?” You blink up at a man crouching beside you, his face pale, hands trembling as his breathing comes out fast and uneven. You groan, wincing as you push yourself up onto your elbows, feeling your pulse bang in your head. 
“I—I didn’t see her, man,” the guy panics, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, she-she-she fucking came outta nowhere—”
“Blame her again, and I’ll fuckin’ kill you,” the man beside you snarls.
“I’m fine,” you whisper, his eyes returning to yours. 
“Are you sure?” He asks anxiously, as his big hands hover over your body like he’s scared you’ll break. “Keep your eyes on me, alright?” The man asks gently as he strokes your cheek. His blue eyes are wide with panic, his strong jaw tight, like he’s barely holding himself together.
“Who are you?”
His blood drains from his face completely as the words push through your quivering lips, stabbing him in the heart. His lips parted, but for a moment, no words came out. 
“Baby, it’s me. It’s Rafe—” He whispers weakly.
Rafe? He looks down at you perplexed–a look in his worried eyes telling you his name should mean something to you. His voice is reassuring, like he’s hoping it’ll bring you a wave of clarity, but it doesn’t… It’s just a name.
“What’s happening?” You ask as you try your best to hold back tears. 
“Hey, hey, easy,” he says quickly, his hand cupping your cheek, brushing away a stray tear with his thumb. “Just stay still, okay? The ambulance is coming.”
Your pulse thunders in your ears as you look at him—really look at him. His face twists in worry, his brows drawn together like this moment is doing nothing short of tearing him apart. But you don’t know him or how you got here…
You squeeze your eyes shut, panic creeping up in your throat, making it difficult to breathe. “I don’t understand.”
Rafe swallows hard, his grip slightly tightening. “It’s okay,” he says, though his voice wavers, trying to assure you both in one breath. “You—You… Uh,” he struggles before clearing his throat. “You hit your head on the ground. You just need a second, okay?” You weren't sure a second would matter because looking at him—this man who was holding onto you like you were his entire world—you felt nothing but empathy for a stranger. “You know me, sweetheart.” 
“I don’t.”
Rafe looks away, trying to collect himself as tears pool in his eyes. “Where the hell is the ambulance, huh?” He screams, his voice breaking with sadness as he looks around. “What's taking them so long?” 
Rafe’s never known fear like this… Everything that he knew to be true was gone in a moment. Your words shattered something inside him, but he refused to let go.
Rafe cups your face in his hand again, tracing his thumb over the soft skin of your cheek, trying to ground you both. “It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re okay. You’re just hurt. You hit your head—it’s just the concussion talking. You know me. You… You know me, sweetheart,” he smiles as his lips tremble.
He needed you to remember–needed you to feel what you had always felt when you looked at him. He needed the woman you were just a few short moments before, so he did the only thing he could think of doing. 
He kissed you. 
Rafe’s lips press against yours–soft and gentle—a silent plea for you to remember. But then he felt it: the slight hesitation, the way you tensed up, just barely, but it was enough.
He pulled back, praying he was wrong, hoping to see a sliver of clarity in your eyes, but all he saw was confusion. Rafe’s stomach twists, his hand drifting off your cheek, resting lightly on your hand instead, suddenly feeling like it didn’t belong there either.
Sirens wail in the distance as Rafe weaves his fingers in yours, holding you tight. 
“You’re gonna be okay, baby,” he assures. His eyes stay locked on yours as they lift you into the ambulance. “I’m right behind you, okay?” The paramedics close the doors before he can say anything else–the emergency vehicle streaming down the road toward the hospital. 
Rafe doesn’t waste a second, turning and running toward his car, fighting through people on the street as he digs into his pocket for his keys. He lifts them to the ignition–his whole body trembling as he turns the car over, speeding in the direction you went. 
He reaches for the speaker, turning down the volume, trying his best to hold in his emotions as the song you were singing on the car ride there pours out the speakers.
His chest tightens, and his gaze locks ahead as his nose fills with the sweet smell of your favorite flowers, the large bouquet resting in the passenger’s seat. 
This was supposed to be a perfect night.
Now, he’s speeding through the city, his pulse hammering, trying to convince himself that everything wasn’t falling apart. That he’d get to the hospital and everything would be fine–that that moment you needed would have come and passed.
That he would have his girl back. 
He replays the kiss in his mind, over and over again, refusing to blink as he stares at the road ahead, knowing that if his eyes beat shut, the tears glimmering inside will give way. 
The hospital comes into view, and the second he pulls into the parking lot, he’s out of his car, feet pounding against the asphalt as he sprints toward the entrance. The waiting room is packed; the hallways are bright and sterile. 
“Ma’am,” he yells as he spots a nurse. “Y/N?” He asks with urgency. 
“She’s in room 214 just down the hall,” she gestures down the way with a nod. “Follow me–”
Rafe runs past her, stumbling into the room and reaching for a full breath.
He bites his cheek as he sees you already lying in the hospital bed, tucked into a crisp white sheet. The lights are drawn low; your beautiful eyes shut.
Rafe looks down at you, seeing the little bruise blooming on your cheek with a slight gash beneath it.
His eyes flick to the sink in the corner of the room. Rafe saunters over, turning on the faucet, dampening a towel before stepping to your side. He presses it against your cheek; featherlight touches as he cleans it away.
“I got you, baby,” he whispers, his voice barely audible and laced with tears. “You’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.”
Your lashes flutter open, making Rafe freeze, his beautiful eyes set on yours. You were scared, but nothing even close to how you were the first time you woke up. And even though you didn’t remember Rafe before this, you felt him.
Rafe pushes out a shaky breath as he looks down at you, brushing your hair off your face. “Hey,” he whispers. 
You look at him, your lips parting, wanting desperately to say something, but nothing comes out. 
Rafe gives you a soft, weak smile as he takes your hand again, brushing his thumb over the top. “You don’t have to talk. Just rest, okay? I’m not leavin’. I’ll be right here, okay?” 
The room settles into a quiet rhythm—just the soft beeping of the monitors and the distant hum of hospital sounds filtering through the walls. Rafe hasn’t moved from your side.
The doctor pushes away the curtain before stepping inside, giving you both a reassuring smile. He flips through your chart, skimming your health history again. “How are you feeling?”
You exhale slowly as you look up at the doctor from your bed. “Okay. Just a little foggy; a little sore,” your voice breaks under pressure.
“You took a pretty rough hit, but your x-rays came back clear. No fractures, just bumps and bruises. That foggy feeling is coming from concussion–a mild traumatic brain injury or TBI.” 
Rafe’s grip on your hands instinctively tightens. “Umm…” He asks uneasily before clearing his throat. “Is that why she can’t remember anything–”
“Yes, we’re looking at PTA or post-traumatic amnesia. Everyone handles it differently–”
“Differently?” Rafe asks. “How-How so?” 
“For some patients, PTA lasts minutes—for some, months. Some things could come back in flashes, others over time. But given the nature of the injury, I’d say she has a very good chance of regaining everything.”
“You hear that, baby?” He looks down at you, his voice shattered but a little more hopeful than before. You smile and nod before looking back to the doctor. 
“You just have to be patient with her; reassuring–”
“I can do that,” he answers quickly. Your heart breaks for him. At the moment, the reason he was sitting next to you is lost, but you know enough to see that he is struggling. He was scared, too. Your fingers squeeze him, giving him a small gesture of reassurance.
He looks down at you before swallowing hard, exhaling a shaky breath through a soft smile before returning to the doctor. “So, she’s gonna be okay,” he asks.
The doctor nods. “Yes. She just needs some rest, assurance, stability, and time.” 
⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐
Rafe keeps his hand on your lower back, leading you from the car up to your downtown apartment. Your eyes search around, taking in everything seemingly for the first time. It was new to both of you–the two of you moving in just weeks before.
“Any of this look familiar? He asks as he helps you out of your jacket. You shake your head ‘no’. Of course, he wants you to remember things… He wants you to feel comfortable and safe, but there was some solace in knowing you didn’t remember this as well because, for the moment, the only memory lost was him. 
The apartment is beautiful, warm, and inviting–a love letter of your life together so far, picture after picture, memories that you’d eventually get back.
Rafe watches you closely as you take it all in, knowing the moment the photo was taken meant nothing, hoping for you to see how much he meant to you at that moment at least. 
You follow Rafe as he moves into the kitchen, grabbing a vase off the table, taking out some older flowers, and replacing them with new ones. You smile brightly, melting his heart as he replaces them with red roses instead. 
“Valentine’s Day?” You ask as you walk toward him, stepping into the kitchen. He sets the flowers back before returning to your side.
Rafe wraps his arms around you, pulling you gently against his chest, his chin resting lightly on top of your head.
“Yeah, baby.”
You both take a deep, needed breath. His cologne is rich, a warm vanilla with a hint of tobacco. You rest your head on his muscular chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. Tears start to well in your eyes again. 
“Hey,” he whispers, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles against your back as your fingers grip the fabric of his sweater like you need something to hold onto. “We’ll figure this out together, alright? No pressure. No rush.”
The emotion building in your chest was too much. All you could offer was a slight nod against him. Rafe presses a kiss against your hair, keeping it there momentarily.
“All you need to know is that this is your house, and I’m yours. Okay?” 
“Okay,” you whisper shakily. 
“Well,” he hums as he draws back slightly, meeting your eyes. “We can still do a few things we had planned,” he murmurs, his voice warm and gentle.
“We had plans?” You ask, hopefully. 
Rafe nods as his hands run down your arms, lacing his fingers in yours before walking backward, pulling you toward the kitchen. “It’s Valentine’s Day, princess. Of course, we have plans.”
Princess… Rafe sees the way you react to it–your lips part slightly in a bashful smile, that same flicker in your eyes you had the first time he called you that. “You like that, huh?” He teases. 
You giggle and bite your lip, finding yourself having to look away before looking back at the beautiful man before you–the man who wanted nothing more than for you to remember that he belonged to you. 
Rafe pulls out a stool at the kitchen island, draping your shoulders in a cozy blanket before passing you a glass of water.
“Water?” You pout teasingly as he places the bottle of red wine on the counter back on the wine rack. He shakes his head and laughs before heading back toward you. 
“You heard what he said, pretty,” he hums as he rests his hands on the counter, leaning in closer, making your heart race. 
“You’re really taking care of me,” you smile.
“Of course I am. Not to brag or anything, but that’s kinda what I do,” he hums. “I mean, you said it yourself, sweetheart. I’m the best boyfriend ever. I'm smartest, funniest, and sexiest, for sure,” he chuckles and winks.
“Anything else?” You smile. 
“Mmm… Mhmm,” he mumbles. “You’ve never loved a man before me. In fact, no men existed before me,” Rafe smiles devilishly.
You roll your eyes and smile. “Whatever you say.” 
Rafe reaches under the counter, grabs a pot and a pan, and sets them on top. 
“Wait—do you cook?”
Rafe bursts out laughing, looking back at you like there’s a story there. “Hell no… But you do,” he adds with a grin. “And it’s so fuckin’ good.”
“Yeah?” You smile; your love for cooking’s seared in your memory, but his reaction to your cooking’s brand new. 
Rafe nods enthusiastically. “Baby, you have no idea. Your pasta? Life-changing. Your chicken parm? I swear–”
You smile against the rim of your water glass before taking a sip, listening to him rant and rave. “So,” he says playfully, “since I clearly have no skills in the kitchen, you’re gonna walk me through it.”
Your eyebrow lifts in amusement as a smile curls on your lips. “You want me to teach you how to cook?”
“Mhmm… And don’t worry, I’ll do all the actual work. You just sit there and be your gorgeous, sexy, bossy self, yeah?”
“Bossy?” You laugh as you put your hand under your chin, leaning into the counter. “I boss you around?” 
Rafe smiles boyishly as he looks down at the ingredients list before him. “Don’t worry, princess, I love it,” he mumbles, his words sending a rush of warmth through your body. 
“I don’t remember what I was gonna make.” 
“It’s the chicken thing I like,” he answers as he sets the ingredients on the counter. “You made it for me on our first date. You said it was your specialty–”
“Chicken Cordon Bleu,” you answer with a smile. 
“Mhmm,” he hums with a cheeky grin. “I mentioned that I had it before in college, and I didn’t know that it was something that didn’t come wrapped in plastic and put in the microwave, and you called me disgusting.” 
Your hand covers your smile, not at all surprised with yourself. “I’m sorry–”
“Don’t be,” he chuckles as he sets the last ingredient on the counter. “You looked just like you did right now when you said it, so I was more focused on that,” he smiles, looking back at you in adoration. 
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah, baby,” he smiles. Rafe pulls out the last ingredient before looking at you, waiting for instructions. 
“Alright, first, you need to start the oven.” 
“Start. The. Oven,” he repeats your words slowly as he walks across the kitchen to the appliance. He puts his hands on his hips, looking at the little buttons and knobs before leaning in. He presses the start button, and the oven quickly responds with a shrill beep, making him tense up. “Shit,” he chuckles. “I made it mad.” 
“Temperature first, baby,” you smile. Rafe looks over his shoulder slightly before looking back at you with a smile, wondering if he heard you right. 
“Push ‘start’ again?” He asks, purposefully getting the instruction wrong, hoping you’ll repeat it.
“Temperature first, baby,” you smile, seeing how much your words affect him. 
“Yes, ma’am.” 
Rafe walks back toward you, his beautiful eyes focused on yours. As he worked, Rafe kept talking, filling the kitchen with stories, little pieces of you.
“We went to Italy?” He says. “About two months ago… It was the best trip ever. You dragged me through every little café, every hole-in-the-wall restaurant. We ate so much pasta, holy shit. That bottle of wine I put away was from that trip–delicious, baby. So damn good,” he hums as he recalls the memory himself.
The smell of the food fills the kitchen, and that familiar aroma surrounds you. “And those?” You ask, gesturing to the counter at a small, white box with a bow. 
“Perugina. Also from Italy. I’ve been savin’ them for Valentine’s Day,” he smiles as he cleans off the messy counter with a rag. 
You untie the chocolate box ribbon, picking one up, popping it into her mouth. Rafe scoffs, scrunching his nose as his eyebrows pinch together. “Hey, you’re not gonna be hungry for my five-star meal.”
You roll your eyes and laugh, reaching into the box to grab one for Rafe before holding it to his lips. He hesitates momentarily, his soft eyes flickering between you and the chocolate before taking it between his lips. Your finger grazes the slight stubble on his jaw, your thumb dragging ever so slightly on his plump bottom lip, making his heart stumble.
“Good?” You ask, your voice laced with sensuality. 
“So good,” he hums. Rafe grabs one himself, holding it up to your mouth. You take it between your lips, wrapping them around his fingers, lingering momentarily. The energy in the room shifts from light teasing to something deeper, which you could imagine would typically end with his lips on yours. The tension between you builds, and you feel a flutter in your stomach. 
“Good?” He asks. 
“Delicious.” 
Rafe set the plates on the dining table, resting yours in front of you before taking a seat.
He looks at you out of the corner of his eye, nervously awaiting your reaction. “This is amazing…” You praise, watching as the tension in his shoulders fall. “So,” You say between bites, “tell me about you.”
Rafe smiles, tilting his head as he looks back at you. “What do you wanna know?”
“Anything. I feel like I should know everything, but…” You exhale, pressing your lips together before shaking her head. 
“Hey, we’ve got nothing’ but time, aight? First date convo. The basics. What do you wanna know, princess?” 
You nod in agreement, looking back at him as you think about what you want to ask first. “What do you do? For work?”
Rafe’s lips twitch, a bit of pride slipping into his expression. “I’m closin’ a huge deal soon. It’s been in the works for months.”
“Oh?” You ask, intrigued. “Business guy?”
“Commercial real estate, yeah.” 
Your lips draw to the side as you push a glazed carrot around your plate, trying to think of something else. “And what do I do?”
Rafe scoots a little closer and smiles, resting his forearms on the table as he looks back at you proudly. “You own a restaurant.” 
“I do?” You ask happily. 
“Mhmm… For about two years now, I believe. A very, very successful one,” he praises you as you look back at him in wonder. 
“Wow… What kind of restaurant?”
“Upscale New American Cuisine,” Rafe answered quickly. “And I still don’t know what that means. But, it’s one of the most well-known spots in Charleston.”
Your lips part slightly, a flicker of something crossing your mind. “The Social?”
Rafe’s breath catches, his heart skipping a beat. “Yeah, baby,” he answers gently. 
“I’ve been thinking about that for years–since I graduated…”
“And you pulled it off,” Rafe adds.
Rafe watches you carefully, letting you sit with that realization for a moment, “That’s where we met.”
“Tell me about it.” 
Rafe smiles and nods as he takes your hand in his. “Alright, princess… Umm. You were pissed at me.”
You burst out laughing again, just like you did before. Your hand covers your mouth, half-covering your smile. “Why?” You chuckle weakly. “There’s no way.”
“I swear. You didn’t know me yet, but you hated me that first night, for a while at least.”
“Why?” You ask, scrunching your nose in disbelief with yourself, especially considering how sweet he’s treating you now. It’s hard to think of another moment when you could be pissed at him, let alone hate him.
“Because I was late for my reservation,” he admits. “Like twenty… thirty minutes, maybe? I came in with a party of twelve, and you were slammed. You had given the tables away, and I shuffled in with all those people, totally expecting the table to be ready.” 
“Uh oh,” you chuckle. 
“Uh oh, is right… You told me to fuck off.” 
“No!” You gasp. 
“I’m just fuckin’ with you,” he laughs. “Nah. You told me, very professionally, that you gave my tables away and that if I wanted to eat, I would have to wait.” 
“And what did you say?” You ask as you lean in a little more. 
“I turned on the charm, obviously,” he answers smugly. “Charmed your panties right off you.” 
“Oh my god,” you laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up.
“Mhmm… Flirted with you shamelessly,” Rafe adds. “I told you no one has ever looked this good kickin’ me out of a restaurant. And somehow, magically, ten minutes later, you had a table for twelve in the back.” 
You smile and nod, looking back at Rafe as his eyes twinkle in the candlelight, looking back at you lovingly. “Everyone left, and I decided to stay for a drink, and before I could even look around for you, the prettiest woman I have ever seen in my life sat next to me. And, the rest is history.” 
⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐
Without hesitation, you curl up beside him, resting your head in his lap. Rafe takes a slow, steady breath, trying to control his emotions.
The movie plays softly in the background, but neither of you is paying attention, focusing more on each other.
Rafe tests the waters, leaning down, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead like he’s wanted to all night. The moment he pulls back, his eyes meet yours. And unlike before, when he kissed you in the street, the fear was gone. 
You swallow hard, blinking up at him, your voice barely above a whisper. 
“I love you.”
Rafe looks down at you, and just like before, he’s unsure what he heard you or if it’s just some sweet dream. “Yeah?” He asks weakly.
You nod; your eyes never leaving his. “I don’t—I don’t remember everything,” you admit, her voice thick with emotion. “But I feel it, Rafe. I feel you.”
Rafe’s jaw tightens as he struggles to keep himself from falling apart completely.
“I know how much you love me,” you continue, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I can see it in how you look at me and how you’ve taken care of me all night. I’m so lucky to have you.”
Rafe’s vision blurs, but he doesn’t care, letting his tears roll down his cheeks. He turns his face into your palm, kissing the inside of her wrist before whispering, “You have no idea how much I love you, princess.” He wraps his big arms around you, pulling you in for a tight hug. He buries himself in your neck, feeling a wave of relief crash over him. 
When Rafe lowers you again, you shift before he can react, straddling him and wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. The sudden movement widens his eyes; a surprised chuckle leaves his lips as his large hand instinctively rests on your hips. 
“Well, this is unexpected,” he teases, his voice low and laced with affection. 
You smile softly, scratching your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck before you lean in, letting your lips ghost over the top of yours. Rafe’s breathing matches yours, lips brushing ever so slightly. And, just when he can’t take anymore, he leans in, pressing a deep, lingering kiss on your lips. 
His breath catches in his muscular chest, his grip tightening on your body as you melt into his warm embrace. Rafe’s heart pounds at the way you kiss him–no hesitation, no caution, fully. Just like the first night, you were together. 
“Is this too much?” He asks gently between kisses.
“No,” you whisper. “Not at all.” Your hands rest on his stomach, drifting higher up the cozy material of his sweater, pressing against his chest, then pressing again.
You still, pulling back slightly as you meet Rafe’s eyes, his brows furrow in confusion until he realized what he had done.
Your hand rests over your mouth, your eyes wide as you beg the silent question. 
Is that what I think it is?
Rafe freezes, his heart hammering in his chest as he gives you a slight nod. “Can I see it?” You whisper. 
He exhales slowly, his lips twitching into a nervous and excited smile. “I can never say ‘no’ to you, princess.” 
“Okay,” you answer as your eyes shimmer with tears.
Then, in one swift motion, Rafe lifts you to your feet, standing there before dropping to one knee, pulling out the box you felt in his breast pocket. 
“I’m askin’ you again. But, if I’m showing you, I’m still gonna do this right,” he whispers, his voice low and thick with love.
Tears well in both of your eyes as you stare at each other, caught in a moment that’s bigger than all of the lost memories.
Rafe swallows hard, staring up at you from his knee with the engagement ring resting in the open box in his palm.
His heart pounded so fiercely he could feel it in his throat, his hands trembling slightly—not out of fear, but because this moment, you had always been the most important thing in his life.
He takes a deep breath, steadying himself before speaking. “Sweetheart, I know things are complicated right now. And if I’m being honest, yeah—a part of me is sad that you don’t remember all the beautiful memories we’ve made. Because, God, baby, there are so many,” his voice breaks as he pushes out the last few words.
“If I’m bein’ completely honest, I would have proposed to you the first night I met you.” A soft, choked laugh escapes him, and he tilts his head, looking at you with the same love he always has.
“The second you rolled those pretty little eyes at me at your restaurant, I knew you were it for me.” You lift your arm, wiping your eyes along the sleeve of your sweater.
Rafe’s expression softens, even more, his free hand reaching for yours. He rubs his thumb over her knuckles and smiles.
“I love you,” he murmurs, looking up at you like you’re the only thing in the world. “I’ve loved you through every version of us—through every moment, every fight, every laugh. And I’ll love you through this,” Rafe promises. “I’ll love you while we figure it all out, while we rebuild every memory you lost, while you fall for me again—which, by the way, is inevitable because I’m incredibly charming.”
Your cheeks burn from your smile, and your eyes shut slightly, causing the tears to tumble down your cheeks.
“So, what do you say, princess? Will you marry me?”
“Yes,” you whisper without hesitation. Rafe barely lets you finish before he slips the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking slightly.
The second it’s in place, he surges to his feet, cupping your face in his hands as he kisses you deep and desperate, filled with so much love it nearly steals your breath.
“I love you,” you whisper as your fingers trace the back of his neck. 
Rafe grins, pulling you back in again, whispering a breathless ‘I love you too’.
Just like before, you move on instinct, jumping into his strong arms, wrapping your legs around his trim waist as your body presses against Rafe’s, kissing him just like you have countless times before. And even if you couldn't remember all those beautiful moments just yet, your body knew him.
Rafe’s big hands grip your thighs, holding you tight. "We should go to bed,” you whisper through a soft smile. 
Rafe chuckles, still breathless, his lips grazing your cheek. "You need to relax, princess."
"I am relaxed,” you murmur, nuzzling against your fiancé’s neck. "Please, baby. You said you can never say ‘no’ to me…”
He groans softly at your words, tightening his hold on you as he searches for your face. 
"Okay," he whispered, voice thick and hungry. "But I'm takin’ care of you… Princess treatment. You're not doin’ shit but cummin’, alright?” He asks. 
You nod, fingers threading through his hair. "I want you."
His chest ached at how you said it, like even though your memories were still scattered, you knew he was the one person who would always be there.
Rafe carries you toward the bedroom, your lips meeting again and again, slow and deep, each kiss stealing a little more of the space between you. 
He works off his sweater and shirt between kisses, and you undo his belt and slacks. Your hands fall down his toned skin as your breathing grows heavier, smiling against his lips.
Rafe follows your focus, your emerald-cut diamond glistening in the low light. “I’m gonna take care of you, alright. Now… Always. Okay?” He asks. 
“I know you will,” you whisper, making him smile against your lips. 
Rafe carefully takes off your sweater, quickly raising his hands to caress your curves. He smiles as he takes in the red lace. 
“This is new,” he whispers as his thumb brushes against the delicate material, making your nipple press against the fabric, whimpering at the subtle down.
Rafe reaches down, hooking his finger under the band of your leggings, looking up at you, silently asking for consent. You look at him and smile, giving him a slight nod. He pulls them down to your feet, kissing higher and higher. 
“These are new, too,” he hums as he slips his finger under the band of your matching panties. The set is no doubt purchased for the man standing in front of you.
He reaches behind your back, kissing your shoulder as he unclasps your bra, letting it fall off your shoulders onto the floor. Rafe lifts you off your feet, and you find yourself in his arms yet again; this time, it’s skin on skin. 
He sets you on the bed carefully, taking his time, looking at you underneath him. Rafe works slowly, biting the band of your red panties and pulling them down your thighs. 
You can feel the chill of your wetness between your thighs as he breathes warmly against your sex. Reaching down, you rest your slight fingers on your clit as he watches, rubbing for a moment, teasing him, making him chuckle out a deep, dark laugh. 
“No touching, princess,” he hums as he grabs your left hand, taking your middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean up to the jewelry. 
Goosebumps spread across your skin as he kisses your inner thighs, working closer and closer ‘til he’s kissing your clit.
You throw your head back into the pillow, thighs drawing in. Rafe grabs your knees, carefully spreading you wide, spitting on your pussy before sucking down, sliding two fingers into your soaked hole.
“So fucking wet,” he moans against your cunt, working you with his mouth just like you love, sucking, flicking, and kissing, leaving you crying out for more. 
You feel yourself just seconds away from your release, but he already knows, quickening his pace, sucking down just a little more until your body comes undone. Your fingers twist in his hair, pulling him close as you pulse around his thick digits. 
You relax around him, dissolving into the mattress as he continues to work his fingers in and out, watching your body continue to respond to his touch. 
“How was that, princess?” Rafe asks with a smile, already knowing his answer. His long fingers are a mess with your climax.
You grab his wrist, drawing his fingers between your mouth, wrapping your lips around them, gliding them in and out like you’d suck him off.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moans, watching you close. “We gotta get you feelin’ better. You’re so good at that…” 
“Come here,” you smile, wrapping your hand around his neck and leading him to your lips. You look at the space between you, watching his thick cock, leaving a slight streak of precum on your stomach as he moves closer. “Fuck, baby,” you moan needily.
Rafe wraps his fist around his dick, tapping your clit, making your body jolt with sensitivity. 
“Are you okay, baby?” He mumbles against your lips. “You wanna keep goin’?” Rafe asks as he traces his swollen tip around your soaked hole, pressing himself against it. 
“Please,” you whisper against his lips. “I need you, please–” And just like when he was sliding on your ring, he could barely wait until you got the rest of the words out, filling your tight cunt like he was always meant to be there. 
He lets out a deep groan, feeling the way your body pulls him in—the way the shape of you fits exactly how it should. “You feel that? Pussy was made for me, baby,” he breathes as he draws out, thrusting himself back in.
Rafe rolls his body into you, reaching that perfect spot inside you. Your body tightens around him, fingers twisting into the sheets.
You reach up, grabbing his cheeks, pressing a deep kiss against his lips; Rafe, swallowing your moans and pleasured cries.
Your back arches into him–nipples brushing against his chest. His chain falls on your chest, sticking to your sweat-glistened skin, making the tears pooling on your waterline fall as you see your initials etched in gold. 
“I love you, Rafe… I love you,” you whisper as he picks up the pace. 
“I love you more,” he soothes as he reaches up, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs. “Come on, baby. Cum on my cock.” 
You bite your lip and nod, looking up at him as your climax comes hard and fast, your body pulsing with pleasure around his thick dick as he works you through your orgasm. 
“Fuckkk,” he moans, drawing out the word as he empties himself inside you, his eyes screwing shut as you purposefully clench around him, making his body shudder.
He collapses on top of you, lips finding your forehead as he kisses, lingering as he catches his breath. Rafe moves a little lower, nuzzling his face against you, his voice barely above a breath as he whispers, “I love you.”
⊹ 💌 ⁺ ˳ ✿ . ♥️ ࿐
tags: @rafesthroatbaby | @marleymarleymarleymarley | @chelzaa | @rafesheaven | @nemesyaaa | @starkeysbabygirl | @littlelamy | @cameronsprincess | @lottalove4evelyn | @yasmin-oviedo | @vanessa-rafesgirl | @watchmerora | @rafeslovergirly | @buckybarnessweetheart | @anamiad00msday | @namelesslosers | @cades-outsider | @romaescapes | @starkeysprincess | @lish-0 | @oxpogues4lifexo | @unrealmirrorball | @lilithblackkk | @sleepiibunniiii | @gri959 | @rafesgiirl | @daryldixon83 | @akobx | @hyperfixationgirl | @lhhlver | @rrafeswhore | @slut-4-gojo | @blair-bears-blog | @loveesiren | @rafescorpsebride | @rafegf-real | @alphabetically-deranged | @ariana2saucyy | @rafestoothbrush | @hauntedfawnn | @laniirackssss | @wtfdudesblog | @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account | @jkrafe | @alejstarkey | @rafe-cameronswife | @rafedaddy01 | @st8rkey
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thecoochiefairy · 3 days ago
Text
soon az i get home. onyankopon.
𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!
━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩�� .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.
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𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.
visual. visual. visual.
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SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.
“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.
“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 
As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.
“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.
“You sure?” 
She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”
It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.
“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”
“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”
She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”
“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 
You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”
“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”
You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 
“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”
Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.
“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”
You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.
“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“
She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”
“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.
You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.
“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”
You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.
“Whatever, hoe.” 
She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 
Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.
Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”
“You know I’m coming, right?”
 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.
You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”
A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”
You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 
You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”
He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”
Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 
“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 
“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, ���A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”
“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”
He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.
On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 
“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.
“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”
You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.
His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”
Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”
He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”
You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.
“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 
He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.
You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”
“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”
You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 
You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”
Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 
“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.
“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”
“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 
You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”
He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 
“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”
“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”
His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 
“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”
“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 
But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”
“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 
“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”
“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”
“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.
You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”
He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 
“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”
“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.
"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 
“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.
“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”
He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 
In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.
"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.
“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.
“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 
"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."
You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 
“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”
You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 
A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”
“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”
He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 
So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.
“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”
You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”
He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 
When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.
“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”
He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”
He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.
“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.
He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 
“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 
The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 
“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.
You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 
“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”
His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"
Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 
You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”
"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."
Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.
He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 
"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”
You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”
“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.
Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”
“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 
Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 
“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”
He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”
“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”
His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”
You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”
“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 
“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”
You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”
His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 
His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.
You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 
The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 
Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 
When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.
You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 
You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.
“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 
He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.
You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”
His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 
His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 
He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 
He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.
Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.
He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 
A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.
His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.
“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”
“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."
Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.
There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.
He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 
His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 
He was making a mess of your pussy. 
Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 
“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  
“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 
At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”
You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 
You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 
He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”
He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 
“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 
And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”
Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 
He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.
You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.
“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 
He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.
He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 
You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.
“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 
He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.
He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.
He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 
Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 
His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.
“That’s how you feelin’?”
He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.
Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”
You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.
“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”
His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.
He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 
“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”
He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”
He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 
Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”
His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.
"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.
“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 
His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”
You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 
And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 
You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”
You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.
He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 
“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 
He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”
Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.
“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 
“Damn, no late night nookie?” 
“Onyankopon.”
“My fault. Night, shawty.”
908 notes · View notes
pseudowho · 16 hours ago
Text
18+, touch-starved, 'waiting' gentleman Nanami Kento, male masturbation over the clothes
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"But...does this count?" you whispered against Nanami Kento's neck, your hand trailing down to the curved tenting at the front of his tan trousers. He jolted, grunting, involuntarily bucking against your palm.
He was a gentleman; one who waited; one who longed. Certainly not one to turn his back on due diligence, and favouring flowers over fondling. Any girlfriend whom he intended to become his wife, would only be taken by him after a societally appropriate time.
But how long would this be? With you, a day felt like a month; a month, years. With how you smiled against his throat, he knew, from every twitch of his touch-starved body, that even a gentleman may meet his resolve's end sooner than planned.
"It...it counts," Kento choked, his body betraying him to roll his hips and the straining underside of his cock up against your palm. "I...I shouldn't. You deserve-- deserve--"
"...deserve to know the face of your pleasure, before you come inside me?" Kento froze, paralysed by the honesty, the filth of your words. He felt his cock twitch beneath your palm when you spoke again, lower this time. "Yes. Yes, I do. So..."
"I-- I don't-- haaaah," Kento cried, hoarse and breathy, for a twitch almost as bone-deep as one when he spilled himself, shivered through his length. He felt the dribble of pre-cum soak through his trousers; he saw it, too, the sticky fluid staining the pale material to beige. You felt it, too; you saw it, too. Kento knew he was a goner, when you bit your lip beneath dilating pupils.
You cupped your hand around the length of his cock, moulding his boxers and trousers to his shape, and slowly, rhythmically, beginning to jack him off through his clothes. Kento humped up desperately, dishevelled and panting, and touch-starved, so touch-starved--
"Feels good?" you whispered, suckling his throat to leave rose petals on his skin. Kento only groaned; husky, shuddering, coming undone embarrassingly quickly. Touch without touch was so illicit, so debauched, for one so corseted as he.
"Feels...feels...like I'm going to come in my boxers like a boy--" Kento growled, tangling his fingers through your hair to keep your lips on his throat.
"Would that be so bad?" you murmured against his pulse point, your tongue dipping out to taste the desperation off his skin. Your hand sped up, gliding around the length of him.
Your eyes closed to imagine it was his bare cock in your hand, instead. Your eyes closed, to imagine how the shape of him would fit every plush facet of your insides. You shivered; Kento moaned. You felt him hardening even further; felt the ghost of veins, standing proud, winding around his cock like desire paths.
The gentleman was gone, now; the needy remained.
"Don't stop," panted Kento, fucking up into your palm with every smooth masturbatory motion that your hand made around him, "--just--just like that-- don't stop-- I...I'll..."
Trailing your lips from his jaw to his mouth, you pressed a chaste little peck to his lips; but it was when your tongue swiped over his lower lip, that he met his undoing.
Your hand pumped only two more fabric-frictioned long pumps...before Kento held his breath. His jaw dropped in a silent gasp. His hand tightened in your hair, the other pressing dimples into the divot of your waist. And you felt him spill.
Kento moaned with every twitch of his cock, leaping and spurting beneath tan confines. You watched, fascinated, to see him come apart with each bucking spill, each deepening stain that spread beneath his clothes. His face, twisted in divine agony, would be seated into your mind until he took you, pinned and begging his name, for the first time.
"--f-fuck...o-ooohhh f-fuck...p-pathetic...so pathetic--"
"--hot, actually--"
A rough, gravelly cough; a mirthless laugh, with his final weak spatters of cum.
"...you...will be the end of me...I swear on my life..."
Kento opened one slim, brown eye, regarding your gleeful lip-biting with a huff. He had almost pulled himself together...until you dipped down to the cum-stain on his crotch, and fixed your mouth around it, sucking through the saturated fabric and dipping out your tongue to taste him.
Kento whimpered, bucking weakly against your lips, for you had broken him once, and twice, and now thrice, and he wondered how he would ever survive--
"...taste amazing, Kento."
Four times. Kento flipped you beneath him, pinning you to the sofa with sadistic satisfaction at the look of shock on your face.
He blew upwards, wisping commas of blond off his sweaty forehead. He curled one long finger into his tie, loosening it with one violent tug.
"I've had enough of you, madam. If you won't treat me like a gentleman, then I shan't be."
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redcherrykook · 2 days ago
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──𐙚 teach me daddy (s & f)
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boyfriend!jungkook x virgin!reader
content: daddy kink, ddlg themes, Jungkook teaching his innocent, virgin gf how to..; touch him (blowjob) and how he touches her (fingering, lil tit play) !! hickies, sweet talk, lowkey dumbification, praise, cumming on stomach, guided, petite oc!!! Size.kink. so much dirty talk. so many pet names, FILTH.
note from cherry: put my whole sopping pussy in this. im a whore. My fav trope pls i hope i did it justice
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Jungkook's lovely, borderline magical finger tips create his usual pieces of invisible art upon your skin, right underneath the frilly fabric of your pink skirt, that top of your soft thigh squished against him, because his lap- specifically the bulge inside of his grey stüssy sweats- has become your favorite spot to sit on. Somewhere in between lush kisses and feathery moans elicited by the fluttered bruises he lays down the lane of your neck, you've understood one thing;
It feels so warm- so good to sit on that tent that forms in your older boyfriends pants, visible every time you bite your lip and stare at him with huge round, pleading eyes- every passing, electrifying fraction of a moment you spend threading through his deliciously laid, tussled mullet, or tracing the colorful lines etched into his hardened muscles, almost like you're coloring the small pictures in with your glittery gel nails.
Feels so good to hear low groans from your boyfriend's throat, experiencing your clit pulsing inside those little lacy panties, while consciously avoiding the sensation of a large wet patch making them cling to your untouched folds, it felt tingly, you had just told him.
"Tingly?" he asks, plucking back a delicate strand of your hair,
"Mhm.. like it wants attention. s'how i feel when i hump my stuffies" another small- fleeting detail you deemed insignificant, however it continues to feed into the hunger growling primally in jungkook's chest, wanting to expand outward, tear out of his gentle strokes that accidentally find your nipples, on occasions where he should be content with your petite frame inside the solid embrace of his own- oh so hungry body.
But he isn't content, not now that you've revealed you're pussy has kissed the very stuffies he's bought for you, seen you go starry eyed at.
His mind races with images of you- you in your bare glory, one he hasn't seen but there is no doubt in his mind you're an angel, sat on top of that plush hello kitty, dragging your wet, overstimulated clit over it's button nose- over and over, until there's drool running down the corners of your pout- until your eyebrows crunch together in pure delight. He wonders if you're the type to beg, ramble out your needs like a lost little deer.
His cock throbbs in anticipation, his primal instincts scream for him to take care of you whole, explore every inch of your sweet, sweet vessle. Jungkook has to know more- has to know everything.
"And how does my pretty girl hump her stuffies?" he innocently questions, hiking his hands up further on your small legs, crawling to your inner thighs, the digits raise goosebumps on your skin and a pink hue on your cheeks, it complements you- he thinks, harmonizing with your glossy pink lips.
"Hmph.. jus'.. sit on them.. r-rub back.. n' forth" your whispered reply has him drop into a lower, deeper tone, assessing how your body subconsciously responds to his teasing, bucks forward the smallest, almost unnoticeable bit.
"And what happens when babygirl does that?" you whine- leaning your lips to ghost against his own, the tingly feel rises again, floods your panties in an instant because his sudden dominance drowns you in its strangling hold,
"I feel good"
Jungkook creeps his large palm up, cupping your pussy boldy through the thin girlish fabric,
"Haa-ah" moaning, you give way into his palm, playing into his hands because you belong no where else, in response, his thumb extends, rubbing over where your clit sits puffily,
"Yeah..? right here is where it feels good, doesn't it princess?" liquid smooth as he talks, applying pressure to your needy bud,
"Mhm" you nod- whimpering against his pierced lip. In the flashes of his tight circles, you cannot bring yourself to keep your mouths attached- to focus on maintaining a healthy breath when your flower is being treated with the most careful sexuality "This feels better daddy" you say airyly, lips barely touching.
His breath stalls before it hitches once again- the title found him so righteously, so naturally succumbing to his deserved role- your daddy.
"Fuck sugar, it does hm? Let daddy take care of you, make you feel all warm and tingly"
After all, you're his special little princess,
The one with a cute pout that he wishes to see wrapped around his angry cock, he had envisioned this moment countless of times, fisting himself late at night- the soft snores come from your end of the phone, purely, innocently sleeping in the white glow of your screen, big, soft facial features lay peacefully against your pillow.
Even though the sins run carelessly on his end- he never bothered to mute himself, you kept sleeping, dreaming away,
Somtimes, he desired for you to wake up; he'd groan a bit louder, more vulgar with his endless cussing, thought about how your pupils grow wide, how your lips would part into a gasp- wish that you'd timidly run your thumb over your clit at the unfamiliar warmth spreading through your little purity, ruined, emerged in his perversion.
You nod, already going droopy eyed at the simple action of his thumb thrumming your pearl,
The cold air hits your sopping cunt as he peels your delicate panties to the side, giving him a full view of your flower, skin slick with desire
"You have the prettiest little pussy, so cute, does she want to be played with?" his tone is so- so gentle, yet, its dripping with power, entranced with the view of his- yes his very own digits that faintly glide between your folds,
"Yes- nghh shit- koo" your manicured nails dig into his meaty thighs, grounding yourself in a failed attempt to hold your head up, the foreign urgency consumes your entire being with it's intensity,
"Look at me sugar" he commands, growling lowly, his eyes squint to the ones of a predator, you- his prey, look at him like he has always known you would- wide eyed, doe eyed, awaiting his instructions
"Good girl. Now tell me again, do you want daddy to show you how to feel really good hm? How to play with your tiny cunt?"
You nod dumbly, letting out the smallest sounding yes that had ever grazed his ears, he purrs, taking in the effort with an open heart,
"Suck on them, need them nice and wet, can you do that for me princess?" his fingers intrude your bitten lips, forcing his digits to collide with your tongue, eagerly- messily and uncoordinated, you swirl your tongue around them, humming as he withdraws- letting out a satisfied groan
You wince a bit upon the proding of his fingertips against your entrance, unexpectedly, you look at him- begging for him to take you with him, guide you by the hand along everything he does, take your hand like a good daddy should.
The substantial need to make you feel safe takes over again, courses throughout his entire being because you look so vulnerable like this, so barely laid out for him to consume.
"it's okay babygirl, it's gonna feel so good. Daddy's gonna put a finger inside this pussy, you'll feel a bit full, but my precious little girl's so good, she can take it all" he can feel your body relax on top of his lap, as if your muscles let go of all tension with his reassurances- he's on the edge of feeling bad for wanting to ruin your purity.
But he does it regardless.
Wet, sloppy sounds fill your ears as he pumps his finger inside of you. The rhythm starts slowly, one push- one long drag between your folds before returning to pulling out, pushing back in carefully. He studies the subtle change in your expression, diligently grasping at the strings of your arousal- his own eyes can't choose between the look of lust on your face and his hand colliding with your sweetness, feeling how you suck his finger in with every fiber of your being, so untouched, so pure- so, so needy.
You squirm, wrap your hand around his bulging bicep- "Daddy- that feels so good, feels so so good" you continue mumbling, singing the cutest moans to numb his thoughts, feed his hunger, he turns greedy- allowing himself to drown in you entirely, granting himself premission to increass his speed, push in deeper- you gratify him, become louder, whiner, give yourself over because truthfully- you didn't know anything outside of how good it feels to be fingered like this.
"Yeahhh, feels so good to have daddy's fingers? think you can take another one?" Patiently he waits for your allowance- and once he heared that needy voice of yours, calling out for him to push another finger in, he snaps,
"Fuck sugar, look at you, such good girl f'me, feel so full don't you?" His lips latch back on to your neck as he pumps into you faster, curling his fingers into you like he's crawling into your body, establishing his ability to make you squirm- make you whimper and lose that pretty head of yours in his sinful lure.
So you do lose yourself- start whining for him to keep hitting that spot- right there daddy- you beg,
"Yeah? My babygirl loves this- loves my fingers making your cunt feel good. All mine, my little pussy, no one can have you like this"
"Right there ohh? Can you say that again sugar?" Thoughtlessly, obediently ylu start repeating, rehearsing the words like you're summoning him- your legs jerk, contract the muscle with a moan so pronounced jungkook could cum all over himself at the pure nuance of it.
"mmhm! s'too much- feels like i- like i'm gonna-" Your eyes roll far into your skull at the lingering of his teeth on your jaw, his tongue that shamelessly licks a strip up to your ear so he can coax you into intoxicating pleasure.
"Like what little girl? Gonna make a mess?"
At that- at the last syllable of his sentence, you release your arousal over the whole long inches of his fingers that are still relentlessly pushing into your hole, plucking out roughly- shoved back in, "Goood girl" he rasps, slapping his soaked fingertips over your overstimulated cunt. You did not know better than to leave gasps into his now bitten, ridiculously broad shoulder, shudder in overstimulation, tug at the roots of his chocolate mullet,
Your bedroom grows quiet, pleasure rings in your ears, wrecks you from the top of your head to your toes, colorful sparks fly behind your eyelids as it keeps going, keeps flooding out of your body like it had never done before.
Your boyfriends entire demeanor changes once his ragged breathing returns to soft hums, his healing hands cover more than half of your back and he just lets you bathe in the aftershocks, "Did so well for daddy, my good girl" The whispers find your hair, his pecks follow, decorating your journey back to a grounded reality with beautiful stars, safety,
As he´s rubbing up and down your back under the fabric of your cami, your skin erupts into familiar goosebumps, only this time, he feels your stiff nipples rub against his own, sweaty chest, the friction makes you hiss involuntairly,
"How do i feel good here ?" The muttered curiosity behind your words makes Jungkook moan audibly- reaches his hands to slide around your torso, your rips flutter in response, "Let me show you"
Your cami shrivles up over the swell of your small chest, cupped snuggly in your white sparkly bra, his hands cover your entire breasts easily, the twinkle in his vision is unmistakable,
lust, utter need
"Gon´ pull these down baby, show your pretty body to me" vision going white, he rushes to wrap his lips around the stiff bud, encircling it with his tongue, "All mine, my tits, my little girl, these belong to me" He takes his time- devours you, flicking the tip of his tongue over and over, you recoil forward, moan helplessly under how good he´s making you feel,
Jungkook returns the favour, moans into your skin that arches closer into his mouth,
"Want me to give you some attention too? Gonna rub it like this baby, roll it in between your fingers" The instructions help to remember what is happening between the chasm of gasps and whimpers, the throbbing between your aching legs returns in unbearable force- rises with every collision of his rough palms rounding your soft skin, he nibbles, sucks, bites gracefully into the sensitive flesh.
"Daddy- daddy stop please" the wet sensation leaves in the blink of an eye, his gaze glistens over with worry- hands immediately running to your comfort, soothing your arms, "M´sorry my love, too much? Wanna stop here?"
You shake your head violently, wanting to sob at the thought of stopping, you´ve never felt need like this, urges like this- borderline possessed as you tug at his waistband, his eyes widen, holding both your wrists in his calloused hand "Woah babygirl, slow down, what is it that daddy´s princess wants?" He asks genuinely, running his lips over your jaw but his cock betrays him, throbs painfully as you whimper for him, mutter for him to show you how to make him feel good too. He didn't want to pretend to be innocent anymore- your boyfriend had been praying to have you like this, why would he deny you if you so desperately wish to pleasure him anyways?
Feverishly, your small hands expose his member, appreciating the hard outline in his calvins before reaching in- finding the warm length that can, in no way, fit even in the grasp of both your fidgety hands,
"It´s so pretty, so big" You praise, staring in awe at the sight in front of you, a pearl of his arousal runs down alongside the vein of his shaft, Jungkook growls, scratching your scalp with his tattooed hand,
"All yours. come on sugar, little kisses, lick it a bit, i´ll be loud for you"
It´s not like it was his choice regardless, not when you lay your tongue flat against his tip, tracing every inch of him. You lick up and down his pulsating cock, look up at him through your feminine, innocently batted eyelashes as if to ask if he feels good- he groans, tightens his hand with each torturous slow lick to him, how could he not feel good?
"Good little girl, taking daddy so well, need you to take it in your mouth now okay? Can you be good and try to swallow daddy´s cock?"
You nod- god you´d do anything he asks, hesistantly, your lips coat his fat tip, opening your throat as he feeds you his girth, hitting the back of your throat in an instant- you try your best to ignore the gag, focus on the wetness of your cunt and his breathless curses.
It´s even more erotic than he had imagined, you do pout; your lips barely fit in his cock, not able to get half of it into the confined space of your jaw- his stomach flips at your hand that wraps around the rest of him- while the other one clenches his inner thigh for support, marks his skin in reminders. The look in your willing eyes, the struggle to take his inches as your own spit escapes your mouth- it´s becoming something he will get addicted to in no time,
"Ssh i know daddy´s big babygirl, but you´re made for me, breathe through your nose, goood job baby" its fuel, fuel to your insatiable greed for him, you follow instinct, bob up and down with the help of his hand on the back of your head, throat contracting around him and shit- Jungkook is sure if your throat is this tight sucking him off, your virgin pussy must feel like heaven too.
"Just like thaaat, yeah sugar, makin´ me feel so fucking good" He continues, thighs flexing with the constricting feeling in his balls, release bubbles up fast, rapidly banging his system- your boyfriend grips you by the jaw, to have you make eye contact with his half lidded brown stars, "Lay down f´me"
Sprawled out, tummy laid open, your hair flows over your tits, eyes watch him stroking his cock in heavy, aggressive movements, rubbing his thumb over the pink swollen tip- he pants, groans so fucking loud you instinctively spread your thighs for him- clenching around nothing- begging silently for him to give you everything.
At the sight of your cunt covered in your own, copious amount of slick and previous orgasm, he´s struck down mercilessly, it rides him over the edge and soon enough, he splurts his milky cum all over your lower stomach, he shakes- calls out for you.
"My little princess, look so beautiful like this, god i fucking love you"
You giggle girlishly- a sound from the deep chambers of your now, perverted heart as he engulfs you in his hold, "Baby you´re-" his mouth finds yours again, not letting you protest but he's soft, grateful "I don´t care, you´re mine, my baby, all mine" Another kiss, another smile, "Thank you, thank you sugar" he mumbles, holding your flushed out cheeks in his big hands, searching for familiar innocents within your face and unsurprisingly so, he still discovers it.
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cod-indulgences · 2 days ago
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TF141 x female!reader, poly tf141, oral, nipple and breast abuse, overstimulation, vibrators, squirting, Dom/sub, subspace, free use dynamics
under the cut for length
part 2 of this
Soap makes it to the car first by virtue of being a dirty cheater, yanking Gaz back by the shirt collar with a whoop. He barely waits for the door to slide closed before he's on you, yanking your skirt up and panties down. Gaz picks up the discarded bit of cloth and fucking smells it, holding your gaze as he licks the soaked cotton.
Your pussy clenches and Johnny moans, settled right at eye level with your clit, thumbing your folds apart to lick up your come with a flat, hot tongue. You squeal and reach for Gaz as Price and Simon climb into the front, needing someone to hold onto as Soap shoves his tongue into you with no warning.
He's enthusiastic with your pussy, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it hard enough to make you shout, Gaz groping your breasts as you squirm. Soap can't move, he's wedged into the footwell between Price's seat and yours, which means his broad shoulders have your thighs splayed and your body wedged back into your seat, no escape from his mouth. The vibrator is still in you as well, curved up against your g-spot, and you keep clamping down on it when Soap drags you close to coming. He won't let you get there though, the fucker, and you gasp for Price to have mercy on your poor swollen clit, just let you come, you behaved at the bar-
Price laughs and shakes his head. "Still not my decision love," he says, and you look at Simon who waves the remote at you cheekily.
"Not sure I like you looking to him first, you know I've got the control tonight," he says, and "Gaz, go ahead and get rough with her tits if she's having a hard time not coming."
You moan in despair as Soap wiggles his tongue along your hole where the vibrator sits, and Gaz drags your shirt up and off, bra coming with it in a tangle of elastic. Your skirt is just a belt around your waist now and you whine as Gaz kisses your neck, soft and sweet, before he gets your nipple in his hand and pinches. You yelp and then shout louder as he squeezes, your nipple crushed between his thumb and finger, unable to push him away enough for relief. When he finally lets go you gasp and shudder, sobbing as Soap pops his mouth off your clit.
"You act like you hate it, bonnie, but I'm fucking near drowning in your cunt," he says, and rubs his jaw through your pussy to prove it, letting the other men hear the wet sloppy sounds. Gaz groans, and you flinch as he pinches your other nipple, but he lets go before he can bruise it like the other- instead, oh fuck, he's slapping your tits instead, hard smacks of his hand that make you yelp, pinned down between both men. Each suck and lick at your cunt drags you closer to orgasm, each smack on your breasts startles you out of it, Gaz pinching ruthlessly when he thinks you're getting too close. Your breasts are soon marked with little red bruises, your nipples swollen and sore where he's twisted them and tugged until you sobbed at him to let go, and your clit is a solid hot throb between your legs.
Then Simon turns the vibrator on.
You scream loud enough Price's hands jerk at the wheel. "Fuck, fuck, Simon please I need to come I need it please- please, god, oh fuck oh god, Simon, Simon please please please!!" Soap's on your clit, sucking it so hard he's got nearly your whole pussy pulled into his mouth; Gaz has twisted himself around to get both hands on your tits and is pulling your nipples so tight you think they're going to come off, and through it all the vibrator buzzes, unstoppable, stronger and stronger until you don't have anything left in you but the hair-thin control of not allowed to come yet.
Under your screaming and Soap's moaning and Gaz's swearing you hear a command you'd die for right now.
"You can come, love."
You know you scream again, back arching as much as it can, and your eyes roll back as you come and come and come, a full body spasm that doesn't stop, because Simon hasn't turned the vibrator back off.
You sob and beg, weeping, Gaz releasing your nipples with a rush of blood back to the abused flesh that stings and burns, and when finally the damned thing falls quiet you collapse against Gaz, limp.
Soap lays his head against your thigh, panting, and through the come-drunk haze you hear him gasp "Fuck Si, I wasn't joking about drowning, she just squirted down my fucking throat," and you hear him groan and shudder between your legs- oh, he was jerking off to you coming, and there's a wet splatter on your pussy as his come streaks over you.
Gaz moans and thumbs your nipples, and you whine, too fucked to protest, as he drags you to lay across the seat. Your mouth falls open as he gets his cock out and works it between your lips, holding your head in both hands and fucking up into your mouth like a sex toy- you can't move, and just let him take you, drooling down his cock. You can't even muster up the energy to choke when his cock bumps into your throat, then deeper. Everything is too soft, too blissed out and fucked out, your body thrumming with phantom sensations as Gaz uses your throat. He comes fast, pushing you down all the way, and you manage to swallow some of his come before he lifts you up and the rest drools out down your chin.
The door opens- oh, you're home. Simon looks at you upside down from where your head hangs over Gaz's lap.
"sweet thing, you look rode hard and put away wet," he comments, and you giggle at him.
"Not rode an'thin yet Siiii," and he lifts you up and carries you in where Price has turned the lamps on in the bedroom. Soap and Gaz trail behind you, the two men stumbling up the steps, come drunk on their own.
Simon spills you out onto the bed, and you smile giddily up at Price as he strips the belt from his pants, and snaps the leather.
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benevolenterrancy · 3 days ago
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✧Not My Art!✧
This was all drawn by @clj-art-blog for my "lay your wager (down to sleep)" series and I honestly can't stop fawning over them? They're so pretty? And feels so visceral? The emotions in them all just sweep me away, seriously the body language is something else ;^; Thank you so much for putting so much love into drawing something inspired by my writing this is insanely cool????
Anyway, she has very kindly given me permission to post her pictures so I can force other people to also look at them and admire them 人´∀`)
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avelera · 2 days ago
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So apparently, Fortiche shared concept art where Jayce's Hexcorization in the cave would extend all the way to his face:
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And this is really interesting to me from a narrative perspective, here's why:
Much of S2 Jayce's arc is incredibly... punitive. Like, he is really being punished step by step for everything he did wrong in S1. From Renni terrorizing and almost killing him for the death of her son, to Viktor leaving him "for another woman" (the Hexcore as represented by Sky) much like Jayce left him for politics as represented by Mel, there's really a sense of the narrative not only tearing Jayce down to his bare essentials (something that's very common for TV writing to do, by the way, it's very common that you want to see characters reduced down to who they are for their "long night of the soul" moment before they learn the lessons of what they really stand for before going into the climax armed with those lessons), but Jayce's time in the cave really goes even further than that and not only does S2 take away his political career, his Hextech ambitions, his state as someone able-bodied, much of his strength, and certain other gifts, it looks like in this draft they considered taking away his beauty too.
I think it would have been interesting either way if they had, but I want to dive into the narrative structure of action and punishment in Arcane, why Hexcorizing Jayce's face might have been a step too far and not really addressed a lesson he needed to learn, and my thoughts on punitive character arcs in general in Arcane (or lack thereof), specifically with regards to Jayce and Caitlyn.
I've mentioned elsewhere that I always found it interesting that much of the hate directed towards Jayce by the fans was for his perceived incompetence in difficult moments, rather than at how naturally gifted he seems to be at everything.
When I first watched S1 on my own, I thought Jayce was a bit unbearable because everything comes so easily to him (after Viktor becomes his partner and Hextech takes off as a result, that is). He is naturally beautiful, he's built like a god but doesn't appear to do any sort of exercise routine to maintain this other than working in the forge, he becomes the Man of Progress and rockstar of Piltover pretty much without trying, girls are literally sighing dreamily as he goes by.
He's also naturally a genius, from what we see, revolutionizing multiple industries with one invention. Even his rescue as a child is a literal miracle and it spurs him to create an invention that makes him a rockstar. When he enters politics, he immediately dominates, to the point where he's able to get a unanimous vote to overthrow the founder of the city within weeks of going there. Even in battle he's naturally gifted and naturally lucky during the raid of the Shimmer factory (up until the death of Renni's son), even though he has no prior skills as far as we know. He also wins the love of arguably the most beautiful woman in the series, again, seemingly without trying.
Then, S2 doesn't just take all of this away from him, it seems to go a step further into actually punishing Jayce for how easy and miraculous his life was in S1.
I'm of two minds about the Hexcorization reaching his face, but I have a hypothesis. I think it would have looked fucking rad but, I kinda get why they didn't do it:
Because Jayce's good looks are not something he can control, unlike the other things the narrative punishes him for.
Insofar as he can control his looks, he gives up on the clean-cut, immaculate "Golden Boy" image. Even in the idealized astral plane, he keeps most of the marks of his time in the pit like his hair and beard. I think it's because Jayce likes who he became down there. The clean-cut version of him was always the mask of him trying to please others, Jayce's appearance after he emerges from the cave is him shedding the opinions of others (contrast this with how Viktor idealizes himself in the astral plane, removing all marks of his illness. This isn't a criticism, just an interesting point of contrast).
So basically, my theory is Fortiche may have pulled back on Hexcorizing Jayce's face on the one hand to soften the visuals a bit, but secondly because it keeps the focus on punishing Jayce for things he chose to do, rather than things he doesn't really have control over.
But make no mistake, the narrative comes down hard on Jayce in S2, for every little thing the fans could and often did hate him for in S1. He pays for all of them, arguably in excess of what he maybe deserved, since as he says he didn't ask for any of this. But he did go along with it, and there's where the hammer of consequence (quite literally) comes down on him, tears away all his privileges, drags him down to literally the level of Viktor when he first left the undercity and says, "You have to do it all again but now focused on what really matters, and it's going to be ten times harder than it ever was."
This, in my opinion, is why Jayce is so popular coming out of S2. It is a hell of an arc, it's a hell of a redemption! You gave the man everything any man could want, then you took it all away, and then as his crowning moment of showing he has truly learned these lessons and made up for his mistakes, he makes possibly the most loving gesture possible, puts his weapons down, and reaches out to the person he loves most and literally sacrifices himself on the altar of his mistakes to make things right and show Viktor he is loved, and to protect Viktor from the horrifically lonely fate of his future self. It doesn't get any more noble, loving, or self-sacrificing than that.
Because more than we like to see a character punished we like to see them learn from their mistakes and come back better. Jayce's S2 nobility is earned, perhaps even to excess, no one can question whether he suffered enough to make up for what he did in S1 but even the most uncharitable read of him in S1, his biggest hater, would have to agree his time spent starving to death in agony, alone in that cave for months, has got to be just about the worst punishment a human can face and live.
Which is one reason I must add that I find it a little puzzling that Arcane's creators didn't predict the hate that Caitlyn would get in S2.
Keep in mind, because this is very important, the Arcane creators did not make S2 in response to fan reactions to S1. S2 was already in production and the script was locked in and done before anyone outside their organizations saw S1. So nothing that happens in S2 is as a result of fan response.
But, the creators did understand that Jayce was going to need to suffer narrative punishment for what he did in S1 in order to be redeemed, whether they predicted how hated he would be after S1, they did predict that redemption would be necessary. And boy-howdy, did they give him a hell of a redemption arc!
But Caitlyn's S2 actions are almost in lock-step similar to Jayce's S1 actions, being manipulated (by a Medarda!) into accepting power, but maybe not having a choice in the matter, but still maybe expanding that power on their own because it is useful in its own right. Caitlyn also makes terrible mistakes. A child doesn't die but people in the undercity do get hurt during her rage-fuled raids, even if most of them are mob bosses and their goons. The narrative asks, does that make it right? Caitlyn like Jayce hurts the person closest to her who is from the undercity and uses bigoted language against the people of the undercity to Vi's face in much the same way that Jayce did to Viktor on the bridge, though in Jayce's defense, he apologized immediately after.
So, seeing how hated Jayce was coming out of S1, to the point where there's still barely any merchandise of him, I'm shaking my head rather ruefully that there was so much merch made for Caitlyn this time around. And I get it! Caitlyn and Vi were very popular after S1, they are intentionally THE main romance of the show and it was a very popular romance coming out of the innocence of their meet cute in S1.
But it's a romance that dearly needed a longer third act if you wanted Caitlyn to be as embraced after her mistakes as Jayce was after making up for his all through S2. You need to give her as long or at least as in-depth of a redemption act with as much suffering and acknowledgment of her mistakes if you want Vi and Caitlyn at the end to get celebrated the way Jayce making it up to Viktor is, because as much as I understand the choice to focus on pacing instead of exposition, and I do think Caitlyn's apology and realization of her mistakes are there on the page more than people complain, I do also agree that it is a bit "blink and you'll miss it" even if it's there. Jayce got a whole episode of being thrown into the Torment Nexus for his mistakes, real or imagined, if you didn't like him or his choices, you definitely got the sadistic glee of watching life kick the stuffing out of him for what he did in S1.
But besides her fight with Ambessa, which was a result of a confluence of many events in the story, not just Caitlyn's mistakes, Caitlyn doesn't really suffer much for the mistakes she made to those she loves. Her losing an eye to Ambessa didn't happen because she said bigoted things to Vi or became a short-term puppet dictator of Piltover. It was a result of Ambessa's actions and maneuvering more than it was a result of Caitlyn's personal mistakes to her loved ones.
In contrast, Jayce's time in the pit gave him the chance to reflect on and suffer for the the mistakes he made that led to the Anomaly that led to him being down in this pit, and what he would do to make it up to his loved ones like Viktor when he returned. Caitlyn never got a moment like that and from what I'm seeing of the vitriol directed towards her, so similar to what Jayce got after S1, it seems like she really needed it if we were going to like her to the same extent again, in a way uncomplicated by lingering questions about whether she ever truly learned the lessons her character needed to learn to grow as a person.
And it's just funny to me that a narrative that was so aware that this whole huge punishment arc was needed to rehabilitate Jayce wasn't aware that we'd need one for Caitlyn too, at least if they're going to move all that merch they made for her (please give us Jayce merch, Riot, I'm begging).
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astonmartinii · 3 days ago
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other side of the moon - chapter six | formula one imagine
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chapter six: fireproof
pairing: fem retired formula one driver reader x ??? fem retired formula one driver reader x platonic!kimi antonelli
testing is finally here and after the car launch, y/n is not looking forward to the mercedes garage
MASTERLIST | TIP JAR | SERIES MASTERLIST
the day and a half after the car launch before max was called into the factory by red bull was a slice of peace y/n had longed for for three years. but also one she couldn’t help think would be the last bit of peace she would be afforded this season.
the pair woke up the morning after the launch, bundled up together and hair sticking up in every direction.
“good morning” y/n said, words smothered by max’s chest. the dutchman grumbled to himself as he wrapped his arms around her even tighter.
“max, your phone won’t stop vibrating - please tell whoever it is to fuck off”
max groaned, flipped over and grabbed his phone. with his eyes shut, max jammed a couple buttons and suddenly the gravely voice of helmut marko rung out.
“max! where are you? the team have just informed me that you left early and are not at the hotel?”
the dutchman finally opened his eyes. he pulled y/n back into his side and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“helmut, it’s too early for this many questions.”
“i asked you one, very straight forward question, max.”
“i’ll be at the factory tomorrow, don’t worry.”
helmut sighed down the phone, “wherever you are, make sure you’re not late and not spotted doing anything untoward.”
“me? untoward? helmut, i didn’t know you thought so low of me.”
“the only reason i believe you is because you’re on your best behaviour with y/n back, maybe we should add her to our payroll as well.”
y/n couldn’t stop herself before she burst out laughing. she smacked a hand over her mouth but it was too late. helmut hummed.
“i see. good morning miss y/ln. make sure he’s in top condition for tomorrow.”
“will do, helmut.”
max hung up as soon as he could and threw his phone down the bed. he smiles down at y/n, “that’s not exactly how i pictured my first morning in bed with you.”
“so you’ve pictured this?” y/n questions, raising an eyebrow.
“no? yes? maybe? i definitely have but i don’t want to creep you out so what do you want to hear?”
y/n laughs as he buries his head in the pillow, whining in embarrassment.
“maxy…” she sings and pokes his back.
“don’t look at me! i’m a freak!” max yells, muffled in the pillow.
“but you’re a freak for me?”
“isn’t it obvious?”
y/n finally gets max to lessen his grip on the pillow and look back up at her. there’s a dusting of pink on his face and a concerned look in his eye.
“don’t worry, i like it. as long as you’re only a freak for me.”
max ducked his head again, “as happy as i am to hear that, can we refrain from saying it like that? i was proud i managed to wake up without morning wood and you’re really testing that resolve right now.”
y/n’s laugh reverberated around the room. without the needy meows of brando, the pair could stay snuggled in the bed for much longer than usual.
“max?” y/n asked, the dutchman had rearranged them so that he could be the little spoon and had his head resting on her chest, “please don’t be sorry for your feelings. they don’t make me uncomfortable and unlike others you didn’t just assume i reciprocated. i like what we have and i want to see where it could go, but i want to take it slow. i don’t want people butting in and adding their two pence. i just want you - and our furry babies.”
y/n could see the smile breaking out on max’s face before he even lifted his head from her chest.
“i said i just want to exist with you,” max said, “that will never, ever change.”
the dutchman’s eyes flicked down to her lips and the blush returned when he realised he wasn’t too subtle about it. y/n gives him a small nod and max leans in.
“can i?”
“please,” y/n whispered as max’s lips connected with hers. it was a small peck, just a press of lips, but it was enough. both pulled back and smiled, happy to breathe the same air for a while. y/n’s hand wrapped around his nape and pulled him in for another one. this kiss lasted longer, the pair pouring their years of pining into it, communicating something words could not describe.
for a moment y/n wished that she hadn’t returned to formula one. she wished that this would be her life. happy in her coop in west london with her and max’s cats waiting for the dutchman to come home, far away from her past ghosts and the sport that nearly killed her.
“will you still find me attractive in mercedes kit?”
“that’s a stupid question. you’re the most beautiful person in the world. yes, i would prefer if it were my number and my colours, but i’ll live with it if it means seeing you at every race.”
y/n giggled, the dutchman pressed another kiss to her lips because he could.
“i know you’ll be rooting for kimi this season, but i’ll win every race for you. even if the red bull is a shit box, i’ll fight everyone to bring that trophy home to you.”
“my singular monza trophy is a little lonely,” y/n said, “but your wins are yours, not anyone else’s”
y/n pushed back the duvet and started to get out of bed, much to the chagrin of max. despite his attempted puppy-dog eyes, y/n shuffled into her slippers and made her way to the kitchen.
“find something good to watch, i’ll cook up one last cheat meal for you,” y/n’s voice called from the hallway. max stayed led in the bed, a dumb smile on his face. it all felt a bit too good to be true and he hoped those in the paddock who had already caused some trouble would stay out of this.
despite another night of snuggles, max did not want to leave for milton keynes the next morning. y/n had made him a breakfast sandwich for the ride, but it did little to console the young dutchman even though the pair would be apart for just two days before they’d reunite in monaco and fly out to bahrain.
“i don’t wanna go… i want to stay here, you’re so much nicer to look at than christian!”
max was dragging his feet as he made his way to the hire car. he even tried to delay his departure by roping frank into a conversation but y/n had thought of that and rung down to reception in advance.
“it’s like you want me gone!” max cried as he put his bags in the car.
y/n laced her fingers in his, “you know i’ll miss you, but i don’t want to hear helmut’s voice any more than i have to, so you have to go. i’ll see you in monaco.”
max pulled her into one last kiss and reluctantly got into the car. y/n waved him off as he disappeared into the streets of london.
“finally!”
a yell boomed out in the garage, making y/n jump and stick her keys out as a makeshift weapon. frank stood at the entrance of the garage with a huge smile on his face. y/n calmed down when she saw the older man.
“frank! that scared the shit out of me! how long have you been there?”
“long enough.”
frank looked very smug. y/n made her way to the entrance, pointedly ignoring the older man.
“don’t be mad, i won’t tell anyone. i’m just glad you finally realised what was right in front of you.”
did everyone see it before her? it certainly seems that way.
“we’re taking it slow, so i’d appreciate if you kept this under your hat, frank.”
“of course, miss y/ln. would you like me to arrange for another parking spot for your flat?”
y/n tried to keep a stern look but she just couldn’t help it and smiled at the older man.
“that would be lovely, thank you.”
her apartment was quiet without max. she didn’t want to say she missed him just yet, but she had to busy herself with something before she fell down that hole. she needed to pack and get a flight back to monaco so she could spend a little more time with the cats before pre-season testing kicked off the season.
y/n’s phone buzzed with a message.
kimi: y/nnnnnnnn huge favour to ask! george can only give me a lift back to london before we go to bahrain so could i maybe get a lift to brackley???
y/n: if you buy my coffee at each stop you’ve got a deal.
kimi: yes, yes. i know your order - THANK YOU !
she better get to packing.
the italian stood on the side of the road, wrapped up in two coats, a hat and a scarf. ollie stood beside him in just a t-shirt, some shorts and a pair of flip flops, showing off his british aversion to the cold.
y/n pulled up beside the pair and winded down the window. “don’t you know hitchhikers are dangerous?”
kimi smiled and gave ollie a quick hug, popping the boot and shoving his small suitcase in. the italian slipped into the passenger seat and waved at ollie.
“why didn’t i have the idea to ask you to be my mentor?” ollie whined, “esteban is great and he has already given me a ton of lifts but you’re you!”
“snooze you lose” kimi said, poking out his tongue.
“esteban is great ollie, don’t believe all this shit about him being a bad teammate. he’s lovely and will be more than happy to help you out. however, we do need to go because i need to drop off this princess and get a flight to monaco. ciao!”
y/n stood on the gas and flew off down the street. from the corner of her eye, y/n could see kimi studying her. this wasn’t too strange for the italian, he often just stared at her, amazed that she had even agreed.
“i can feel you staring kimi, do you have a question?”
“why are you so happy?”
y/n laughed at the bluntness. the italian sputtered, “i mean i’m happy you’re happy, but i can’t help but be suspicious. i haven’t heard a peep from you since the car launch… and a little birdy told me you left with a certain someone.”
“it’s been two days, kimi!”
“you’re still smiling, you can’t stop and considering you smiled maybe twice in the first couple days i knew you - this means something!”
“fine! you caught me. i did go home with max. i’m not saying anymore than we’re happy and we’re taking it slow. i’m telling you because i believe for a good mentor relationship i should be completely open, as should you. also you’re like a quasi-son to me so there’s also that. do not tell anyone else, i’m serious. not even ollie.”
kimi whined at that, “but i tell ollie everything!”
“well not this. you saw how some of the people, including your teammate are with me and max, i do not want to give them any ammunition, okay?”
kimi hummed to himself, his brain whirring so loudly that even y/n could hear it over the music and the road. “speaking of those who WILL be without ammunition because i WILL keep my mouth zipped shut… how are we actually planning on tackling george this season?”
y/n was making the turn off of the motorway and towards brackley as she chuckled, “aside from physically tackling him at testing? i am joking, by the way. kimi, i don’t want you to worry about george anywhere but the track. he talks a big talk, but he’s very easy to frustrate when he’s not winning. don’t give him the rise he’ll want, okay?”
the tension rose in the car, it had all been fun and games up until this point, cocktails parties and car launches. but now it was getting real. y/n had the voice in the back of her head that worried that her off-track drama with the other drivers could impact kimi’s career.
“please stop worrying, y/n. i know what you’re thinking, but i am capable of handling it myself. i may only be eighteen but i’m not afraid of anyone.”
y/n pulled up outside of the mercedes factory and turned to kimi. she grabbed his hands, “promise me, kimi. promise me that if the drama with me gets too much, you will say something. i know it’s your dream to work with me, but make sure i do not interfere with your career.”
kimi scoffed, “them being afraid of you will never be your fault, you know-”
“it doesn’t matter if my fault or not, if their pettiness fucks with you, i won’t be able to forgive myself…”
just as they spoke, george pulled up beside them in his mercedes. the brit wasn’t alone in his car however. a brunette woman sat in the passenger seat, and much like george, her eyes narrowed at the sight of y/n.
“that’s carmen, george’s girlfriend. she doesn’t usually come to the factory with him?” kimi gasped, “maybe she’s here to stake her claim on george, as if you’d want him anyway…”
y/n laughed as kimi got out of the car. the italian grabbed his stuff from the boot and walked round to the window. y/n rolled it down and the two did their handshake.
“enjoy the prep, bunny, don’t make too much mess. see you in bahrain!”
the moment was cut short by someone clearing their throat. carmen had rolled down her window and was looking at kimi, less than impressed. the italian squeaked a quick goodbye and shuffled towards the entrance.
y/n tried not to make eye contact with carmen as she inputted the airport’s address into her gps. she was baffled by the news that george even had a girlfriend, not that she wanted kimi or the couple to know that. how long had they been together? did she know about y/n and about george’s weird feud with her? too many questions and not enough answers.
george and carmen made their way past y/n’s car and stopped just in front of the entrance, pointedly in y/n’s eye line. the two kissed, messily for people their age, and just to sum up her return so far, george kept eye contact with y/n the entire time, his hand wandering lower and lower on carmen.
2025 was the year of psychological warfare it seemed. y/n could work with that.
she sped out of the car park with new vigour. if psychological warfare was what george was ordering, y/n needed to know everything about everyone. she had stayed away from the drama surrounding formula one in her three years away from the sport, but it was time to go full gossip girl.
it’s crazy how much you can find in an hour in an airline bar about your former colleagues. y/n’s phone started ringing loudly, earning her some dirty looks in the lounge.
“maxy! did you know that george dated nyck’s sister?” y/n said, shovelling the free nuts in her mouth, “and that lando and pierre once liked the same girl in dubai?”
“why oh why are you telling me about this?” max said.
“because that prick wants psychological warfare, so i have to know everything!”
max hummed, not convinced. “am i like missing something?”
“i took kimi to brackley this morning and was treated to a lovely show from george and carmen. the weirdo kept eye contact with me the entire time! so if he wants to play it like that, i gotta know my enemies.”
“as weird as this all is, i’m glad to see you’re so into all of this, miss detective.”
y/n laughed, “i know i’m reading way too much about all of this, but i swear to god if he tries to fuck with kimi or you, i’ll play dirty if i have to. i mean i just don’t understand why he’s being such an asshole now about everything i supposedly did when he has a girlfriend - insecure much?”
max laughed down the line, they really were so much more alike than people would think. hearing her now, max wished she was back in the paddock for qatar and abu dhabi last year just to see what kind of revenge she could’ve thought up.
“anyway, maxy, are you still at the factory?”
“yeah, we’re just on a break, i’m outside getting some air and i didn’t know whether you were on the plane yet or not - you know you could’ve taken air max if you wanted to?”
y/n smiled, “i didn’t need your plane for a trip to monaco, silly! i’ll only be on the flight for a little while anyway and i’m only going because i’m having withdrawal symptoms from my babies!”
“why would you say this, now i want to see them!”
the boarding sign popped up, “ah! i gotta go maxy, i’ll text you when i’m back at yours - what time does the cat sitter go?”
“she will have left like an hour or so before you get back. stay safe, i -”
there was chatter in the background, “i gotta go, bye!”
max hung up quickly. y/n was left to her thoughts again and just how much life can change. this time three years ago she was making notes about the season coming, turns to watch and previous first lap incidents and now she’s compiling gossip on the grid’s personal lives? part of her wanted to be ashamed, but in the same vain, she knew that her adversaries hadn’t spared a moment for introspection.
max’s apartment in monaco was alight with the impatient meows from brando, sassy and jimmy. the cats yowled like they hadn’t been fed in days, although clarissa, the cat sitter, had sent max and y/n nearly hourly updates on them.
“oh my babies! momma missed you so much!” y/n said, abandoning her suitcase at the door and ushering the cats towards the couch. once she was sat, brando bullied his way onto her lap, his spot, and jimmy and sassy snuggled up beside her as closely as possible.
she pulled out her phone and snapped a quick picture of herself and the cats and sent it to max.
max: all my favourites in one place, you’re making listening to christian drone on even harder
y/n: you better keep listening, maxy, don’t want anyone else winning this season do you?
max: i do hate losing…
y/n smiled to herself, there was no lying to now, this place with the cats and max felt like home. the most at home y/n had felt for years.
“right, momma needs to shower and cook, babies!” brando did not look impressed but consoled himself by going back to grooming an equally unimpressed jimmy.
y/n rustled around max’s wardrobe trying to find a smaller towel for her hair. max wasn’t the most organised, especially with a wardrobe where he could just shut the door and forget the mess behind it. she finally got the towel loose, but with the last yank, a small book came flying out of the wardrobe.
the book was a small leather-bound book, clearly loved, bursting at the seams with use. y/n flicked open the book, scanning a couple of the pages. she could recognise the handwriting anywhere, was this max’s diary?
y/n flicked through a couple more of the pages before she landed on a page that boldly stated “fuck lando” in bold capitals. oh? the page was dated for a day in january 2020, just before she started her formula one career.
she knew this was a massive invasion of privacy, but max had never mentioned having a bust up with lando around that time - her curiosity had gotten the better of her.
i don’t know what lando’s problem is? i was on a discord call with him, george and alex this evening and he was in such a mood with me. it was all about y/n as usual with him, he’s being proper weird about her. of course we’ve already started training and discussing racing lines? we’re best friends. it’s almost like he knows i have feelings for her? but i know i haven’t been THAT obvious, at least not as bad as him and george. they think i don’t know, but they must think i’m dumb or blind (or both). he’s going to ruin his friendship with her if he’s not careful. i have loved y/n for as long as i can remember, but i don’t ever intend on making that her problem - why would she ever want to be with me? they assume because they’ve known her so long that they have this weird claim on her. i don’t know - i have a bad feeling about how this might all play out… i’ll just be there for y/n, she’s going to need it…
y/n slapped the book shut, feeling guilty about just how much she had read. max had liked her for that long? even when she was a jittery rookie with hormonal acne and way too much to say. and lando has always had this problem? there was never any chance of them being good teammates was there?
it feels like there’s a surprise around every corner since y/n reopened the pandora’s box that is formula one. how much was there left to reveal? to hurt her? can she handle what other secrets the sport has waiting for her?
but on the other side, if she had stayed in the shadows, y/n would’ve never known about max’s feelings and would never have the opportunity for what she feels right now.
y/n tucked the book back in the wardrobe and tried to wash the guilt off in the shower.
bahrain international circuit
testing was a boring affair for everyone that wasn’t in or working on the car. y/n was on her third coffee of the morning just out of pure boredom. kimi was in the car for the morning session and despite him paying her salary, toto did not seem like he’d make good conversation based on the frown on his face.
y/n saw sky making their way back down the pit lane and ducked back into the drivers’ rooms. because timing and fate loved y/n, george was leaving his just at the same moment.
it took a concerted effort not to roll her eyes as she forced out a quick good morning. george stopped in his tracks.
“good morning to you too?”
y/n gave him a nod and continued to kimi’s room, george grabbed her hand.
“are we going to have a problem the entire season? all of kimi’s career?”
“why would i have a problem, george? is there a reason i should have a problem?”
george huffed, “listen to me. we used to be so close… i wasn’t the one who crashed into you, why are you treating me like this?”
“george i’m not treating you like anything! 19 other drivers didn’t hear from me, you’re not special.”
y/n took a sip of her coffee, trying to school her heart rate, “you may have not crashed into me, but you hardly said much afterwards. you didn’t even come and visit me in the hospital? you didn’t post or say a single thing about me? you barely could bring yourself to say my name, so please spare me the lecture.”
george opened his mouth to respond but stopped, he tried to make eye contact with y/n but she avoided it.
“i didn’t think you wanted to see anyone to do with formula one! and you’re you! you hate dumb shit like instagram dedications and all that stuff…”
“you and your little partner in crime seem to be baffled about how max was the one who slipped through the cracks and stayed in my life. well read between the lines, idiot! his dedication to me is still pinned on his account, my number is on his helmet and he made the effort after the crash! you did nothing and you still expect me to coddle you?”
george tried to interject, “no! i think you’ve said enough already, george. you say all of this shit about how i led you on, but now you’re bringing up old drama when you’ve been in a relationship for years? so what’s the real reason? because so help me god, you fuck with kimi and i burn this whole place down.”
just behind george, y/n saw toto come into view. the austrian’s face told her that he had heard everything.
“well wasn’t that just great, thank you, you two. next time you have a domestic at track, please lower your voice, the entire garage now knows your business.”
“toto, i can assure you i will be nothing less than professional this season. winning with mercedes is my top priority, y/n will learn her place in this garage.”
even toto seemed taken aback by george’s words. y/n turned, her shoulder knocking george’s on the way past, “i think toto is well aware of who he hired and i know my place, just like kimi knows his… don’t crane your neck too much looking up at him on the podium.”
y/n shut the door to kimi’s driver room, and slid down to the floor. it was only the first day of testing and she’s exhausted. just outside the room she can hear george and toto still talking.
“i’m just saying i think it’s insane and honestly a little disrespectful that you hired her to begin with, toto.”
“i hired her because she was a talented driver and is willing to mentor kimi. i was not aware you two had a problem, and the fact that i’ve heard so much about it now without knowing what it actually is makes me think that the problem was in fact YOU. now calm down and get ready for your session.”
okay, maybe not all hope was lost. but y/n knew that this was just the start, the real racing had yet to begin and who knows how far george could take it, especially if the mercedes is competitive and especially if he finds out about her and max.
y/n popped open her laptop to keep track of kimi’s times on track but found herself struggling to keep her eyes open. by the time her impromptu nap had finished, kimi was making his way back into the garage, finishing the morning session. y/n made her way back into the garage to greet him as he made his way out of the car.
the session looked positive for the italian, but the pair were still anxious to see how george would perform, considering both were on the same program for the day. when kimi lifted his helmet, the two made eye contact, the italian’s eyes were so expressive that y/n could already hear the excited chatter.
“oh my god, y/n that was amazing! i know i’ve driven f1 cars before but knowing it’s actually mine for the season? wow!”
“well i’m glad you enjoyed it, let’s get some electrolytes in you before we sit down to analyse everything.”
the pair headed for the mercedes hospitality, with the other morning drivers doing the same throughout the paddock. during y/n’s nap she had missed the only real incident of the day, but a certain spaniard was about to make sure she knew.
“hey! antonelli!”
kimi’s head whipped around to see an angry carlos sainz charging towards him. the spaniard was clearly taking advantage of the lack of media outlets allowed at testing, getting in kimi’s face.
“you might be a rookie, but you’ll stay out of my way, got it? impede me like that again and we’ll see what happens!”
y/n pulled kimi behind her and jabbed her finger at carlos’ chest. “you self-important asshole, he didn’t impede you it’s testing. i know you’re at williams this season, so you’re going to have to invent a storyline for yourself, but trust me, this is not the one you want.”
“stay out of this y/ln, why don’t you stick to hopping into whoever’s winning’s bed, huh?”
y/n let out a sarcastic laugh, not caring about the small crowd forming around them. “your glory days, well whatever you call being stuck in charles’ shadow, playing politics with daddy to get given wins at ferrari only to be cast aside when you got a bit too big for your boots, are over. don’t be the bitter old bitch that makes rookies’ lives hell? oh wait, you’ve always been that way haven’t you?”
“you are a perpetual victim, y/n. that was years ago, get over it.”
“and yet you still act the exact same way. telling, really.”
carlos stayed quiet this time and y/n took that as the chance to guide kimi to hospitality. with their backs turned, “she won’t always be there for you, rookie! she can’t sleep with all of the stewards and she won’t be in the office to bat her eyelashes. so watch your back.”
y/n kept walking despite kimi tugging on her arm, wanting to retaliate. “stop. let him make a fool of himself.”
despite y/n trying to de-escalate the situation, max was less willing to do so. the dutchman had only heard a fraction but that was enough to rear the head of mad max.
“you think you’re so cute with this shit don’t you, sainz,” max said, looming over the spaniard, “you people never change, it’s pathetic.”
“the only thing that’s pathetic here is you, being her lap dog - and we’re meant to be scared of you? all we gotta do is flash an ankle or raise a hand and you’ll be eating out of our palm.”
max’s hands were shaking by his side and it took everything inside of him not to lunge at carlos. y/n’s grip on kimi tightened when jos was brought up, the crowd around them tensing as well.
“i don’t know what she does for you, but you surely can’t still be falling for it all these years later. i remember at toro rosso when you’d wake up the whole camp screaming in your motorhome and you’d call her crying. a four-time world champion and you still go crawling back to her.”
“she’s worth more than you could ever wish to be. i don’t know what propaganda your dad or lando has been feeding you, but you’re a grown man, you’re too old to be falling for it. now leave her and kimi alone. i’d threaten you, but it’s unlikely that williams will be anywhere near me this season.”
max gave one last look to y/n before running back towards the red bull garage. the crowd that had formed chattered amongst themselves and started to disperse. carlos looked enraged but backed off, not without one final glare towards the italian.
“i didn’t know formula one was just this dramatic,” kimi said, “i need to work on my insults!”
y/n laughed, but a voice from behind her stopped her dead in her tracks.
“always the centre of drama, aren’t you y/n? always looking for trouble.”
zak brown.
fin.
note: wow this took me so long to write and i kinda hate it! i am in such a rut rn idk what to do ? but i hope you guys enjoyed it anyway!
taglist:  @peterholland04@miureiz@freyathehuntress@lighttsoutlewis@aleatorio1234@chaosandevelyn@blueberry648579@dog-and-cat-person230@fastandcurious16@obxstiles@cosmicwintr@becca388510 @savagittariuspy@tibadi @thisbitxhs-blog @finn-dot-com @scenesofobx @moofilms @alilstressyandlotdepressy @nana-love-bugzzz @mayax2o07 @obsessed-fan-alert @1-queenofpotatoes-1 @jajouska @poppysrin @mimimarvelingmarvel @jiyumie @heeseungthel0ml 
@folkloresreputation@hc-dutch@shimmermotorsport@96mcobo@eclipsedcherry@formulaal@czennieszn@gothicwidowsworld@emily-b@suns3treading@henna006@kazgirl20@anotherapollokid@littlegrapejuice@daemyratwst@annimausi@yawn-zi@lulu-1998@xsilkesworld@justaf1girl@daddyslittlevillain@abq654@elizamoe1@evans-dejong33@wierdflowerpower@t1nkerbel1@okcurran@raizelchrysanderoctavius@skepvids@multilovebot@fernandoalonso14@jules-kup-172@m4xgirlie@rorabelle15@minkyungseokie@formula1-motogpfan 
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enhaniki-san · 2 days ago
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Nishimura Riki as your boyfriend and remembering some of your first times with him
warnings: smut, nsfw, niki's slightly sadistic, cursing, etc.
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♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who likes to annoy the shit out of you and will not say sorry at all unless you get so angry or really about to cry.
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who's not a fan of pda but will rest a hand on your nape or hold your wrist instead of your hand. it might seem possessive outside but he's just a sweet boy who likes keeping you close.
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who isn't one to get sick often but when he did, you saw how it hit him hard, insisting he was fine even though his messages gets more dramatic by the hour.
niki: i'll rest so i can see my girlfriend right away.
you: yes, do that.
niki: then she can kiss me again.
niki: baby, i think i'm dying.
you'll sigh, shake your head as you read his texts. then he will send you a picture of his thermometer reading 39°C with a caption:
you might as well say your goodbyes.
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who loves to help you give him handjobs.
the first time it happened is when you and niki were cuddling peacefully, his feverish body was warming both of you.
you felt his shaft harden, pressing insistently on your ass, making cheeks heated as you became very aware of his body's conscious or unconscious reaction to being close to you.
and niki who's oblivious, buried his face deeper into your shoulder with a low groan, mumbling "i don't want you to leave" with his drowsy voice, heavy with sleep but his crotch pressed harder, as if seeking more friction.
you turned to face him, your hand gently combed through his hair while clearing your throat softly. unsure of how to address his hardening length. "niki..." you started hesitantly.
"hmm?" he replied with sluggish tone like he was on the verge of falling asleep but then, as if he finally caught on to your stiffened posture, his grip loosened immediately.
you remembered him sitting up a little. his flushed face brighter than before and not just entirely because of the fever that had been keeping him in bed for days.
"oh my God..."
"i didn't mean for that to happen-"
you bit your lip, unsure whether to laugh at the awkwardness or save him from further embarrassment. "it's... okay."
then your hands travelled from his hair down slowly to his back, fingertips were grazing the dips of his spine as it drifted lower, ghosting over the curve of his ass before wrapping around his stiff length and giving it experimental strokes.
niki gasped, mouth opening and his eyes were fluttering shut, breathing "ahh, shit." while arching into your touch. you continued to pump his shaft, it's twitching while you smear the drops of precum to ease the glide.
he was so hard for you already that it made your own arousal surge. you can feel your pussy throbbing in response.
slowly, niki leaned, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss and he tasted like sleep, medicine, but underneath that, fuck... he was all male heat.
a moan vibrated in his throat as you worked on his cock, his hips were rocking into the tight circle of your fist and you swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss while your free hand roamed the lean muscles of his chest.
niki's hand wrapped around yours, helping you stroke his dick faster. you both looked down at where you were connected, watching his hard dick into your joined fists over and over again.
melting under your touch, niki's hand started fondling the soft fat of your tits, completely at your mercy as you brought him closer to the edge then your eyes met, heavy-lidded and full with lust, he crashed his mouth to yours again.
it's sloppy, all tongue, teeth, and desperation.
niki's breaths grew ragged, his fingers moved and dug into your shoulders and with a firm squeeze to the head of his cock, it urged him over.
niki came with a broken cry of your name. cum spurted over your hands, fingers. painting his stomach, your knuckles, and the bed.
"i love you so much."
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who likes it when you asks him for anything whether it'll be something simple as helping you carry things or... something like asking him for head.
he will wrap his arms around you after and pull you into a tight hug, asking "it's good, right?"
"s-stop."
he will just laugh and rest his chin on your shoulder.
"god, this is so stupid."
"it's not, okay?" he will say firmly and look into your eyes. "i told you, you can ask me for anything. i mean it."
"we-well…" you'll try to change the subject by asking "do you wanna go downstairs and eat or something?"
"i just ate you."
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who seems to lose control when it comes to eating and fingering your pussy. he loves your taste, the texture of your sensitive petals, the way you writhe and moan... it's utterly intoxicating. he becomes completely consumed by it and just can't stop pleasing you even after you already came.
your body spasms, your legs started shaking and quivering while your eyes were also already watering from the intensity of your climax that you just might black out from overstimulation, yet niki's unable to pull away from your slick folds.
his tongue continued to lap at your clit, fingering your hole that juices started gushing out the sensitive flesh and niki's just groaning in delight, totally unbothered by your gasps and whimpers.
"niki, wait..." you'll plead breathlessly, trying to push him back. "please..."
niki also knows that you'll get mad at him after and that he might earn a slap on his pretty face but like a man on a mission, his objective right there is to make you cum over and over until you're a mewling mess and going down on you is the only way he knows how to achieve this feat.
niki can feel your pulse against his tongue and it drives him wild. you've already orgasmed multiple times but he thinks you might just have more climaxes inside you and he won't rest until they're spent.
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who chuckled after hearing you blabber nonsensical words because of the mixture of pain and pleasure that you couldn't quite articulate while having sex with him for the first time. he'll whisper "my poor baby" while peppering soft kisses to your cheeks which is a contrast to the powerful movements of his hips.
♱ boyfriend!ni-ki who always misses you already while you were just sleeping beside him. he tucks your hair behind your ear as he watches you breathe, pouting because he can't talk to you. he'll gently lifts your arms, wrapping them around himself before burying his face into your neck, sighing dramatically like he's suffering.
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a/n: i'm back, the cute outline was inspired by a heesung fic i read here but i can't find it anymore TT
please read Nishimura Riki as your classmate
read part-timers!niki x reader
read part-timers!niki x reader part 2
read snitch - reader x niki
read touché - niki x reader
read touché - niki x reader part 2
read exes - niki x reader
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sugucide · 19 hours ago
Text
two weeks.
it's been two weeks since kento has been inside of you. He's gone months, hell even years without sex before he met you and he was fine. he didn't even wish for it like most of his bachelor counterparts did.
but now that he's had a taste of you? two weeks may as well be a death sentence. which is ironic, giving the nature of this sex ban. everything you do is inviting: maybe it's just his underworked sex drive or maybe he's reverted back to his teenage years because he sure does feel like an impatient, entitled brat whenever you walk past him.
he can smell you. not the smell of your perfume you spritz on each morning. not the product in you hair. not the moisturiser you use. but you, the scent of your self, your body, the skin he's so often inhaled as he bit down between your thighs or up the column of your neck. he can smell the memories of sex, sweaty and tangled in pheromones and all things primal.
he can hear you. not your words or laughter or the way you hum absentmindedly when you're pottering around the house. he can hear that sharp little intake of breath when you accidentally, or not-so-accidentally, brush against him. he can hear that whining tinge to your voice when you tell him you won't sleep with him, that you're punishing him, as if its moreso a punishment for you than him. he can remember the way you'd moan for him, desperate and glassy eyed and oh so perfect for him as he ruins you from the inside out.
he can't take it anymore.
"two weeks is more than enough time for me to think about my actions," he tells you over dinner one night, eyes cast downwards at his plate. "...and to come up with a suitable apology."
you place your chopsticks down at his last words and look up at your husband. "oh? let's hear it then."
over the frames of his glasses, kento's eyes meet yours. "i apologise for worrying you and risking my life for my work."
you tap your fingers against the table. "and will you continue to do it?"
"yes," he admits. "it's my job, one that i do well. if i die doing it, i hope it's in place of someone who didn't sign up for it, like you."
kento reaches over the table and takes your hand. "i can't just stop being a sorcerer. that would be too selfish of me. but i do promise that i will make more of an effort to reduce my chances of getting hurt from now on: no more unnecessary risks. okay?"
though that was all you needed to hear from him, you start to wonder if lifting the sex ban was a good idea when your pent-up husband is swiping plates from the dinner table to make room for you to lay back on it. claiming he can't wait the few extra second to carry you to the bedroom, he has you stripped and laid bare on the dining room table in no time, and he's ready for his meal.
"missed her," he mumbles as he parts your legs with a strong hand and bends down to kiss once at your clit. that's about and gentlemanly as it gets, though, because soon after he's making out with your pussy like he's a virgin. no technique, no precision, nothing but unfiltered need and its so much hotter than you'd imagine it to be.
eyes locking onto yours from between your thighs, he adds two fingers and works you open. two weeks was a long time for the both of you, so he'll need to get you used to the stretch of him again. he scissors his fingers inside of you, curls them upwards to hit your g-spot and smirks like a saint when your back arches off the table in response.
"missed you ken," you ramble on as your climax nears. "missed you so much. hated doing this. love you. loveyouloveyou god i love you."
you cum hard, harder than you've cum in a long time and kento laps it up like he's never tasted anything so good. he savours your taste on his tongue like he would an aged wine, something expensive and delicious and worth keeping bottled. though he's harder than diamond and worried he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't sink inside of you soon. so he stands and undoes his belt in record time (with those lovely hands of his) and repositions you at the end of the table with his leaky cock already pressing against your wet entrance.
he leans over you and shares a kiss with you as he pushes in. he inhales the gasp you let out at the stretch and moans into your mouth as a gift in return. he pulls out almost entirely, so it's just his head nestled in your tight pussy, and then slams in again. hard.
"god kento—" you start, about to chide him for being so rough with you when you notice his face dip into your neck and the sudden warmth filling you from the inside. kento's hips stutter and he bites at the skin of your shoulder to muffle the heavy moans that ache to free themselves from his chest.
"did you just—"
"don't," he cuts you off, cock twitching inside of you with his release. he's plugging you up, keeping you full of him and his cum. "give me a minute and i'll fuck you so stupid that you forget that just happened."
"you just—"
"don't laugh."
"im not laughing! it's just, you know like our first time..."
"shut up." kento's hips pull away and then slam back into yours as he starts a brutal pace with you.
that shuts you up good.
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ghouljams · 2 days ago
Note
I love sucking dick. I have an oral fixation and will give the sloppiest head whether or not I'm being guided. I will be biting tho...small bites...gnawing on the foreskin a bit...until my hair gets gripped and I'm told to "mind your teeth" :3
anyway whenever you write about it I'm left fantasizing about it
I love giving head
Babe... you cannot be chewin on that thang...
That said you know who likes a toothy blowie? Ghost. Yeah baby, make him work for it. Make him pull you off and shake you like a misbehaving cat tellin you that he isn't gonna let you keep playing if you don't watch your teeth. As if he isn't coming buckets when your teeth graze him just a little too purposefully. He isn't putting the power in your hands, you're ripping it from his hands. Make him remember why mouths are a dangerous place to stick his fingers, make him regret letting you near his cock when you're so eager to dig those munchers into his forearm. He should've known better, and he did, he just didn't care, wanted to feel you bite and know that if he ever pushed you around too much you'd take it upon yourself to stop him from doing it again.
Soap would probably love it too, but only because he's a masochist, and honestly I'd bite that man just to have him pull me off his cock and slap me clean across the face just @^@
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justwinginglife · 2 days ago
Text
The LADS Men Catch You Masturbating To A Photo Of Them
Yall can read the title but this is mature content. Big thanks to @tbaluver my lovely beta reader who helped me not rip my hair out as I was writing and editing and editing and editing again.
Xavier
Xavier was frustrated again.
He knew it was his own damn fault for sending you a photo of him with his shirt slightly unbuttoned but it was two damn buttons. He didn’t think you’d be so hot and bothered by a single photo of him that you’d hide yourself away in your room and jack off to it. If he’d known you’d neglect him like this, opting to pleasure yourself to a photo of him instead, he never would’ve sent it in the first place. Sure, you hadn’t known he was awake, and sure you hadn’t known he’d been dying to see you, but you could’ve sent him a message saying you were horny. You could’ve asked for help. 
Now he was sulking outside of your bedroom door, listening to you whimper and whine, and it was driving him crazy. Finally, he’d had enough, and without warning, he charged into the room. 
You yelped and reflexively yanked the blanket over yourself. “Xavier! Wh-what are you doing here? I th-thought you were at home asleep.”
“So you figured you’d quietly get off to him and let me continue sleeping, is that it? Do you think I can’t satisfy your needs like he can?” His eyes darkened as he made his way towards you. 
Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Xavier. What do you mean ‘he’? It’s literally you. I’m getting off to you.”
He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above you, allowing your phone to fall to the side. “No, if you were getting off to me, it would be my cock getting soaked and not your fingers. Wanna try that again?”
You swallowed. “Please… please Xavier. Help me. Please, I wanna come on your cock.”
“That’s much better.” He growled.
He wasted no time at all in yanking down his pants and positioning himself over you. He dragged the tip of his swollen cock along your slicked entrance, allowing your arousal to drizzle down his impressive length. He slapped it against your clit a couple times in a teasing manner, but then finally just jammed himself inside you. Maybe if you’d approached him from the very beginning, asked for his help nicely, he would’ve been gentle with you. Would’ve taken his time to coax you open, would’ve eased his way into your warmth. 
But you hadn’t even considered him as an option and it drove him mad. So he slammed his hips forward and drilled himself deep inside you, thrusting against your tightening walls with a punishing tenacity. When you whined, he silenced you with a devastating kiss, tongue invading you with overwhelming force. You’d remember him next time you were in the mood- that he would make sure of. 
He spent the remainder of the night bullying his way through your pussy until you were cum drunk and sky high, shuddering through multiple orgasms, and slurring the words he made you repeat after him, “I promise I will only come on Xavier’s cock… I promise I will only come on Xavier’s cock… I promise…”
************************************************************************
Sylus
It was almost like Sylus sent you the photo on purpose. 
He was half naked on top of a motorcycle, grease dripping down his toned abs, and smirking like a sinner; what girl wouldn’t come to that?
So when you suddenly found yourself tugging off your soaked panties, and settling into a comfortable position on your bed before beginning to tease circles onto your clit, you felt it was only the most reasonable of ways to respond to his photo. If he didn’t want you to touch yourself, he should’ve been there in person to let you touch him. 
Little did you know, he’d come home early, and had begun to watch you from the doorway, eyes alight with both amusement and arousal. He’d intended for the photo to get a reaction out of you, but he hadn’t intended for the reaction to be quite so… primal. He continued to watch intently as you slid your slicked up fingers in and out of you, lust-filled eyes laser-focused on his photo. You imagined his abs were wet because you’d come all over them and it nearly sent your orgasm crashing into you. You bit your lip to stall its arrival, prolong your pleasure for a moment more. 
Sylus watched as you sunk your teeth into your plush lips and god did he want to sink his teeth right into them next. But he stayed still, he stayed silent. Waited for the opportune moment to show his hand. 
It wasn’t until you moaned, “Fuck- Sylus, I need you,” that he made his entrance, sliding onto the bed beside you. Before you’d even had time to properly be shocked, he was spreading your legs open wider. 
“I think you can do better than that, sweetie.” His fingers guided your fingers deeper inside you, slamming up against your sweet spot.
You gasped and dropped your phone in surprise. 
He watched as it fell to the floor with a smirk. “Looks like you’ll have to rely on me now.”
He spent the next few, agonizing minutes summoning your release with every deliberate stroke of his fingers, only to let it sink back inside you, before bringing it to your forefront again and repeating the cycle over and over. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you throbbed around him, desperate for one, single orgasm.
“Sylus!” You exclaimed in anguish, “Please. Let me come.”
“How badly do you want to come, kitten?” He grinned as he flexed his fingers, flicking them against your eager core once more. 
“Badly.” You groaned.
“Ah, so not that bad then,” He smirked.
You attempted to glare at him but he cut you off with a sharp flick of his fingers. You cried out in pleasure and pain. “PLEASE- Sylus, I wanna come so badly. I NEED to come.”
He nuzzled against your ear, nibbling on your earlobe before purring, “So come for me then. Don’t hold back a single sound.”
A spark of heat flashed through you when you heard his words. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you clenched around both of your fingers, dancing on the edge of ecstasy. Then, your orgasm finally found you. You cried out his name as the warmth spread through your veins. 
When your eyes eventually blinked open again, you were met with the sight of him licking his fingers clean. His wild eyes held your gaze and he smirked. 
“That’s my good girl.”
************************************************************************
Rafayel
“You could’ve just told me you missed me, cutie.” Rafayel smirked as he stood with his arms crossed in the doorway.
Just an hour ago, Rafayel had sent you a photo of him shirtless on the beach and now you’d been caught red handed, masturbating to it. Embarrassing. If pressed, you’d argue that it was simply impossible not to touch yourself when faced with such a photo. You’d noticed he’d taken a dip in the ocean just before taking the shot because a tantalizing trail of water was trickling down his abs, and it was enough to get you dripping as well. Honestly, it was a wonder you hadn’t come already with how furiously you’d fingered yourself after receiving his photo. Anyway, he’d come home from his beach trip earlier than you thought and that led to your current predicament. 
You bit down on your lip, blushing slightly. “I, uh… I missed you. Help me?” 
“Don’t have to ask me twice.”
In an instant, he was spreading your legs apart. You’d assumed he’d take over fingering you and were, instead, pleasantly surprised when his head dipped down to lick a stripe up your glistening folds. 
“Raf!” You gasped.
“Sorry… my lips are chapped from all that salt water and I’m just so… thirsty. I was hoping you could give me something to drink, cutie.” He grinned up at you before delving back inside you with his tongue. He wasn’t kidding about being thirsty. You felt him collect every drop of arousal from your quaking walls with each hungry flick of his tongue. You thought he might just drown himself inside you if he continued.
You attempted to pull away slightly, just to allow him air to breathe, to allow him a moment of respite from your suffocating warmth, but he pinned your legs in place before you could get too far. 
“You think the God of the Sea is in need of air?” His voice dropped to a low growl. He looked up at you with dark eyes, as though offended at your underestimation of him. 
“I think Rafayel is in need of air.”
His eyes softened slightly at your concern. Then his lips curled into a smirk. “Lemurians can survive the darkest depths of the ocean; I’m pretty sure I can survive the depths of my love.” He swirled his tongue around your sensitive bud teasingly. “But the real question is- can you survive me?”
He didn’t need your answer. He already had it the moment he buried his tongue back inside you and you responded with choked whimpers. He reveled in the sounds he drew from your mouth with every drag of his tongue here and there but what he relished even more was the moment you were convulsing against his tongue and coming down his throat. As you shuddered through your release, he thought to himself that he could honestly get drunk on the taste of you. One orgasm wasn’t enough. He’d have you emptying all evidence of your arousal into his mouth until he couldn’t taste anything else, until he’d forgotten the taste of anything else. 
************************************************************************
Caleb
You had just sent him the most innocent looking photo of you. You were walking in the park, wearing a white sundress, the sunlight had caught your eyes just right, and your hair was blowing in the wind. You couldn’t have looked more perfect.
But you weren’t wearing a bra.
His first instinct was to look away, ashamed. But then he realized you weren’t here to scold him. So he took another peek. His pants quickly tightened around him as his eyes followed the curves of your breast through your nearly-see-through dress. And when his eyes settled on the peaks of your nipples poking through the sheer fabric, he bit down on his lip to keep the precum from trickling down his pants. He stained them anyway. He couldn’t help himself; he was hard as fuck. 
You were still strolling through the park; he was sure he had time to relieve himself. So he made his way to the bathroom. 
One hand gripped his phone tightly; he didn’t dare to drop it. The other stroked his aching length aggressively. He imagined the way your perky tits would bounce as he drilled himself deeper into you, imagined the way he’d stain your dress with his cum. He was so lost in his thoughts that even after he’d come down the toilet, he didn’t notice that you’d come home and made yourself comfortable in the bedroom. It wasn’t until he opened the bathroom door that he heard just how comfortable you were.
“Caleb!” 
At first, he thought you needed him. He quickly rushed to find the source of your voice, worried you were hurt. Then he realized you were in the bedroom with the door slightly ajar, and his footsteps slowed. 
There it was again. “Caleb!” You moaned.
His recently emptied erection flickered back to life. He thought you were calling his name because you needed him. He didn’t realize you were calling his name because you… needed him. Well, that was an easy fix.
He slipped through the doorway, ready to be at your service. What he was not ready for was just how debilitating the sight of you touching yourself to him would be. You had a shirtless photo of him propped up in one hand, fingers curled inside you with the other, thrumming at your insides with an ever increasing rhythm. Moments ago, he’d been more than prepared to assist, but now all he could do was stand and stare, mouth slightly agape.
“Caleb!” You exclaimed again. But this time, your voice was tinged with embarrassment instead of pleasure. His eyes found yours and he realized you’d caught him staring. 
“Sorry, sorry! Just comin’ in to see if you needed some help.”
Your cheeks burned bright. If you’d had more pride, maybe you would’ve kicked him out. Closed the door in his face, made him promise to forget he ever saw you like this. But you’d been desperately chasing the high that was always just a fingertip out of reach, and you’d begun to get frustrated. “My…” You cleared your throat awkwardly, “My fingers aren’t long enough.”
He took a couple cautious steps towards you. “I…I can help with that.”
You swallowed as he settled onto the bed beside you. Caleb was always helping you. Helping you reach the nice glasses on the top shelf, helping you jumpstart your car when the battery died, helping you set up the wi-fi in your new apartment. You just never imagined he’d be helping you with… this.
You held your breath as he spit on his fingers, and released the breath in a low moan when he slid them inside you. In no time at all, he’d already found the sweet spot you’d been straining to reach. 
“Fuuuuck.” You hissed, eyes rolling back as he caressed your wet heat. 
He tried to focus on pleasuring you, on lavishing his attention on every spot that made you gasp and groan. But as you grew tighter around his fingers, clenching as the ecstasy built up in your core, he felt his pants grow tighter around him again. He bit down on his lip and tried to ignore his own selfish desires.
“You know…I can help with that.” You murmured, voice seeped in lust, as you laid eyes on the bulge in his pants. Your fingers danced around his belt, waiting for his permission. 
He nodded a little too quickly and soon, he was fucking himself into your hand. It almost became competition, the way you’d stroke him faster and he’d finger you deeper. 
He wasn’t sure who came first in the end, but he was sure he’d stained your dress. He’d have to buy you a new one. Maybe he’d stain that one too.
************************************************************************
Zayne
Zayne cleared his throat from the doorway. 
Shit.
“You know…” He stepped closer to your bed, where you’d shrunken under the covers, away from his prying eyes. “When I said physical activity was good for you, I didn’t mean…masturbation.”
You swallowed. “I’m just… blowing off some steam?” You offered weakly. 
If he had any witty remarks to make about your current situation, they quickly stuttered to a stop when he realized that you’d been holding a picture of him in your hand (and to his surprise, it was a picture of him fully clothed, in…surgical gear??) while you touched yourself. Crimson seeped into his cheeks and his ears soon followed. He started to talk but when no words came out, he cleared his throat again, sweat rolling down his Adam's apple.
“Would you…like some help with your… activities?”
Your eyes widened. Here he was, avoiding all eye contact with you like it was the plague, and he was offering to help?
He swallowed when you tugged the blanket off of you and spread your legs in response. “I… I’ll take that as a yes?”
“Yes…I… I want you to touch me, Zayne.”
His lips found yours in an instant. At first, his kisses were soft, tender. Then they grew increasingly more passionate as his fingers found their target. He moaned against your lips, heat enveloping him as you clenched around him. He didn’t dare pull away from your lips, partly because he was happy just to be kissing you, and partly because if he pulled away long enough to watch himself fuck you wide open with his fingers, he might just come all over his pants and his dignity. 
Somehow, touching you was just as arousing for him as being touched himself. Somehow, every time you squeezed or squirmed, he felt your pleasure as if it was his own. Somehow, every torturous trail that his fingers teased into your walls was a torment to him too. Somehow, he needed your release as badly as you did. He needed you to come all over his fingers. He needed you to cry out his name. He needed you to arch your head back and let him devour the length of your neck as you rode out your orgasm. And he needed it like he needed air. 
It was this ravenous tenacity that brought not one but two orgasms flooding through your core in a matter of minutes. Zayne completely missed the first one, still focused on wanting to take care of you, and you were too breathless to tell him you’d already come so he continued vigorously pumping away until you were overwhelmed by your second release of the night. It wasn’t until he began thumbing at your clit that you finally choked out a protest, tears in your eyes.
“Z-Zayne! F-Fuck… I’ve… I’ve already come t-twice… don’t you think you should give me a minute to…to breathe?” You begged in between panted breaths. 
His eyes widened. “Twice?”
You let out an exhausted laugh. “So Doctor Zayne can find the g-spot just fine, but he can’t tell when it’s overloaded? A+ for anatomy, Doc, but maybe like a C for observational skills.”
He blinked at you. “You’re giving me a C? I’ve never gotten a C in my entire life.”
“That’s what you’re worried about?” You shook your head, laughing again. “Well, as your professor, I’m afraid I can’t award you anything higher than a C.”
“Surely there’s something I could do to make you… reconsider?” Suddenly Zayne’s slow, agonizing circles resumed on your clit.
You bit back another moan. Oh god, he was at it again. 
************************************************************************
Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @ouiouimochi @minasfwoopyponytail @inkytypewriter
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the-offside-rule · 2 days ago
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Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys
Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?
Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend
Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff
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Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.
But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.
Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.
Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here
She grinned, typing back quickly.
Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.
Another buzz.
Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.
Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.
Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.
Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.
Joe: Wow. The slander.
Joe: But fair.
Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.
Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won
Joe: And guess what my number is?
Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.
Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.
With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.
The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.
As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.
She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"
"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.
"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."
Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.
Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?
"Y/n?"
She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.
"She can sit with us!"
Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.
"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.
Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."
"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."
"That would be a good one."
Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.
Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."
Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.
Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.
Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.
"And the Grammy goes to…"
Not her.
Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."
Then came Record of the Year.
Not her again.
"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.
It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.
Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.
"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."
The presenter opened the envelope.
"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"
Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.
On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."
Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.
His girl.
Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.
Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-
Riiiipppp
The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.
Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.
Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.
Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.
"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.
The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.
"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"
Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."
The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.
And then finally came Album of the Year.
Her final nomination.
Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.
The presenter opened the envelope.
"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"
She didn’t move.
She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.
Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.
Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.
"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."
Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.
As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.
"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"
"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"
"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."
"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"
"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."
"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."
"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."
"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."
"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."
"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."
"I love you, Baby."
"Love you too, Shiesty "
As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.
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bytemee · 3 days ago
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HOUSE OF BALLOONS — YU JIMIN.
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“you're in my world now, you can stay, you can stay. but you belong to me, ooh, you belong to me."
synopsis. karina wasn’t used to sharing. seeing you laugh with someone else? that didn’t sit right with her.
pairing. mean!sorority!karina x loser!gp!reader
warning(s). 18+ (smut), g!p reader, pet names (she calls u puppy like it’s ur name), unprotected sex, p in v, jealous!karina, dom!karina, sub!reader and bad writing ahaa...
words. 1.6k
authors note. i could go for a chipotle burrito but damn do they be taxing
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karina was used to having all eyes on her. she was the kind of girl who walked into a room and made everyone else feel like background noise. and you—shy, awkward, always fumbling over your words—were her favorite plaything.
it wasn’t like you were dating. she just liked keeping you close, liked the way you turned red when she got too close, and liked knowing that you’d drop everything the second she called.
but tonight, you weren’t where you were supposed to be.
she had invited you to the party—expected you to hover near her like always, expected you to wait for her to give you attention. but instead, you were downstairs, sitting on the couch, laughing at something some random girl said.
karina didn’t like that.
she watched from across the room, arms crossed, lips pursed, as she saw the way you were smiling—actually smiling—in front of someone else.
when the girl leaned in a little too close, touching your arm, something snapped.
before you even realized what was happening, karina was in front of you, slipping between you and the girl with a sickly sweet smile.
"oh, i see you’ve met my little puppy," she said smoothly, tilting her head. "careful with this one. she gets nervous around new people.”
you were about to open your mouth to say something then she sat down on your lap, draping her arms over your shoulders. you swallowed hard, your face going pink, completely caught off guard.
karina had always been shameless with her teasing, but this—this was different. she was staking a claim, making sure everyone in the room knew exactly who you belonged to.
the girl you had been talking to gave an awkward laugh, clearly unsure of what to do now that karina had inserted herself into the situation.
"uh, i was just—"
"leaving?" karina finished for her, still smiling, though it was obvious she wanted her gone.
the girl hesitated, looking between the two of you before mumbling some excuse and disappearing into the crowd.
you barely had a second to process what just happened before karina’s fingers were suddenly in your hair, twirling a loose strand between her fingers as she leaned in even closer.
your eyes widened, your face burning up under the intense stare she was giving you. you swallowed thickly, your hands gripping the couch, unsure of where else to put them.
and then, just when you thought she couldn't get any closer, she did, her lips brushing against your ear. "don't look so surprised, puppy."
she pulled away just enough to look into your eyes again. then she got up from your lap, smoothing out her skirt before grabbing your hand and pulling you upstairs, away from all the prying eyes.
and you let her.
karina didn’t waste a second. she shoved you into the first empty room she found, kicking the door shut behind her before pinning you against the wall.
it didn’t matter whether you were hers in name—because in every way that counted, you were. and tonight, she was making sure everyone knew it.
her lips crashed against yours, rough and claiming, like she had something to prove. and maybe she did. maybe she needed to remind you exactly where you belonged.
karina was a damn good kisser, and the longer she kissed you, the harder it got to stand on your own. your fingers curled into her shirt, clinging to her for support, a quiet gasp slipping past your lips.
she loved this. loved how easily she could pull you apart, how simple it was to make you forget everything but her.
when she finally pulled away, a thin strand of saliva still connected you for a brief second before it snapped, leaving you breathless. your head spun, your lips swollen, and you just stood there, waiting—because she was the one in control, and you both knew it.
her nails raked across your skin, making their way under your shirt, and you bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan.
"you don't want anyone else, do you, hm?" she asked, her voice low and soft. she leaned in again, her lips brushing against your jaw, the gentle touch a sharp contrast to the way her nails dug into your hips.
you shook your head quickly, your heart racing in your chest, because no, no, you only wanted her. you only ever wanted her.
karina hummed, satisfied, her grip tightening just enough to make you gasp. "good," she murmured, "because i don't like sharing."
her teeth grazed your skin, and your breath hitched, fingers twitching where they hovered uncertainly at your sides. you wanted to touch her, wanted to pull her closer, but you knew better than to move without permission.
she noticed, of course she did, and it made her smirk against your throat. "what is it, puppy?" she taunted. "you want to touch me?"
you nodded, swallowing hard. "please," you whispered, barely able to get the word out.
karina pulled back just enough to look at you, tilting her head like she was considering it. her fingers trailed up your sides before she finally grabbed your wrists and guided your hands under her skirt until your fingers brushed against her underwear.
"there," she breathed out. "is that what you wanted?"
she was so wet, and the thought that she was this turned on because of you—because she was claiming you as her own—made you whine, the sound almost desperate.
"karina," you pleaded, the bulge in your pants growing more uncomfortable by the second.
karina's smirk widened. "you want me to touch you?" she asked, her breath hot against your ear.
you nodded frantically, still unable to form words, too overwhelmed by desire to do anything except obey.
"use your words." karina's grip tightened on your wrists.
"please," you whimpered, voice shaking. "please, touch me, i need you."
she hummed, satisfied. "that's what i like to hear."
and then her fingers were working at the buttons of your jeans, her other hand reaching under your shirt, sliding up your stomach before pressing against it to push you onto the bed, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss that left you breathless.
"karina," you moaned. "i—fuck..."
she didn't waste any time. as soon as you were flat on the bed, she crawled on top of you, straddling your waist, grinding against your thigh as her fingers wrapped around your cock.
karina chuckled, clearly amused by your reaction. "you're so sensitive," she purred, her hand moving slowly, teasingly.
you whimpered, your hips moving involuntarily. you were starting to unravel, quickly losing control. karina knew it, and she loved it.
"is this what you wanted, puppy?" she asked, her lips brushing against your neck. "you like it when i touch you like this?"
all you could manage was a ragged moan in response.
her hand moved faster, sending a shock through your system, and you threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut. it felt so fucking good, and you couldn't think, couldn't speak, could only let her do whatever she wanted.
then suddenly she stopped.
your eyes snapped open, and you let out a whine, desperate for more.
karina ignored you, instead pulling her underwear down, kicking it to the side before she straddled your waist again, lining herself up with your cock.
her hands pressed against your chest for balance as she started to move, rolling her hips at an excruciatingly slow pace.
you groaned, your fingers digging into the sheets, trying to keep yourself from just taking over and flipping your positions. you knew that would just earn you a sharp slap and a scolding, something that you would much rather avoid.
karina leaned down, hovering her underwear above your mouth, a wicked glint in her eyes.
"open up," she commanded.
you obeyed, and she stuffed the fabric into your mouth. it tasted like her, and the thought of that alone made you twitch inside her.
your hands moved to grip her thighs, fingers pressing into the soft skin, holding her steady as she rocked her hips.
she let out a breathy moan as you tightened your grip on her. "fuck," she panted, her breaths coming in short gasps. "just like that."
you tried to say something, but all that came out was muffled by the underwear she had shoved into your mouth. karina smirked, her pace increasing, the heat in her core growing stronger, spreading through her body. she threw her head back, a few strands of hair sticking to her forehead.
"fuck," she groaned. "i'm gonna cum."
she could feel it building, her walls clenching around you, and she knew she was close. she knew the sight of her falling apart would send you over the edge, too, and that's what she wanted, needed, craved.
her grip tightened, nails digging into your chest, her breathing erratic, her hips rocking faster, harder. she was right there, teetering on the edge, and then finally, she toppled over.
"fuck!" she cried out, her orgasm ripping through her, her legs trembling.
the moment she started to come undone, so did you, unable to hold back any longer; you groaned into the underwear, your head thrown back, your spine arching off the mattress, thrusting your hips upwards as you came.
your hands held her in place, gripping her thighs so hard they would leave marks, but neither of you cared.
karina slumped against you, her chest heaving, her face buried in the crook of your neck. she was panting, trying to catch her breath, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart against your skin.
after a few moments, she pulled away, sitting back on your lap, a satisfied smile on her face. she reached forward and slowly pulled the underwear out of your mouth, her gaze fixed on you, taking in the aftermath of what she had done to you.
"mmm, looks like my puppy is satisfied."
you blinked, trying to clear the haze from your mind, but all you could focus on was the sight of her sitting on top of you, the mess dripping down her thighs, her cheeks flushed and her lips swollen.
she looked so perfect.
"do you understand now?" she asked, a teasing lilt in her voice. "no one else gets to touch you like this. no one but me."
you nodded, still unable to find your words.
"good," she purred, leaning in and kissing you, soft and gentle, a stark contrast to how she had been before.
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ohmybueckers · 2 days ago
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mad at me - paige bueckers x reader
Summary: After a bad game, you tell Paige to take her frustrations out on you, an offer she gladly accepts
Themes/Warnings: angry sex (safe words are present), orgasm denial, overstimulation, degradation, etc.
Word Count: 4k
Note: i genuinely don't know what came over me guys i swear i don't just write smut lmfaooooo. anyways here's a result of me being bored and angry and also to celebrate the triple digit win today, enjoy!!
There was something you loved about the smell of rain on grass on an early February day. While the winter season in Storrs was brutal, overly long and gloomy, the way the earthy notes filled your senses as you walked home, surrounded by a thick fog, would have given you a pleasant reminder of the incoming spring on any other day. Unfortunately, this was not any other day.
There was no sugarcoating it: the Huskies had an awful game yesterday. The team could not seem to get their shots to fall, shooting only twenty percent from three and forty percent from the paint against a team that should have been a hell of a lot easier to dominate offensively. Miscommunications led to numerous turnovers and lost opportunities for shots (you lost track of how many times a player failed to spot a wide open Azzi, leading to frustration from both her and Paige). You were unable to make the game, having a massive exam the next day and not having the time to spend even a few hours not being remotely locked in. Your attempt to focus was futile as you sat in the library, headphones in and struggling to pay attention to your Quizlet set as the announcers seemed to tear into every single decision your girlfriend made on the broadcast.
Paige ended up being thankful you weren’t there in person, not wanting you to see the carnage firsthand, but it didn’t make you feel any less guilty. Paige never took a loss easy, but it seemed like this one especially got to her. After your exam you checked in once again, only for her to say they would be spending the majority of the night in the film room watching the game. Afterward, she planned on staying on the court to practice her shot, eager to not repeat the same mistakes come March.
You loved how dedicated she was, you really did. But you were starting to get really, really worried about her. 
You had fully accepted that you would likely not see much of her for the next few days, allowing yourself the night to unwind after a grueling exam (you were happy to say you’re positive you passed it, as low of a bar as that is). You let your muscles relax under the steam of your shower, the eucalyptus hanging from the shower head and the lavender in your body wash clearing your mind of all your worries from this week momentarily. That is until you realized you couldn’t completely enjoy it knowing that Paige was out there, absolutely destroying herself over something that was not solely her fault. She deserves to relax too, you thought with a frown.
After spritzing your favorite scent around your room, lathering your legs in your most moisturizing lotion, and crawling into your freshly washed sheets, you were prepared for a night of finally continuing your latest pleasure read (a book that had been thrown aside the past week in favor of a biology text book). What you weren’t prepared for is the buzz emitting from your phone about twenty minutes into your self care night, right in the middle of a sexually charged scene between the two love interests. Your confusion was quickly replaced with concern when you saw that it was Paige attempting to FaceTime you.
Upon answering, you noted how sweat pooled at the top of her forehead, which was creased in frustration. Her hair was in a slicked back pony, her UConn blue practice was soaked through, and she looked pissed as she stood in the middle of the court.
“None of my fucking shots are landing,” she grumbled before you could even greet her, wiping away some of the sweat with the hand not holding the phone. “I’ve been here for the past hour after Geno let us go, and I can’t figure out where I’m going wrong.”
She appeared to be getting even more worked up as she spoke, a flush rising to her cheeks. “I’m supposed to be one of the oldest ones here, I can’t be out here making rookie ass mistakes. It’s not going to go well in March, and it’s definitely not going to go well in the W.”
It broke your heart to see this. Paige always said pressure was a privilege, but you watched in real time as the normal pressure Paige had on her shoulders evolved into something deeper, something closer to self loathing. “Paige, baby, I think you need to take a break. You can’t perform well if you’re like this.”
She shook her head no, an action you anticipated. Picking up her water bottle and spraying some in her mouth, she continued, “Nah, I gotta keep going. I just need to figure out how I can fucking focus.”
You took note of the grip on the water bottle, the command in her voice, and her determination. The idea hit you like a runaway train, tumbling through your lips before you could hesitate. 
“Take it out on me.”
Paige had made half assed eye contact with the camera the entire conversation, too frustrated and ashamed to face you, but these five words brought her wide eyes to face yours. You couldn’t tell if they were filled with disbelief or intrigue - maybe both. “What?”
It’s not like you and Paige’s sex life was completely tame. She was always down to try new positions, whether it be using fingers, mouths, or toys. There have definitely been nights where her teammates have sent her a strongly worded message letting her know that their walls were not as thick as she thought. But sex between the two of you had always been passionate, loving … never angry. Until now. 
You would be lying if you said you never felt some type of way watching Paige get upset at the refs, wondering what that kind of attention would look like in bed. As much as you trusted Paige, you just didn’t want to run the risk of saying anything that would alter her perception of you. But here you were, sat in bed wearing an old high school tee shirt and pajama shorts (not the sexiest outfit on the planet), and there was no way of deleting what you’ve already said. Inhaling, you continue. “You need to get your frustration out before you can shoot. I’m just saying you have an outlet.”
The gesture to your body was not lost on Paige, who looked like a deer in headlights. You were so close to ending the call, pulling your fuzzy blanket over your face and pretending none of this ever happened, when she spoke. “Are you saying you want me to fuck you to get my anger out?”
Her tone was blank, but even through the pixelated call (damn the poor signal in the practice court) you could see the switch in her - what was now a confused expression shifted to a calm kind of fire, the kind only you could recognize from her. Your stomach flipped, realizing she was just as into this idea as you were. Thank God. “I’m saying I want you to fuck me like you’re mad at me.”
She looked to the side, throwing her head slightly back and showing off her jawline. Without another word she moved to the side of the court, grabbing her bag and her keys off the ground. “Leave your door unlocked. I’m on my way,” she announced, before ending the call.
You gulped, knowing all you could do was open Find My, watch Paige slowly drive closer and closer to your apartment, and wonder what the hell you just got yourself into. 
—-
Paige had learned the code to your apartment long before, having been with you exclusively for almost a year. So when she arrived at your place, with you standing waiting for her with fidgeting thumbs, it took her almost no time to set her bag down and saunter over to you, cupping your face and smashing your lips together. It could almost be described as romantic the way she was holding you, how one hand reached down to your torso to stabilize you. You couldn’t help but moan quietly as you felt her cologne mixed with her own musk waft into your senses.
But then she began stepping forward, forcing your steps with her against the fake hardwood, until your back was pressed against the wall. Paige finally pulled apart from you with a look that could only be described as pure, unrestricted hunger. All the rage towards herself, the frustration toward the previous days game, it all manifested into her gaze. One hand trailed to the side of your neck as she spoke softly, yet with strength. “Pretty girl wants to help me, huh?”
You nodded all too enthusiastically, taking pleasure in this new side of Paige: the one who was completely in control, and proud of it. She seemed to be taking pleasure in it as well, grabbing your wrist carefully and guiding the two of you to your bedroom which had been eagerly awaiting her arrival. 
“I want to do this right,” she began, removing her shoes as you moved to sit on your bed with your feet dangling. “Green means keep going, yellow means pause, red means stop. The second you don’t want to do something, we stop. Got it?”
You nod, expecting nothing less than a tender check in from your girlfriend who was currently walking slowly to meet you. In some ways, you felt similar to your first time with Paige: slightly awkward, filled with unknowns. But you wanted this. God, you wanted this.
She reaches the bed, pushing you down onto the mattress you were laying in earlier in the night, this time in a far different context. Her lips are back on you, this time sucking harshly on your neck in places that are certain to switch shades tomorrow. You cannot bring yourself to care much in the moment, however, allowing yourself to be consumed by all things Paige. 
Her hands move to your hips, trailing under the waist band of your shorts and quickly making a move to discard them. Her fingers touched your skin, alternating between hard grips and smooth brushes. “Take your shirt off,” she muttered, her grip tightening around your thighs as she spoke into your underwear clad cunt. 
You obey her, feeling as though you had entered a trance from the way she spoke with so much authority. You know you look a little strange as you rush to get the shirt over your head, but Paige pays no mind: her eyes are busy tracing your frame, memorizing every curve, every mark, and every texture as if it was the first time. A smirk spread across her lips, her striking blue eyes somehow looking darker. “Can’t wait to fucking ruin you.”
She peppered kisses down your body, the fire in her body feeling more like worship as she made her way down your breasts, your stomach, all the way to your clothed core.
Discarding your underwear, she began one of her greatest talents off the court. You felt her flick her tongue against you, shuddering at the mix of impact as well as the air conditioning hitting your skin. Her mouth explored you, prompting sharp cries from you as you fell back against your pillows. She took a break to nip at the skin where your thigh met your core, evoking something between a yelp and a moan. 
“Pussy so fucking good,” she spoke, continuing her ministrations. It was like she was fueled by your pleasure, each drop spurring her on further. Her teammates always joked about Paige being a munch - if they only knew to what extent. 
She delved her tongue in further, using her hands to spread you open. 
You felt a very familiar knot begin to form, one that you could always expect with your girlfriend. “So good… Gonna cum P.”
As soon as she went to work, Paige got off, leaving only the harsh breeze in her place as you laid there dumbfounded. The knot within you, once welcome, was now dulling into something tantalizing and almost painful. 
You whined, “Why did you stop?”
Her laugh that followed felt downright mocking, reaching down to caress your face once more. “You didn’t think this was going to be easy, did you baby?” 
You pouted, knowing you looked fucking ridiculous. “But I was so close.”
Your girlfriend shrugged, taking no concern in the way your pussy drenched your sheets or the way your nipples puffed unattended. “Get me off and maybe I’ll give you what you want.”
That sentence sent you into gear immediately, motivated by the urge to cheer up your girl as well as the selfish desire to get your way after your ruined orgasm. You scanned Paige’s body, drinking up every muscle as you shoved her shorts down along with her boxers. She laid down, taking your place with raised eyebrows looking nonchalant and cocky as ever.
 You took your place between her thighs, offering kitten licks to her clit as her hands reached your hair. Your mouth opened further, allowing you to eat her out with the same fervor she was earlier. 
You knew her well enough to know the tell tale signs she was enjoying herself - every sharp inhale, every squeeze of her legs, every hum she made. It all meant she was closer to what she wanted, and you were closer to what you needed. You just needed to hear it.
Pulling off of her clit with a pop, you shot your best doe eyed look at your girlfriend, who once again seemed to have a pool of sweat at her forehead. “Feel good baby?”
She responded not with words, but by shoving you back onto her core roughly, prompting you to continue your work on her. You looked and sounded like a fucking pornstar, moaning into her pussy as if you were the one getting off (which wasn’t that far off). You heard her grunt above you.
“Gonna cum on your pretty face.”
If Paige is one thing, it’s a woman of her word, so it doesn’t shock you when she fulfills her promise moments later. Her cum drips down your lips moments later, and you lap it all up. You live for this shit, watching Paige stare at you in amazement as she surrenders to your touch. The fire within the blonde settles, save for her continued labored breathing as evident by the rise and fall in her chest. She looks at you, her stare downright dangerous. 
“Want me to make you cum, pretty girl?” From the way she said it, you knew she wasn’t asking.
You switched places once more, allowing her middle finger to slot itself in your pussy with the same vigor with which it once grabbed your head. She was pounding you, fingers focused on penetrating areas only she seemed to touch in the right way while her mouth payed ample attention to your clit.
 You felt your legs jerk, eyes welling up. The familiar sensations of pleasure came back to you even quicker, flooding through you like Malibu waters. You were falling in so deep, your mind swimming in everything she was giving you.
Your legs gripped Paige’s head, an action that felt like muscle memory at this point. You didn’t even need to say it - she knew what this meant. And it meant she stopped once more, wiping her mouth and looking at you with a mischievous grin. You were just around ready to scream, gripping the pillow beside you.
“I did what you wanted, baby, please.” You whimpered, looking downright helpless at this point. “Please let me cum.”
You were so eager, and this was all so unfair. And yet you took it all, knowing that this was exactly what you asked for.
Paige raised an eyebrow, blinking a couple of times before nodding. “You wanna cum? You got it.”
She returns to your clit for the third time that night, gripping your hips as if you were planning on going anywhere but here, as if you were capable of not being consumed by her as she sucked. If eating pussy was an award winning sport, it would be yet another award on Paige’s already impressive roster. If there was one thing she loved doing more with her mouth than talking, it was making her girl feel good.
If you weren’t so focused on the way she was making you feel, you would maybe be a little more embarrassed about the noises you were making, how the pleas of “more” and “harder” emitted from you so easily. Paige had that effect on you, especially tonight when she was pulling out all the stops.
You nearly cried with relief when your breath quickened and muscles tightened and Paige didn’t fucking move, continuing to circle your clit with her finger while lapping you up like she was parched. Finally, waves crashed over you as you came with a shout of her name and a gush of fluid being deposited straight into her mouth, which she accepted happily. You rode out the feeling, Paige assisting with her reassurance. “Lemme hear you baby, fuck.” She moaned into you, a move that was teetering into the overstimulating category.
Little did you know that was just a taste of what was to come. 
Taking time to lick up all the remaining cum from your pussy, she kissed up your body, finding herself at your awaiting lips once more. You sigh as you taste yourself, melting into the warmth of your girlfriend who just rocked your world. Based on the way she showed up to your apartment, you were certainly expecting more fire from her, but you were glad to end the night with a pleasant ache between your thighs.
You grin into the kiss, reaching up her shirt in order to get more contact only for her hands to grab your wrists, throwing them next to your head against the pillows before you could even process what she was doing. You take the time to look at her, really look at her, and see that the same tone is in her eyes, and that her fire hasn’t been contained. In fact, she looks ready to pounce. “I know you can give me another, right baby?”
Multiple orgasms in one night were not an anomaly for you and Paige, but typically there was time in between - the additional sessions usually happened after an episode of Grey’s Anatomy, or during a shower. You gulped, only able to nod as Paige trailed her hand back down to your spent pussy, cupping it before slipping a finger inside.
It was not lost on Paige the way your eyes squeezed shut at the intrusion, pain mixing with pleasure as she began moving. “Can’t take it baby?” She asked like it was a challenge. She was unsurprised when you shook your head no, determined to accept everything she was giving you. “That’s what I thought. Such a slut for me. Good fucking girl.”
A proud smile graced her face as she took note of the sopping sound of your pussy as she fucked you, the way your mouth couldn’t hold back moans and pleas for more, and it hit you: she was scoring, making up for her mistakes from yesterday through you. It only made the heat on your core worse, blurring your vision until everything felt hazy. 
You could tell she was loving this shit, eating up how you were reacting to her. One hand trailed up, reaching for your tit and massaging it roughly. “Gonna let me do what I want to you, isn’t that right baby?”
You moaned as she spoke, relishing in the way that she was fully getting comfortable dominating you like this, fucking you like a dirty whore instead of her beloved girlfriend. She stretched you out so good, leaving no room for anything except her. 
You felt the build up again, static rising in your body as you attempted to focus on your breathing. This effort would prove to be futile, as Paige knew you all too well. Her movements intensified, her breath growing heavy against your ear as she growled, “Who’s making you feel this good?”
You all but sob, “Y-you, P, fuck.”
She smiles, loving the way you sound as your pussy clenches around her with a fucking grip that anyone would die for. She was so fucking lucky. “Wanna feel this pussy cum around me, c’mon.”
You didn’t need to be told twice, your body shuddering as you released once again hitting your high like a drug as your back arched into her touch.Your cunt pulsed around Paige, causing a guttural moan to erupt from her lips as you rained down on her fingers. 
She stared in wonder as she removed them once the majority of your high subsided, noting how they glistened under your lights. “Can do this all night. Pussy so fucking good.”
As much as you attempted to enjoy the remnants of your orgasm, the statement brought a wave of panic through you as you processed that you may not be done just yet. “Two’s enough, P,” you said, nuzzling your face in her neck.
Big mistake.
She jolted her head up, look at you intently. “What’s your color, baby?”
You paused, recognizing your mistake and the ache between your thighs. But there is nothing more that you wanted than to fulfill your promise to Paige, and you couldn’t deny the way heat rose to your face when you saw just how fine Paige looked when she was this focused on you. “Green.”
Paige grinned. “Then shut the fuck up.”
She flipped the two of you, hoisting you so her muscular thigh was pressed just at the right angle to give your spent clit undivided attention. A loud slap went to your ass, jolting you forward slightly and providing the first dose of stimulation as you rode her thigh in the process. “Paige, baby.”
She sat up quickly, pushing your body against hers as she helped you ride. She nibbled at your ear, whispering a series of sweet nothings as her firm grip on your ass never faltered.
“Ride me just like that.”
“I know you can go faster than that, c’mon.”
“Moaning for me like a fucking slut.”
Your memory beyond this point was a little faulty, coming and going in bursts. One second, you knew you were riding Paige like a mechanical bull, putting all of your (very little) remaining energy into giving her the best show you could, knowing that this is what she deserved. After a flash of white, moans and voices muffled, you awoke still sat on top of Paige. She rubbed your back, shushing you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. 
“You’re done, baby, it’s okay. Did so so good for me, my perfect girl.”
—————
“Didn’t go too hard on you, right?”
You turned to face Paige, who was laying next to you in your bed. The past forty five minutes had been devoted strictly to aftercare, with Paige refusing to let you lift a finger. She helped you take yet another shower, lathering your body for you and kissing your shoulders as she hugged you from behind. She stripped and replaced your sheets, running yet another load. And now the two of you laid there, glasses of water nearby, and Paige was looking at you with both curiosity and fear.
You grabbed her hand from the arm that was currently wrapped around your shoulder. “I would have told you baby, trust me.” You offered her hand a kiss, sparking a smile on the blonde’s lips. “Do you feel any better?”
She nodded, leaning her forehead against yours. “Just needed to clear my head. The pressure just- it’s a lot sometimes.” You nodded, understanding how overwhelmed she got with the eyes on her at all times. A shy blush reached her cheeks as she debated speaking again, before deciding in favor. “I also thought tonight was hot. Like, really hot.”
You laughed, her quickly following. Sure, you couldn’t fix all of Paige’s problems with sex. But it certainly couldn’t hurt to try. 
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