#it would have to be cleaned up but it is pretty much finished

[specific-dreamer]

I'm so obsessed with the Curtis Parents. Do you have any hcs: fluffy, angsty, all of it PLSS

absolutely i do !

a hc (but ig technically not bc s.e. said it on her twitter awhile ago but) mrs curtis’ full name is karen josephine curtis

(and as a big fan of transfem darry, she changes her name to karen josephinne. so she’s still a jr and also bc i think it’s hilarious that she has her parents name just with an extra n. I DIGRESS)

karen wanted a girl but she didn’t want a girl ykwim. like she would’ve been over the moon if they had a girl, but she was always scared a daughter would be too much like her (i can’t explain it v well i’ll come back to this in a later post)

darrel (mr curtis; i never call him darry just fyi) is absolutely too easy going on the kids but he’s still the threat. like “you just wait til you’re father hears about this” not because they’d get in serious trouble but because like soda he wears everything on his face and it completely ruins the boys (and the gang) to see his disappointment. his favorite line is fs “im not mad just disappointed because i know this isn’t you”

oh also. soda? wears everything on his face bc he can’t hide anything. darrel wears everything on his face bc he doesn’t feel the need to hide it.

darrel absolutely has a favorite and it’s darry (who he calls junior 80% of the time)

(i’ve mentioned this 100 times before but) karen paid for ace to take ballet bc she was worried ace was becoming “too boy-ish” and it was “unladylike” for ace to wear baggy clothes and shorts all the time (jokes on her ace fell in love with ballet)

(they had to stop paying for the classes like a year b4 canon bc money was too tight)

dally use to have longer hair that he always complained about and once karen offered to give him braids (not to the scalp ofc just like some plaits) and he laughed in her face, left, came back with hair scissors and a razor (stolen) and said “just get to cutting mrs c”

darrel read somewhere that shaving ur baby bald will give them thicker hair down the line bc it gives it the chance to grown even and he wanted to do that with darry, but karen said absolutely not bc she didn’t trust it. though she lets him do it with soda just to see and his hair grows back so thin 😭😭 he’s got a lot of it but it’s defo not thick so they don’t do it to pony. (so you have darry and pony with heads full of hair, no scalp in sight, vs soda with long hair but if you move two strands you see his whole scalp) (it’s ok at least sodas the pretty brother)

now, context for my favorite, when the outsiders musical was still a concept they toyed with the idea of the curtis parents being like ghosts on stage. totally would not have worked, i’m glad they didn’t go thru with it HOWEVER its a banger idea so here are my hcs

they’re ghost obvi

darrel doesn’t ever really leave the cemetery and if he does the closest he’ll get to the house is the lot

karen on the other hand ? is always leaving. she likes to watch over the kids/follow them around

if not following them then she’s at the house. sometimes she forgets she’s just a ghost she hollers at the boys when the door slams or when they go too long without cleaning the house (especially the dusting, it drives her nuts that they don’t dust the house)

darry visits mr curtis all the time and they have (one sided) conversations (i totally did not write a mini fic of one of their convos whattt)

karen was with steve at his house when everything went down at the fountain

OH I FRGT darrell cannot move/touch real things except his headstone bc he hasn’t left ? strengthened?? his ghostly powers get.

karen on the other hand can move a couple things around (like i said it pisses her off that the boys don’t dust or wipe down the table before eating. i am not joking when i say that’s how she discovered her powers had like real affects; she was moving little things around while helping darry clean up and lit a candle when they finished. darry had turned around and was like “🧍🏾‍♀️i did not light that candle wtf”

anyways i digress. i say all this to say) karen was with steve that night making sure he got a good nights sleep and his dad wouldn’t bother him

so you can imagine how upset she was when she found out about the fountain

darrel learned what happened first when he sees this kid roaming around the cemetery clutching his side whilst looking lost and scared

(and yes i said the cemetery; i think paul forced darry to let him help pay for their funeral but that’s neither here nor there)

darrel? terribly angry at bob. which yk fair bob was drowning his son. but darrel’s a father first and foremost so his dad radar was kinda going off the walls watching this kid roam around lost to hell

i have more on this au but i wont bore you

hope you enjoyed anon !

[rhyrhy]

HELLO LUV BUG

I HAVE A REQUEST IF YOU DONT MIND

I’ll stop yelling now

Anyway

Virgin Abby x experienced reader.

Like things are getting hot and heavy and Abby admits she’s a virgin and experienced reader gets off on being Abby’s first ever while being really sweet and gentle.

Have a good one eat, stretch, drink something

-saturn

And they were roommates .ᐟ

Virgin! Abby ݁˖°✧

꒰࣪ Warnings:꒱ bits of plot, mostly A! Receiving, body hair ˖ . ݁˖°✧ mentioned, jealousy, talks of virginity (duh), hair pulling, loser Abby, oral, Mdni!

-oh my god, they were roommates?

Roommate, roomie, the woman you share your space with. That’s Abby—friend of three years, roommate of a few months.

Perfect roommate would be an understatement. So, of course, when your old landlord raised rent too high for your liking, she was the first person you asked to help look for a new place. Only to catch the way her eyes sparkled when you found one—quiet neighborhood, not too far from work. The extra bedroom was originally going to be an office of some sort, but plans changed.

She cooks, cleans, respects your space, always knocks before she enters your room.

—Well, usually she did. Except for last night.

Those usual soft knocks or “Can I come in?” fell on deaf ears. After moving in, things had unknowingly shifted between you two. An unspoken understanding to not make things awkward. However, one fateful night of her not knocking led to a sleepy, on-the-couch discussion days later, after a long work shift.

The scene was something straight out of a wet dream, (un)fortunately engraved in her mind.

The image of her wholesome roommate—the one who always compliments her cooking, offers to redo her hair when she’s too tired, and has her reach the top shelf. The classic excuse of “Putting those muscles to good use,” you’d say in the sweetest tone. All of that, down the drain the moment her eyes locked onto the woman beneath you. Writhing in pleasure. One leg tossed over your shoulder, the other splayed somewhat behind you. Pornographic whines and pleas smacking Abby in the face the second the door creaked open.

She’d completely forgotten what she even came in there for. A shirt? Where the dustpan was?

Fuck, she had no idea.

The door slammed shut harder than she intended, guilt pouring over her as she realized she’d walked in on such an intimate moment. Hookups for you weren’t uncommon. Always the same pretty faces. One stood out, though. Tall, more on the butch side. Clearly a gym rat. Her arms weren’t nearly as impressive as Abby’s, but she hated herself for even making the comparison.

She’d even bumped into her one morning in the kitchen during breakfast, eyes narrowing at the sight of her mug in the woman’s hands.

“You don’t mind, do you?”

It felt like a taunt. Abby told herself she was being delusional, trying to shake off the bubbling irritation.

The week passed, you two still hadn’t talked about it, along with a few other things—the time she ended up zipping your shirt for you and her hand lingered on your hip even after she was finished. Even that small glimpse of your bare skin reminded her of that night. Or how you always found yourself brushing your teeth next to her in the morning, feigning that you were “just saving water.”

It all whirled in her mind, even as she exhaustedly turned her key, prying open the front door.

Fallen boots and a thrown jacket into the hall closet later, she found herself slumped onto the plush couch. Already hearing your nagging about how her neck would pay for not taking the few extra steps to her bedroom in the morning. The warm yellow light reflected on the flooring, indicating you were home, tucked away in your room.

On Friday nights, you two usually watched a few episodes of one of the many TV series you started together and vowed not to watch without the other. She hadn’t seen much of you since the walk-in, although between your opposite work schedules, that wasn’t alarming.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, eyes flickering between your door and the TV. She wanted to come get you, act natural. She really, really did, but her thoughts snapped back to that night. How her thighs shifted uncomfortably together, the heat that pooled in her gut when her mind replayed your sounds. How the recurring face you slept with oddly resembled hers.

“Hey, Abs.” She was too deep in her own thoughts to realize you’d emerged before she could call out to you.

“Oh! Heya,” she said, followed by a small head nod.

Even now, as you pushed off the wall, you seemed at ease, completely unaffected by the thoughts that threatened to consume her own mind.

She’d managed to act semi-normal over the past painfully slow thirty minutes. The uneasy feeling caused her to blurt it out before she could stop herself.

“Sorry about the other night. Random, I know— I just, uh, had to get that out.”

“No, no, my door should’ve been locked. Got caught up in the moment and—well, I’m sure you get it.” You waved off with a laugh.

“Yeah, of course,” she answered, a little rushed.

A lie. A big lie. She had no idea. In fact, the closest thing she’d ever allowed from someone else was a few hickeys and semi-decent make-out sessions—always pulling away right before things got too handsy.

Fear wasn’t holding her back, nor was insecurity. For her, it was comfort. She was dating the past, yeah, but the companionship  was craved more than the lost clothes and complaints from neighbors during a heated moment. Although, she knew this only stayed true up until you guys grew closer. With her presence becoming like a second skin to yours, of course, loose t-shirts without a bra and underwear as pants happened. Seemingly unaware of how it sent heat to her cheeks.

But you did know. Of course, you knew. Gracefully adding to the list of teasing. Seeing if she’d crack. And tonight, she did.

It started with a joke, in Abby’s mind—the nuisance that clung to you through the weeks. A joke about if someone could do it better, then maybe you’d stop calling her. It turned into more ‘jokes,’ turned touches, turned into a sudden cup of her cheek and a crashing kiss.

This was one of those moments where you’d get lost and discuss it later. Or, at least, it was—because as quick as it came, she pulled away.

“Sorry—was that too much? I just thought—are you good?” You pulled your hands back from traveling lower than they already were.

“What—?” She blinked, snapping back. “No, I just—yes, I’m good.”

The murmur of the TV did little to ease the tension. The heat never left the room. The whispered words you’d said in her left ear bounced inside her mind. Her slipped comment about how badly she wanted you, unsure if she should’ve said it.

“Soo… you haven’t then?” You knew the answer, but confirmation in this moment was beyond needed.

“If I answer, will you laugh?” She sighed.

“Laugh? Of course not.” Your expression softened.

“I… haven’t.” The words felt heavier out loud. “It’s just, I wanted it to be special.” She turned her head back to you. “Is that silly?”

“No, dude, what? I wish I would’ve waited.” You shook your head.

She scoffed. “You’re just saying that—”

“I’m serious.” You shifted closer. “Your body is a temple and all that jazz. You should be glad you’re waiting.” You finger quoted.

You continued as Her eyes flicked over you, thoughtful. “Whoever gets to tap this”— you gestured vaguely toward her frame—“is lucky. As hell. And.. if you were serious about earlier, Abs… it’s still on the table, okay? Don’t rush anything you don’t want. It’s not going anywhere, and neither am I.”

You smirked. “Literally. I live here.” You said dramatically gesturing around the living space

She laughed shaking her head. “You’re such an idiot.”

You grinned. “Oh, fuck you. I was trying to be sentimental.”

“I know… and I appreciate it.” Abby exhaled, running a hand through her hair before reaching for you, fingers grazing your arm. “But, uh—can we circle back to the part where you were taking your shirt off?”

Your breath caught. “You sure?”

“more than sure.” She took a deep breath. “Just gentle, yeah?”

˖ . ݁˖°✧

As nice as kissing her was, your lips were slightly swollen at this rate, and you weren’t sure how much longer she planned to drag this part out. She seemed comfortable, but her hands stayed rooted at her sides—stiff as a board.

“You say you’re relaxed, but your shoulders are telling a different story,” you teased, pressing your hands to them, feeling how tense she was. “See?”

Abby huffed, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Yeah, okay. Maybe a little.”

But before she could dish out another apology. You spoke back up “Don’t apologize. You’re not doing anything wrong. But if you’re not ready, we don’t—”

“—No, I am.”

“Okay, so let’s start small.”

“Smaller than you kissing me?” she muttered, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

“Shut up. Just do me a favor—take a deep breath. In and out.”

Your eyes followed the rise and fall of her chest, so close that her breath fanned against your skin. “You feeling okay enough to keep going, or are you planning to suck my lips off my face first?”

Abby huffed a quiet laugh. “Not my fault you taste good.”

“Oh? That right?” you teased. “Then tell me what you want.” She hesitated, shifting slightly under your gaze. “Don’t get shy on me now, c’mon—it’s just us.”

A beat passed, pools of blue locked onto yours. “I want you to touch me.” a little rushed, like she’d forced the words out before she could second-guess them. Then, quieter—“Please.”

“Good, that’s a start.” You nodded. “Now tell me where.”

She swallowed, jaw tightening for a second. “I-Shouldn’t I be…?” She trailed off, tilting her head to expose her neck without finishing the thought.

“Uht uht, don’t worry about me right now.” You pressed a lingering kiss to the pulse point at her neck, and her breath hitched—followed by a sharp exhale through her nose. “Oh, you liked that, huh?”

Her hands finally lifted, gripping the fabric of your shirt like she needed something to hold onto. “Yeah… do that again”

She shivered at the touch, her eyes slipping closed. Each kiss was slow, teasing, drawing out that shiver, that soft gasp of your name. Her fingers pressed into your back, nails leaving faint red lines against your skin through the thin material.

“Yeah.” She breathed out. “Just like that.”

You smiled against her skin as you traveled south, kissing along the rim of her shoulder, gently pulling her head to the side to give yourself more room. “You’re so vocal, Abs.”

She sighed, her head lolling to the side, offering herself up more. The grip on your shirt loosened as her breathing quickened just the slightest. With her head tilted, a soft mewl escaped her parted lips—a reaction to the tender kisses that made their way across her skin.

“It’s your fault,” she murmured. You giggled at her retort, hands finding the hem of her tank top, fingers tracing the fabric. You kissed over her shoulder a few more times before pulling back to look at her.

“You ready for me to take this off, or do you need more time?”

Abby chewed her bottom lip, her gaze flicking down to her tank top and then back up to your face. The flush that dusted her cheeks extended down to her neck, faint red marks from your ministrations littering her skin. She swallowed, eyes lingering on the way your fingers toyed with the fabric, before huffing out a:

“I—uh… yeah, I’m ready.”

“You sure? I’m going at your pace, no rushing needed.”

You asked for confirmation, thumbs stroking the skin of her abdomen under the fabric gently.

She inhaled sharply at the gentle touch, her mind clouded by the way your thumbs swiped across her skin. It was hard to form coherent thoughts while your touch burned with the promise of something more.

“I’m sure,” she murmured, her voice just loud enough for you to hear. “Wanna feel your hands on me.”

“Okay, lift your arms for me.”You scooted closer to her, gently lifting the hem of her tank top.

She obliged with a small nod, raising her arms in the air. The motion caused the fabric to ride up, revealing a sliver of her toned stomach. Her breath hitched as the tank top cleared her head, leaving her exposed—chest and torso bare, save for a few freckles and moles that dotted her skin like constellations.

You trailed a finger down her shoulder to her arm, keeping your gaze on her face.

“You’re so pretty, look at you.” You smiled, scanning over her torso momentarily.

“Shut up.” Even though there was no real bite behind it, she shifted slightly, trying to hide the way her chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths. Pinkish nipples pebbling as the cool air passed them.

You laughed.“Don’t be embarrassed—look, I’ll take mine off too. That better?”

She took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure with little success. Seeing you strip too? Yeah, that sounded better. Her gaze raked over you, taking in every inch of exposed skin as you removed your shirt.

“Yeah,” she breathed out. “That’s better.”

Her gaze wandered shamelessly over your body, taking in the sight of your exposed shoulders, the way your bralette hugged your chest. Her gaze lingered there a moment before drifting up to your face—eyes, nose, lips. She nodded, words failing her at first as she tried to regain her composure.

You hummed in reply, trailing your hands to her collarbone, gently moving down to her breast, cupping the warm skin. “How does that feel?”

She let out a soft moan as your hands needed, the warmth of your touch. Her back arched involuntarily against your hands, trying to press herself closer.

“God. That feels…” She huffed out, struggling to find the words. “So, so good.”

˖ . ݁˖°✧

Thankfully once she was more relaxed, her thighs instinctively parting a bit as your hands continued their way up her legs. The gentle touch had her squirming gently, trying to get closer. Trimmed blonde happy trail leading to her oozing folds. arousal dripping down to her anus.

“H-hah—” abby’s eyes fluttering shut at the contact of your lips on her lower abdomen, her back sinking deeper into the couch. Her soaked through boxers somewhere lost on the floorboards. Glistening skin, slowly coming into view as you grew closer.

“Still okay?” You asked, between kisses.

Half-lidded eyes met yours, watching as you trailed lower, teasingly slow. She could only manage a nod, anticipation buzzing through her body.

“Use your words.” looking up at her through your lashes.

Her breath hitched. “Mhm… still okay.”

“Gonna start now”

A sharp exhale, fingers curling into the cushion beneath her. “God, please—” The words broke into a sucked-in breath the second your lips made contact where she needed you most. The feeling was new, almost overwhelming. Her fingers threaded themselves into your hair, tightening with each flick of your tongue.

Her muscles flexed with every breath as they grew heavier. She was wound so tight, every nerve alight, and god, if you could just stay right there—

She gasped, one hand gripping the side of the sofa. It wasn’t hard to find her clit, but she was still only partly spread out, hips shifting like she was chasing something just out of reach.

You’d glance up occasionally, feeling your own wave of heat pass through you at the sight. Her face was contorted in pleasure, her full-blown whines ringing out. Eating your roommate out after a semi-awkward encounter wasn’t on the agenda for the night, but the movie was now long forgotten.

“Please, d-don’t stop.” Her plea wasn’t louder than a whisper, eyes squeezing shut as you continued your ministrations on her sodden core.

If reducing a woman who could bench press you without breaking a sweat to a whimpering mess was a kink? You definitely just discovered it.

Air wasn’t an option when her hips kept jerking up involuntarily, seeking you—your tongue, her orgasm, everything. She let herself revel in the selfish need teetering on the edge, chasing it, desperate.

Soft breaths came in ragged gasps. “Don’t stop. God, don’t stop—” The white-hot pleasure you were giving her consumed every thought. Abby—composed, polite Abby? She couldn’t think. Nope. Couldn’t form a single coherent thought except please.

She chanted it over and over until she couldn’t hold back anymore. The pressure in her gut snapped, sending a rush of euphoria crashing over her like a tidal wave. Her back arched, fingers tightening in your hair—a full-blown tug—as her climax tore through her.

“F-fuck—” she choked out, voice breaking as she rode it out.

You soothed her, voice gentle. “I got you.”

The death grip on the couch and your hair finally loosened, her body still trembling under you, breathless in the aftermath. A sheen of sweat beaded down her caved-in abdomen as she tried to catch her breath.

“Jesus Christ,” she gasped finally, dazed. Her eyes stuck on the ceiling.

And all you could think as you rubbed her thigh gently was—

If reducing a woman who could bench press you without breaking a sweat to a whimpering mess was a kink? You definitely just discovered it.

˖ . ݁˖°✧

Line dividers- strangergraphics

[hylian-twink]

heyyyy, so i know i’m supposed to be working on my magnum opus botw retelling but what if i told you i had a 23k word ficlet where link is pregnant with sidon’s kid already finished?? would anyone want that? just wondering hehe hypothetically…..

[milkweedman]

Needed something to do last night bc I couldn't sleep, and spinning takes about a million times less brain power than knitting or crochet, so now I'm working on this.

Its from a 2.8 ounce batt that I had labeled southdown Romney blend, and I'm 99% sure that what I was told it was when I bought it (I remember thinking how much I love a good southdown blend), but when I finally unrolled the batt last night it had a label that said Suffolk hampshire blend. I think that's what this is--it feels 100% down breed rather than a down and strong wool blend. Honestly I probably still would have bought it as a hampshire blend, so I don't mind that much.

No clue what to do with it. It's not soft but the prep wouldn't do for socks, which is my usual idea for coarse down wool. It's also got a much darker section that I've been trying to decide how to feature (if it's worth doing at all).

[tineymang]

i cant believe i havent posted these yet..... ive been collecting some plushies over a while to represent the guys in my eos team (and lumi) and i thought it would be a fun way to officially christen them by sewing them some lil accessories to match the ones i draw them with!

a few wip pictures below the cut!

[thats-a-lot-of-cortisol]

Some sketches of my wizard Peri as I (slowly) work my way through Act III

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 LIKE THIS P☆SSY DESIGNED FOR YA !?

☆ sum. you’re supposed to hate him and yet here he is talking you through yet another órgasm. toji, gojo, nanami, geto, choso.

warnings. fem! reader, exes trope, hate / make up séx, possessiveness, unprotected, dirty talk, manhandling, semi-public, toji slander, bréeding, praise, fīngering, feral whipped men, squīrting, breath play, cunnīlingus, edging, overstim.

☆ SUGURU GETO.

“sit on it.”

he didn’t have to tell you twice—because you lost the battle of temptation the second you found yourself hovering over your ex’s face. his pretty face, he’s got that same smug grin that curls against his lips with a few dimples prodding near each side of his cheeks. hooded sly eyes glance at your sopping cunt that’s dripping right through your panties and he leans back against the bed.

“c’mere, you,” and you moan once his hands leisurely drag your hips down toward his spit slick lips. geto was never one to apologize—but even if he did, instead of using words, he’d let his tongue do the talking. with his teeth, he peels your panties to the side. like always, he couldn’t stay away from you as much as you couldn’t stay away from him. you hated it, you swore you hated him and yet he’d make those feelings vanish the second his tongue’s swirling around your cunt, reminding you how hungry he was.

how hungry he was for you.

it would always be like this - after every argument, the outcome would always end up with geto between your thighs.

sure, he’d say sorry. . after his tongue’s buried inside of your cunt.

“fuuuck,” he’d grunt, laid back as his hair was all sprawled out against the sheets. geto’s voice was dangerously deep and raspy. each time he spoke, his words would vibrate against your pulsating wet pussy - his favorite meal. he could eat you out for hours until his jaw tightened and locked. the literal definition of a pussy pleaser . .

“aw, she’s missed me so fuckin’ bad,” he’d whisper in a gruff tone, dipping his pointed tongue in and out of your folds. your folds were all soddened - sopping wet and dripping like a faucet. he groans, feeling your candied juices stream down from the opening part of your clit as you throbbed in his mouth. he was slurping you clean, relishing in your sweetened fervor that ruts against his slick mouth and chin. “yeah, i know. i know,” and as you whimper with pursed quivering lips, geto lolls out his tongue allllll the way, plunging it deeper inside of your convulsing cunt. with a smug grin flattening against the edges of his lips, he licks a long stripe from top to bottom, tasting all of you. your sweet slick fully paints against the lower part of his chin until it runs down the crevices of his lips, and he moans at how sweet you tasted.

he was so messy and unapologetically so—you’ve got your knees bucked toward the sides of his head whilst you’re unsteadily grinding into his mouth. “sugu, fuck,” you’d moan, letting off a following of sweet cacophonies of ‘ooh's’ and ‘ah's’ each time his tongue slithers toward your puckering hole then back towards your needy cunt. a pretty glistening fall of water dribbles down the inner sides of your thighs and he laps it straight up as thin brows of his curve into a fixated furrow. “we didn’t even finish t- the conversation.”

“later,” he purrs in a rough hoarse tone, silencing your babbles the second his teeth playfully nibble towards your clit. you whine, feeling your weak knees on the verge of collapsing before he spat on the entrance of your folds. sloshes spurt away from your soaked cunt as you’re making a mess on his face, feeling that familiar pressure arises within the lower part of your tummy. it’s like someone was pressing down on your stomach, a wave that was preparing to crash and cause havoc. it felt so good, it was impossible to miss geto’s tongue. whenever he ate you out, he’d always eat you out like a starved man—like your sweet pussy was the last meal available on earth, and he did it with no shame.

as your hips continue to thrust sloppily against his mouth, a sleazy grin goes against his lips and he holds your thighs firmly in place, whistling against your slobbering folds. “mhm, that’s it. atta girl, less talkin’ more ridin’ this face.”

as you paw a hand through his thin tangeled tresses of hair that run through your clammy fingers—you whimper once his tongue reaches a certain spot inside of your pussy that scratches a lustful itch in your brain. “fuck!” you whine out, your hip speeding accelerating quicker. you continue to ride his face, nearly suffocating him with how your thighs had him in such a secure lock - to which he loved it, and it’s up onto the point where you end up cumming hard.

you’re gnawing on your lip once you end up finally releasing, swerving your ass against his face and feeling him slurp your entire high clean. even still, geto’s got the priggish grin plastered on his lips whilst he’s laid underneath you, two big hands glued to each sides of your thighs.

“atta fuckin’ girlll,” he’d repeat in a teasing hum, his tongue creating a slimy trail from the back part of your cunt until it reaches the tender bulb part of your clit. he sucks against it, toying with your puffy hood with his tongue before he feels you spasming on his mouth. so sweet, his long lashes flutter shut and he’s holding you tight so you stay still. “good, jus’ like old times.”

and as you’re panting, he departs his slick lips before dragging a thumb down your throbbing clit. very slowly, slippery long strands of your own juices coat his fingertip before he gives your pussy a single sloppy kiss. “now, you were sayin?”

☆ TOJI FUSHIGURO.

“f- fuck you.”

“yeah girl, i’m trying,” toji snarls, using two big hands to reel you back into his sharp churlish hips.

you moan, slamming back down on his thick cock after each mouthwatering thrust. toji would be having you in doggy, spread out on all fours, arched over for him and all. it’s fat, his tip mashes through your walls and french kisses deeply against your g-spot, coating it with dozens of slick smooches. toji’s enormous girth rams through your cunt, giving it a reminder of just how much he’s missed you and it makes your toes curl every time. you could never forget that curve of his—the curve where once he dips his hips a certain way, he’s plowing his thick cock into you so deep that it makes a shiver run down your spine. he makes you feel it all, and once you grow quiet his ego gets fed a good sum.

“fuuuck, that’s it. shut that pretty mouth up ‘n take this shit,” and you whimper, feeling him claw a rough hand through your scalp. it’s a soft tug, but your head pulls back nonetheless as he’s drilling into you mercilessly.

he’s fast, toji’s got the hips of a maddened madman.

and he was always not the best whenever it came to feelings but he loved you - still.

you’re always on his mind, no matter how many rebounds—he still saw your pretty face at the end of the day. tasting you, feeling you from the inside, you had him whipped and it fucking annoyed him.

“ngh, tojiiii,” you whimper, gasping at the immense loose barrage he makes with his stocky shaft. the stretch always leaves you speechless as a plethora of inaudible babbles perish out from the back of your throat. his sack hangs loose as he fucks into you raw. a soddened slimy ring forms around his base from your wet cunt slapping back against him and he clenched his teeth, watching the fat of your ass slam back against his chiseled pelvis. “right there, right fuckin’ there toji.”

“don’t tell me how ‘ta fuck,” he gruffs, and with one mean perfunctory thrust — you let off a screaming moan, tearing your chords before a sheepish giggle follows. the dark haired man rolls his eyes, giving your ass a teasing smack. “such a nasty ‘lil bitch. forgot how much this shit turns you on.”

the bed continues to dip from the constant masses of weight slamming onto the cushions before you feel it gradually falling forward. your crossed eyes found themselves flickering back to the outer voids of your skull as you claw at the bawled up sheets. “fuck, fuck you. broke bitch.”

“girl please. let’s not even,” he pauses, smacking his lips. always so sassy. you moan once his swollen tip stills itself inside of you and you pout, not being fond of how he’d randomly stop just to mess with you. cool air sets against your skin as your back remains arched and toji swats another hand toward your ass. smack! the sting makes your body jolt in depleting rapture and you coo out a soft ‘ah’ with your lips parting.

he grunts once he ogles down at your sloppy cunt, puffed lips and aching clit. leisurely, he pulls out before bringing a fat thumb towards your entrance, maneuvering a few teasing circles. “you still let this broke bitch fuck again, so now what?”

silence was your answer — but a moan shortly follows and you eat your words, your left cheek shoved against the mattress. “f- fuck y-”

“stop talking over your pussy. have some class, baby,” and you whimper, feeling his swelling tip rub against the back of your clit. you’re drooling wet, it’s almost embarrassing and he could feel your body shaking - more, you wanted more.

toji always did this, stop fucking you in the middle just to play with you and make you squirm for him to continue. bastard. once the room shifts into utter silence, his cockhead bangs against your cunt without warning and it’s a loud sloppy ‘smack!’ that gives you whiplash from the spine down. “good girl. ‘s all i wanna hear. pretty squelches all for me, mhm.”

he continues to toy with your cunt before he leans down, spitting near the slit opening entrance whilst his scarred lips carve into a pout. “lotta talk for a pussy this fuckin’ wet,” he hears you starting to protest but your words only come out in inaudible babbles. once you try to sit up, he lightly pushes you back into the bed, having you slump forward with a soft ‘oof.’

toji grunts, feeling his heavy cock tighten up at the sight of your exposed sopping cunt seeping from the folds before he aligns his angered tip once more. “lie back, little girl. we’re far from finished,” and he spanks your cunt, sloshing soddened spurts of your own slick plopping onto his palm. “isn’t that right, gorgeous?”

and his eyes avert towards your cunt - not you. “yeah, thought so.”

☆ CHOSO KAMO.

choso can’t live without you - he’s an entire mess the second you let him fuck you for ‘one last time.’

has you in a mating press because he insists on seeing your pretty face, doesn’t care if he’s tearing up mid thrust either because he’s missed you so so bad. “you’re so pretty,” he’d moan, pumping his cock into you slowly. each thrust reminded you of the times you both spent together . . the memories, why you and him even split in the first place. choso grunts, continuously bruising your cervix with his fat tip over and over. as you’re laid on your back, your arms wrap around his broad shoulders and he flashes you a cheeky needy smile and darkened circles under his eyes. “have i told you how pretty you look right now, baby?”

“probably over ten times, ‘cho,” you’d sheepishly say, blissful moans sliding past your lips. your cunt’s grip against was purely enticing - it always was. he was forevermore addicted to the way you held onto him tight, squeezing down on him like a vice. you drag a few fingers down his undercut and he lets off a humming purr, leaning into your touch. “fuck, don’t stop, baby. keep goin, mhm.”

“missed you so bad,” he’d whine, burying his face into the crook of your neck. choso moans from the alluring scent of your perfume alone, almost tasting you in his mouth. so sweet, so so sweet and he wanted more. his perfectly sculptured body that rocked into yours started to get more sloppy with its movements. he’s passionate with his thrusts, and he knew like always he wasn’t gonna last long. he never did, not with you. choso’s slim body ruts into you, steadily grinding into your own before he starts to suck on your neck. “mpmh. ‘s been torture without you, you know. had such . . strange dreams.”

with a soft simper, you cup his flushed face, a thumb stroking against the right side of his cheek. “wet dreams, choso?”

“y- yeah,” he swallows thickly, growing embarrassed. wet dreams, that explained why whenever he’d wake up in a good mood after having erotic dreams about you—he felt so hard, so . . aroused. his cock’s aching for more, and his bulbous pink tip continues to rummage through your insides until it inspects through every spot. each ‘pop’ your cunt makes ring through your ears and he sucks his teeth at the realization of just how wet you are. “had a dream we heh, got back together. settled down, started a f . . family.”

your heart races at his words, and choso’s deeply staring into your eyes, getting lost in your tender gaze. gentle darkened irises of his dilate as he gawks at you and oh, he’s so in love. his heart thumps quicker in his chest as he pistons his hips. the punctuation of his hips grow more exclamatory with each slam against your cunt. he’s rough, but gentle at the same time - sloppy more than anything. “a family, huh?” and he can’t help but whine, hearing the words slide past your glossed lips with such simplicity.

he gives you a nod, kissing near the corner of your twitching mouth. “a baby or two,” he moans, his speed starting to get more relentless. he’s thick, his length resumes to curve and and meander through your walls, leaving it’s very mark and your legs wrap around his slim waist. as he speaks, he’s staring to paint the exact picture of a future he wants into your brain and his. “or maybe five. you’d look pretty with a plump swollen belly,” and he kisses your quivering bottom lip, this time leaning down to suck on your chin. “mhm, i just wanna make you a pretty wife. my pretty wife, ‘s what ‘m basically saying.”

as the two of you both moan in unision, you plant a wet chaste kiss on his lips. choso groans, slowly pumping more inches in and out of your sloppy cunt before leaning into your grasp. your hips were just as greedy as his were, if not more. “let’s do it then,” you’d whisper between kisses, glossed strands of saliva entangling with each other, creating viscid cobwebs. “make me your pretty wife, ‘cho. gimme a baby.”

choso’s eyes widen to the size of saucers before his thrusts slow - deep but deadly.

he’s very slow with his movements, making sure you feel every single inch, every single vein that prods down his fat cock. “okay,” he shakily says, his ears twitching at your sweet words. he’s still pressing his weight against you, feeling his piles of sweat glue against your own body and he leans in one more time, pressing a long wet kiss on your lips. he’s cutely shaking from your touch once your hands run down his back, pulling him closer. he’s fucking you deeply but at a much more romantic sweet pace. “ugh,” his eyes roll back in rapture, and he can feel himself preparing to give you the filling he’s been oh so desperately waiting for. choso grips your chin, smearing a thumb over your lips before whimpering against your lips.

“ ‘m gonna make you the prettiest mommy. promise.”

☆ NANAMI KENTO.

never in a million years would you have thought you’d be in a predicament like this—arched over an office desk with your husband, ex-husband directly behind you. he’s fucking sense back into you, giving you a simple reminder of how good you had it all with the thoroughly deep hits of his cock.

“s- sweetheart,” he’d groan, repeatedly tapping his swollen crown against your most sweetest spots. it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth, and you’re just casually being fucked into the unsigned divorced papers. your visions clouded, all your glossed eyes were met with was the scribbles of writing and multiple lines that ran across that papers. the wood creaks and groans at the pounds of pressure slamming back and forth into it. “god, i missed you,” he’d whisper, running a hand down your sensitive spine. he created a soft tapping trail with his fingers, continuing to plummet his weighty dick in and out of your pasty walls. “can never stay away from my wife.”

soft whimpers spew past the cracks of your lips as he continues to drill into you, repeatedly thrashing his leaky mushroom tip against your precious g-spot that makes you shrill louder. your moans ricochet off the walls of the spacious office and he lightly tugs on your blouse. “kento, ken—fuck,” you’d suck your teeth, feeling each hooked curve of his dick hunt through every part of your cunt. the loud clangs of his belt sing each time his halfway pulled down slacks hits against your ass. he’s missed you, you can tell by his thrusts and the way he’s running a hand down your body. “fuck me, fuck me ‘ken. please.”

“shhh,” he leans up close to you, pressing a smooth palm over your mouth. your moans grow muffled as he continues to drive his fat cock into your cunt, hearing your heels clank and tap against the slick wooden floor. “not so loud, wifey,” he purrs, and you moan once his tip reaches there. it doesn’t take long before his flushed crownhead’s smothering your cervix wholly with rich french kisses, making your legs shake. nanami feels you leaning into his touch with your ass pressed all the way into him. “as much as i love your sweet sounds, you wouldn’t want anyone else to hear them, would you?”

your answer was muffled so you give him a slow nod. nanami chuckles, a tear of sweat racing down the left side of his forehead. “no, silly. we don’t want that,” and he brings a kiss toward the nape of your neck, nibbling on your tender skin. he’s fucking you over the desk, ignoring the groans and creaks of the old wooden desk. “no one should be able to hear how—” and he pauses, slightly lifting up your leg to get a more thorough deeper angle. “… sloppy you sound, no one but me, sweetheart.”

nanami’s still buried balls deep—his swollen full base remains to smack against your ass, creating an unforgettable perspiring sting amongst skin. every time he’s inside—he falls in love right over again, he can’t help it. “ ‘m gonna cum. you’re gonna wring me dry like you always did, my love,” he grunts, his cock repeatedly kissing at that poor bullseye of a target that’s buried inside the deep depths of your cunt. tap tap tap, he’s hitting that same spongey spot to make you whimper out those desperate cries of his name. cobwebs of saliva souse all over his palm as his hand remains cupped over your mouth. the loud fax machine continues to spit out mechanic whimpers of its own in the background while you’re getting drilled into the divorce papers the two of you were ‘supposed’ to sign.

but fuck that.

“inside,” you whine, your lips moving on its own the second he pries his hand away. your pussy gripped him tightly, aching him badly. you could feel yourself salivating at the thought of him filling you up again, dumping such a hefty load that his mess would spill right down the plush crevices of your thighs. “don’t miss ‘ken, finish inside.”

“anything for the pretty wife,” he’d rasp, bringing two hands toward your rickety waist. as you’re arched over the cornered table—the moment finally comes where he finishes with three deep thrusts that vigorously punctuate against your cunt. you whimper, and within seconds he’s spraying out thickly stringy amounts. velvety ribbons of cum that pour into you sprays inside your womb deeply, oozing out your folds. nanami’s lips glue against your skin and you can hear him faintly whining into your neck. “fuck,” he whispers, and it’s rare to hear him curse, but when he does, it always made you throb - like now. his cock’s still shoved inside and he’s still giving you his anticipated fill before he pulls out, smearing his tip over your drooling cunt.

“so pretty,” he weakly says, caressing your ass with a free hand. nanami’s eyes scan toward the desk with scattered divorce papers and he sheepishly rubs his neck. the blond turns you around to face him and he cups your chin—lifting you up and making you sit on the edge of the table. “but,” and he presses a kiss near the side of your lip, a few thick fingers feeling against the sloppy mess that spills out of your pussy. “you’d look even prettier with a ring around your finger again,” and he licks your neck, hearing your breath hitch as he whispers against your skin.

“i’ve missed you, mrs. nanami,” and he lowers his head down to plant a kiss against your throbbing drenched clit. “and i’ve missed you especially.”

☆ SATORU GOJO.

satoru doesn’t even have to fuck you. his fingers always did the job more than anything. his long fingers that were so fucking long for no reason. doesn’t care what time it is at night, he’d whine to you at how much he misses your pussy - his pussy. but you’d constantly tell yourself one more time, one more time wouldn’t hurt . . right?

wrong,

because those ‘one more times’ turned into dozens of times where you’d find yourself pathetically gushing on his fingers if not his cock and tongue. “relaaax, angel,” he’d purr against your neck, having you lie flat against his back. you’re a whimpering mess, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his slender thin fingers expand and shove all through the swollen layout of your pussy. sloshes of wet sobs ring through the insides of you and you whine, realizing just how wet you were. “i know, i know. i’d fuckin’ throb if i was this soaked too.”

“s- satoru,” you’d moan, a hand of yours tightly gripping onto his wrist. a thumb of yours brushes against a vein that runs down his arm and he kisses near your neck. breathy hot pants ghost down near your skin and your thighs violently shake, feeling his fingertips prod against a particular spongey texture. there, he’s located your g-spot and you let off that cooing ‘ooh!’ as your head collapses back into his bare chest with a loud thud.

his fingers, you’d never be able to wrap your head around on how long they were. so long, they create an unforgettable stretch that makes tears of sweat drip down the sides of your forehead. they curl and entwine their ways inside, scissoring themselves inside your cunt before thrusting in and out of you at a slow degrading pace. “fuck, ‘toru ‘m gonna cum. ‘s gonna make me cum quick.”

“such a mess,” he huffs, prying your jittery legs open more with a single hand. you moan, feeling something prick behind your back and you knew that had to be his rock hard bulge that rubbed off against his sweats. it was hard to mistaken it, you felt the outline of it press against your bare ass.

he was so hard, and it was always because of you. as satoru’s got two fingers diving in and out of your slobbering pussy, he snickers against your ear. “i bet any other guy that touches this cunt doesn’t have fingers as long as mine, huh.”

there goes his fucking ego again. .

you tried to roll your eyes but instead it ends up making you create a lewd expression. his thin fingertips reach deep, and you’re slathering down both twin digits fully with such slippery sap.

“fuckk y- you,” you hiss out, grabbing his wrist to go faster. a throaty chortle leaves from his lips before his fingers start to twist inside of your sweet cunt even faster. “toru, satoru ngh!”

once his lengthy middle finger taps against there, your mind goes completely blank. you let off a squealing sob, your head thumping back against his chest once you gush right out yet again.

it was so abrupt. . there was barely any buildup, it just happened. you’re shivering as his fingers continue to crimp themselves inside of you, hearing your own pussy squelch out such carnal moans of its own. “fuck, fuck,” you whimper in broken cries, feeling your chest sink inward. the ivory-white sheets were now soaking up with a translucent colour as you release, biting his name within each syllable on your tongue. “satoru, satoruuu.”

“still the same ‘ole sloppy girl i remember,” he says in a raspy tone, feeling himself get hard just from your own arousal. you’re violently shaking, tasting every twinge of pleasure that surges through your veins as you squirt on his fingers. satoru’s fingers slide in and out and it’s so loud, it echoes through the four walls of the bedroom you both once shared and he simpers cockily. “can’t help but soak me right with you, yeah?” and before you could even get another word out, he slides out his fingers, hearing the cute ‘pop’ that exits out of your throbbing crying folds. “poor baby,” and he waves his fingers in his face as you pant against his chest. satoru hums, popping both fingers in his mouth for a taste he’s missed for the longest.

with a grunt, his free hand squeezes your cunt and you moan, the back of your head cutely hitting against his chest in defeat. “mhm. still taste the same too,” and as you’re still shaking on his lap, he gives the right temple of your cheek a kiss. “missed my messy baby.”

[amaranthinespirit]

you go to get your clit pierced and simon riley's your piercer

when you first came into his shop, his ears perked up at the sound of the little bell above the door that signaled a new person had entered. when he glanced up from his current client, he wasn't sure what to expect.

maybe he was thinking a returning customer, or a person already adorned with piercings and tattoos ready to add onto their body mods, or someone who fit into the dark, low-light theme of the parlor.

but you. you were the opposite of what he was picturing.

he thought his eyes were deceiving him when he shot a quick glance to where you stood, door barely closed behind you. he had to do a double take because you just looked so out of place with your frilly white shorts and big doe eyes.

his eyes had skillfully scanned your appearance—your skin clear and void of any visible tattoos, no obvious piercings visible to his keen eyes. you even lacked piercings on your ears as he eyed the way you tucked your mousy hair behind them.

he studied you—the way you seemed to be nervous, anxious. by the way you looked, he assumed you wanted a basic piercing. something on the ears, maybe a nose piercing, or as far as a belly button piercing.

luckily for you, he had just finished up on the current client in his chair when you had arrived, just about finished with cleaning them up before charging them and sending them on their way.

you watched the way he approached the counter, peeling the latex from his massive hands as he slipped behind it. he tossed the gloves into the bin under the desk before his arms crossed against his chest—he didn't mean to be intimidating, it was just second-nature at this point.

it didn't help you were exactly eye level with his tatted forearms, the way his tight, black shirt stretched around his beefy biceps, clung to his chest and abdomen. his head tilted at you, narrowing his eyes in a watchful, curious gaze. he watched you rock on the balls of your feet under his eyes.

"what can'i do f' ya today, lov?" his voice was deep and gruff, a slight rasp in the way he spoke. in every way, he matched his environment.

when you muttered quietly about how you hoped he had time to do a piercing for you, a smug smile rose on his lips.

truthfully, no. he didn't have time for anyone else, but for you, he would. so he simply nodded, dropping his arms down to his sides, "'course, 've got some time. what'cha lookin' to get done?"

he was waiting for something along the lines of 'an ear piercing,' or 'a nose piercing please.' so when you shyly looked up at him with those big eyes of yours, telling him how you were looking to get a clit piercing, his eyes betrayed a look of surprise and shock.

he raised a brow, clearing his throat, "is that right?"

he watched your small nod and he hummed, nodding back to you as he thought it over in his head. his heart thumped in his chest, certainly not expecting a pretty thing like you to be asking him for such a piercing.

but who was he to say no?

so he nodded his head to follow him before he guided you to a room in the back for some privacy. he gestured for you to get situated on the little table in the small room while he grabbed a sterile needle and new gloves.

but you were nervous, so you stood awkwardly beside it as you watched him, his back turned to you as he finished the prep.

when he turned around, seeing your nervous stature, his gaze softened and posture relaxed as he waved you over with his fingers, guiding you to sit at the edge of the table as his gloved hands came to rest on your hips.

he pushed you onto your back with a gentle hand on your stomach, muttering to relax as he tugged down your little shorts around your plush thighs.

he hummed appreciatively at the damp spot on your panties, feeling his cock chub up at the sight, twitching in his grey sweatpants that already showed too much.

he leaned closer, glancing to the needle on his little table beside him before looking back between your legs. carefully his gloved fingers peeled aside your little lace panties, exhaling shakily at the slick that stuck to the fabric.

he carefully thumbed over the sensitive flesh, hearing the small gasps from your lips and the way your breath hitched at the contact, the way your hips unintentionally rolled closer to his hand.

he hummed again, nodding as he examined, "got some perfect anatomy for it, sweet'eart," he told you, glancing up at your face before pinching the sensitive bud, reaching over with his other hand to grab what you thought was his needle, "gonna look all nice and pretty when 'm done with ya."

you let out a strained noise in response, the sound shaky in your throat as you prepared for the needle to pierce your sensitive clit. you flinched at the feeling of something cool rubbing your glistening pussy, a huffed chuckle escaping his lips. the deep sound did nothing to sooth your nerves.

"relax, lovie," he cooed, tossing the little sanitizing cloth back on the table, "i'll give ya a countdown if yer feelin' nervous 'bout it, 'kay?"

he felt you relax under his hand as he reached for the needle. his fingers were steady as he hovered over your cunt, watching the goosebumps on your thighs at the feeling of his warmth breath against your skin and wet pussy.

a smirk etched on his face as he mumbled a countdown before plunging the needle into your sensitive flesh, expertly piercing it as he felt your body shudder under his hands. the involuntary moan that slipped past your lips was better music to his ears than the band that blasted over the speakers, and it didn't take an expert to know the piercing had given you an orgasm—that he had made you come so easily.

he shushed you, now adding the little jewelry as his thumb caressed your inner thigh, that trembled under his palm, to distract you as he grabbed another little sanitization cloth to clean up any blood spilt.

he let you sit like that, panties pulled to the side in consideration of the new sensitivity to your poor clit—though you weren't sure the cold air that blew against your sopping cunt would've been better or worse than having put your panties back on properly. he stood up and peeled the gloves from his hands.

he watched the way your chest heaved up and down, a smug smile still etched his features as he cleaned up the station, a hand on your hip as he caressed your skin softly. soon after, he pulled his hand away and disappeared out of the room, temporarily leaving you alone.

a frown made its way to your face as he left—how rude of him to leave you after he just made you orgasm from a piercing!

but that thought was quickly changed when he reemerged with a cold bottle of water in hand and little package of sweets—he wouldn't tell you that they were originally his so you wouldn't feel bad.

he set them by your head, his hand trailing across your hip before resting on your plush tummy—occasionally slipping further up under your shirt—as he kneaded the fat under his palms, muttering praises to you as you calmed down.

once you did, you slowly sat up and fixed up your panties and shorts, hissing at the sensitive feeling of the fabric rubbing against your flesh, causing his eyes to crease with a smile.

simon picked up the bottle of water again and opened it with ease, holding it out to you to take, which you did. you muttered a small 'thanks' and he just hummed in response as you gulped down nearly the whole bottle.

while you sat, recovered, and ate his sweets, he went over the aftercare for your piercing—he even offered to check up on it himself! how sweet of him, really!

but of course he was sweet with you, considering how much of a doll you were to pierce! and no way would he let you pay, as long as you let him take you out to dinner tonight?

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[norrisradio]

little spoon

⚡︎ PAIRING: lando norris x reader | ⚡︎ WC: 1.1K ⚡︎ GENRE: fluff! ⚡︎ INCOMING RADIO: based on the latest landolog and the chicken shop date where lando said he'd never been little spoon // dedicated to @tsunodaradio, to whom i promised little spoon! lando

Lando melts into you before the door even shuts, his body sagging forward, forehead finding the curve of your shoulder like a prayer answered.

His breath is uneven, frayed at the edges, warm where it fans against your collarbone. His entire body trembles—fine, imperceptible shivers rolling through muscle and sinew, the remnants of a day spent wringing himself out to the last drop.

You feel it in the weight of him, how he isn’t just leaning against you but pouring himself into you, a slow and silent collapse.

He smells of sweat dried into fabric, of rubber and asphalt, of adrenaline still lingering in his bloodstream. His shirt clings to his back, damp and heavy, and when your hand slides up his spine, your fingers meet heat—his body still burning from exertion, from the sprints, from the bike, from pushing himself to his absolute limit just hours ago.

“Tough one?” you murmur, pressing your lips into his curls. They’re damp too, still tangled from his helmet, still holding the weight of everything he’s had to endure today.

He exhales, the sound thin, almost empty. “Yeah.”

Just that. No complaints, no details, just the word. But his body tells the rest of the story—the way his fingers twitch uselessly against your waist, the way his knees buckle slightly, how his weight leans into you so fully, so completely, like standing on his own is simply too much.

“You made it through,” you say, voice soft, coaxing, the way you would speak to something fragile.

Lando hums, a sound low and breathy, like the simple act of existing is a burden.

You let him stay there, let him take from you, let him breathe in your presence, let him feel you. Your fingers card through his curls, untangling the mess left behind by hours of training, hours of pushing, hours of his body being reduced to numbers and stats and thresholds. He shudders when you scratch lightly at his scalp, his body sagging further, breath hitching on a sound that’s almost embarrassing in its relief.

“Felt like I was dying,” he mumbles. “Lower body stuff first. It wasn’t too bad, at the start.”

You hum in sympathy, fingers still moving, and he leans into it, like a cat seeking warmth.  “I know. Keep going.”

“Neck strength test was next,” he says, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Thought Jon was going to pull my head clean off.”

You smile softly at the absurdity of it, but Lando isn’t smiling. He groans instead, and you can feel his body tighten with the memory.

“Then the VO2 max test…” He swallows, and you feel the shudder that runs through him. “They make me run on a treadmill, but they keep pushing the incline up, and the speed’s faster than I can keep up with. It’s supposed to push me to exhaustion, but by the end, I was pretty much… ready to just collapse right there.” 

You press your lips into his temple. “But you didn’t.”

“I should have,” he argues, and you laugh softly, rubbing little circles into his scalp.

He sighs, body finally slackening, boneless in your arms.

You sigh in sympathy, brushing your lips across his temple. “And the heat test?”

He groans. “The worst. Forty degrees. I had to ride the bike for 30 minutes under that heat, my body was a furnace. I nearly couldn’t finish it.” His voice drops into a whisper. “But I did. Nearly threw up.”

You press your lips into his skin, and he leans into it, a little shaky, like your touch is the only thing anchoring him to the floor.

“You’re incredible,” you whisper.

He hums, barely a sound, and it feels like he’s gone somewhere quieter now, somewhere inside himself where the noise of the day doesn’t reach.

You let him stay there, holding him as he starts to fall into the silence, and when he finally looks up, his eyes are tired, but there’s something softer in them—something more vulnerable than you’re used to.

You press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Come on,” you murmur. “Bed.”

It takes effort to peel himself away from you, but he follows, sluggish and heavy, through the quiet hum of your apartment. He moves like his body doesn’t belong to him anymore, bumping into corners, misjudging the distance between the doorframe and his shoulder. You let him trail behind you, watching him in the mirror as you wash your face, and when you glance over, he’s just standing there, blinking slowly, watching you.

“You’re staring,” you say, voice light.

He shrugs. “You’re pretty.”

His voice is a whisper now, something slow and weightless.

He moves on autopilot, brushing his teeth, stripping out of his sweat-dampened clothes, tugging on one of the old shirts he keeps here. And then, when he finally climbs into bed, he does something he never does.

He turns onto his side, pressing his back against your chest, curling into himself.

It surprises you. Because Lando isn’t this—he isn’t the one who seeks comfort, he isn’t the one who clings. He’s the protector, the one who holds you. The one who fits himself around you at night, arm draped over your waist, fingers skimming your ribs, lips pressed into the back of your neck. That’s how it always is. That’s how he likes it.

But not tonight.

Tonight, his body is heavy with exhaustion, his mind still buzzing, and he just wants. Wants to be held, wants to be soothed, wants to let go for once.

So you let him.

You press yourself against him, wrap an arm around his waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of his neck. Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing slow, gentle shapes into his skin.

He exhales, long and slow, like all the tension in his body is finally bleeding out.

“You wanna be the little spoon tonight?” you tease, voice half-laughing, warm against his skin.

Lando makes a small, sleepy noise, the kind that makes your chest ache with fondness.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your sheets.

“Always,” you murmur. “You’ve got me.”

Your lips press against his shoulder, soft and lingering, your touch featherlight where it maps the lines of his ribs.

And in this moment—after the sprints, the heat, the tests, and the pain—you both drift into a quiet, steady rhythm. Because no matter how much he gives of himself, no matter how much he sacrifices for his dream, this is the part of the day that truly matters.

He has you.

And tonight, that’s all he needs.

[devil-in-hiding]

On The Run pt 2

By the time the five of you are in the house, you’re soaked through once more, teeth chattering when the cool air of the house hits your skin as Gaz opens the door, holding it open long enough to let the dogs trot in.

“Hey! Shake over there!” He shoos, flinching when Maggie sprays him with her shake off.

“Let’s get you taken care of pretty.” Price murmurs, and you push weakly at his chest, struggling to get down. Your mind is foggy, exhaustion fighting to take over, but there are four strange men now standing in your living room, and that seemed more pressing.

Price grunts, but finally gives in, setting you on your feet, and you put as much distance between yourself and them as you can. “What do you want? What is going on here?” You demand, trying to ignore the shake of your voice.

They glance at each other, having a silent conversation, and you glance towards the stairs. You had an old cell phone, and the service this far out was absolutely shit, but it was a chance-

“We would like a place to stay.” Price’s voice interrupts your thoughts, and your eyes shoot to look at them, and a shocked laugh tumbles past your lips.

“A place to stay? After what just happened? For god’s sake I don’t even know you!” You laugh, slightly hysteric, and Price takes a cautious step towards you, holding up his hands. “We didn’t mean to scare you sweetheart, honest. Didn’t think anyone lived here by the looks of it.” His tone is soft, comforting. He approaches you slowly, and you back away until your back hits the wall.

“How did you even know we were in there?” Ghost speaks this time, eyes trained on your face and you try not to crack under his gaze.

“You spooked Sebastian. In the six years I’ve lived here nothing has ever spooked that horse.” You glare, anger flaring when the four of them laugh. “You think scaring my stallion is funny?”

“No little bird, just…” Ghost trails off, chuckling and you can feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“It’s cute how protective you are over some animals.” He finishes, and he can tell his words are winding you up, the crinkle around his eyes indicating he finds this amusing. Bastard.

“They might just be animals to you,” You start, your frustration seeping into your words as you straighten your back. “But when I found this place they were starving and on the brink of death. I worked my ass off to make sure they made it. I worked for their trust after some asshole abandoned them here to fucking die. They are my herd, this is my land!” Your shoulders heave, sucking in a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart.

They stare at you, quiet and you close your eyes, clenching your fist as you struggle to maintain yourself. “You broke into my barn and scared my animals, held my own knife to my throat and invited yourselves into my home. Why is god's name should I let you stay here?” You ask, opening your eyes to stare them down, and for the first time tonight, they seem to crack under your gaze for once.

“Have you… Do you have any way of hearing the news?” Price questions, wincing and you frown. “The radio when I’m cleaning the barn. Why?”

They hesitate, looking between themselves as they shuffle their feet. Your eyes bounce between them, trying to think back to anything of importance that a reporter has broadcasted as of late.

Missing sheep from a town more than four hours north of you, a four way pile up down one of the highways,a break out at the prison, a wheeler transporting 60,000 gallons of wine tipping near the river…

A break out at the prison.

You freeze, all air leaving your lungs as you stare at them, four wanted criminals standing in your living room. You feel your knees buckle.

They notice your realization, hesitation crossing Price’s face when he notices your stiff figure.

“Please. Let us explain ourselves.” He all but begs, and you feel your hands shaking.

“You are wanted criminals!” You hiss, and they cringe, their previous bravado has disappeared.

“We will explain everything to you, we swear. Just… Please give us a chance.” Soap steps forward this time, big wide eyes trained on you. They’re just as soaked as you are, and in the light of the living room you see the bags under their eyes, the tension in their shoulders. They look exhausted, and not just from this night. There’s a haunted look behind their eyes, and you curse yourself when you feel your heart ache ever so slightly.

You make a noise at the back of your throat, turning to head up the stairs.

“Pretty where are you-“

“You’re soaking my floor. You can explain it to me after I’m out of this damn gown.” You mumble, hearing one of them mumble ‘damn shame’.

“I heard that!”

After a few moments you come back, a box of clothes in hand and they all raise a brow. “Thought you said no one else lived here?” Gaz asks suspiciously when they notice it’s a box of men’s clothes. You roll your eyes, shoving it into his hands.

“They’re my ex-husbands, I took it by mistake when I moved my boxes.” You huff, crossing your arms. It’s your turn to raise a brow at their shocked expressions. “What’s with your faces?”

“What kind of eejit divorces such a gorgeous lass?” Soap asks, and you feel insulted, till you realise he’s not joking. They all look you over, and you feel your face warm at the way their eyes darken. Turning away, you clear your throat, pointing up the stairs.

“The guest room is down the hall, it has a bathroom and towels. Leave your clothes in the tub.” You order, making your way towards your bedroom. You feel the stairs shake as they bound up them, and as they pass, Price give’s your hip a little squeeze and you swat at his hand.

“Thank you pretty.”

“I haven’t said yes yet. You were just ruining my hardwood floors.” You sniff, smacking his hand once more when he doesn’t let go.

“You are testing my patience most of all.”

“You haven’t made us leave though.”

“I can change that very quickly.” You snap, pulling his hand off your side and he takes the opportunity to pull you close, leaning down next to your ear.

“But I don’t think you will, will you sweetheart?” He whispers, and you bite your lip, pushing at his chest. “For god's sake, go change you old perv.” You hiss, wiggling in his grasp and he flashes you a grin before letting you go.

You slip into your room, locking the door before pressing your head against it. What have you gotten yourself into?

You quickly take a hot shower, letting the scalding water bring warmth back to your stiff joints. You towel off quickly, slipping into an oversized hoodie and some old pajama pants.

You can still hear the shower running down the hall when you step out, a boom of thunder sounding in the distance. You slip down to the kitchen, grabbing one of your mugs. You had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

How could you be so foolish as to be letting escaped convicts use your bathroom?! God the feds were probably spread to every point in the world trying to track these men down. You can’t remember much the broadcast had said, just that there were four dangerous men on the run from one of the maximum security prisons a couple of hours away. How on earth did they wind up here?

You’re so lost to your thoughts you don’t hear the stairs creak, staring out into the backyard as you mull things over in your mind.

“‘Ppreciate the clothes lass, loads better!” A cheerful voice spooks you and you jump, dropping your mug to the floor. “Shit!” You curse, a matching ‘ah hell’ leaving Soap.

“Didn’t mean to scare you again bonnie, I’m sorry.” He sighs, running a hand over his face. You’re surprised to find genuine guilt there, and he gives you a sheepish look. “I’ll clean this up for ye.”

“Gone and lost us our chance Soap?” Gaz asks, frowning at the glass on the ground but Soap just waves him off. “Accident, scared the poor lass.”

“We keep doing that, she'll never give us a chance.” Gaz smiles at you, soft and sweet but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, the bags under them worse after having cleaned up, and you feel that strange ache in your chest again. You glance at Soap, who is picking up the shards with his bare hands and you frown, swatting his hands away as you kneel beside him.

“Are you trying to hurt yourself?” You scold, and he gives you a surprised look before smiling, shrugging as he gently stops your hands from piling the remains of the mug. “Could ask the same of you bonnie, hands like these are much too pretty for such sharp things.” He mumbles, scooping up the shards without a care.

The two of them eye you nervously, and you can feel knots in your stomach. Taking a deep breath, you motion towards the living room. “Sit. I’ll make something to drink.” You offer. They raise a brow and you glance at the ground.

“I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“No need to apologize, it’s just…” Gaz starts, trying to find the words and glances at Soap.

“We’re honestly surprised you didn't run for the nearest house possible when you had the chance.” Soap says bluntly, and you wince.

“No one around for miles.” You admit, and their faces fall slightly, shoulders tensing and you clear your throat. “I said I would hear you out. I plan to.” You say firmly, turning to walk into the kitchen, just to bump into a large chest.

“I gotta worry about you keeping your mouth shut little bird?” Ghost asks, arms crossing over his chest as he stares you down.

“I do have a radio that connects me to the closest ranger station. And another for the Police station in the little town 3 hours north.” You admit, and you see his eyes flash, but you hold up your hand before he speaks.

“No. You aren’t taking it.” You snap, and his eyes narrow, exhaling sharply.

“If they don’t hear from me periodically they get worried. It’s a small town, everyone knows one another and I do have to take trips to the store every month or so.” You don’t back down from his dark gaze, but your palms feel clammy.

“They ever check up on you unannounced?” Price is last to arrive, voice stern as he levels the same cold glare as Ghost and you swallow, standing straighter, Gaz and Soap looking between the three of you nervously.

“Not unless I ask them to or I haven’t called in a few weeks. Takes too long to get out here.” Your voice shakes towards the end, slipping between the two looming men.

“You’re all here, you can start talking anytime.” You quip, and Ghost scoffs. “Got a mouth on you don’t-“

“You are asking to stay in my home. Watch it.”

He snaps his mouth shut, glaring at you and you turn your back to him. Price clears his throat, his gaze heavy on your back as you turn on the stove.

“Listen. There has to be some type of trust for this to even begin to work. You haven’t hurt me, and besides that oaf holding a knife to my throat,” You and Simon glare at one another, but he breaks first, eyes crinkling in the corners. “You’re a feisty little thing.” He laughs, crossing the kitchen to plop down at the kitchen table like he owns it.

“Besides that, you haven’t given me any reason you’re here to harm me or rob me, considering you have no car. You could easily overpower me and keep me locked in one of my own rooms and you haven’t. That’s a good start.” You finish, hands shaking slightly as you start to make your tea, and Price gently takes the kettle from your hands.

“But you’re still scared.” He states, and your shoulders stiffen. “Four men are in my kitchen asking to hide from the police. I’ve only put together who is who with your little code names by listening to you talk to one another. I’m sorry for being a little frightened.” You spit, jumping when you feel his large hand on your hip.

“Oh if you don’t quit that-“

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you pretty.”

“Okay! I think we all need to take a minute, yeah?” Gaz announces, him and Soap staring at the three of you nervously. You pry Price’s hand off your hip, again, pushing him away.

“Start talking, now. Before I let Soap and Gaz stay here and let the two of you rot outside.” You huff, taking a seat at the table and they seem surprised.

“I told you, I put together who is who, and those two,” You point, glaring at Price and Ghost as you speak. “Have been very respectful and kind.”

The two of them perk up, lapping up the small praise like thirsty dogs as their chests puff out.

Price frowns, keeping eye contact with you as he slips into the chair opposite of you. “We’ll behave.” He mutters, cutting a look at Ghost when he makes an offended noise in the back of his throat.

“We’re sorry. We didn’t mean any of the harm or fear we have caused you, really thought this place was abandoned. The boys and I appreciate you hearing us out when you have absolutely no reason to. And I… apologize.” He clears his throat, casting you a glance over before meeting your eyes once more.

“Haven’t been around such a gorgeous little thing like yourself in a long time. Forgot my manners.” He grins now, causing heat to bloom in your chest and you splutter, narrowing your eyes at him as you fight the heart crawling up your neck.

“Story. Now.”

“Oh come on pretty, am I at least forgiven?” He asks, and you know he’d deny that he’s pouting, but it still makes a small smile tug your lips.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“I could sweet talk you some more.”

“Much more interested in why you were in prison.”

Price sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he relaxes in his chair.

“Better settle in. It’s a bit of a tale.” He crosses his arms, settling back.

“I’ve got all night.” You shoot back, resting your chin on your hand as you get comfortable.

What have you gotten yourself into?

[bunny-jpeg]

i have this little thought bouncing around in my head! single father simon. (a drabble)

*shrug*

simon ends up with his daughter winnie after her mother abandons her at his doorstep. he was the father, it was his turn to take care of her. simon could handle warfare, he could handle guns and sweat and metal. he could handle blood and bruises.

but a fussy newborn was a little too much for him.

enter you, it was your summer off from university and you were making extra money by babysitting for parents who couldn't afford weeks of posh summer camps. it was decent work and you were pretty good with them! so being concerned for your neighbour, simon's well being, you offered to watch winnie.

simon very well fell in love with you the moment you took the baby girl into you arms. winnie instantly got settled into your grasp, almost like you were her mother.

"what a lovely baby girl." you cooed, you looked at her with such affection already. you looked at simon and smiled, "she looks too cute to be yours." a playful jab.

you watched winnie while simon was at work. you didn't know what he did for work, but you tried not to ask too many questions. all you knew was that the checks didn't bounce when you cashed them.

but being with winnie for so many days had gossip go through the apartment building. you had a baby with simon? why were you in two separate apartments? where did the lovely newborn sleep? she SHOULD be sleeping with her mother (you).

when you tried to correct them, simon always said, "ah don't worry. we'll be havin' our own place soon enough!" his large hand snaked around your waist.

you just looked down at winnie who was sound asleep in her stroller. she couldn't care less who her mommy and daddy were. it wouldn't be hard to be the mother she'd otherwise be without, right?

that was the angle that simon too.

you'd make the most perfect mrs. riley. you were already taking care of winnie, but also him when he came home. you shouldn't be the nanny, you should be winnie's mama.

"she really loves you." simon remarked when you went with him to the pool.

you were in a one piece swim suit and you were making sure that the baby was out of the sun and had sunscreen on. you didn't want her to get sick or burned.

currently she was resting on your chest while you were in the shade. in your free hand you had a book in it and the other was on winnie's back. you said, "i don't know what you're talking about." as if you hadn't heard the comments from the little old ladies about how sweet you two looked.

"look like a real mama."

you looked to him and raised your eyebrows, "i thought i was the babysitter, mister riley."

simon placed a hand on your thigh then rubbed up and down, "nah."

it didn't take long for you and simon to get intimate. he asked you to stay because winnie had been having trouble sleeping. you two shared a glass of wine and then you found yourself face first into simon's bed. the scent of him filled your head as he fucked you into the comfortable mattress.

he loved the sound of your pussy as he fucked you without much abandon. the thickness on your hips would only grow once he made sure his next child was inside of you. you'd be such a good mama, unlike that previous bitch who left him.

maybe there was a good reason why she left him.

cum clung to the fuzz on your pussy lips and was a bitch to clean in the shower come morning.

he woke you up and said, "she needs her mama. she gettin' fussy, doll." then watched you stumble around to find clothes to wear while you checked on winnie as if the little girl was your own. his hand was wrapped around his cock. he wondered how many more times he could finish in you before you stumbled back to your apartment.

the answer was four.

it wouldn't be easy carrying for a sprouting little baby plus the baby boy you were currently pregnant with. you've put school off for a little while and moved in with simon, your due date was in the middle of the semester. now you were trying to figure out what food was good for a teething winnie while also trying to manage the riley son that was occupying your womb.

you were making dinner for your growing family with a cute little maternity dress of. simon was at the table with winnie. he knew that one day he'd have to tell her that you weren't her actual mama. but you were raising her and her little brother too.

"see there's mama." simon said in that grumbled voice of his, pointing in your direction.

you didn't imagine that you would've ended up as a stay-at-home mother to two children who were than a year apart. but as you felt the shift of your 'second' baby inside of you, you smiled.

you heard winnie make a little noise to get your attention. you checked on the pot of sauce on the stove before you turned away to check on your little girl.

[kwoniele]

his (favorite) cheerleader

synopsis: cheerleading practice seems to affect seungcheol a lot more than you expected.

genre: smut

pairing: seungcheol x cheerleader!reader

wc: 737

warnings: rough sex! clearly i have a kink.. creampie, unprotected sex (please do NOT do this! use protection always) overprotective cheol, praise, scratching 😝, BABE THIS ISNT PROOFREAD ☺️ none of my works are tbh. i think thats all? please lmk if there are more!

authors note: hiii im baackkk!! this was supposed to be a celebratory fic for from behind but unfortunately i got quite occupied with my assignments (ack?) and didn’t get to ginish but u can read this as a standalone haha also my requests are open! please request SOMETHING im in need of ideas.. ok bye enjoy

nervous.

thats how you made seungcheol feel.

honestly, he would have never felt this way if he had stopped you from wearing the skimpy skirt for cheerleading practice. you asked him permission before choosing to wear it for the day because one: you would hate to make him feel like you’re dressing like a slut for everyone to see and two: the girls in your crew are bringing their boyfriends.

you would never admit it, but the girls in your squad have terrible taste for men. all of them are either desperate for a quick fuck with anyone but their girlfriends, or theyre in denial and swear to like women but seem to enjoy having drinks with your boyfriend instead.

but seungcheol didn’t hold you back. he swore it was okay and that you looked amazing in the skirt. he explained that he was going to be right beside you the entire time and that things were going to be alright. because he was there.

he was concerned that the boys would be very much eyeing you for a minute too long, or your name would be the name they’d be chanting for the entire game rather than their girlfriend’s.

he was wrong.

he was the person he was worried about.

the way the skirt almost barely covered your ass, the way your hair stuck to your forehead sticky with sweat, how your chest heaved whenever you finished a routine; he felt like he was going absolutely insane.

regardless of the fact he promised you he’d behave, he wasn’t doing a good job of fulfilling it. he could feel his cock slowly growing in his pants and he was not trying to hide it.

“seungcheol-ah, if you’re in need of relief, we’d really appreciate it if you could do it somewhere else and not on the freshly cleaned bleachers.” irene’s boyfriend lightly elbowed seungcheol,

cheol shot him a glare before his eyes slowly rested on you again. you were hot. if male ovulation was a thing, cheol was the epitome of it. all he heard was ringing and inaudible chatter as his attention was focused on you. his eyes were in the shape of hearts as he watched you perform.

he couldn't wait to go home. he just knew what he’d do to you as soon as you step foot into your house.

—

“haa~ cheol!” if he had asked you to count how many times you’ve come tonight, you wouldn’t be able to answer him. your cum had made a creamy white ring around his cock, slowly growing thicker and thicker as his thrusts began to pick up rhythm faster than the one before.

your voice began to strain, sweat started to trickle down the back of your neck, your hips were burning red as seungcheol showed no mercy at all. it was as if his dick had a mind of its own. his tip kisses your g-spot, making you arch from the bed as cheol’s hand pushed you down.

“you were so fucking pretty out there. did you know that? i was worried the boys would be a fucking idiot around you— fuck.” he threw his head back in a moan. “but it turns out, i was the one going insane.”

his lips traveled to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses beside the bruises he had made earlier. his thumb rubbed your clit, causing you to whine controllably as your gripped onto his shoulders. “pleaaase, let me cum!”

“yeah? my baby wants to cum?” seungcheol rapidly thrusted into you—if that was even possible—even more, making you slip out incoherent words as your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“yes! yes! yes! please let me cum please!” your nails clawed his back, leaving dark red marks as he winces in pain.

“fuck, cum with me okay?” you nodded in agreement, not caring about the neighbours who were probably wide awake, or the open windows that seungcheol didn’t bother to shut, or your cheerleading outfit that you definitely needed the following day.

“you can cum, beautiful.” he painted your walls with white ribbons as you breathed heavily—cumming right after him. you came so hard that you saw stars. as soon as you finally caught your breath, seungcheol was already rubbing you with a warm cloth, cleaning up his mess.

“you’re so responsible, you know?”

“mhm, i am. just not when you’re at cheerleading practice.” you giggle.

“you should come more often.”

[fivestaralien]

just a little kiss

-> chan x gn!reader

warnings+”: it's pretty suggestive so I'm just gonna say MDNI!! 18+!, lots of kissing, make out sesh basically, dry humping, low-key lipstick kink, illusions to giving head,reader is lifted up word count: 920 notes ๋࣭⭑ if y'all know the picture I'm talking about, the one of the first picture on a brick wall and fans left lipstick stains on it, PLS send it to me I cant find it anywhere and I'll love you forever!!! had this thought and I wasn't going to stop thinking about it until I wrote it out soooo here this is!! pls reblog and comment!! it helps me the most and lmk what you think! stay safe everyone and be gentle with yourselves<3

// part 2

“It should be illegal how hot you are.” 

 Chan can’t hide the blush blooming on his neck and ears at the compliment. He shushes you jokingly while zipping and buttoning the white pants the stylist set for him. You were only dropping off lunch when Chan asked how you would feel helping him out with something. 

 “Only if you feel comfortable.” He ends after explaining the photographer wanted you to stain Chan’s neck and torso with kiss marks. They have a stamp that they normally use but when he heard you were coming, he knew the real thing would look even better. You obviously said yes. How could you resist loving up your beautiful boyfriend and physically be able to see it?

 There were a few color options and the deep red was really calling to you. Chan sits on the vanity next to where you were standing, waiting for you to finish applying it. You face him with a smile.

 “Here let me help.” He wipes some lipstick from the corner of your mouth. 

 “How does it look?” 

 “I’m having a very hard time not kissing you right now.” His tongue poked out to wet his lips. 

 You smile and lean over to give him a peck to try and satisfy him for now but that obviously doesn’t do much. He brings you to stand between his thighs, cupping your face to kiss you. It was a little needier and harder than you expected but neither of you minded. 

 Chan coasts his hands down to squeeze at your waist, pulling you closer against him. Your hands rest on his bare chest and it takes everything in you not to rake your nails and leave a pretty red trial. He licks across your bottom lip and you happily let him in. 

 By the time you pull away for air all of your lipstick had transferred onto his mouth and chin, smeared all over. You laugh at the sight and grab a makeup wipe, cleaning off his now reddened face. Chan stares at your mouth with a heated stare. The ruined lipstick all over your mouth was getting him a lot more hot and bothered than he expected. 

 “Don’t look at me like that love. We don’t have time.” You kiss his pout. 

 Before you could reapply your lipstick he pulls you back in. He places both hands on the backs of your thighs, lifting you with ease to sit on the vanity. You rest your arms over his shoulders, one hand threading through his hair and tugging lightly. Chan groans, bucking his hips forward and you gasp into his mouth at the feeling of his cock. 

 “I need you so bad baby. We can be fast.” He pleads, continuing to grind against you. You can’t deny how turned on you were, but the lunch break was only so much longer. 

 “I’m sorry but we probably shouldn’t,” you check the time on the clock on the wall, “we only have 15 minutes before you have to go back out and I know you too well to think we can finish in that time.”

 Chan pouts but nods nonetheless. He checks his appearance in the mirror as you hop off and whips out his phone, taking a few pictures. Loving the evidence of your affection towards each other on him. You finally reapply the lipstick, going to the couch to grab a few pillows to place under your knees. 

 “Baby, please tell me this is some sick joke.” His eyes darken as he catches a glimpse of the pillows placed conveniently right by his feet. 

 “What? The ground is hard and I don't want any bruises.” 

 You plant the first mark on the side of his neck, then a few to the front of his throat. Chan grips at your hips again, his breath becoming shallow as you continue to go down. The sight of you on your knees, lipstick stained mouth getting closer to where he needs you most was driving him insane. 

 “Maybe we can just use the stamp. You look too good right now and I don’t know if I can-”

 The last few kisses are planted right above the waistline of his pants, causing his breath to hitch and his stomach twitch underneath your lips. 

 “All done” You whisper against his skin and look up at him through your lashes. 

 Chan throws his head back, holding back a loud moan. You were torturing him at this point so he lifts you to stand on your feet and keeps you at arms length. He mumbles sad thoughts out loud, looking anywhere but you and you can’t help but laugh.

 “I’m sorry to laugh but does that actually help get rid of it?” You ask while picking up the pillows to put them back. 

 “If I even look at you I will cum. This is the best I could come up with.” Chan tilts his head straight up at the ceiling with his eyes closed. 

 A staff member knocks on the door to tell Chan he needs to be out in 5 minutes which he couldn’t be more thankful for. You watch from the couch as he hastily throws the jacket on, careful not to mess up the stains across his body. Luckily he was able to fix his situation in time and leaves you with a kiss on your forehead. 

 “This isn’t over baby girl. I’m not going easy tonight.” He whispers against your ear then kisses your lips. 

_

PERM TAGLIST: @velvetmoonlght , @amararosesblog

// all masterlists , skz masterlist

[shouyuus]

sfw; but slightly suggestive OKAY but going off of this drabble

like imagine popstar!reader doing a tiktok live and everyone in the comments being like TRY THE KISS PROOF LIPSTICKS and you read some of them out loud, blushing like --

"well, i can't lie -- i did get a few pr packages --" you glance off screen and vi says something. you laugh, crinkling your nose and a second later, vi appears behind you, casually slinging her arms around your shoulders, putting her chin on top of your head.

her face isn't entirely in the frame but chat is losing it already.

"they want us to try the lipsticks, don't they?"

you laugh, nodding, lacing your hands with hers, trying to catch comments as they start to fly by.

you heave a sigh, but you can't help the smile on your face as vi leans down to peer at the comments as well.

"whoa, people are really passionate about this, huh?"

she sounds way too smug. you roll your eyes, giving her bicep a tiny pinch. she hisses and frowns down at you, but you bat your lashes and look up at her with a bright smile.

"can you go grab the pr boxes under my desk?"

vi quirks a single eyebrow.

you sigh, "please?"

vi grins, leaning down to peck your lips before leaving the frame to grab the boxes. you turn back to the chat, your cheeks bright with color.

"chat, #confirmed she bottoms," you read out loud before breaking into a fit of giggles, "it's called having manners!" you say, but your eyes are twinkling with mischief even as vi shuffles back with a bunch of boxes balanced in her arms.

she puts them on the table before nudging you off your seat, tugging you back till you're settled in her lap and she can hook her chin over your shoulder. you reach out to adjust the angle of the camera, still blushing, before grabbing one of the boxes.

"alright then -- let's see what these are made of."

you put the first one on, leaning close towards the screen to apply a smooth layer of the lipstick, smacking your lips and glancing down at the carton.

"allow to dry for 30 seconds for a matte, kiss-proof finish," you read, glancing up at the live and then towards vi.

vi grins, "think it's been 30 seconds?" but her eyes are honed in on your mouth as she licks her own lips.

"mm, close enough," you say, squeaking as vi tugs you forward for a long kiss. it leaves you breathless and a little lightheaded, gulping down air when she finally pulls away, smacking her lips.

"well --" she says, wiping at her own mouth, "it's not bad -- but it kinda tastes weird."

"yeah," you agree, "kinda... bitter?"

vi makes a face, and both of you dissolve into laughter for a few seconds before you reach for a makeup wipe off camera and attempt to wipe your lips clean.

"3 outta 5 stars," vi says, smiling as you cap the lipstick and reach for another one.

the second one tastes better but smears pretty quickly, and you're left leaning over vi's mouth, trying to clean the color off her lips as much as your own.

she glances down at the comments before snorting.

"course the color's not gonna stay if you're trying to suck her lips off her face, fam," she reads out loud, "those ain't kisses -- that's someone trying to finish the bottom of their milkshake with a straw that doesn't quite reach."

you laugh, burying your face in her neck for a second before turning back to the live, "guys!"

vi shrugs, "i mean, you guys asked for this." she squints at the screen once more, "would pay real life money to make out with either one of you, tbh, lipstick or no."

she smirks, tightening her hold on your waist as you reach for another box.

"sorry bubs, no amount of money's gonna convince me to make out with anyone else but her."

you slip open the third lipstick, shooting the camera a quick grin.

"same."

the third lipstick smells faintly like strawberries, and it glides on with a glossy sheen. you wonder if the camera can catch the way vi's pupils dilate; the shade of pink is almost a perfect match for the color of her hair.

"mm... smells nice," vi murmurs, tugging your chin towards her. a thick groan rumbles from her chest to yours as she kisses you, licking into your mouth. you make a high-pitched noise at the back of your throat and immediately try to pull away, afraid that the camera mic might catch it, but vi's hand catches the back of your neck and presses you closer.

"fuck... tastes nice too --" she whispers, breaking away just long enough for you to suck in a breath, your lashes fluttering like moth wings across her cheeks, and then you're drowning in her again, feeling the delicious drag of her tongue across your lips as she coaxes you open for her.

after another long minute of kissing, you pull away, panting.

the comment section's lost all semblance of decorum --

sweet lord tag ur p0rn!

yall im married and ive never felt more single

this is insane to do on live ur gonna get banned

ive watched literal sesbian lex more pg than this wtf

"o-okay -- seems like we have a winner!" you say, holding up the last lipstick to the screen. beneath the table, vi's fingers are digging into your thigh as you bite back a groan as she buries her face in your neck.

"yep, that's definitely my fav too," she says, though her voice is slightly muffled by your skin and you fight down a coarse shiver as she purposefully grazes her lips along the soft spot just beneath your jaw.

"cool! well -- i think that's all the time -- we've still gotta make dinner and --" you cut off as vi inches her fingers beneath the hem of your skirt.

you catch one last glimpse of the comments before you close the stream --

just say ur gonna fck and go

be safe! rmbr to hydrate!

keep the stream on u cowards!!!

the live ends and vi groans as she hoists you up, sinking her teeth into the delicate skin of your neck, walking the pair of you towards the bedroom.

"v-vi --"

"you really should wear that lipstick more often..."

"what, the strawberry one?" you ask, even as she tosses you onto the bed and you bounce once on the massive mattress, her crawling over you to cage you beneath her.

"mhm. really does... taste good..." she says, her voice trailing off as her eyes catch on your lips again, pink and shiny from the residual lipsticks and her spit. she leans down with a debauched moan, licking into your mouth.

it's a long time before you get to actually making dinner that night. but later that night, you post a picture of your hand holding the strawberry lippie with the caption:

#certified 💋-proof! had dinner and dessert, and this baby didn't budge at all!

but of course, your followers aren't fooled. and it only takes about 20 minutes after your post goes up for #SexProofLipstick to trend on just about every single social media platform.

you get a call from your pr manager the very next morning telling you that the brand is asking you to be the face of their new line of kiss-proof lipsticks, and that "they'd love for your girlfriend to be part of the campaign as well."

[beloveds-embrace]

More roomate!au thoughts because, again, my brain never stops. When you move in with them, dont expect to be able to do anything by yourself ever again (unless its housework and their away), your car needs fuel? Dont worry Simon will go with you and fill it up for you and dont even think about trying to pay for it yourself, you tried once and Simon just glared at you so you tucked your card back into your purse. You need to go get a few supplies for college, Price and Gaz are joining you and giving their opinions about the best laptop to get or the best stationary (they fill out enough paperwork that they know the best ones). You're cooking them dinner, Johnnys right by your side following your every order and helping to wash up while you go relax on the sofa waiting for whatevers in the oven. And you will want for nothing, you see a pair of shoes you want while out shopping but their outside of your price range, they arrive at your door a week later just after the boys deploy, you see a pretty necklace on TV and comment on it, Johnnys there behind you fastening it just before your next night out. You lament that your mattess and bed are uncomfortable, a new one arrives the next and it just so happens to be big enough to fit all 5 of you on it.

Yeah, the boys would 1000% give you princess treatment

My mind is still on that drabble so i absolutely love this so so so very much god yes….

Original post

It doesn’t end there, of course. God, they do so, so much for you.

It’s Simon who stands right outside the bathroom door when you get sick late at night, trying to be quiet and not bother anyone yet when you tell him he should go to sleep, you’ll be fine, he doesn’t even let you finish your sentence.

“Don’t need sleep,” he grunts, pulling you against his body. Despite your protests, his warmth alone makes you melt. “Jus’ tell me what you need.”

It’s Gaz who gifts you with a surprise spa day kit after he notices how exhausted you look during your exams, gently pushing aside your laptop. “You look knackered, lovie,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you, alright? You always spoil us when we return anyways, this the least we can do.”

It’s Johnny who immediately knows your day has been shit just from listening the way you shuffle in, shoulders slumped and head downcast.

“Someone steal yer sunshine, hen?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it, Johnny,” you mumble tiredly, yet you have no energy to refuse when he leads you to the couch. “Bad day. I’ll just go to my room-“

“Nah, none o’ that,” he shakes his head, taking your bag. “Sit down, aye? I’ll fix you up something warm.” Though he makes sure to drap a blanket over yours shoulders before he goes into the kitchen, muttering about food.

It’s Price who goes hand in hand with your safety. All of them do make you feel safe but John is just- a bit different.

Once, you were being followed after you finished shopping and like an idiot, you’d forgotten your usual pepper spray you carried. You knew you were being followed because you could feel the eyes constantly on you and you circled the same area several times. Your hands are shaking when you text him, praying to every god-

- john

- Yes, love?

You are too afraid to even crack a smile at his serious punctuation.

- someones following me idk what to d

You don’t wait for him to reply. Just nervously, with too many typos, you tell him where you are and if please can he come or any of the men-

When John appears by your side in no less than five minutes, he just pulls you close to his side.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He ushers you along. “Bloke’s been dealt with. Give me your backs, yeah? Next time tell me or any of the muppets to join you.”

Too late you notice the blood splatters on his knuckles.

Also, remember when I said the original ad had been because they wanted someone to keep the place tidy when they are away? That doesn’t apply when they are home. If they see you cleaning or cooking, they are helping- nu uh, no complaints allowed, they are not about to let you slave away when you have four very capable men at your beck and call.

Hell, once it was Johnny who saw you scrubbing the kitchen floors and he just picked you up and placed you on the counter, tsking at you.

In a few hours, John returned to find all of them cleaning the kitchen; Soap was now dusting, Gaz vaccuming, and Simon wiping the counters.

And you were bundled in the couch corner, cozy and cute.

“What’s all this?” He asked, an eyebrow raised, and you shrug.

“She was tryin’ to clean.” Johnny grumbled from the corner.

“And you didn’t stop her sooner?”

“Bloody stubborn bird,” Ghost was the one who replied this time, not even looking up.

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look John fixed you with made you shut your mouth with a click.

“Good girl.”

The warmth on your cheeks was definitely not from overworking, at least.

You mention needing new clothes? You wake up to Simon’s credit card on your nightstand with a note ordering you to use it. “Strangely”, you can’t find neither your own card nor your wallet.

You also can’t find him, but Kyle’s there and oh wow! He has nothing to do so he will in fact be joining you (and making you model the dresses and outfits and send pictures to the others so you can be drowned in compliments)!

Also i like to hc that john(s) are both huge coffee lovers and they do in fact have those huge, fancy coffee machines yk? They are insulted when they see you drink the cheap, shitty, tasteless instant coffee you are surviving on and from then on, you will wake up every day to warm, fresh coffee made for you <33

Anyways gods i love them sm can you tell 😩😩