#kiss your elbow/change gender

[dash-n-step]

Baby's first trans reading

[dokries]

sunshine

pairing: yoon jeonghan x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

word count: 1.1k

warnings: mentions of bruising (reader gets hurt), passing mention of alcohol (no one drinks), a kiss on the forehead, jeonghan gets called a loser lovingly, pet names (babe/baby, sunshine)

author note: this was requested by an anon! thank you so much for requesting once again, and i’m sorry that my work isn’t exactly what you asked for. i still hope you enjoy this though <3 lots of love!!

masterlist

you probably should’ve taken up jeonghan’s offer when he texted you earlier, asking if you wanted to be dropped off before he went to a group dinner with his friends.

of course, you had said no, assuming that it would be the normal amount of traffic when leaving work. to your luck, it turned out the elevators stopped working right before it was time for you to go home and you risked going down the stairwell with everyone else—no one wanted to be stuck in the plain office building any longer, that’s for sure.

however, that also meant that there were some people rushing and elbowing others aside, despite it being…you know, a somewhat steep stairwell that was already crammed with others walking down it. sadly, you were one of the victims of a particularly brutal shover and pushed towards the railing and the cold metal had dug into your body multiple times, which is exactly why your legs ache as you sit down onto the couch slowly.

you take a peek at the back of your forearm and sigh seeing the small red marks leading up to the hem of your shirt sleeve.

you contemplate changing into a shirt with longer sleeves so you don’t worry your boyfriend but decide against it, knowing that he won’t be back for a while; when it’s the whole group of thirteen, they usually stop around one am at the earliest.

you grab an ice pack from the kitchen before stumbling back to the comfortable couch once more with a sigh, turning on the tv to a random channel as you wince at the feeling of the pack touching your tender skin. you keep treating your new bruises gently, with most of your attention on the screen in front of you—it turns out you put on a random reality show and there is drama that’s way too interesting to not watch.

it’s a little after eleven pm when the door unlocks and jeonghan lets himself in, carding a finger through his long hair before he places his motorcycle helmet and keys down, his lip ring glinting in the dimly lit room—he didn’t get to drink anyway since some of the guys had to cancel, and went bowling instead with mingyu and seokmin.

he hums the song that kept playing at the bowling alley as he looks up at you with a mischievous grin. “hey, babe.”

“hey, jeonghan!” you chirp, your voice unusually high as you hurriedly hide the ice pack behind you.

he raises an eyebrow at your cheerfulness this late at night but doesn’t press it, not yet noticing your bruises—that are on full display, even though they are starting to look better—as he goes to hang his leather jacket on the hanger specially designated for it.

your boyfriend turns and walks over to where you’re sitting, placing a small kiss on your forehead as he slumps down on the couch beside you, dangerously close to the biggest bruise you have.

jeonghan smirks at the way the two women on the screen argue with each other. “wow, over a man? he doesn’t even seem to be all that.”

you nod and he smiles, leaning his head against your shoulder as the guy cuts in, taking one woman’s side.

as jeonghan nuzzles his face into your arm, getting bored of what’s on the tv, his lip ring digs into one of the red spots you had gotten earlier and he can feel the way you tense. he frowns at your furrowed brows before looking down at your arm and sighing, his face freezing. “what’s this?”

when you don’t answer, he sighs. “what happened.” he phrases it like a statement instead of a question and you roll your eyes, already knowing he would be like this.

“hannie, nothing happened, i promise,” you say and jeonghan stares at you until you begrudgingly continue. “fine, fine. the elevators stopped working so i went down the stairs when work ended and people kept pushing me off to the side ‘cause they were in a rush. that’s all.”

your boyfriend scoffs, looking out at the window before back at you, his eyes hard. “are you serious? that’s not nothing at all.”

he grabs your hands gently, making sure he doesn’t touch any sore spots and speaks softly. “i’m sorry you had to go through that, baby. next time, i’ll make sure to just pick you up and not ask in case there are jerks like that again. in fact, i’ll be dropping you off and picking you up until the stupid elevators get fixed. i’m not about to take any risks when it comes to you.”

“this really isn’t helping your ‘bad boy’ agenda, you know that, right?” you smile teasingly, squeezing your boyfriend’s hand.

jeonghan looks at you in confusion. “what do you mean by that?”

you smirk. “come on, hannie. you have the whole package: a motorcycle, your leather jackets, the whole package—even your lip ring!” you pause, sighing. “all my coworkers talk about how you seem so brooding and like a lone wolf. it’s like they think you’re the coolest person ever when really, you’re just a loser.”

“hey, i’m not a loser!” jeonghan scoffs before reaching for the ice pack behind you and putting it to the bruises he can see.

“what?” he says when you raise an eyebrow and look down at the pack in his hands. “oh, this? i knew it was behind your back since earlier. you’re not very good at hiding things.”

you roll your eyes before leaning on his shoulder. “see what i mean? loser.”

jeonghan’s eyes soften as he looks at your big grin next to his face and places a kiss on your knuckle. “there’s my sunshine.”

“hey, that’s part of the ‘bad boy’ agenda too!” you chuckle, moving away from him slightly to hit his arm lightly. “besides, i told you not to call me that, it’s so cringey!”

“what, sunshine? i’ll never stop calling you that because it’s true.” your boyfriend sticks his tongue out at you before smirking when you roll your eyes again.

jeonghan then pauses before winking, his head making its way onto your shoulder once more with a content sigh. “either way, i need to make sure i keep up my reputation with your coworkers, am i right?”

[minminbunny]

Best Friends to Lovers AU - Big Cock! Lee Felix/Unexperienced Gender Neutral! Reader

*smut part - AFAB/AMAB

💕Drabble Masterlist

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

"Lix!" you exclaimed, waving your arm. Felix chuckled, "Done with classes?" he asked, tossing his back over his shoulder. You nodded, "Ahm. Last lect of the day. What about you?" you asked, scrolling next to him. "Same," he said, ruffling your hair. You squinted, pushing his hand off, "I put effort into my hair today," you grumbled, pushing your hair back. Felix smirked, "You look the exact same anyway," he teased, leaning against the traffic pole. You rolled your eyes, "It's the little things, Lix. Imagine a lover noticing that you trimmed of just an inch of hair," you said, looking lovesick. Felix scoffed, "No one's going to notice," he said, eyeing said self trimmed hair. You elbowed his side, "You always ruin my delusion," you groaned, crossing your arms. Felix hissed and chuckled, "Someone's going to have to. Can't have you falling for the book trope i.e bad boys," he teased, pinching your cheek. You swat at his hand, "Ow! They aren't my type anymore," you whined, rubbing your cheek. Felix smirked, "You gushed over one just a day ago. What was his name? Stylus? Sylus? Something," he said, poking your forehead.

You scoffed, "He's a dating otome. It doesn't count. I like losercore boys now," you said, covering your face. Felix grimaced at your behavior, "Losercore?" he said, blinking at you in disbelief. You nodded, "Yeah. Guys that kick their feet at the thought of their crush. That notice everything their crush likes but acts passive aggressive to be cool in public. The type that would stare at your lips and ki-," you said when Felix covered your mouth. "TMI," he exclaimed, shaking his head. You licked his palm, forcing him to pull off, "Kiss possessive, grip their waist and tug them close," you teased, leaning closer. Felix clenched his jaw, "You're playing with fire," he said, glaring down at you. "Then he grips their waist, slowly grazing upwa- Hic!" you hiccuped when Felix pinned you to the wall. Your eyes widened at the sudden position. Felix scoffed out a smirk, "I warned you," he said, his voice a bit breathy. You gulped, your voice failing to speak up. Felix cooed, "Cat got your tongue?" he hummed, pinning you there for a bit before pulling away. "Best not to rile me up again," he said, patting your head.

"Got a lover?" you asked, popping a gummy in your mouth. Felix raised an eyebrow, "No. Why?" he questioned, setting down his pen. You murmured, "No reason," you said, looking away. Felix stretched out his legs, his feet rubbing against your calves, "No reason, huh?" he said, watching your expression turn red. You gulped, tucking your legs to your chest, "Stop that," you grumbled, placing your chin between your knees. "Why should i?" Felix asked, pulling his legs from under the floor table and kneeled. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Because it's pervy," you said, flipping him off. Felix grabbed your wrist, "But you liked it," he said, kissing your middle finger. You gulped, "We shouldn't," you said, trying to tug your wrist back. Felix stared at your lips then back at your eyes, "I want you. I know you want me to," he said, knowing the way your gaze on him changed after that day. "I do," you whimpered, looking away. Felix smirked, tucking his palm under your chin, forcing you to look at him, "Good. I do too," he said, squishing your cheeks.

NFSW BELOW CUT

AFAB

"That's it, Atta' girl," he growled, gripping your waist. You hiccuped, clawing the sheets below, "You're too big!" you whined, glaring at him with glossy eyes. Felix chuckled, "You're the one with the big cock fantasy. Don't tell me you're backing out now," he teased, easing another inch into your ribbed fluttering cunt. "Hah, mmhm," you sobbed, taking deep breaths just to adjust around his size. Felix kissed down your back, "I'll go slow," he whispered, thrusting his cock to the hilt. Your back arched as his cockhead pressed against those sensitive bundle of nerves, "Hic, hah ah," you hiccuped, cumming around his shaft. Felix stared at you in surprised, your ribbed walls fluttered around his hot veiny cock. You looked back at him, tears dripping down your nose, "Felt too good," you sniffled, gripping the sheets tighter. Felix pressed his tongue against his upper left molar, "Fuck," he whispered, feeling his brain short circuit.

"Ah! Hhgh, hah, hah, ah," you cried out when he bounced you on his lap. His girthy throbbing cock pounded itself deeper and deeper up your cunt. Felix growled, thrusting up to your bounces, forcing your body to take as much as his length, "The shit you do to me," he groaned, rubbing your clit with his other hand. You sobbed into his shoulders, tears streaming down your cheeks at a steady rate. Felix bared his teeth and bit your collar, "Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop," he groaned, forcing your hips in tandem with his thrusts. "Too much, hhgh," you sniffled, pulling your face away from his shoulder to kiss him. Felix licked your bottom lip, "Mhm," he moaned, sucking on your tongue. You felt pleasure shiver down your spine, "Can I cum? Hic, please," you sniffled, broken sobs slipping past your lips. Felix nodded, bucking his hips harder, forcing a small bulge to form on your tummy, "Cum for me. Cum hard," he growled, pounding your cunt relentlessly. You sobbed against his lips as your orgasm broke. Slick dripping down his thighs. Felix groaned, the veins on his neck protruding as he pumped his load deep within your cunt, "Good girl. Rest. I'll take care of the rest," he rasped, kissing your forehead.

AMAB

"That's it, Atta boy," he growled, gripping your waist. You hiccuped, clawing the sheets below, "You're too big!" you whined, glaring at him with glossy eyes. Felix chuckled, "You're the one with the big cock fantasy. Don't tell me you're backing out now," he teased, easing another inch into your ribbed fluttering hole. "Hah, mmhm," you sobbed, taking deep breaths just to adjust around his size. Felix kissed down your back, "I'll go slow," he whispered, thrusting his cock to the hilt. Your back arched as his cockhead pressed against those sensitive bundle of nerves, "Hic, hah ah," you hiccuped, cumming onto your torso. Felix stared at you in surprise, your ribbed walls fluttering around his hot veiny cock. You looked back at him, tears dripping down your nose, "Felt too good," you sniffled, gripping the sheets tighter. Felix pressed his tongue against his upper left molar, "Fuck," he whispered, feeling his brain short circuit. 

"Ah! Hhgh, hah, hah, ah," you cried out when he bounced you on his lap. His girthy throbbing cock pounded itself deeper and deeper up your hole. Felix growled, thrusting up to your bounces, forcing your body to take as much as his length, "The shit you do to me," he groaned, stroking your cock with his other hand. You sobbed into his shoulders, tears streaming down your cheeks at a steady rate. Felix bared his teeth and bit your collar, "Don't stop. Don't you fucking stop," he groaned, forcing your hips in tandem with his thrusts. "Too much, hhgh," you sniffled, pulling your face away from his shoulder to kiss him. Felix licked your bottom lip, "Mhm," he moaned, sucking on your tongue. You felt pleasure shiver down your spine, "Can I cum? Hic, please," you sniffled, broken sobs slipping past your lips. Felix nodded, bucking his hips harder, forcing a small bulge to form on your tummy, "Cum for me. Cum hard," he growled, pounding your hole relentlessly. You sobbed against his lips as your orgasm broke. Slick dripping down his thighs. Felix groaned, the veins on his neck protruding as he pumped his load deep within your hole, "Good boy. Rest. I'll take care of the rest," he rasped, kissing your forehead.

[fanaticsnail]

A bit of both

Masterlist here

Word Count: 2,900+

Synopsis: You and Rosinante take your trust to a new level, engaging in two levels of weaving you had yet to use in sequence with one another.

Warnings: Rosinante x gn!reader, vibrator play (reader receiving), bondage (reader receiving), gagged (reader receiving), overstimulation, cock warming, dominant Rosinante x submissive reader, service Dom Rosinante, pet names (cara mia, mi amor, little thing), size difference, love confession, established relationship, praising (Rosinante giving), no gendered titles used, insertion sex (reader receiving), 18+, MDNI, smut.

Notes: This was not the fic I was working on, but the service-dom wanted to get out before the mean, jealous one. Ever since I wrote the "T" section for the NSFW Alphabet fic, I needed to see it explored a little more. I hope you enjoy.

Trailing behind you, gift bags lazily slinging from his shoulder with their cord drawstrings caught in his fingers and palm, Rosinante rolled his eyes as you debated with yourself which item you truly wanted from the bakery. Drawing his arm down, he let the bags hang from his wrist as he shoved his hand into his pocket.

“I mean, on the one hand, I do want an almond croissant. The filling is almost like fresh marzipan, and it's so sweet,” you tapped your chin with your fingertips before looking to the other glass display, “But on the other hand, I kind of want something savory like a cheese danish. I don't know about the salt content versus the sugar. If you were to choose one-?”

“-We’ll take an almond croissant and a cheese danish please,” Rosinante held up his hands to the baker, gently shaking his head at you before glancing at the corner of his eye at you. With an arched brow, he placed his Berry on the counter and waited for his change.

“What are you playing at, Rosinante?” you question him linking your arm through his bad leaning on his shoulder, “That's too much, look at the size of them!”

“Take a bite of both of them, and then choose the one you like more,” he gazed down his nose at you with his hazelnut colored eyes, scolding you with his expression. “I'll eat the other one.”

“Smart,” you nod with your pout down-turning. He shot you a sly wink, taking the change and watching the attendant fold the brown bag down at the opening. Pastries already staining the covering with the fat from overly saturated butter, you reached up and made to gather the bags; halting immediately as Rosinante shot you a warning look.

Placing his Berry in your back pocket, he reached up and took the two paper bags in his hands while you laced your hand in the crook of his elbow once more. Sheepishly looking at the ground, you felt him stoop down and press his lips to your temple.

“You know I won't let you lift a finger, mi amor,” the low growl in his deep baritone caused your eyes to flutter closed and spine ignited with pricks of fine needles. Opening your eyes to fall half-lidded, you smile bashfully at him. He pressed his lips atop the apple of your cheek, his soft smile felt in his sweet kiss.

Pastry bags left crumpled in the refrigerator, gift bags lying messily by the door, clothes were scattered and discarded in the hamper in the corner of the room. Shoes placed together in the hallway, the dim light of the room illuminated the skin of your tall lover.

Gazing possessively down at you, his lip paint lay smudged on his cheeks and chin, as your own skin was littered with intentional kisses ranging from your littlest toe to the crown of your head. You pleaded with your eyes, your lips swollen and bruised from being mounted and dominated with his own lips moments prior.

He molded your flesh beneath his hands to worship you, before drawing out a lengthy piece of rope with the intent to accentuate and immobilize your features.

“You've been so good today, mi amor,” he whispered, coiling and knotting the rope over your breasts, “Such a good little thing for me.” You whimpered for him as he parted your thighs and drew one knee up to your wrist, circling it with the fabric.

You open your mouth to speak, his eyes shooting you a look of warning for you to hold your tongue. Elevating your other knee to your wrist, he insured you were snug enough in your ties that you were not uncomfortable. Crawling between your exposed thighs and lowering his chest and stomach over your torso, he smiled down at you with a playful twinkle in his eye.

“Before we start, do you want a sip of water or to finish your danish?” he offered, giving you a sweet and genuine smile, “I can get it out of the fridge for you.” You smiled back in response before shaking your head at him.

“No thank you, sir,” you chirped back at him. He learnt forward, brushing your nose with his own before drawing a woven gag up to your lips. You parted your lips, causing Rosinante to coo down at you in glee.

“So well mannered,” he praised you, “So good.” He pressed his lips over yours, the material preventing him from truly feeling your lips on his. “Now, remember what we talked about? Give me a demonstration of what you need to do if it gets too much?”

You bobbed your head up and down to nod in understanding before humming three notes up through your nose at him in a melody familiar to you both. Bondage was not a new concept to you, but with the addition of the gag it felt like you had no communication for if it got too intense. When you were tied, you would use your safe word when it got too much, just like your rapid taps against the mattress in code would halt motions when gagged.

“Perfect, cara mia,” he pursed his lips against your temple, “I'm gonna sit behind you now.” You nod eagerly, darting your eyes between his as he moves from your torso and kneel before you. His cock was achingly hard, his red top shining in the light from how desperate he was yearning for you.

The shibari had you feeling completely exposed and vulnerable, just the way Rosinante enjoyed you. Each time he tied you felt like you were a little gift wrapped up just for his delight, his complete control and your complete submission to him alighting a flame of trust between both of you.

Rising to his feet, he gingerly walks over to his knight stand and finds a leaf-shaped object and it's remote ignition. Eyes widening he moves his way behind you and presses his torso flush to your back before moving his forearms beneath your legs. Lifting you with ease, his tip lined up with your entrance which waited eagerly with prior lubrication.

Placing the tip over your quivering body, he eased you to softly impale yourself on his cock. Inch by inch, you took Rosinante's impressive length into you with your eyes wide and lips falling wide.

“You okay, mi amor? Not too much too quick, is it?” he hastily checked in, knowing the size difference may cause you some discomfort while you adjusted. You whined and shook your head, wriggling in his arms in a bid to take more of him within you. He chuckled, giving into your request and slinking you down on his steely cock. Hissing at the feeling, Rosinante let out a shuddering deep moan as he felt your body move to accommodate him.

“Oh, so good,” his deep voice praised you, his lips finding your shoulder blade and caressing your skin. “Okay, stay still. One more tie, and we'll be all done.” You knit your brows in focus, tensing your abdomen as his hands move around the both of you.

The small leaf was pressed against your sensitive nerves at the front of you, prompting you to unintentionally gasp at the sensation. The small bud encumbered your nerves endings completely, the anticipation eating at you as he chuckled lightly. Adjusting the ropes, he insured the object was flush with your skin before wrapping the ropes around both of your waists. Each touch his hands gave you left tingles on your skin, your body fluttering around him as you kept yourself as statuesque as you could.

“Now all you have to do is keep my cock warm for me while we watch a play on the carrier snail,” he whispered against your ear, leaving a soft kiss on your lobe, “All I want you to do is cum for me. So, so much, mi amor.” Your eyes widened as you felt his hands reach for the switch for the projector snail, and for the remote attached to the soft leaf.

“Just sit pretty like you're doing,” he clicked on the projector, the lights flickering over the wall and starting the dancing lights and music to follow, “And cum on my cock.” The leaf buzzed and shook to life, your back arching into his torso at the intensity of the motion. Rosinante chuckled against you, feeling your body contract around him almost immediately.

The rhythmic thump of your entrance adjusting and the coil tightening in your abdomen was enough to strike lightning in your vision. Immediately writhing on his lap, you bucked and ground yourself back into him as best you could against the bonds. Your body chased your high, leaving a mess on both yours and Rosinante’s body as you came hard against the leaf.

“Oh, good job,” he whispered against your cheek, adjusting the switch as he felt you fall back from your high to not overstimulate you with too much intensity too quickly. Giving your thigh a gentle tap as you panted behind the gag, Rosinante soothed your skin before reigniting the switch.

Keening and choking through your gasp, he continued to dart his attention between focussing on you and the moving picture in front of you. Each time he felt your body almost reach its high, he would gaze down at you lovingly while he watched your face contorting in pleasure. Letting go of all thoughts as euphoria washed over you, he would always end your climax with praise and a soft kiss.

“So good for me,” he purred at you, the deep rumble in his chest cutting over the whines and mewls you'd release in ecstasy. “That one was a big one, huh? Keep it up, mi amor.” His hands began to dutifully worship your thighs and devote all of his attention to you. Constantly engaging with your feet and wrists to ensure adequate blood flow, he had you unravel on his lap another eight times for the duration of the moving picture.

Each time he felt you cum, he did his best to keep himself edged and not spill over too soon. Your body wrapped around and exposed for him and him alone had him fighting with himself for a sense of control: just how he needed it. He needed you to be a channel for his lust, his greatest escape and refuge from the hardships of his mission. Something he could control, to focus on, and to have an immediate response to his intentional actions. He needed you to have the release and freedom that he couldn't, waves of empathetic bliss being felt as he felt your body become void of anything other than him.

He needed that complete control.

Eyes glazed with dewy water, cheeks stained with hot tears, body and nerves shot with oversensitivity, gag damp with your own saliva, you felt completely void of all thoughts other than to engage in Rosinante's commands as best as you could.

Keep his cock in your body while the play projects, and cum as much as you could.

As soon as the screenplay ended, Rosinante let out a soft moan as he tested his cock by rocking you on his lap. Your body felt limp and pliable, nodding in acknowledgement as you felt him begin to move. Each follicle of your body was engaged, mind numb and pleasure coursing through your veins. Thrusting up, you heard him whimper a soft whine of your name as he rocked you harder and faster on his lap.

Head lulled on his chest, you felt him flick the leaf back to life and reach a hand around in front of you to add more pressure to the stimulation. His fingers and palm gave you that final push you needed to begin to chase a fresh wave of desire as he huffed and panted behind you. Jolting your body up and down his girthy cock had his blunt tip reach depths within you that had you cry out for him. Sobbing and whining, you felt the coil begin to tighten and compact into a ball as he continued to pummel up into you.

“O-Oh, fuck. You've got one more for me, don't you? Just one more,” he kissed and bit at your neck, tongue and teeth dragging at your skin, “Be good a little bit longer and give me one more. I want it. Give it to me.” His gruff bark had you immediately whine at yourself to focus on chasing your release, your oversensitive body almost giving out while bound in the safety of your harness.

A scream found its way through the muffled gag as you came hard around him, body shaking and trembling as he moaned deeply for you.

“Oh, fuck. Good job, such a good listener. Fuck-... Nghh-... I'm c-cumming,” he shuddered, burying his forehead in the crook of your neck as he shot ropes of his release into you, “Yes, yes. Take it. Take. It.” He continued to usher you into a lengthier release as his balls sucked into his abdomen and shot a viscous expulsion of desire up into you.

Huffing and panting, he kept rocking you as he fucked his release back up into you. Your body was limp like a doll, a marionette dancing bound in strings for him as your master. His movements staggered, his soft calls of your name singing to you his sweet song of praise.

Finally feeling himself still, the aftershocks of his twitches spurting the final shudders of release into you, he finally switched off the leaf and tugged your body to lie flush with him. Showering your skin in soft kisses, he panted against you while his cock lingered within you.

Straining against the bands, you attempt to unravel yourself from the ropes by rotating your wrists in a bid for relief. Rosinante is immediately refocused, gently coaxing his cock from you and manuevering you over to the pillows beside him. His digits flew like lightning, hastily untying you and insuring your body had regained circulation by massaging and pressing his lips against your skin.

“Rosinante, I'm okay,” you reassure him, smiling through your glassy eyes up at him. He smiled down at you while continuing to focus his attention on the knots and weaves. Releasing the last length of rope from your body, he pressed his lips over each point of strain on your wrists, thighs, backs of your knees and sensitive abdomen.

Each time he releases a small part of the bonds, you feel his devotion in his delicate touch. Each kiss, each caress, each gentleness in his intimate touch: he was a devotee to your altar. His prayers were to see you thrive and come undone by his motions. His dedication each of new session to explore the trust in one another was unmatched, and you truly adored him.

And he loved you completely.

As you moved to stand, your body was overcome immediately by the intensity of pleasure your body endured. Your skin was hyper sensitive to touch, and your bones congealed under the pressure. Rosinante rapidly clicked his tongue at you, pouting his lips before smiling up at you.

“Oh, come now. We've been through this,” he whispered, nuzzling his nose with yours. You smiled through tight lips up at him, your vision hazy as you matched his doting twinkle in your dual vibrant afterglow.

“You know I won't let you raise a finger.”

Lips finally colliding, passion through overexertion lingered in the atmosphere. Parting lips, you gingerly hooked your arms over his shoulders and tugged him closer. He hummed against you, grinding his tongue against yours and stealing your breath from you. Lacing your fingers through his hair, he rotated his chin slowly to take on more of you through each languid motion.

Pulling away, he gazed deeply into your eyes with his orbs pooling with emotion. Caressing your skin, he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath huffing softly against your skin, “So, so much." To re-emphasize his intent, he repeated his phrase, "So much.”

“I love you too,” you whisper softly against his skin, moving your hands from his hair to his cheeks. “My heart. My sweet Corazon.” He smiled at you, taking a moment to linger in the world you forged together before humming softly at you.

“Yes, I'm all yours cara mia. Let me get you cleaned up.” The creases in the corners of his eyes were the most beautiful sight you'd seen, "You want bubbles or salts?" His gorgeous glimmer in his grin found purchase and roots in your heart with each beat.

“You think I can choose?” you giggle up at him. He hooked his arms behind your knees, your back supported by his other as he cradled you into him.

“It's alright, mi amor,” he chuckled at you, stumbling a little as he readjusted you in his arms. “You can have a bit of both and share it with me.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady

[quartermera]

Daily Actions that Ace, Sanji and Shanks Find Attractive

Hi everyone! No one requested this, but I had been thinking about doing another set of characters for a while, and I recently had the chance to write again! I hope you will like it! ! Gender & race neutral reader

Portgas D. Ace

Stretch marks. I can't explain it, but the man will kiss each of them.

Moles and freckles too.

When you wear his hat.

Or his necklace... maybe only that.

When you lick your lips from eating something good.

Digging your nails into his shoulders.

But he also loves feeling your palms against his back.

Slapping his butt playfully.

When you lean over with your elbows against the side of the ship.

Or when you lie with your feet up against a wall.

Stretching or massaging your own muscles. Ace would be very tempted to help you out with that.

When you look out in the distance with a spark in your eyes.

When you trace his freckles.

Man is not opposed to playful nudges or punches to his arms or chest.

Ace generally has a big soft spot for subtle PDA. He loves when you suddenly hold his hand.

Or to get back to it, when you slap his butt because you think no one can notice.

Or when you pull his head in your lap.

He feels very safe there.

Please give him head scratches.

Blackleg Sanji

This man would love a uniform.

He would be at your feet if it's part of your daily attire. And I include nurse or doctor's outfits (as in scrubs), air or train host.ess etc.

He loves when you watch him cook.

And he loves even more when you join him and pay close attention to doing things right.

Sucker for back hugs.

The action of painting your nails.

But also the sight of your painted nails.

Seeing you enjoy a good meal. Especially if he made it.

In another style, seeing you kick someone's butt.

Man loves someone who can take care of themselves.

But will also let him treat them like royalty afterwards.

So if you get the chance, you should absolutely lie languidly in a couch.

And let him bring you drinks, snacks and anything else you desire.

High heels. No matter your gender.

Same with stockings.

Getting sneak peaks at your lower back when you stretch or lean over.

Man cannot help but think of holding you there.

Forehead kisses!!!

Red Haired Shanks

Lingerie. Especially if you walk around him casually while wearing it.

Seeing you put anything on your lips, such as lipstick, gloss, chapstick or balm.

Your confident look when you are certain of something.

When you share a drink with him.

And if you drink alcohol: when you challenge him to a drinking contest.

Watching you change.

And lean over to tie your shoes. Yes he will check out your ass.

Or shower. But not in a sexy way. Just casual nudity.

When you wear his coat or shirt.

If you wear a long necklace that hangs over your chest.

Generally has a thing for big and somewhat ostentatious jewelry.

Having you sit in his lap.

Then he can give you back scratches if you like that.

Ripped stockings.

Loves when you caress the nape of his neck.

Or run your fingers through his hair.

Shoulder and neck kisses.

[awearywritersworld]

Ryomen Sukuna x Reader summary: you're cuddling in bed with your very sleepy boyfriend, except he's not exactly your very sleepy boyfriend w/c: .75k tags/warnings: somewhat suggestive but not smut. praise. "good girl" but no other reference to gender. fluff. "kitten" i can't help myself. aged up!yuuji a/n: idek! wrote this in an attempt to get inspired and to let everyone know im still alive, kicking, and most importantly, suffering from sukuna brain rot. currently rewatching so this is brought to u by s1e4. masterlist

Your favorite place to be, even after all this time, is Yuuji's arms. His embrace is warm and inviting, and it never fails to put your mind at ease, even with Sukuna in the picture. You've known him for as long as you've known Yuuji, but his snide, snarky comments never deterred your love for his vessel.

Though, after many long months, his commentary became more... unassuming? At least when you were around, anyway. The first time it happened, you'd asked Yuuji if he knew where you left your phone.

"It's on the couch," another voice answered.

You and your boyfriend stared at each other with raised brows before your eyes shifted down to ever abiding mouth on his cheek.

"What?" Sukuna actually grumbled before disappearing.

It's been a while since then. You're resting against Yuuji's chest, his arm snaked around your waist, his breathing deep and steady. Sleep nearly overcomes you, but his chest vibrates with words you're not quite able to make out and it just barely tugs you back to consciousness.

You hum drowsily, your hands grabbing at his sweatshirt in a weak attempt to pull him nearer.

"That's it," he encourages, drawing you impossibly closer.

The small noises you make as you situate yourself have the man exhaling just a little more harshly than before.

"Want me to praise you?" he offers, a sly edge to his voice. It's only then your mind registers that something is... off. This voice is more intense than the one you're used to. "It's obvious you like it when the brat tells you what a good girl you are."

Your eyes snap open, the top of your head nearly colliding with his chin as you pull back from him. Propping yourself up on your elbow, you're unable to help the small gasp that passes your lips as you take in your boyfriend's changed appearance.

"W-What the hell, Sukuna?"

There's a lazy smirk on his face and his hand settles on your hip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

"He's right, you know."

"What are you even on about? It's too late for this shit" you remark, free hand rubbing at your eyelids in an attempt to wake yourself up.

Despite Sukuna never having randomly appeared before, you're not intimidated. Well, not terribly so, even if the man before you is of infamous legend. These days his voice is a constant in your life and that keeps you from registering the possible (probable?) danger of your current situation.

"I was trying to tell you how pretty you are."

"Oh," you squeak out, warmth creeping from your neck toward your cheeks. He chuckles, but you're uncertain whether or not he's teasing you.

His fingers trail up your waist, his touch just barely grazing the skin there before catching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Hm, and so sweet too." His thumb extends to brush against your bottom lip.

The contact leaves your stomach swirling with one too many emotions and your hand reaches up to his bicep, as if the action might stop anything else from being said or done.

It doesn't.

He moves his arm from your grasp, but only so that he can wrap his fingers around your wrist. You finally meet his lidded gaze as he brings the inside of your wrist to his lips, peppering a few light kisses there. "So that means you're a very good girl, don't you think?"

His tone is even and low, unfeigned in a way that makes you shudder. The whole situation has you shifting restlessly and averting your gaze.

"Why are you...?" Your voice is barely above a whisper and you're incapable of figuring out a way to describe what was happening at the present moment.

He takes a few seconds before answering, studying how you've pulled your bottom lip between your teeth with a furrowed brow.

His voice quiets to match your own. "Is Yuuji the only one who can concern himself with your happiness?"

You attempt to mask the surprise that threatens your features, but still glance up at him with widened eyes. A momentary silence falls between the two of you and there's an air of suspense to it.

"I never said that."

That must be answer enough, as he tugs you back to his chest once more. You let him envelop you with ease and tangle your legs between his.

"Then stop worrying and go back to sleep, kitten."

[emptyultimatum]

GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret. 

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone. 

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain. 

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers. 

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught. 

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—” 

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison. 

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better. 

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over. 

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan. 

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.” 

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor. 

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.” 

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.” 

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.” 

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking. 

“Insecurity? About what?” 

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.” 

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.” 

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub. 

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin. 

And being yourself, you capitalized on it. 

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself. 

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before her. You locked his gaze with her own. 

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs. 

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly. 

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand. 

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.” 

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.” 

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?” 

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.” 

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.” 

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured. 

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.” 

With a whimper, she complied. 

[muwapsturniolo]

𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑳𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝑩𝒂𝒃𝒆 💫 Nick sturniolo (m! reader)

"i-i made a mistake, please, please just..."

✘ angst, i can't lie i had trouble writing this so I'm sorry that it isn't that good😭 i promise i will do nick justice next time, angst isn't my strongest genre.

It's dark in the bedroom, the only light being the moonbeams cascading down and illuminating a figure sitting on the edge of the bed.

He couldn't sleep, his mind toying with him and replaying his happiest moments that he took for granted and ruined - He felt guilty.

A soft shuffling is heard, his whole body tensing and his throat constricting. He slowly turns his head, his eyes landing on his sleeping wife.

She was a beautiful girl, she had a good heart and tended to forgive people too easily....and yet he found himself hating her

He knew it was wrong, the girl never did anything to harm him or make his life a living hell - He did that all on his own.

He was the reason he hates his life, not the woman he calls his wife.

He clenches his fists and faces forward, his eyes beginning to burn from the salty tears forming. He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky breath, his hands coming to his face as he rests his elbows on his knees.

"God, what is wrong with me..." He questions himself softly, the tears now running down his face.

He knew if anyone saw him they would think he was pathetic.

What kind of man sits on the edge of his bed in the middle of the night, head in hands as he cries next to his wife, all because he wishes he was with a boy?

A silent sob escapes his mouth as he recalls all the memories with him.

The day they met, the first time they hung out, the first time they got drunk, their first kiss, the endless nights of fooling around - He missed it, he craved it.

He couldn't believe he gave that all up to be nothing more than a husband in a picture-perfect American family.

He could hear Nick's voice as he replayed that day in his head.

"You can go and kiss 100 fucking girls Y/n, you can drink all you want and try to forget the feelings you have for me, but that doesn't erase the fact that you're gay!"

"I'm not gay Nick! I don't have feelings for you! This was a mistake o-A mistake? A mistake is spilling your coffee on your shirt when you're in a rush, not telling me you only want me to call you baby as your dick is shoved down my throat!"

The two males stare at each other, their breathing harsh as they try to come to terms with the end of their beginning.

Y/n sighs and allows his body to relax, "Nick...I'm sorry, ok? I-I...I'm sorry."

"Yeah well when you wake up regretting this choice, just know I told you so."

I told you so...

He was right.

He regrets everything.

His gold band glimmers softly in the moonlight, a reminder that he’s bound to a marriage that he doesn't even want.

He couldn't take it anymore

Without a second thought, he rips the band off, setting it on the nightstand and jumping up. He’s quick to change out of his pajamas, stumbling out of the house as he makes his way to the car.

His heart thumps loudly in his ears, his breathing erratic as he swings out of the driveway, heading towards his destination.

It wasn't long before he arrived at the infamous bar "Pink Cadillac." It was mainly known for being an LGBT+ bar, a place where people of different genders and sexualities could be with their own, and feel safe.

He hadn't stepped foot in this bar since that night, attempting to erase all the memories and a part of himself.

he sits in the car with sweaty palms, staring up at the neon sign as he debates going in.

he knew it was too late to back out, he already left her and his ring at home - He didn't have a choice anymore.

He climbs out of the car and slowly makes his way inside, the interior of the bar starting to look and feel familiar. He finds himself smiling as he sees pictures plastered on the wall from 7 years ago, recognizing the faces of his old acquaintances. He stops when he comes across a picture of him and Nick, the two of them smiling as they were crowned the kings of the "Pink Cadillac Prom".

He remembers that night as if it was yesterday, but he doesn't have enough time to dive into his memories due to someone approaching him.

"Look at what the cat dragged in! Long time no see Y/n"

He turns around and smiles softly seeing the familiar face of Damon. he was dressed up, makeup covering his face and his neon green wig laid to perfection.

"Damon...hey," Damon gives him a quick up and down before crossing his arms. "Didn't think I would see your face here ever again after that night..."

The smile on Y/n's face falters, his eyes now cast downward as he feels an ache in his chest. Damon sighs and drops his arms, pulling Y/n towards the bar.

"Whiskey coke?"

Y/n chuckles dryly, nodding his head as he sits at the bar. Damon whips up the drink before sliding it over to the male, Y/n taking a long sip before sighing. The two sit and talk, catching up on the years of missed events and laughing with each other over old memories.

It wasn't long before Damon finally questioned him, "What are you doing here Y/n?"

"I...I need to see Nick..."

Damon sighs and places his hands on the bar, "Y/n I don't think that's a good idea.... It was 7 years ago, you need to forget it, you're married!" Y/n shakes his head, refusing to give up.

"I-I'm not married anymore."

A lie.

A big fat lie.

He was still married to her, but he planned to get a divorce after tonight.

"I-Is Nick here?"

Damon stares at him for a moment before nodding, "he is, but Y/n I don't think you sh-Where is he?" Y/n cuts him off, eager to see his long-lost lover. He notices the tense look on Damon's face and finds himself begging.

"Damon, please... I messed up, I-I need to apologize and tell him I'm sorry.”

“He’s on the patio…”

Y/n has never moved so fast in his life, maneuvering through the bodies of dancing couples and heading straight towards the patio exit.

He makes it outside, his eyes darting around before they land on him,

Nick.

It was like a scene out of a movie, the fluorescent lights shining on Nick's face as he laughed loudly with his friends, unaware of the person walking up to him and prepared to spill their heart out.

"so I told hi-Nick?"

The shorter boy whips around at the familiar voice, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?"

he goes to answer but stops seeing Nick's friends looking at him, "Can we talk...In privet?"

Nick scoffs and sets his drink down, "No, I don't want to talk to yo-Nick please...?" Nick stares at him for a moment before sighing and standing up from the table. He walks off, motioning for Y/n to follow.

The two boys stand off to the side of the patio, hidden from the curious eyes and in their own world.

"Speak, what did you want to talk about?"

Nick's dismissive tone was expected, Y/n had hurt him. However, Y/n couldn't help but be hurt himself.

"I... I miss you."

Nick chuckles and shakes his head, " Nick please! Just hear me out! I'm sorry ok? I fucked up, I fucked up big time, I know that. I-I hurt you and I'm so so sorry."

Nick can see how distraught the man is, the bags under his eyes evident and the tone of his voice proving such, but Nick doesn't feel bad at all.

He felt smug.

He knew Y/n would come crawling back, claiming he was sorry and crying because he knew he was lying to everyone and himself when he claimed he was straight and getting married to a girl.

"I hate to say it, but I told you so," Nick states, his arms crossed right across his chest. Y/n couldn't even be mad at the words thrown in his face, he knew Nick was right.

"I-I know. You were right, you are right. I-I was struggling Nick, I-I'm-" He struggles to find the right words to express his feelings and thoughts.

"I'm sorry...What we had wasn't a mistake. I did - No I do, have feelings for you. I was just scared Nick, it was one thing to be gay in private with our friends here, but it was another for me to be gay in public, and I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry for being a coward and lying to you and myself-" Y/n moves closer toward Nick, slowly trapping him between his chest and the pink-painted bricks of the club.

"-B-but I can handle it now, I-I want to try again...I want to try us again." Nick begins to look uncomfortable, the words and closeness of Y/n being too much. Nick gently pushes him away, his mouth dry as he tries to speak.

"Y/n...."

The taller male could already feel the tears forming in his eyes, he knew by the way Nick pushed him back and said his name that he was being turned down. He shakes his head, pleading softly with Nick as he holds his arms tightly.

"Nick please"

"Y/n let go..."

"Please just give me a chance!"

"Let go!"

"I-I made a mistake, I just-"

"I'M ENGAGED !"

Silence stands between the two, Nick looking away awkwardly as Y/n feels the bile rise in his throat. He's lying, he has to be lying. There's no way he was engaged...Right?

"W-what?"

Nick holds up his hand, "I'm engaged Y/n.... "

he looks at the shiny diamond ring, the ring reminding him of the one currently on his nightstand.

"D-don't say that...D-don't marry him, please!"

Now Nick was angry.

How dare Y/n show up and expect him to forgive him right away and live happily ever after. How dare he demand that he not go through with the marriage.

"That's rich coming from you! You're a fucking hypocrite Y/n, you left me to get married to a girl! A girl! Now you're telling me not to get married to the person who helped put me back together after you broke me?! Fuck you!"

"I'm not married to he- I don't fucking care Y/n!" Nick shouts. He sighs and removes his glasses, rubbing over his face in annoyance.

"Look... I'm happy now Y/n, I actually love myself now to not keep up with your bullshit. You coming here was a mistake....Go home."

Y/n swallows harshly as Nick's words hit him harshly.

He was right once again, this was a mistake.

"I-I...should go...Sorry for bothering you...'' He whispers softly, slowly backing up before turning around and starting to walk away. Nick's voice calling out for him makes him stop, hope filling in his chest.

"I'm glad you finally stopped lying to yourself...I hope you find the love you deserve...Good luck, babe."

Y/n smiles faintly despite feeling like shit. With a heavy heart, he leaves the bar, his whole body feeling numb as he drives back home.

He silently walks through the door and throws his keys back in the bowl, dragging his feet against the carpet as he enters the bedroom.

She's still sleeping.

He strips himself of his clothes and slides the gold band back on his finger. As he climbs into the bed, she awakens, her eyes fluttering open softly.

"Babe? Where did you go?" She questions.

"Needed some water...Sorry for waking you." He lies effortlessly. She hums and curls into his body, missing the grimace on his face due to the darkness of the bedroom.

"I love you," she mutters as she begins to go back to sleep.

"Yeah...Love you too...."

Another lie.

[jennifer-jeong]

Smut + Fluff | GN!Reader Warmth

SUMMARY A warm late afternoon with your one and only

CONTENT NSFW, 18+, smut, fluffy smut, gender neutral reader, kissing, nipple play, mostly suggestive, ALL CHARACTERS ARE 18+

WORD COUNT: 554

I wrote this with them in mind: KAMO CHOSO, GOJO SATORU, ASTARION, DAN HENG, AVENTURINE

It’s late afternoon and the golden sun seeps warmth in through the windows of your bedroom. You walk in with your boyfriend and he falls onto the bed with a sigh, tired from the day and relaxing into the plush blankets. He’s sideways on the bed, legs dangling off while you change into pajamas. You turn around and smile at his sleepy self. You make your way over to climb over him and straddle him before laying your face down on his chest. Your hands are flat on his chest as you enjoy this moment together.

You give his collarbone some pecks before kissing up his neck, just wanting to show him some love. But soon it turns into a makeout session, your hands reaching up to hold his face while his hands snake down your waist to grab at your ass, making goosebumps rise where his hands slide over. You moan into his mouth while he kneads the plush of your ass. Your tongues swirl together as you taste each other like you’re starving. The kiss continues to get more heated as you tangle fingers into his hair and lightly tug. His hands slide back up your body to pull your shirt up. Even though it's just the skin of your back, him just touching you turns you on. He eventually ghosts over your nipples with his thumbs and it makes you shiver. It’s so much more intense since it’s a bundle of nerves but also because he’s made you so hot and sensitive. The pleasure pools in your core quickly and it makes you more and more needy.

You grind down on him and pull back as he gives you a light moan in response. Saliva connects your puffy lips together as you both breathe heavy, the air feeling hotter and heavier than a few moments ago.

You look down to see an obvious tent in his pants which makes you exhale hard. Knowing that his body is reacting this way because of your ministrations, just does something to you.

“S-sorry…” he says bashfully as his cheeks heat up and he turns his head away from you.

His head stays turned but his eyes look back at you, embarrassed but needy, awaiting your response.

“Why are you apologizing?” You question while smiling, giving him a peck on his cheek.

You slide down his body, hands trailing over his chest and stomach as you situate yourself near his core.

He props himself up on his elbows to watch you, eyebrows upturned, desperate to feel you but not knowing if he should vocalize it.

“Why don’t you let me take care of you?” You ask, fingers hooking under the band of his pants and boxers. You hold eye contact with him and his breath hitches. “Let me make you feel good,” you lower your voice seductively, still looking up at him with doe eyes. He swallows hard as you continue to pull his pants down.

“Fuck,” he says, throwing his head back. “Love you s’much darling,” he looks back at you, stroking a hand through your hair “I’ll take good care of you after, too.”

The sun continued to slowly set while you indulged in each other, golden hues illuminating your skin as desperate whispers of love spewed from your lips over and over.

|| MASTERLIST ♡ || Thank you for reading! ||

[midmourn]

like the movies

♡ nct dream ﹒ gender neutral!reader genre fluff, slice of life, angst, suggestive warnings language, suggestive on jeno’s, brief death joke on haechan’s note if yall have any requests let me know 🫶 here’s the tropes if you can’t tell: mark: best friends to lovers. renjun: enemies to lovers. jeno: fwb. haechan: fake dating. jaemin: second chance. chenle: arranged marriage. jisung: brother’s best friend. i cant remember who inspired this but i do know it was for enhypen lol ( masterlist )

resting on his elbow on your bed, mark’s mouth is agape as he stares at you, blinking furiously. was he dreaming? you, who stood in front of the floor length mirror, smooth down your clothes for non-existent dust and smile to yourself, “okay, how about this outfit?” you wait a few seconds before frowning, “mark? hello— mark?” you wave a hand in front of him and he jolts, “wha—? oh, um, yeah, it’s great. you look really good— … dude.” he winces inwardly at the name, but you don’t bat an eye at it and frown at his seemingly insincere words. “you’re right, it’s bad. i’m going to change.” mark catches your hand with a laugh, “dude, no! seriously, you look really— …” he trails off, looking hesitant to say the next word, even though he’s said it so many times before so easily. what was different now? “— pretty. gorgeous,” he says it without even thinking, realizing it the moment you smile bashfully, ducking your head to your chest to try and hide it but failing miserably. he studies your face for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. and— oh. he wants to kiss you so bad. you, his best friend. oh. oh shit.

renjun doesn’t know when the lines blurred from enemies to frenemies to … lovers? crushes? all he knows is that the burning rage that used to fill him every time your mouth opened was now replaced with warmth spreading over his chest and the urge to kick his feet while giggling. words neither of you would dare to speak around your mothers, intended to hurt, were replaced with teasing, playful words with no hint of malice. your head turns swiftly, knocking him out of his daydream as you raise an eyebrow at him, “take a picture, maybe it’ll last longer.” cheeks flushing a subtle red, his eyes narrow at you, “you might break my camera.” but his pinky creeping towards yours and lips curling up at the ends says how he really thinks. you smile, flipping your hand over and making the first move to intertwine your fingers. his heart stuttered in his chest, “i— you—” you laugh, squeezing his hand once before going back to your textbook. and, yeah, he was certain he’s never felt this before.

“if you squeeze any harder, i think you’ll break the glass,” mark attempts at a joke to diffuse the tension radiating off jeno. jeno’s lips barely twitched up as he glanced down at the glass in his hand before setting it to the side, done drinking for the night. he didn’t feel like it anymore when he saw how closely some guy holds you to his side, hand on your waist. he didn’t like the funny feeling it gave him and he could only imagine how it’d feel when alcohol was added into the equation. “jeno, dude, when are you gonna make a move? you guys have been—” he glances around, checking for eavesdroppers even though the music was far too loud for anyone to hear, “—messing around for months, basically a couple without the label. and you know there’s more people interested in y/n than just him.” the two look back to the opposite side of the room where the guy was whispering something in your ear, a smirk on his face. “you need to tell them you want something more than just fuck buddies. or else you’ll lose them forever.”

“you— WHAT?” haechan winces as your voice grows louder in his ear, casting a quick look around to see if anyone could hear you through the phone. “hyuck! what the fuck?” “don’t act like it wouldn’t be a privilege to date me,” haechan scoffs playfully, hiding his nervousness behind humor; as he always did with his emotions. “i’d rather die.” “okay, well, please! my mom’s already told everyone in my family that i’m bringing someone, including my sisters!” the mention of his sisters have you going quiet, and he hopes you’re thinking about it on the other end. “god, haechan— i—” you sigh in frustration, “how was my name the first name to pop up in that tiny brain of yours?” he ignores the jab, thinking back to that moment. truthfully, he already knew why you were the first name to pop up in his head when his mom mentioned bringing a date to his family reunion. but you didn’t need to know that. not right now, at least. “you weren’t, you were actually my last choice but all my other choices would’ve said no,” he teases, hearing you scoff in disbelief and he grins. “whatever. you’re lucky i love your sisters and hate letting them down.” “and me?” he raises an eyebrow, maybe a hint of hope in his voice. “you wish.” he does.

jaemin swears he’s dreaming when he looks up and sees you. never in a million years did he think you would come back home. not when you tried so hard to leave, anyway. you’re across the aisle, switching your gaze between two spices in your hands when you feel the back of your neck prickling. your head lifts, making eye contact with jaemin immediately. your breath catches, the world freezing around you as the two of you stared at one another. jaemin had only seen glimpses of you through social media the last four years, living your life in some prestigious university with your dream job and dream life in america. he watched your life through pictures like he used to watch you sleep. you break first, raising a hand to wave shyly at him, attempting a weak smile as you didn’t know how he’d react. jaemin abandoned his cart, walking closer to you as you set the spices into your cart. “hi,” you breathe out once he stands in front of you. for years, it seemed like you could never catch your breath, always missing just one thing. and now, it seemed like a breath of fresh air, standing in front of him. his lips turned up into a soft smile, eyes shining as he said softly, “hi.”

the hotel room is silent as chenle unlocks the door with the cardkey, letting you in first and doing a quick check of his surroundings before following in. he listens to the click of the lock, eyes following your movements as you grab a change of clothes and your skincare items from your suitcase. he loosens the tie around his neck, kicking his dress shoes off and turning his back towards you. he doesn’t intend on saying anything, knowing that this situation is definitely not your favorite thing in the world. while he wished it was on his own terms, he liked that it was you. it was only ever you for him. you just didn’t know that. “chenle?” he hums in reply, shrugging off his suit jacket and throwing it on the loveseat. “you don’t … hate me, do you?” his head snaps up, brows furrowing, “what?” the word comes out incredulous and you bite your lip, embarrassment sinking in as your cheeks begin to feel warm. “i … i know this isn’t ideal, but for me, i know it’s not the worst thing in the world.” he blinks at you. you smile slightly at his dumbfounded expression, “i was angry at first, and i was so … betrayed. but, i’m glad it’s you.” you don’t expect a response, heading into the bathroom quietly. he smiles to himself once he fully registers what you just said. i’m glad it’s you. he was, too.

from your spot on the armchair, you watch as jisung rises from his seat on the couch, next to your brother. “i’m getting a drink, anyone want anything?” the rest of your friends and your brother’s friends chime in with their answers, and you wait a second for anyone to get up and follow after him. but no one does. you smile to yourself before standing, “i’m going to help him, since you assholes won’t.” your brother waves you off, too far into the video game to give a better reply. you sneak up behind jisung, sliding your cold hands up under his t-shirt and he jumps, neck twisting to look at you. “ah!” he says a little too loudly, and you shush him. you stay silent before you hear shouts of excitement and disappointment from the living room, turning back to him. “what if—” he starts to say. “as far as they know, i’m helping you with the drinks and snacks,” you poke him in his ribs and he jumps, making you snicker. you stare into each other’s eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the small moment you’ve rarely got since you all came home from college for the summer. at the thought, your face falls and jisung frowns, brushing a stray hair away from your eyes, “what’s wrong?” you shake your head, not wanting to ruin the moment but he insists. “i … i really want to tell him, ji.” you frown, watching his face carefully. “the longer we keep this a secret, the more he’ll be mad. i think we should just rip the bandaid off.” at his hesitation, you sigh and step away from him, making him take a step forward to close the distance again. “jisung, if we’re really serious about this, we have to tell him at some time.” you hesitate, “… are you serious about me?” his eyes widen, “what? yeah, i am. i’ve been serious about you since we were seventeen. i…” he looks shy, “you’re it for me. you’ve always been.” your cheeks heat up, eyes darting away shyly at his words as you allow him to close more distance between you two and press a meaningful kiss to your lips. “we’ll tell him … after everyone leaves, okay? i don’t want to hide anymore. i didn’t like it in the first place.”

[rafaslittleboy]

PROWL

pairing: dad!sonny carisi x reader

summary: your mom and dad argue all the time, and with a little bit of digging, you learn it’s because your dad isn’t being satisfied.

tags: incest, father/child incest, DONT READ IF U DONT LIKE, reader is early twenties so LEGAL AGE, smut, p-in-v sex, clit rubbing, slight fingering, selfish sex (but you like it). Reader has no specified gender but has pussy/clit. Office sex, kissing, your dad and mom don’t get along.

special thanks for @noellawrites for helping me greatly with this fic ❤️

smut below the cut, minors don’t interact & don’t interact if you’re sensitive and don’t like these sort of fics.

The first thing you heard as you entered the apartment was yelling. Your mom scoffing and dishing out a mouthful of verbal assaults on your dad. When you unlocked the door and stepped in, their argument hushed and then as you walked into the open-plan kitchen, the argument ceased to exist. As if it never happened in the first place.

“Is… everything okay?” and you were met with mutual silence. “Dad?

“It’s nothin’.” Dominick replied curtly and turned on the coffee maker. “How was work?” he asked, quick to change the subject.

You could tell when your father was annoyed—nearing angry, he would clench his jaw and the muscles in his arms (which showed under his shirt, rolled up to the elbow). He always tried to not show you when he was in a mood that wasn’t happy, but he was only human. Your mother, on the other hand, was always in a negative mood—nothing was ever good enough for her.

You sighed and put down your backpack and took a seat on a stool at the island. “It was whatever, I hate working nights.”

Sonny turned to you with a fresh mug of caramel flavoured coffee in his large hands. In exchange, you handed him a paper bag containing a pastry that he tended to eat most mornings. Whether you brought one back or he visited you before he got to the courthouse to start his treacherous day.

“Aw, kid, ya didn’t have to.” He always says that, kissing you on the cheek as he takes it from your hands. Your cheeks grew warm. “Thank you, this’ll definitely keep me goin’—really made my mornin’.” and your dad smiled wide at you, the sides of his eyes crinkling.

Your stomach flipped.

Your mom was silent still, angrily making breakfast. Her movements were enough to show you that she was in a mood, and that you should probably stay out of her way for the rest of the day.

Your dad came into your life when you were ten. Ten years after having a meant-nothing relationship with your mom and only when she was running low on money, she reached out and contacted your father for a little child support money. Sonny was shocked at first, finding out he had a kid, but after taking care of new-born Jesse and having his paternal instincts go haywire for a child that wasn’t his; it was like Christmas came early on a Wednesday evening in Spring.

Sonny asked for visitation and your mom agreed, and the first thing he did was look for two-bedroom apartments. Sonny worked overtime in the precinct just so he could afford the extra room, anything for his little angel. And as you grew, you preferred his apartment more and more. He came home late, but he would always enter your room and make sure you were breathing and safe, always leaving a kiss on your forehead.

Somehow within the last eleven years, your mom moved in with Sonny and it was like a nice little family. Sometimes your mom and dad acted as if they were together, sometimes they didn’t.

And as you entered your early twenties, he still did it. As he transitioned from Detective to Assistant District Attorney, he worked even more hours just to support your little family, your mom stopped working and it was up to your father to provide for all of you—so that’s why you took a stupid, underpaying twenty-four-hour internet cafè just to help out with bills.

—

Later on in the evening, you sat down next to your dad in the living room. Your mom was already asleep in their shared bedroom, likely lost in a wine-induced dream.

“What was the argument about? Today?”

“S’nothin’, don’t worry ‘bout it. Ain’t your problem.” And he leaned over to kiss you on your forehead, lingering just a few seconds longer.

“B-but— if it’s you and mom, it is my problem. I’m your kid, I’m the one tying you together,” you sigh miserably.

Sonny turns to look at you with a sad expression before cupping your cheek in his big hand. You were closer to your Dad than your mom, because of things like this; he cared so much about you and she showed it.

He examined the pleading look in your eyes, and he knew you wouldn’t drop the subject until you received a satisfactory answer.

“Your mom ‘n I… we really try. I always do what she wants when she wants it, ‘ya know? But she uses me, n’ then when I want some, it’s like she don’t even wanna look at me—“ he sighed.

“Daddy— you don’t deserve that,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. Your faces were so close, you were glad that the room was dimly lit just enough so your dad couldn’t see the warm blush rising up your cheeks.

“‘S okay, doll. I got you, you’re all I need,” he says with a smile, leaning over to kiss your forehead before getting up to go to his bedroom. You watched him as he walked off and turned to the bedroom he shared with your mom, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

—

You woke up early in the morning to the sound of hushed arguing. Their voices vibrated through the walls like before, and you found yourself closing your eyelids and taking a deep exhale.

It took a minute, you sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from your eyes and took a glance at your alarm clock on the bedside table—it was barely over seven in the morning and they were already at each other’s throats.

Your pajamas were a simple set, a cotton t-shirt that was a size or two up from your own size (that was most likely your father’s) and a pair of black cotton shorts; you’d gone to class in worse attire.

Hesitantly, you opened your bedroom door and took a second before you walked to the kitchen where their voices came from. As you entered, your mother turned away from your Dad and bit her tongue and silently and angrily making breakfast as your dad busied himself pouring coffee into his large travel mug.

“Is everything okay?” you asked. You were met from cold silence from your mom, which was the usual in most times. It took a second for your Dad to turn around and give you a tight lipped smile.

“Everythin’s fine, kiddo,” he said, “how’d you sleep?”

“Fine, I guess.” It was great until I was woken up by your constant arguing, you really wanted to say, but you held your tongue and decided to be polite—just like how he raised you to be. Always keep the negative thoughts to yourself.

“I gotta go to work,” he said curtly and kissed your forehead, as he always did.

“Can I come with you?” You asked as he rounded the island to pick up his dark red briefcase. “I dunno, dunno if SVU will need me to do some undercover stuff.”

“Undercover stuff,” your mom tutted and angrily whisked eggs in the pan. “You’re an ADA, you don’t go undercover.”

Sonny shared a glance with you before your mom started again, “there you go, talking about work. Is it because Olivia is there?”

Your mom, Amanda, couldn’t be anymore wrong.

Sonny turns and walks towards the door without saying a word, and you follow.

When you reach the door, you whisper, “can I come with you? Please?”

You knew that if you had your only day off and spent it in the apartment with your mom, she would start on you next—and you really didn’t want to do that.

Your dad takes one last glance at your mom and sighs, ushering you out the door beside him. “Sure, kid. C’mon.” And he ushered you to put on your sneakers and to take your jacket and backpack.

——-

When you reach the eighth floor, Sonny clears a stack of file folders off a spot on his couch for you, giving you a smile as he pats the seat.

“Dad, are you sure there isn’t anything I can do? I hate seeing you and mom arguing like this,” you sigh, bringing up your knees to rest your chin on, your arms wrapping around your calves.

“Baby,” Sonny smiles, “I appreciate your concern but it ain’t somethin’ you can help me with.”

You look at him as he takes a seat in his swivel-chair, and that feeling in your stomach returns. Butterflies, you remember your mom telling you when you were younger, that you’d get butterflies when you liked someone.

Bile rose in your throat with shame.

“You know, I can help with whatever it is. I’m… y’know, older. I’m not little anymore, I’m big.”

Sonny chuckled, smile lines reaching his eyes. “Oh yeah? You’re a big kid?”

“Yup,” you say defiantly, crossing your arms. You notice the twinkle of curiosity in his eye, curious at just how grown up you’ve really become.

“Maybe you’re right.” He smiles at you. In his eyes, you will always be his little angel. No matter how old you get.

Sonny took a second to think, and then he set down his pen. It was a present from Mr. Barba—you had met him when you were younger, often being plopped in his office when your mom wanted to go out for brunch with her friends and your dad worked as a Detective.

“Let me ask ya somethin’, kiddo. Father t’child.” He clears his throat, “N’ you don’t need’a answer, s’totally within your right not to.”

You looked at him, waiting for his question.

“You ever had sex before?”

It was a personal question. You had just turned the legal age to drink alcohol and you barely did that. Sex was something you had only ever done once, and it wasn’t as pleasant as some of the videos you’ve seen.

“Once,” you couldn’t meet his eyes. “It wasn’t good,” you tell him honestly.

“Yeah? Tell me ‘bout that.” And he flicked his file shut and leaned forward on his elbows on his desk. His attention was on you, fully.

“He just… touched me, really. And then he just put it in me and finished.” You put your hands on your bare knees out of nervousness.

“You didn’t… ?”

You shook your head, no. In all the videos you’ve seen, both participants orgasmed and they made it look so good, like it felt amazing. You told him about how it started, how he kissed you and put his hand down your pants and how it all felt so rushed, and when it came to the actual sex; all you had felt a discomfort as the guy who was on top of you pushed inside you and you felt pain, and it rarely felt good.

And your Dad scoffed. “Don’t let boys like that d’that to ya, ain’t right.”

“But I… “ you swallowed, “… maybe I could help you?”

Sonny frowned, confused. “Help me? What do you mean?”

“You could have sex with me.”

Your bold statement was enough to have his eyebrows jump to the top of his forehead, and his mouth hang open slightly in shock. He stood and rounded his desk, closing his open door and flicking the lock, then closing his blinds. “Doll, you can’t say that in the courthouse.”

“I’m sorry—“

“S’fine, just… I’m ya dad,” he started and leaned against the table before you. “Shouldn’t be thinkin’ ‘bout me like that, it’s not right.”

He shamed you into silence, and your skin flushed with embarrassment.

Never in his life did he ever think he would fuck you. Always so keen on raising you to be the smart, level-headed kid you could be. He spent his life’s work going to work to put men away doing exactly what he was about to do.

He put his head in his hands and rubbed his face. Then after a beat, he took his hands off his face and looked at you.

“Doll— I’m gonna help ya out too, okay? Make my lil’ angel feel good. Don’t want ya to be an inexperienced adult,” he says carefully, leaning off from his table and stepping towards you.

“Are you sure? I-I mean, you and mom are having problems and—“

“Stop talking ‘bout ya mom,” he says before capturing your lips in a mesmerizing kiss. Your lips tingle with the force of his lips on yours, his hand coming to cup the back of your head. You kissed him back when he didn’t pull back, and he licked into your mouth and your sigh came out along with a moan.

You felt him smile into the kiss. “Does kissin’ me feel good?”

You swallowed, your eyes shaky as you kept your eyes on your dad. He was so close to you, leaning over you and your lips still touching. “It… it’s better than my other kisses.”

Sonny cocked his head and his eyes glanced down to your black cotton shorts, biting his lip at the lewd thoughts running through his head. He allowed his fingers to trace the band of your shorts and inch them down just a bit. “‘M just more… experienced, that’s what ya need.”

“y—you?”

And that was exactly right. That’s what you needed. Your Daddy.

He kissed you again, but this time it was to take his time and to memorise your taste, to learn the sounds you made when something felt good—and you made these little high pitched sounds—squeaks—when he kissed you harder, pushing you against the back of the leather couch.

He broke the kiss temporarily to place both of his large hands on your hips. “Ain’t gonna make ya do somethin’ ya don’t want to, baby,”

Sonny knew the risks, even as lust clouded his brain. Engaging in incest in the courthouse with his own child was one risk, but ruining your relationship with him was another. He would hate to ruin things with his only child; to have to run back to Amanda and her fatherless children just to play ‘happy family’ again.

“I—I want it,” you whimpered, “I— I want to do… this with you.” and you meant it. Your feelings for your Dad had only grown so much more since he put his lips on yours and kissed you properly.

Sonny groaned and bit his lip, his cock swelling. “Say it again, baby.” his voice was low, enough to be a growl.

Your body shook with adrenaline and nervousness. You held your breath as his big, warm hands ghosted over your soft, smooth skin.

Your Dad slipped his fingertips into the band of your shorts and pulled down your little lounge shorts the rest of the way, pulling them over your sneakers and letting them drop to the floor. The only thing between you two was your flimsy underwear, and he could see a very clear wet spot dampening the fabric.

“Haven’t seen that in a while,” he said and the tip of his finger prodded the damp patch. He didn’t miss your gasp, how your hips jutted upwards in need and selfish want. If he had his way he would take his time. Sink to his knees, shove his mouth in your pussy and taste his little kiddo’s juices.

Your Dad saw your nervous expression, and it took him until only then to realise that this would be the first proper sex experience you would have (with your own father, at that, it’s probably making you feel under pressure to do good.)

“Hey… “ he cupped your burning cheek, “s’okay… d’you wanna see mine first? just t’make you feel better?”

You nodded carefully, soon enough leaning into the palm of his hand. He tapped your cheek before he took his hand and put it to his belt, undoing the buckle and pulling it through the hoops and letting it drop to the floor beside your cotton pyjama shorts. His long, deft fingers went to his fly and unzipped it, then he pulled out his cock out from inside his dress pants. Your eyes were glued to the large appendage and you swallowed your saliva in nervousness.

Sure, you had only seen one penis before, but it was tiny, shriveled— nothing like your dad’s long, curved cock. It was not hard enough to stay up, flaccid only just enough that it dangled between his thighs.

“You okay?” He asked, and you nodded again; “uh huh,” and you couldn’t find the strength to take your eyes off him.

His blue eyes bore into yours as his fingers nudged your underwear, a similar situation to his removal of your shorts.

“This okay, doll?” he asked. Once you began to nod, he slid your undies all the way down. The cool air of your dad’s office hit your sensitive little pussy and you shivered, earning a smile from your dad.

“Don’t worry, doll. S’cold, same thing happens to me,” he gestures, and you look down right at your own dad’s hard cock.

“Can—can I touch it?” You asked. It was hard to believe that you were made from that, that at one point just over twenty years ago, you had come out of him and it was just staring right back at you.

“Sure.” Sonny smiled, and he took your hand and helped you wrap your small fingers around him in a light grip. The sudden pressure alone was enough to make him grumble deep in his chest.

In the videos you had seen on the internet, you knew how to copy hand movements—so you moved your hand up and down his cock, slowly, testing the waters. You didn’t see it, but the man who made you; his head tipped backward at the feeling of your hand squeezing his cock.

“does it—does this feel good?”

“Kid, you got no fuckin’ idea.” He groans and he looks down at you, cock barely an inch away from your innocent face. “N’ expert,” he praises.

After a while, his need to be inside you grew by each passing second. Your pussy was bare on the leather, making a small clear puddle of your arousal on the worn leather of his couch.

“S’enough, baby.” and he took your hand off his hard cock, no longer any sort of flaccid, instead as hard as he’s been in years.

You moved yourself so you were leaning back, and he followed you and pulled your hips down—your legs and ass dangling off the couch and his arms supporting you. “Makin’ me fuckin’ crazy, baby, gonna fuck you deep right here.”

You let out a breathy laugh that was cut short as he forced his tongue in your mouth; working overtime as his hand made its way to your wet pussy and rubbed the seam with his fingers. Gasping into his mouth, moaning lightly (aware of your noise, knowing there were people actually doing their job in the courthouse) as his long fingers stimulated your clit and your little wet hole.

“Makin’ me do things a Daddy shouldn’t do,” he growled, “you eva’ touch yourself like this? ‘magining your Dad gettin’ you ready for his cock? huh? little baby?”

You never once imagined what his dirty talk would be like, so filthy in your ear. But he was right, there had been a few times you’ve imagined him touching you late at night. Disgusting thoughts that clouded your mind in the devil's hour.

He was so quick but gentle, giving you attentive kisses and soothing your nerves as he prepared you to take your dad’s cock.

You whined when you felt his hard cock bump against your inner thigh, eyebrows furrowing. His fingers on your clit felt good and his tongue invading your mouth made you drool.

Sonny peeked down to where his erect cock was positioned between your legs. For a single second, he hesitated—it was as if his mind came back to him.

He can’t do this, it isn’t right—he’s your father. The tip of his cock leaked a stray tear of pre-cum and his cock throbbed in his grip. Your pussy was right there, barely an inch away from pushing inside your tight little hole, and he knew the minute he pushed inside you, he would never be able to stop.

Already imagining the next time he’ll get to fuck you. Maybe later on in the night, sneaking into your room while your mom slept and clamping a hand over your mouth while he finally got to taste your pussy.

His thoughts left him the second they rushed through his mind, and he pushed his hips forward and the tip of his cock notched your wet hole and his fingers stopped rubbing you, settling on a slow rhythm.

Your arm snaked around his neck and pulled him impossibly close to you as he pushed his cock inside you. Your mouth was tight against the fabric of his dress shirt, eyes squeezing shut as the tip of him breached you.

There was still an inch of him hidden beneath his slacks, the cons of having a quickie in his office is that he couldn’t push the entirety of himself inside you. He was fully clothed in a three piece suit he couldn’t just remove very easily.

Your own father’s cock inside you, the same cock that made you was inside you. And that kept running through your mind.

But for the most part, he was fully inside you. And your thighs trembled and shook at the fact your Dad was inside you.

“S’okay… s’okay—“ Sonny choked as he turned his head so he could mumble against the side of your lips. “Just hold onto daddy.”

And you did, your little fingers digging into his shoulder blade as he gave an experimental light thrust of his hips and he groaned, it came deep from his throat and his hand tight on your thigh spread your leg wider as he fucked his cock into you, finding his rhythm inside you.

“Takin’ ya dad’s cock so fuckin’ well.”

Your pussy clenched on him at his words. Reminding you that he wasn’t some guy from work—that you were falling apart on your dad’s cock.

“J—Jesus, d—dad,” you moaned and bit onto his shirt for some sort of stability. His cock was pumping inside you and your bare thighs were met with the soft fabric of his dress pants, muffling what would’ve been harsh, wet slaps of flesh meeting in a selfish hurry. “F—feels so good.”

If you were worried about his co-workers hearing what was happening inside his office before, you definitely weren’t now. Muffling your moans in his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut as the pressure in your pussy built and built with the faint pain of the tip of his cock thumping against your cervix.

“D—dad,” you gasped, “f—fuck, I’m—o—oh my g—god, it—“

Sonny pressed his forehead against yours once more, murmuring against your lips, “gonna cum, baby? Cummin’ already on ya daddy’s cock?”

He could tell by with how your fingers dug into his shoulders, how he could feel the drool you had left behind on his chest and with how fucking tight your pussy was gripping him; getting tighter by the second, almost trying to push his cock out of you.

His thumb worked harder on your hard clit, pressing down and circling in harder circles. Where his hand was, your pussy was so wet, dripping onto the couch like a burst pipe and covering his dress pants (and he thanked Barba for telling him to always keep a spare suit in his office, in case of emergencies. And fucking his own flesh and blood child to oblivion and back was one of them.)

“D—dad—daddy—dad,” you babbled against his soft lips, “can I—p—please?”

Oh, how sweet. You asked permission, always a polite kid. He wonders who taught you that—your manners, that is, and it was him. Your mom would’ve raised you to be a bully if he didn’t get there when he did.

His cock fucked harder into you and as a result it had the top of your head hitting the soft cushion and your moans grew louder but were still muffled into his shoulder.

“C’mon, baby, please fuckin’ cum—need’a feel it, honey, let ya dad feel ya cum—“

Sonny’s words spurred you on, his thumb rubbing hard circles on your clit and his cock pounding into the very end of you was just enough to set you over and you came all over his cock with a muffled squeal, eyes clenched painfully shut and your arms pulled him impossibly closer to you. Your pussy tightened almost painfully on his cock and the pressure was just enough to push him out, but his greedy cock fought against it and and pushed and fucked you through your first orgasm by a cock.

Little squirts of liquid left your pussy and splattered on his dress pants, not enough to turn heads if anyone walked in, but enough to make your Dad moan like a whore.

“That’s it—what a good fuckin’ kid, doin’ as you’re told—makin’ me feel so good.”

You weren’t your mother—you were his perfect little angel that he made himself, in his image. And that alone was enough to convince himself not to pull out—if there were consequences of his actions, he’d allow those consequences with open arms.

Not even a second later, you felt his cock pump inside you harder and faster—then you felt the vibration of his deep, throaty groan against you and felt the warm spurts of his pent up cum inside you.

“Daddy,” you whimpered.

“That felt fuckin’ good,” he groaned and tipped his forehead onto your shoulder, his thrusts slowing as he rode out his orgasm inside you.

He felt better than he had in a long time. He just now realised he didn’t need your mother, he never did. As long as he had you, he had an obedient little kiddo to take their daddy’s big cock. He knew you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to show your dad how grown up you really were.

It took him a minute to pull out of you, your pussy gripping him and milking him for everything he has and he didn’t want to leave the hot, wet pussy that he took part in making. Fuck, that thought alone was enough to give a hard twitch into his softening cock. But when he did, his cum spilled out with him and onto the already wet leather of the couch.

“Look’a that, baby, look how much you milked outta me—greedy little thing,” and his hand smoothed over your thigh to insert a finger into your sore and spent pussy, plugging his cum back inside you. Your hole clenching around him, even more so when his thumb takes place back on your oversensitive clit.

“D—dad,” you gasped and put your hand on his wrist. “That—“

“‘Know what it is, honey,” and he leaned over to grab your underwear and slid them back up your legs, back where they once were before he decided to fuck you in his office of law. Patting your now clothed pussy, he stood on shaky legs and tucked himself away.

He leaned back down to press his lips to yours, “done me real proud, kiddo, think you deserve a nice nap, huh?” he spoke as he nuzzled his nose with your own and you smiled, lazily biting your bottom lip.

“Still feels like you’re inside,” you say in a whisper.

“Means I fucked ya too good,” and he kisses your nose and then your lips—as if it was second nature. “Now get some sleep, I’ll wake ya for lunch.”

—-

At the dinner table that night, the tension was thick. Your dad had slaved away on the stove making a chicken dish, (with your ‘help’, after the events of earlier in the day, you became so clingy, wanting to be beside him if he couldn’t be inside you) but your mom wanted steak and that was enough for her to give him disrespectful comments on how it tasted, how she preferred her best friends husband’s steak casserole compared to Sonny’s Italian ‘chicken-thing’.

His hand settled on your thigh beneath the table, Your hand was over his, entangling your fingers together.

[distantdarlings]

THE SECONDS BEFORE // e. berkshire

RATING: R / 2.2K WORDS

Enzo Berkshire x Reader Insert (no gender-specific details)

+ SUMMARY - Just before the infamous Battle of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall makes the decision to keep all Slytherin students housed together in the dungeons. The night before the Battle begins, you can’t sleep. You wake a friend to keep your mind occupied. (Romance, Angst if you squint)

+ WARNINGS - Heavy kissing, language, heavy petting, implied sexual material

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

My Love - Sia

-

Your eyes found the ceiling as if waiting for something to happen. Perhaps if you stared long enough, it would burst into swirls of color and light—or maybe it would fold back and reveal the stars that you so desperately wanted to see. You felt like you all had been in the dungeons for years, wasting away. Every time you looked at one of your friends, you felt as if they looked older. Like they'd aged while down here. The odd exhaustion painted bruises beneath their eyes and tore their lips.

You sighed and tapped your fingers on your stomach, attempting to entertain yourself. All of the boys were asleep and there was no way in hell you were going to be joining them anytime soon. Something about this whole situation set your teeth on edge. You weren’t sure if it was the fact that half of the people the castle was currently at extreme odds with were some of your closest friend’s parents and family or that you all weren’t allowed in the dorms, so you hadn’t changed in a day or two, or something else. But you knew you were getting tired of being here. When Professor McGonnagal had suggested using the dungeons to house the Slytherin students until they were sure you all were safe, you thought it sounded smart and would be a good way to keep everyone together and alive for a little while. And it was, it just felt off for a lot of reasons. Nobody but the house elves had been down here in two days. You wanted to know what was going on out there.

You rolled over, tucking your arm beneath your head to remain comfortable. Your eyes found the older boy that slept peacefully beside you. You wondered silently what the boy might be dreaming about and how angry he'd get if you woke him up. There was a pretty large chance considering how the boy felt about sleep, so fifty-fifty?

"Enzo," you whispered gently so as not to startle him. "Enzo, wake up."

When the dark-haired boy did not budge, you resorted to shaking him a bit, hoping the heavy sleeper would wake. You were bored out of your mind and figured that someone should share that boredom with you. If there was one thing anyone knew about Enzo Berkshire, it was that his late-night talks were a world of comfort. His deep, raspy words hit you like a truck, bruising your body. It was an odd feeling with nothing but scratchy phrases and the moon for comfort, but you loved it.

"Enzo!" you hissed, giving him a light slap. At this, the sleeping boy jolted awake. His eyes found yours quickly, giving you a look of disdain. You knew he’d be mad for waking him, but it was too late to go back now.

"Hey, what is it? Are you okay?" Enzo asked under his breath, propping his elbows up behind himself.

You were taken by surprise. You’d honestly more expected Enzo to punch you in the arm rather than ask if you were alright. It wasn't like you were complaining, it was just strange. Something about the domesticated look in his eyes when he was worried about you made your cheeks flush a bit. You’d always had a bit of a thing for Enzo, this much was obvious. Coming to terms with it was the hard part.

"No, I’m fine, Enzo," you whispered, avoiding eye contact. You were a bit embarrassed now. "I just wanted to talk to someone."

"Oh," he exhaled, a tone of relief blowing against your hair. He let his head fall back in a small stretch, his hair tickling the spot between his shoulder blades. You watched the older boy's throat stretch against his flesh and shift as he swallowed a deep breath.

"Did you have a nightmare or something?" he asked, pushing himself into a sitting position and crossing his legs.

"Actually, quite the opposite," you replied, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them. "I can't sleep."

"Ah, I see," he spoke. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about—I mean, to turn your brain off? Maybe that's what’s keeping you up, your mind's running too much?"

"Maybe," you sighed. You could only bear to glance up at the older boy every once in a while. The way his brown eyes pierced into you and threatened to steal every secret from your brain . . . It was tantalizing. You let out a small huff of air, hoping that Enzo would make better conversation. The silence was deafening and you had nothing to say.

"So . . . do you think Draco and Pansy are fucking?" Enzo asked. You nearly choked.

"What?" you squeaked, your voice sounding prepubescent. Out of all the things he could have said, that was it? "Oh, um, I don't know?"

"Hmm, I didn't mean to spring that on you, I was just wondering what you thought."

"Well, I mean I suppose they could be," you shrugged. You really didn't want to talk about your friends having sex with each other.

"Yeah, I think they are—they're always hanging out with each other, you know?" he said, running a hand through his hair.

"What, friends can't hang out with each other without fucking?" you chuckled lightly.

"That’s not what I’m saying, you know what I mean," he said, pointing at you. "I know you've seen them, they're so touchy-feely with each other."

"So what if they're fucking? There’s nothing wrong with that—"

"I never said there was, I’m simply observing . . . I know what sexual tension looks like," he spoke a bit quieter. You wondered what made him add that little line onto the end. Maybe he was trying to hint at something? Or maybe you were looking too deeply into a casual conversation? It was likely the latter.

More silence ensued, creating even more tension in between you two. It soon became so thick, it was just waiting for one of you to slash it with a knife. You prayed that he would just do something, but you were almost positive he was not interested in you, like you were him. And god knows you weren’t going to make the first move, because what if he truly had no feelings for you? Your friendship would be wrecked and your self-esteem would be down the drain.

"Hey—"

"I like you,” you choked out.

"What?"

You took a deep breath and calmly repeated yourself. "I like you . . . like, a lot, Enzo."

More silence—a different kind that made your head feel all fuzzy. Your eyes were facing the ground so as to avoid him who had been shocked into submission by your words. You wanted to beat your own head in with a broom. What the fuck were you thinking? You had spent your entire life knowing Enzo, swearing you’d never tell him, not unless he said something first. And what did you do? Fucking tell him. Merlin, you were so stupid.

"Every time you sit there and joke around with Theo or Pansy, I feel like I’m suffocating. And I never knew how to tell you that, so I became desperate for your attention, figured that I was too needy, and started ignoring you. I was hoping you'd catch on but you never did, and, Merlin, Enzo, I’ve never wanted someone so fucking badly . . ." you vented, pressing your fingertips into your temples. You had started to feel a bit more confident when the words had started spewing out but now you felt like you were on a stage in front of the world and Enzo’s silence was only making it worse. Why didn't he say something? At least turn you down or punch you or something.

"You want me?" Enzo breathed, his voice cracking under the pressure of a whisper. You glanced up from your lap and looked at the older boy. His eyes were glued to his hands as he seemed to be processing some things.

"Fuck, I need you, En."

His eyes found yours. The dark-haired boy leaned forward, on hands and knees, and crawled ever so slowly over to you. His eyes were trained on yours until they slipped down to your lips. You shuddered as the boy balanced himself on his knees, towering over your small, huddled frame. He slipped his lower body between your legs and pushed the both of you back. He hovered over you, feeling your heavy breaths mix. Your eyes were dilated and half-closed, waiting for the other's touch.

"You need me?" he spoke barely above a whisper, the gravel in his voice sending shivers up the younger's spine. Your head dipped down to let your nose gently bump against his throat. He could feel your breath there, letting it tease his flesh.

"Please," you spoke, the pitch of your voice had an effect on Enzo like no other. He imagined the way his lips would feel on your skin just before he did so. You weren’t sure if the boy above you would live up to the fantasies you’d created in your mind but it seemed impossible for him not to. The boy's inexplicable scent and the way it filled your senses, his gently cracked lips and the way you’d imagine them scratching along your throat and chest. Everything about him made your heart leap into your throat.

He didn't give you a chance to take a breath before trapping your lips with his own. They were skilled and tasted like the orange soda you both had before bed. You closed your eyes at the taste and feeling of the boy over you. He was everything you could have imagined and more. The built arms that balanced on either side of your head and the way his tongue slipped against yours.

"You sure?" he whispered when your lips disconnected for a breather. You nodded, catching his breath with deep exhales.

He reconnected your lips with no regard for your border-line asthmatic symptoms. You placed a hand behind you and pushed yourself into a sitting position, gently backing him onto his knees. He captured your waistband in his hands and tugged you onto your knees as well, loosening the fabric in the process. Nimble fingers tugged on the tie of your sweatpants, lightly brushing against the core of your body. You hissed into his mouth at the feeling, your lips faltering a bit. You could feel him smirking.

He laid the two of you back down, now much more convenient that your pants were loosened. He trapped your lips again, catching the bottom one gently in his teeth. His hand traced your stomach before slipping between your flesh and the waistband of your underwear, slightly rubbing against the most sensitive part of your body. You moaned aloud at the sensation, feeling his free hand slide over your mouth to hush you up. There was a possibility the other boys and students would hear but you didn't care, all you were concerned with was Enzo’s skin moving against yours.

The black-haired boy severed his lips from yours and found comfort with the skin of your throat. The hand stuck beneath your pants and the one on your mouth never once faltered, staying astutely in place. The sounds spilling from your lips and muffled by his hand only tightened his jeans, making it a bit hard to breathe.

He pulled his hand from beneath your waistband. You struggled to catch your breath as his hips lowered down to yours. Your hips bucked up to meet his, his breath hitching in his throat, his lips faltering on your neck. It was your turn now.

You pushed your hands beneath his tee shirt and splayed your fingers against his warm back. The tips of your fingers traced down his spine, your nails catching his skin every once and a while. His lips on your throat never faltered, his tongue brushing against your skin gently.

You traced your hands down the rest of his back and curled them around his hips to the front of his sweatpants. The tips of your fingers trailed lightly over the small growth of hair just beneath the ties. His lips shuddered against your skin as your hand slowly, slowly slid between his pants and skin. His skin was hot and sharp, your fingers cold and soft. Like snow falling gently against his skin, it being like fire and melting it immediately on contact.

“Please, baby,” he begged, his lips brushing the shell of your ear with every pant he took.

The very tip of your finger brushed over his most sensitive area—a whisper of a touch. He choked out a groan into your ear, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling tightly against your scalp.

A shrill scream pierced the pair of your ears. You flinched at the sound, pushing Enzo back as quickly as you could. The two of you stared, wide-eyed and panting.

“The Death-Eaters are here—they’re outside the school grounds!” A young, terrified first-year pushed through the hallway leading into the common-room where everyone slept.

You lept to your feet. Enzo slipped a hand into yours and squeezed tightly.

“Guess we’ll have to finish this later,” he joked, his cheeks and lips still flushed. You rolled your eyes but when he looked at you, you both smiled nervously. It would be okay.

[jadewritesficshere]

Shirts

Steve Harrington x Reader

Summary: you notice somethings changed about Steve's dresser (<1k words)

Contains: fluff, no gender description of reader, reader is called Honey

"Hey Steve?" You call, brow furrowed in confusion at the dresser. "Yeah?" Steve yells back from the bathroom. You peer into the dresser drawer," Where are your clothes?"

You can hear Steve turn off the light in the bathroom and the creak of the floorboard as he walks back into his bedroom. "Huh?" Steve appears at your side," Oh."

Steve's dresser drawers were usually stuffed to the brim. You would put the winter stuff away during summer and the summer stuff away during the winter. Unlike you, however, Steve kept his clothes out year round. The more often worn clothes ended up towards the top while the stuff rarely worn kept the bottom drawers full. He was stubborn too, arguing that it was a waste of time when he'd use the clothes again eventually ("Besides, Indiana weather changes so often one day it snows, the next it's so hot, and the next its a tornado. You got to be ready year round Honey").

But now? The drawer you opened had his shirts neatly folded on the left, but nothing on the right. You had peeked into the drawer beneath it and found the same with his pants.

"Made room for your stuff." Steve said it as if it wasn't a big deal. As if he didn't cause your heart to beat faster. As if the most stubborn and routine man you knew didn't just change something to include you in it.

Steve elbowed your side and gave you a grin," Got the winter stuff put away so you can't keep stealing my sweaters." You gasp in mock offense," I did not steal them! I borrowed." "Mmhmm and why is it i still don't have them?" Steve kisses your cheek, letting you know he isn't truly upset.

Steve leaves your side to head to the bed. You grab one of his shirts out of the drawer and pause again," Hey Steve?" "Yeah?" You flip through the shirts, "Why do you have the same exact shirt like...three times?"

"Well, sometimes you like shirts to fit you loosely so I got a shirt that does that. And sometimes you like shirts to be skin tight so I got one like that. And then the shirt that I already owned." Steve wanders back over, lifting each shirt as he mentions them. You can see the one he owned slightly faded compared to the new ones.

"You did that for me?" You can't help the sappy tone. Steve deflects," It's not that much. They had a sale on shirts. Besides, this way I don't have to fend off you and Robin for my own clothes." Steve won't meet your eyes.

Because Steve loves loud and has been called too much. Has been told it was "a lot". And he doesn't want to see that in your eyes. But if he looked up all he would see would be adoration. Love.

"Steve that's," you clear your throat," That's the most thoughtful thing anyone has done for me." Steve's head snaps up to look at you. Whatever he's searching for in your eyes he must find, because you can see the tension fall from his shoulders.

"Well, I'll have to think of more things to top that." Steve grins at you. You smile back, heart beating fast. Your stomach alight with butterflies. You quickly change your shirt into one of his. Steve's eyes watching you the entire time sending shivers down your spine.

You walk over to where he is sitting on the bed, smiling down at him. "I love you." You declare as you thread a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face. "I love you more." Steve counters, a hand landing on your hip.

"I love you most," You beam down at him. "Impossible." Steve wraps his arms around you and yanks you onto the bed with him. You shriek before laughing as you both land on the bed on your sides.

Steve pulls you closer, his nose lightly nudging yours. "I love you so much words can't even describe it." Steve murmurs, looking into your eyes," Just hope i can show it." "You do."

Steve's lips lightly brush yours. Soft. Sweet. His grip tightens on you as your kisses become more firm, more passionate. He nips at your bottom lip, causing you to gasp. He doesn't hesitate to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth.

And as you kiss you can't help but feel overcome by the love you feel. And as your clothes end up haphazardly on the ground, you can't help but feel loved. And as Steve murmurs praises and holds you close, you know he feels the same.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

A few headcanons for Captain John Price x anxious Reader (gender neutral) for self-indulgent reasons (sfw):

You tried so hard for so long to keep your anxiety hidden from John but he’s a smart man, he figured out something was wrong well before you ever let on.

If he sees your hands getting shaky, he’ll curve his warm, strong palm over the back of your neck to ground you.

“Just breathe, love. Take a deep breath for me, yeah? That’s it.”

In crowded places, he’ll hold your hand, or keep his hand anchored at the small of your back as reassurance that he’s there for you.

Will take your hand and tuck it into the crook of his elbow, too.

When you try to sneak away to ward off an impending panic attack that you can feel barreling down on you at 100mph, John had already clocked that something was off. You were fidgety, wide-eyed, and short of breath, so he kept an eye on you, even if he’d been distracted and his attention pulled elsewhere.

So when you disappeared, he goes looking for you.

Finds you huddled in the bathroom or a closet, hugging your knees to your chest, wheezing and hiccuping.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, what’s all this? No, don’t hide your face from me.”

He takes your hand as he sits beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into the solid warmth of his side.

“Squeeze my hand. Good girl/boy. Breathe with me. You’re all right. Everything is going to be fine, love. It’s okay.”

When you won’t stop apologizing, he doesn’t snap at you to stop it. He doesn’t lose his patience for repeatedly reminding you that it’s not your fault and you have nothing to apologize for.

At first, he’ll brush a kiss to your temple, his breath warm, his beard scratchy.

“We’ll work through it together, yeah?”

And if you continue to babble apologies, he’ll grasp your chin with a firm but gentle hand and he’ll tilt your head to look him in the eye.

“Enough of that now, love,” he says, his voice soft but his tone indicating it wasn’t up for debate. “You’re not a burden. You’re not broken. And this doesn’t change a damn thing about the way I feel toward you.”

When you start spiraling down a what if rabbit hole, catastrophizing, John will use that same soft, commanding tone to bring you back to the present. He won’t coddle you but he won’t berate you either. He knows the best way for you to manage your anxiety is confronting and changing your thought patterns on your own so you feel empowered to do it again the next time it happens.

But he will ALWAYS make sure that you don’t feel abandoned, that you know you have his support.

When he physically can’t be there, especially when he’s wrapped up in a mission, he leaves you a letter or a notebook “for emergencies” so that you still have his words with you even if he can’t be present with you right now.

When your thoughts are keeping you awake and your brain won’t calm down, John will roll over, drape the weight of his arm around your middle, and mumble tired words into your neck with a voice rough from sleep.

“Don’t think about that, love. Think about the first time I kissed you. Do you remember how tongue-tied you were? You were so bloody shy, it was adorable.”

When you tell him about something you were struggling with - like fighting off anxiety at work, or going into a new place by yourself even though you were scared to death - this man’s face gets SO SOFT FOR YOU. A warm smile spreads across his face and he envelopes you in a hug, kissing the top of your head as he whispers that he’s so fucking proud of you, love.

If you take medication for your anxiety, he’ll make sure you have a little dish for your pills at every meal so you don’t take them on an empty stomach and you start your day off right.

If you don’t take medication but you use other methods to cope, i.e. yoga, meditation, etc., he’ll make sure your space is comfortable, safe, and clean. Asks if you have yoga/meditation on your schedule today.

If you have a particularly bad day and all your progress feels like you’ve taken ten giant steps back, John won’t bat an eye. And he won’t pressure you to “get over it”.

He’ll order your food for you as soon as you give the signal.

He’ll cover for you seamlessly at parties when you need to excuse yourself early.

He’ll make that call you’ve been dreading for ages.

But John also recognizes when you need to face those things on your own, too. He can tell when you’re just not up for it because you’re exhausted and your headspace is Not Great.

He also knows you well enough to recognize when you could tackle the issue but you’re simply trying to avoid it. That’s when he’ll push you, because he fully believes in you, even if you don’t believe in yourself.

If you’re the type to get anxious about the news, or triggering topics in movies/tv shows/etc, he’ll gladly shift the conversation away from the news and onto more pleasant topics. And he’ll vet movies and tv shows beforehand, warning you exactly where triggers might be and offering alternatives if you’d prefer something else instead.

Sometimes, you get into a really bad headspace. You question why John tolerates all the work you put him through in this relationship. You question why a man like him in a high stress, violent, dangerous job would ever want to be around someone like you who struggles to make a phone call without freaking out.

John will turn his FULL attention on you in moments like that. Everything comes to a stop.

He takes your arms and loops them around his waist so you hold onto him like an anchor.

Then he cups your face in his hands as he looks at you.

And he reminds you that you are not your anxiety. It’s a symptom, a physical response, like a hiccup. He loves the person that you are, your kind heart and your laugh and your sense of humor.

He will gladly do the work required to keep you in his life because he thinks you’re worth it. It’s not your fault that you feel this way, and he sees how hard you try to manage it.

He doesn’t regret a moment of your relationship, even when your anxiety wakes him up, or when he has to repeat himself a dozen times because no, honey, I swear, I’m not mad at you.

John sees glimpses of confidence in you when you feel empowered and supported. He sees you grow stronger through his patience with you. That’s why he believes you’re worth the “hassle” as you call it. You’re not a hassle to him.

He compares it to managing his team - when any of them doubt themselves, it’s because they don’t feel supported, it’s because they feel like their team members don’t believe in them. His team thrives on hard won trust, mutual respect, and the psychological safety that comes with knowing someone has their back when things get ugly.

That’s what he wants to be for you.

“What if you get tired of me?” you whisper.

He shakes his head. “You know I’m too stubborn for that, love. I don’t give up easy.”

No matter what private war zone you have going on in your head, John is a fighter and he’ll always forge through the chaos to fight alongside you.

Masterlist

[suguruspit]

Thinking about AFAB and gender neutral reader with Ino Takuma, letting him worship their body and praise them

Ohhh praise kink goes hard especially with ino!! I have so many thoughts

cw; fingering, oral (reader and Ino), French kissing, grinding, dry humping, public sex (you don't get caught!), talking you through, coming untouched

Ino Takuma who will lay down on the bed with you, whispering sweet praises into your ear as he plays with you, hand moving slowly and teasing over where you're most sensitive. Groaning when you make little sounds that drive him crazy, rutting into the air as he toys with you.

"So wet, fuck baby." He whispers into your ear, hand going a little faster but he can't help it - it affects him as much as it does you. Even though you're the one being touched, he's making little ah ah ah's when you start to get vocal.

Ino Takuma who runs his hands up and down your soft torso as he makes out with you, sloppy tongue and clashing teeth as you giggle into each others mouths, him making little comments about how perfect you are, made for him, and he's just lucky. Anytime that he can get his hands on you he will, even if it's when you're at the club, in an alley, in his car, anywhere. He's obsessed with you, how soft your body is, how responsive you are.

Ino Takuma groaning as he pushes two long fingers into you, burying his head into your chest as he starts whining in tandem with you;

"Fuck, so wet baby so tight," He whimpers, practically humping the bed as fingers you, slowly adding a third finger after scissoring the two for a couple of minutes. You feel yourself gush slightly just at the change of pace and he's moaning again. "Fuck. You're so good, my good baby, huh? Fucking think about this all day, want you all the time."

"Takuma-" You stutter out, the heat of it all just too much, everything he's saying going straight to your core. You're so sensitive, hormones really working for you in that department. "I-"

"Make a mess on me," Ino nods, doubling his efforts, using his thumb to draw quick little circles on your dick as you choke on your own moans. "God, you're doing so good. Let go for me, shit please, let me have it, yeah?"

You grunt as you come, no energy left in you to vocalise as you come all over him, you wetness hitting all the way up to his elbow as he whines and gasps into your mouth as he kisses you, coming untouched just from pleasing you.

Ino Takuma who loves dry humping, especially if you're both still in boxers and making a mess of yourselves. Lowering his hips so that his dick catches against yours, strong arms framing you as his brown hair tickles your nose, heavy pants bleeding into his kisses as he devours you, thanking you endlessly as you lie there and let him go at it.

"Fuck, thank you baby, so fucking perfect like this." Takuma whines, he's just as responsive as you as he grinds down against you. He hasn't even got undressed properly, his jeans around his ankles as the chains on them brush coldly against your leg. "Always so perfect, the way you feel, fuck. I could slip inside like this, y'know?"

You whine into his mouth as you twitch underneath him, and he definitely feels it, raking a hand down to push down on your chest for leverage as he starts to come, hot come spilling in his boxers as you feel it wet against you, triggering your own orgasm as you slick the both of you.

"So good, my perfect baby." He pants as he kisses your lips softly, brown eyes full of adoration.

Ino Takuma takes any and all opportunities to go down on you, always scrambling with your belt when you just nod as his request, swearing with how giddy he is, kissing all down your torso and hips as he sinks to his knees, pressing you against the alleyway wall.

Fifteen minutes of grinding in the club and he's straining against his jeans, stumbling and pushing you desperately into the nearest dark alley, pressing desperate kisses to wherever he can.

When he finally gets his mouth on you, suckling and spitting nastily you don't know who's being more vocal. He's moaning like a whore as he sucks you off, your hand tugging light brown locks as your eyes roll back and your head hits the brick wall with a distant thud.

You push down onto his head as you grind your hips into his mouth, rolling them as you fuck his face in public, your slick already on his chin and nose as he eats noisly, shaking his head when you try to pull him off with a warning - you know how messy you get when you're drunk.

When you come, hand against your mouth as you cry out, you can feel how wet and explosive it is, absolutely drenching him. You shake as he pulls off, but he doesn't give you a chance to recover as he kisses you roughly, licking into your mouth and groaning when you say you can taste yourself.

Palming him through his jeans not once, but twice, and he's twitching and coming practically untouched.

"Fuck, so fucking good, ngh." He breathes into your mouth, hips still pushing into your touch as he rides his orgasm out. "You always know what I need, you always got me."

Ino Takuma who gets off on overstimulation, looking up at you through hooded eyes as he swirls his tongue over you, licking and slurping and making such a mess - you're already three orgasms in, and you're bordering on painful overstimulation as he continues to get any taste of you he can.

"One more, okay?" He begs you, slipping two fingers into you and curling them up as he sucks gently, groaning as you cry out. It's all so much, too much, but your orgasm is rapidly approaching. "Fuck yeah, honey. One more, fucking use me, want to see you come baby please."

Who are you to deny him?

You keen and your body arches off the bed as you come, waves of it crashing over you and almost knocking you out as your vision goes white, your boyfriend helping you through it as he comes in his boxers for the second time that night.

"Good boy." You mutter, patting his sweaty hair and biting your lip at the sight of his fucked-out expression.

"One more?"

You never can say no, not when he takes care of you so well.

[cantstoptheimagines]

Attachments (Jamie Tartt | Ted Lasso)

Summary — When it came to having a one-night stand with Jamie, you expected to be nothing more than an additional notch on his belt. Unbeknownst to you, he had other plans. 

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Walnut Mist Jamie; coworkers to lovers; a touch of idiots in love (mostly on the Reader’s part); friendly teasing from the Diamond Dogs; references to sex, but no actual smut.

Notes ➳ Word Count is 1,038. ➳ Reader is gender neutral (they/them).

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You weren’t entirely sure what to do.

The way Jamie’s hand slowly traveled over your lower back sent butterflies throughout your stomach. You had woken up to find yourself wrapped in his soft linen sheets, limbs tangled up in his blanket with your face squished against a pillow.

Lying on your stomach, you admired him with a tired gaze. He was on his back next to you, eyes closed and blissfully unaware that you were no longer asleep. One hand rested on his stomach while the other continued creating patterns against your bare skin.

The gentle feeling nearly lulled you back to sleep. Jamie’s scent was overwhelming your thoughts. His bedding smelled of his favorite cologne. If it hadn’t been for his alarm, you would’ve felt as though you were drifting into a second heaven. 

You quickly closed your eyes, not ready for the conversation Jamie might want to have about the previous night. Next to you, he turned off his alarm and let out a deep groan. You could hear every movement he made, thinking you were still dreaming peacefully without a care in the world.

He shifted closer until you could feel his skin against yours. His warmth surrounded you in an instant. He hovered over you with an arm on either side, balancing on his elbows. His chest was almost flush against your back. It took everything within you to not let out a surprised squeal. 

His lips gently grazed your forehead, then your temple, then your cheek in a series of sweet kisses. He nosed at your skin before taking in the scent of your shampoo. You could feel him smile against your cheek before another kiss was layered there.

His affections traveled to your shoulders. He pushed himself closer. You tried not to smile at the feeling of him. His lips left a warm trail of open-mouthed kisses from your left shoulder to the right. 

Finally, after one last kiss landed against your back, Jamie shifted away from you. The blankets rustled and, without him, you suddenly felt cold.

Opening your eyes once again, you admired the way the muscles in his back flexed with every tired stretch as he made his way to the bathroom. Moments later, the sound of water falling from the showerhead echoed through the open door. 

With the knowledge that Jamie wouldn’t be back for at least a few minutes, you reluctantly shuffled out his bed. Within moments, your clothes were on and you were disappearing without so much as a goodbye. 

You were busy sorting through some papers for Ted when Jamie slipped into your office. In an instant, you regretted choosing the workspace that was connected to that of the main coaches’, mostly due to the glass windows that allowed them to see everything. 

As Jamie closed the door behind him, you could see several of your colleagues looking at one another curiously. It was the worst time for them to be having one of their Diamond Dog meetings. Not only would you be questioned by Ted and Beard, but potentially by Roy, Trent, and Higgins as well.

“Hey.”

Your eyes fluttered from your nosy coworkers to Jamie. He offered a bright smile, pushing back his hair with a black sports headband. He had already changed into his kit for practice. You leaned back against the front of your desk, waiting for him to carry the conversation.

“Missed you this morning,” he said, “wanted to tell ya goodbye. I was gonna make breakfast too, but you’d already gone, so...”

His voice trailed off, unsure of what else he should say. Your suddenly quiet demeanor was throwing him off. He thought about everything he could’ve done to make you upset, but came up empty-handed. 

“I had to go home and get ready for work,” you replied, shrugging nonchalantly.

“Oh,” he nodded understandingly. “Well then, how about tonight? I’ll take ya out for dinner to make it up, alright?” 

You blinked in surprise, “Jamie, you don’t have to do that. I mean, what we did last night was just a one-time thing.” 

“It was?” 

Within seconds, Jamie looked like a puppy who had just gotten treats taken away. His eyes dimmed and his smile fell, “I see.” 

“Wasn’t it?” 

Jamie shrugged. Your office had gone silent, save for the sounds of his boots shuffling awkwardly against the carpet. Through the glass, you could see Ted’s eyes going between the two of you. 

“Don’t know,” muttered Jamie, finally breaking the long silence. “I haven’t been with anyone in a while. I kinda stopped all that one-night stand stuff, I guess.”

“Really?” you breathed, taken aback by his admission. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, hands fiddling with the hem of his jersey. “Look, I really like ya, but if this isn’t something—” 

Panic built up within your chest. You hadn’t expected his desire to see you outside of his bedroom. Before he could break things off, you cut him off, “Pick me up tonight. We can go to Ola’s.” 

His expression returned to its brighter self, “You’re serious?” 

Heat rose beneath your skin when he grinned after receiving a nod in response. Quick as ever, Jamie moved closer. His proximity almost made you forget about the watchful eyes of the Diamond Dogs.

Once he was close enough, Jamie placed his hands on your cheeks. You could feel his smile against your skin as he leaned in to gently kiss your forehead. After giving you a tight hug as well, Jamie left your office with a skip in his step, leaving the door open as he returned to the locker room. 

“So...”

You met the stares and poorly hidden grins of your colleagues, aside from Roy, of course. Ted, as usual, was the one who had spoken up first. He bounced excitedly in his seat.

With a teasing tone, Ted completed his thought, “You and Jamie, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip in an effort to conceal a smile. Each of them began pursing their lips, dramatically kissing the air. This time, much to your surprise, Roy joined in. You scoffed at their antics, wondering what exactly you had gotten yourself into by agreeing to a date with Richmond’s star striker.