#m so Greasy
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deep frying you
hhouhgh
ough
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November 3rd, 2020 ; GQ: How virtual racing helped George Russell during lockdown
#george russell#*m#q#20#:')...#(the capuccino and the sleeping ring and the greasy burger and-)#(..... this man will look at sleeping and still see a challenge. he is a lil insane ok.)#(but honestly im so glad that he could reach out and fix it with a professional's help. i certainly know what he is talking about)#(*gollum voice* now lemme see the ring)
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Am I tweaking or does Dustin have a mullet? Like more of a mullet than he had last season.
unfortunately ur right it does look like a mullet and i actually hate it
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:/
#woke uo at 5pm had nothing to eat spent a whole hour making plain pasta which i burnt#burnt the pan too#im still hungry i have nothing to eat i will have to order again and i hate ordering#i have an exam tomorrow at 9 am which i will fail but i have to study for it regardless and i cant do it#its so humid i havent showered and i probably stink and my hair is greasy#m
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mate I was raised on M*A*S*H, a show specifically designed to intentionally hurt the characters and the audience in every way possible, every fucking week, for over a decade. I'm not scared of a crisp. (Actually I hate potato crisps entirely, but my point stands)
salt & vinegar chips are snacks for fucking masochists. literally the entire flavour of the goddamn chip is “acetic acid, which will hurt your tongue, and then just salt on top of that to hurt it worse”. it’s brutal. this chip is designed to hurt you
#M*A*S*H#potato crisps#why do people even eat crisps they're so slimy and greasy and gross#mash writers definitely set out to hurt the audience as much as possible
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just finished reading rgu. i'm gonna say smth controversial. i didn't like it
#SORRY#it was too hard to get through#too many greasy guys and i felt like the plot was subpar#but also my attention span is so short nowadays#i heard the anime had a diff story tho so maybe it's better than the manga#m
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Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett
this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!
summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?
warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking
taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉
The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.
But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.
Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.
But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.
Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,
“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”
Fun right?
And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.
Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.
“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.
Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.
Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”
“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.
It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.
The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.
“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”
You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.
Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.
But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.
As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.
"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.
"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.
Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.
But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.
Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”
The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.
Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.
All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.
You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.
Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.
Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”
Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.
Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.
In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.
Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”
You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.
Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.
“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.
“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.
“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.
“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”
The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.
Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.
The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.
Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.
He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.
But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.
The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.
Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.
Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.
But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.
After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.
As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.
Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.
Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.
You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.
The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.
“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.
You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.
Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.
You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.
Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.
He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.
“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.
Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.
“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.
“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.
Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”
With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.
You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.
As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.
“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.
"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"
Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"
You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."
Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."
Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.
The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.
Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.
You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.
You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.
"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."
Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.
Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.
You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.
"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.
"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.
"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.
"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.
Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.
Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.
You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.
"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."
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#Malavera#Logan and peach#Logan howlett smut#logan howlett#wolverine#wolverine smut#logan howlett x femalereader#logan howlett x you#logan x reader#logan howlett x reader#logan james howlett#james howlett#xmen wolverine#hugh jackman#hugh jackman smut
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Mechanic Sukuna purposely lies about your car so he can see you again.
Notes: not proofread, fem!reader
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Sweaty, grimy, and greasy. Three adjectives you’d use to describe the local repair shop. It was always filled with muscled men who always seemed to have a permanent scowl on their face, intimidating anyone who wanted help with their vehicle.
Which is why you always sent your (only) male friend there to order any kind of complicated repair work on your behalf. As a woman, you did not want to be subject to all the scrutinizing stares and intentionally inflated prices for services that would otherwise be cheap or free of charge.
Your car was your baby. A haven if you will. It was much better to take naps in there rather than sit and do homework in the library during the long gaps in your class schedule. It was the best to use in the late months of spring, with the AC blowing right in your face as you dreamt about sleeping on an iceberg.
But alas, it also had to break down when the heat was at its highest and your friend had gone on a trip with his partner.
You were now conditioned to go to the place you dreaded most. You got rid of all your pretty accessories stuck and dangling off of different parts of your car. You were not going to be a victim of chauvinism. Especially not by mechanics- it just hurts more with them of all people.
As expected, all eyes were on you (mainly because you were the only girl in the shop and you looked like you had seen a ghost). All the men there looked like they belonged to a gang- brutish, crass words slipping out of their mouths like it was nothing, grease all over their faces, and regular safety uniforms altered to show off their muscle tank tops.
Your eyes just shifted around the place. You weren’t even sure how the system worked. Were you supposed to walk over to them or did they just come to you? Did you have to get an appointment before arriving like it was a doctors office or-
“I recognize that dump.”
You turned to see who in their right mind had to say that about your ass. You hadn’t been hit on a lot in your life, but you knew how to differentiate between flattery and sexual harassment. The other men were quick to go back to their tasks, not wanting to watch your reaction.
“Excuse me?” You squeaked out with as much anger in your voice as possible (you were more like a yipping Pomeranian).
The pink haired man in front of you looked like the definition of bad news. Stark black tattoos against his pale skin, burn and cut scars all over his arms, and his pink hair was pulled back by a black bandana. With the way him and the other men looked, it seemed like all mechanics had to do a course in ‘Intimidation 101: how to look like a convict.’
“Talkin’ ‘bout your car, sweetheart. Some guy is always comin’ in here with that thing.”
Sweetheart. Passive aggressive prick
“Oh, I’m sorry. That guy’s my friend. This is actually my car and the AC is just not working properly. I think it’s broken.”
You watched as he walked over to your car and examined the interior. “Flaps are fine. I think we might have to open it up and take a good look inside. Might even have to replace the thing.”
He noticed your shifty gaze, probably worried about how much you were going to have to pay for the whole thing. Adorable.
“I know a guy who gives discounts for it. You a college student?” His unnaturally handsome face looks concerned for you. You weren’t expecting it but you welcomed it. With caution of course. You nodded meekly while looking at him. Maybe mechanics weren’t scammy towards women after all.
He clapped his hands and grinned, sharp canines visible in all their glory. The man looked like the human version of a tiger. “Then it’s basically free. Don’t worry about the cost. You can leave your car here. Want me to call an uber for ya?”
He noticed the not-so-discreet glances from his coworkers but kept his eyes trained on your wimpish face.
“I’m alright. Um, thank you. Do I have to leave my number or do you guys have that on file?”
“We do have a number but I’m guessing that belongs to your friend cause he’s always the one to come here and pick your car up after service.”
“You’re right. I think I might have to give mine.”
As stupid as it sounds, he wanted to do a cartwheel, it’s like everything was falling into place. Cute girl with car problems, no boyfriend (as far as he knows), and he gets her number.
He was going to get a celebratory beer after work.
His colleagues could see the pep in his step but didn’t bother to say anything knowing that you were still there- even if you looked like your mind wasn’t present.
He returned with a clipboard and bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from scaring you with his beaming smile.
“I’m Sukuna by the way.” He smirked as he noticed the deep blush on your cheeks. You stammered out your name to him and he swore that he could almost envision it on an elegant white card a few years from now.
“See you soon,” he said before walking away with a new air of confidence around his gait.
After you left, his friend, Toji, abandoned the car he was working on to follow Sukuna to the office. “There’s no way in hell you know someone who can install a new AC for free. I paid hundreds to fix mine.” Sukuna didn’t even look at his friend while he was talking. He just kept staring at you through the window while you were getting into your cab.
“There’s nothing wrong with her AC. She just needed to clean the filters.”
__
New serie- who said that? 👁️👄👁️
#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#sukuna ryomen x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#ryomen sukuna smut#jjk sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#jujutsu sukuna#sukuna ryomen#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna#ryomen sukuna x you#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#jjk ryomen#ryomen x reader#jujutsu kaisen ryomen#ryomen x you#jujutsu ryomen#ryomen fluff#jjk au#jujutsu kaisen toji
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I know people normally brand Wade as The Funny One, but can we talk about how they'd be as a comedic duo? While flirting? While fighting?
People oftentimes tend to stereotype Logan as The Straight Man, the guy who keeps a serious face no matter what. And while sometimes that can be true, if you look at his characterization in the movies and comics, that isn't always the case. I think that because his humor is more subtle and down-to-earth than Wade's they tend to overlook it entirely.
Wade's humor is more obnoxious and in-your-face. He uses a cheerful, dramatic tone to cue you in that he's trying to be funny. He makes pop culture references and rambles on and makes constant, non-stop commentary. He's meant to be entertaining and funny because it's his brand to be insane and nonchalant even in the face of danger.
Logan, on the other hand, has this very blunt, sarcastic humor. The type that requires you to think a second to get it. He'd make little quips and jabs, but either with a straight face or barely there grin, so it's harder to tell he's joking. His tone of voice is more deep and gruff, which we don't typically associate with being humorous, but he does tease enemies and joke and throw their lines back in his face and goad them.
These two together would drive everyone up the wall.
Everyone (the X-men, the enemies, Wade's friends) assumed that their interactions would be Wade making crude, obnoxious jokes and Logan telling him to shut up or acting annoyed but... that doesn't happen? Instead, Logan quietly laughs at Wade's antics or, even more shockingly, joins in.
Logan gets Wade's humor—relishes in it, even. He would find Wade funny when he makes stupid jokes at all the wrong times because he does it too but nobody pays attention because it flies over their head or he's too intimidating for them to really register his words.
(The only reason Logan was more serious in the movie was that he was a grieving, broken man who thought he was responsible for the deaths of his family. He felt completely alone. And yet, even then, he played along to some extent with Wade's jokes and acted baffled rather than genuinely annoyed unless it was a super inappropriate moment. And you could tell he found Wade funny and liked him talking by the end of the movie.)
These two would be sitting across the table and Wade would make some stupid joke and Logan would add onto it, straight-faced.
Wade would gasp and clutch his chest dramatically at someone taking the Ketchup from him before he was done and whine, "How could you!? The betrayal! I thought I could trust you, this is a crime of the highest degree! I should have you canceled on Twitter for the atrocities you just committed."
And Logan would shake his head, stoicly, and reply, "It isn't cool to steal, man. It feels good in the moment but you hurt other people."
And everyone would sit there like what the fuck? Did Logan just... play along with Wade?
(Logan was biting his cheek to not grin at their confused faces and Wade was practically cackling to himself.)
It'd be even funnier when they're fighting villains together.
"Watch out, babygirl! Daddy's going to save you!" Deadpool would scream, as he lunges in to stab the enemy as they have Logan pinned to the ground.
"Well, 'Daddy' needs to do a better fucking job at it," Logan would grunt as he threw the guy off himself.
Logan would be snarky, because that's his personality and sense of humor, but he'd play along. He'd commit to the bit so hard that the enemies would stop attacking for a second just to look at each other like, "Are you seeing this???"
"Wolvie, what did I tell you about your greasy tits? If you wanted to be a prostitute you could at least tell me so we could start an Onlyfans and monetize it," Wade would say after Logan's shirt got shredded in a fight.
"I'm not giving you a fucking cent of my Onlyfans money," Logan would grunt as he continues fighting.
"That's unfair! I'd be the best photographer out there, you need to pay me my fair share! This is a worker's rights violation!"
"Yeah, well, I'm the pornstar. I'm the one doing all the heavy lifting, you aren't entitled to shit."
And everyone would be like???? Did The Wolverine have an Onlyfans? Since when? And where could they find it—
It'd be funny to see them tear down the self-esteem of a villain together as they fought them.
"You look like Simon Cowell got dipped in a vat of acid and then grew out a mullet and got it cut by a 5-year-old on America's Got Talent just because their mom died of cancer," Wade would laugh and point at their appearance.
"That's being generous. At least Simon Cowell was attractive. More like a fucking muppet," Logan would add on.
And then they'd fight over whose interpretation was correct while the villain just stood there and took out a mirror to look at themselves because?? They didn't think it was that bad?? (It was.)
It'd actually give them the edge in fights because they'd baffle the villains so much. They'd either make them pissed off at not being taken seriously and therefore more sloppy, or just make them insanely self-conscious. Win-win.
Eventually, word on the street got around that Wolverine and Deadpool were a brutal duo. Verbally. There'd be villains telling stories about how they were disrespected and maybe an emotional support club "Fought Deadpool and Wolverine and survived on the outside but died on the inside."
They'd be a peak comedy duo that would become notorious for their chemistry (both in their fighting style and commentary).
#deadclaws#deadpool 3#deadpool and wolverine#deadpool movie#logan howlett#poolverine#wade wilson#wade x logan#wade/logan#fluff#crack#kitkat
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write something guy wrenchingly sad about how rafe’s dad treats him and he calls you in the middle of the night to comfort him. he ends up coming to your house or you go over to tanneyhill to be with him :)
this is so s1 rafe coded🥺my poor deprived baby😔
₊♡₊˚ 🎀・₊✧
its 2am when your phone buzzes, waking you up from a deep sleep. rafes name flashes across your phone, sending you into alarm. worry courses through your veins making you sit upright in shock, quickly pressing answer.
his ragged breaths are the first thing you hear as you pick up, his sobs echoing down the phone. “hey-hey baby, rafe, whats going on? are you okay?” you ask, hurriedly.
he sniffles “m-my dad.. we g-got into a huge fight and i-i don’t know wh-what to do.” you can sense his tension through the phone. rafe was never good and expressing his emotions, he preferred showing himself through actions rather than words. so him calling you at this hour and actually telling you what was wrong, you knew it had to be serious.
“oh my sweet boy, why don’t you come over? or i can come and pick you up? just stay calm for me baby, can you do that for me?” you soothe. which appears to calm him slightly as his breaths begin to slow.
“uh, yeah, yeah i-i can do that. i’ll drive, don’t w-want you leaving the house alone this late at night.” running his fingers through his greasy locks, shaking his head at how stupid he feels, crying. especially in-front of you, to you. and even though he’s in no state to drive, you know better than to argue with him on this, his innate need to protect you still shining through even in his most vulnerable moments.
“okay rafe…i’ll see you soon, drive safe for me baby.”
within 10 minutes you hear a knock at your door, you race downstairs unlocking the door in a hurry, the sight is anything but pleasant.
rafes nose is bust, dry blood caked around his mouth, a clear indication that the fight with his dad was anything but civilised. and this wasn’t the first time either. his tears staining his cheeks and his face flustered, a light shade of pink, his hair sticking to his forehead and his arms shaking as he looks down at you in embarrassment.
“oh, sweetheart.” you whisper gently, pulling him inside and into a hug, slowly he wraps his arms around your waist as his sobs begin to deepen, his heart rate increasing rapidly as his body racks with his cries. he leans down, burrying his face into your neck, sniffling so he doesn’t end up leaving snot all in your hair- not that you care, him being your main priority.
“you wanna’ talk about it?” you coax, your voice soft. he shakes his head, his grip on your waist tightening. you lift your hand, intertwining your fingers in his locks, stroking his head gently, soothing his desperate cries.
“that’s okay, your okay. let it all out…my sweet baby, i’m here for you. and i always will be, you know that right? i’m never leaving you, no matter what. we always stick together, you hear me, baby boy? always.”
#anon#rafe cameron#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron fic#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron angst
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⋆.˚ i spy with my little eye — l.mk
this is an 18+ work. mdni secret agent! mark x secret agent! reader warnings: death + murder, guns, knives (not used between each other) contains: oral (f receiving, mentioned m receiving), safe sex, piv, mentioned fingering, tease! mark word count: 2376
assignments like this one were always the most irritating. shoved into a tight gown, too much skin visible to any of the rich douchebags surrounding you. a knife pressing against your thigh where it’s tucked into a garter belt discreetly. an earpiece hidden by the over-the-top updo drowned in gallons of hairspray. the sickening sweet scent of perfume lingering on your skin to appeal to the prey.
the only consolation was knowing your agency wasn’t the only one with commissions for tonight. with this many wealthy men and women in one place, there had to be other targets beyond your own. though, you couldn’t help but hope that meant you’d see who you were really watching for.
that’s how these things always went. you kept an eye on the pig you were assigned to dispose of, and another on the man who erased their touches with his tongue and teeth.
it didn’t take long. you spotted the target before finishing your first glass of wine. so much for a pleasant conversation before enduring the leering glances and clumsy flirting from someone old enough to be your father.
time to play the game. with a final sip of wine and a subtle adjustment to your dress, you moved toward him. a smirk curled your lips as you approached, feigning a stumble to fall into his arms. his annoyance at first contact quickly melted into intrigue as he took in your fluttering lashes and too-innocent expression. you were in.
too many lingering touches, too many thinly veiled innuendos, and far too many explicit remarks later, he was convinced to “find somewhere more private.” by now, the powder slipped into his drink should have started working. his movements slowed, his steps unsteady as the two of you entered a private room.
the door shut behind you two. a hand slid to your waist, and then up, up, up. he didn’t hesitate to cop a feel before pressing his greasy hand firmly against your mouth. you felt the cold press of a gun barrel to your temple.
“pretty young things like you only approach me for two reasons.” he hissed.
he cocked the gun.
“you either want me dead, or you want to be spoiled.”
“judging by this little thing…” he used the gun to push your hair behind your ear, tap, tap, tapping on the earpiece previously hidden beneath it. his voice lowered to a whisper. “you’re here for the first one.”
it wasn’t the first time a target had figured you out. honestly, it was refreshing that he realized attractive women don’t usually flock to men like him. not that it made him any less deserving of a bullet.
he didn’t get the chance to finish you. with a quick twist and a knee to the groin, the gun was yours, and he was on the floor. now, it was your turn to press the barrel to his forehead.
“you’re smarter than you look,” you sneered. “still slow, though. that wine wasn’t just alcohol, y’know?”
his grin was sharp, defiant. his hand shot up your dress, pulling your knife from its hiding spot and plunging it into your thigh before you could dodge. instinct made you pull the trigger.
the gunshot echoed, his blood painting your dress a deep burgundy. pain shot through your leg, the knife buried deep in the muscle. with an easy press to your earpiece, and a murmured “it’s done” you disconnected it and took a deep breath. you had had enough of people barking demands in your ear all night.
suddenly, the doorknob rattled. you raised the gun, limping toward the door. it opened, and a figure entered swiftly.
before they could react, you had them pressed against the wall, the gun at their temple, your arm pressing against their throat as blood dripped to the floor.
“jesus. i check to see if you’re alive and i get jumped!?” they rasped, hands scrambling to pull at your arm.
you stepped back immediately, recognition hitting you like a slap to the face.
“mark?”
his laughter filled the room as you pulled him into a hug.
“holy shit, mark. you scared the shit out of me. i thought i was about to get found out.”
his arms wrapped around your waist and squeezed you against him. you winced at the pressure it put on your thigh. mark pushed you back immediately, dropping to his knees and pulling your dress to the side from the slit in the long fabric.
“my god, you have an entire fucking knife in your leg! and you were still trying to put a bullet in my head?”
you had to say, the sight of him between your legs like that might have been doing something to your body, especially when his stern gaze met yours, making you inhale a sharp gasp. something in you tightened.
a disbelieved laugh echoed through the silent room. “no way you’re turned on right now. there’s a dead guy less than 2 feet from us and there’s a dagger sticking out of you. absolutely nothing is happening until you aren’t actively bleeding on the floor.”
you grumbled as he stood and lifted you into his arms easily, stepping over the corpse as he carried you further into the room, to the bed.
“y’know,” you said with a smirk, “you just said nothing’s happening, and now you’re carrying me to the bed. mixed signals, mark.”
he rolled his eyes as he gently laid you onto the plush sheets of a hotel bed too luxurious to be familiar with the stain of red seeping into it.
the moment you opened your mouth to continue your teasing, mark decided to tug the dagger out of your leg, eliciting a loud groan of pain. somehow he had found a first aid kit. how, you’re not sure, but mark always had a trick or two up his sleeve. obviously, being in this field had caused both of you to pick up some life-saving medical tricks. his hands moved with practiced efficiency, stitching and wrapping the wound with care.
“all done,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to the bandages.
your fingers tangled in his hair as fire lit in your eyes.
“you sure nothing’s happening?” you murmured, voice low and teasing.
mark sighed, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “you’re impossible.”
“you’re already down there… might as well finish what you started.”
you didn’t miss the way mark’s eyes fell to the thin piece of fabric separating himself from your core. when he met your eyes again, there was heat in his gaze. a subtle nod from you, and he was sliding your underwear down your legs, throwing the garment somewhere onto the hotel floor.
he dove into you with an eagerness you were not prepared for, grip on his hair tightening as a whine slid out from between your lips. his tongue moved expertly, pressing every button he could to work you up. his arms adjusted to wrap around your thighs (careful to avoid pressing on your wound), effectively pinning you down. all of your squirming and hair pulling was futile as mark dove deeper and held you tight against his mouth.
your whimpers were increasing in frequency, hands tugging hard on his hair as you desperately tried to pull him away from his place between your thighs.
“mark— mark, wait.” you gasped. “mark— need you… inside. please”
just when your orgasm was about to crash into you, he pulled himself away, adjusting to kiss up and down your thighs instead. your whine, of relief and of annoyance at your denied pleasure, filled the room as he continued to happily mark up your inner thighs, your hands still attempting to pull him upwards and get a move on.
that was one thing about you and mark that was different. he preferred to take his time. he liked to take you apart, piece by piece. cover the touches of your targets with touches of his own. make your body forget that it had ever been defiled by anyone other than mark himself. you, though, were impatient. you hated begging for what you wanted. you preferred to get what you need without much trouble.
something about the way mark forced you to be patient, though, was undeniably attractive. working you up until all you could think about was him, and then giving you an orgasm satisfying enough to last until the next time a mission overlapped. you couldn’t help yourself from craving him 24/7, though, despite the fact that it would never be possible to pursue a relationship given your careers. for now, these spontaneous rendezvous were enough for you.
with one final tug, after what felt like hours, mark relented and allowed himself to be pulled up your body. your lips finally met for the first time that night, your own taste lingering on his tongue.
“get inside of me. now.” you pulled him down further to whisper in his ear, delighting in the groan it earned from him.
“condom?” you sighed and reached into your bra, pulling the condom you had stashed there out and handing it to mark. the placement brought another smile of disbelief to his face, shaking his head as he unzipped his dress pants.
you hadn’t really had the time to appreciate it fully, but he looked good in a suit. you let your eyes drag up and down his body, gaze lingering on his now exposed dick as he rolled the condom on smoothly.
“ready?” you snapped your eyes up to his, meeting the smug expression on his face with a roll of your eyes.
“mark, if you don’t get inside of me right now, i might grab that gun and put a bullet in your leg.” his laughter echoed as he busied himself with lining himself up to your entrance.
he slid in smoothly, bottoming out with twin groans escaping both of your mouths. this part was always surprising to you. every time you saw each other again, it felt like he had gotten bigger. pressing deep into every part of you. he barely had to angle himself to hit all of the spots that elicited loud moans from you.
his movements began slow, his kisses traveling down the side of your neck and over the exposed parts of your cleavage. he had always liked leaving marks on you, painting you in shades of purple and red that he scanned your body for even when it had been months since you had last seen him. his kisses turned sharper, teeth infiltrating and pulling on your skin, as he picked up his pace. your hands clawed down his clothed back, one sliding up to wrap into his hair and pull him back up to meet your lips. with the moans you were letting out, and the grin on mark’s face, there wasn’t much actual kissing happening.
“you look really good covered in blood, by the way.” he gasped out against your lips, reminding you of the blood that had splattered over your entire body when you had shot the man still lying in the hotel room earlier.
stunned laughter sounded from your lips, morphing into a strained moan when one of mark’s hands slid down to press against your clit, the other arm working to hold himself up.
it didn’t take long for you to get close. his tenderness as he treated your wound worked you up more than you would care to admit, and he worked you halfway to transcending into another dimension when he ate you out.
“mark— mark. i’m,” you subconsciously clenched down on him, hard, pulling a hiss from his lips. “i’m close. please.”
he doubled his efforts, shifting down so his lips were brushing your ear as he spoke.
“yeah? go ahead. cum for me, pretty.”
the raspiness of his voice, his steady thrusts into you, his fingers abusing your most sensitive spot, all of it worked to push you easily over the edge, whimpering his name as he shuddered with you, flooding the condom with his own release.
you panted against each other for a who knows how long, until mark pulled out and tied off the condom, throwing it into the trash can placed in the corner of the room. he pulled you up, ignoring your whines and complaints as he dragged you into the bathroom to wash up.
after a quick shower together, in which you got on your knees to repay the favor from earlier and mark thanked you by burying his fingers inside of you until your legs were so shaky he had to carry you out of the tub, you worked together to scrub at your bloodstained dress. you shot a message to your agency’s cleanup crew, providing them with a room number as you blow dried the expensive fabric of your dress. thankfully, most of the more noticeable splatters had been mostly washed out. the worst of it was on the torso.
mark handed you his jacket to wear over the dress, effectively hiding the evidence of your kill. you tried to be discreet when you inhaled his scent surrounding you, but you still heard mark bark out a laugh, shutting down any thoughts that you had succeeded at that.
this part was always the hardest. leaving the hotel room hand in hand, still bantering as you made your way to the lobby, where the party had mostly vacated by now. making excuses to stay together.
“i’ll treat you to a quick dinner” led to “let’s just have a quick smoke break” which ultimately faded into “i’ll call you a ride. let me wait with you so i know you make it safely.”
getting into the car was difficult, mark leaving you with lingering kisses and promises gently whispered into your ear.
it wasn’t until you made it home that you noticed it. casually reaching into your (mark’s) pocket, instinctively looking for your phone there (which was still sitting safely in your purse), you found a small slip of paper. a smile spread across your face as you took in the contents.
0802 127th street
if you ever get sick of rushed one-night stands, find me here :)
— mark
© susicheng .. please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work
mel yaps: this is my REAL 200 (now almost 300) follower special!! hope u all enjoy hehe.. fraktsiya mark has been clouding my brain for far too long i had to get it out of my system.
#: @f6llsun @i03jae @jeonghansshitester @holyhaech @chenlezip @mi1kteaa
#nct#nct x reader#nct dream#mark nct#mark x you#mark x reader#mark#mark lee#mark lee x you#mark lee nct#mark lee x reader#mark smut#mark lee smut#nct smut#nct fic#nct fanfic#nct 127#nct 127 smut#nct dream smut#🍡 susicheng
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v. retwist
a/n: boomshakalaka u give ekko a retwist n help him sweat it out after! sorry i have like 2 fluff fics and an angst fic lined up for him too. god knows if i'll post them tho
for the record, i don't rlly like (I HATE IT SO BAD HELP) this fic, but i saw a few people excited for it and i feel bad so 💔 come get ur dinner
christmas fic otw too maybe sumn with au claggor...
warnings/tags: lowercase intended, no use of y/n, no description of reader's physical features, fluff to smut, modern!ekko, implied black!reader (just a bit of aave lol), fem!reader, oral (reader and ekko receiving), hair pulling (minor but if you've gotten your hair pulled after a fresh retwist/braids...yk.), switchy reader and ekko, ekko's a munch 😕, whiny ekko, prolly a little ooc, this was written at night guys please cut me some slack
______________________________________________
"ow!"
"now you know that shit didn't hurt. stop moving."
"baby, i'm tenderheaded--oww!"
you scoff, your thighs pressing into the sides of ekko's head to keep him in place. every movement you made was met with a small wince, and every wince was met with a scoff and a roll of your eyes. his hands, littered with calloused scars, flew up to meet the meat of your thighs. the tips of his fingers sunk in, making small dips in your skin.
"you're dramatic. hold still, 'm almost done."
your fingers and wrists have been aching from the repeated motions made on the thick locs. the throbbing between your fingers didn't help, either. your legs cross over his shoulders, your ankles meeting at his sternum.
thoughts wandered, and your eyes eventually lost the thoughtful gleam in them as you zoned out in the soporific task of parting the last few locs.
part, gel, twist, clip. part, gel, twist, clip. part, gel, twist--ekkostopmoving--clip. part, gel, twist, clip.
eventually, you were done, and you stared down at the simple maze of white squares atop deep skin. "all done. that wasn't so bad, was it?"
ekko keens, touching his fingers to his raw scalp.
"mmh..."
you press a kiss to his temple, twisting open the greasy bottle of braiding foam and pumping it atop his head. a shaky exhale pushes through his nose upon the cooling sensation, his shoulders relaxing for the first time in four hours when your fingertips massage the mousse throughout his scalp.
your rigid thighs finally release his head from their grasp and you sit back on the bed. ekko excitedly propels himself off the ground and into the vanity, craning his neck down to inspect you work.
"wow, 's beautiful, firefly. thank you."
"mmhm, i know. you're welcome. your girl comes in to save the day, yet again!"
he faces you with his soft eyes and dopey grin, walking back over towards you. quietly, he moves the comb, clips, gel, and mousse onto the floor and grips your ankles, spreading your legs.
your face makes the quickest change, your stomach twitching as you start to sit up, but your movements falter when he just kneels between your legs and lays himself down on your body, head cradled on your shoudler.
"oh." you mutter, shaky fingers reaching up to caress his cheek. the oils you used to moisturize his hair crept down the side of his ears and cheeks, leaving them greasy.
his automatic reaction was to tease you. you could feel his smirk against your chest. "what? did you expect some type of payment?"
"no!..." a beat. "...maybe. i did sit there for four hours."
warm breath blows against your collar bone, a small laugh. smooth and silky. plump lips meet your clavicle, his fingers walking their way up your side. you shifted away from his hand with a breathy giggle, the act feeling like a tickle. his mouth pulled into a smile as he trailed up your neck, his hand following the same direction up your shirt.
before you know it, his lips are on yours, and his palm is kneading at your breast which he gained access to by pushing the cup of your bra up.
the kiss quickly turned desperate, from slow and sensual to greedy and messy. your tongues were practically fighting with each other, your breaths growing heavy.
he pulled away for what felt like a agonizing eternity to shrug his wife-pleaser off and pull your (his) t-shirt off of you. his eyes fell on your figure, an enticing sight that made his sweatpants grow uncomfortably tight.
"quit staring." you whisper, though you're staring equally as much as him. from his broad shoulders down to the small trail of hairs that ran into the peeking band of his boxers.
"sorry, 's hard not to. you look so good."
your ears heat up at his words as you watch him get off the bed, kneeling on the same pillow he sat on while you did his hair. his hands grabbed your around your ankles and pulled you toward the edge of the bed, smooching your waist as his hands swiftly tugged down your shorts.
he pushes your legs open by your knees, his kisses getting tantalizingly close to your throbbing heat.
"ekko," you whine, just to be met with a shit-eating grin. his arms wrap around your thighs so his hand can easily reach your clothed clit, his thumb pressing into it, rubbing feather-light circles.
"hey, maybe i should just do this since you were so mean while doing my hair. you think this'll be enough to make you cum?"
you groan, a sound rooted so deep within your core that it sounds like a growl. your hips shakily push against his thumb.
"ekko please don't play with me right now—"
he readjusts you quick, laying your hips flat against the mattress again.
"stop moving."
your eye twitches and you couldn't stop your hand from flying down into the neatly array of locs and metal clips in his head, tugging lightly. but to a tender head, that slight tug was like a lash.
"ow!--☆, that—"
"s-stick your tongue out."
ekko hesitates, but doesn't waste any time after you tilt your head expectantly. his tongue lays against his bottom lip, glossy brown orbs watching as your free hand pulls your panties to the side. before you even push his head down, his tongue is flat against your clit.
your head falls back against the sheets, a blissful sob reverberating through the walls and calling back to you, ringing in your ears.
his lips wrap around your clit, sucking lasciviously at the bud. he quickly started to remember why he fucking loved eating you out, your wetness like a sweet liquor that got him drunk every single time.
it almost felt perverted, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his brows furrowed upon tasting an acidic nectar on his tongue. he got off on your noises alone, the way you writhed above him, the way you cried out in pleasure, he drank it all in, too quickly. it filled his brain with a buzz, all his thoughts coming to a halt until all he could focus on was you.
well, kind of. he wasn't focused enough to hear your multiple pleads for him to slow down because you were close already. he was too busy devouring you like you were his first and last meal.
"c-cumming, fuck, ekko—i-i'm cumming, slow down," you moaned, white knuckling the sheets below you in attempt to keep yourself physically grounded.
his eyes squeezed shut as you shivered, your orgasm crashing down on you like a tidal wave.
you had to physically push him away from you because you were already overstimulated, pressing the ball of your palm into his forehead to push him away.
"f-fuck. holy shit." you gasp, barely able to catch your breath.
after a few moments of speechless panting, he looks up at you and sighs. "y'didn't have to pull my hair." though he was joking, you couldn't help but feel bad.
"i know, sorry baby. c'mere."
he stands up and lays down next to you, his lips and chin coated in a thick, clear layer of your arousal. you giggle, thumbing it off before kissing him.
"your turn?" you ask with lidded eyes. you can see his face light up, though he tries to play it off. he fails.
"yes. please."
__________________
"f-fuck, oh m'god, firefly please.."
you've switched positions, with you kneeling between his legs. you've been stroking his length and taking inches of him in your mouth for what has felt like a decade, taking your torturously sweet time with him.
the image was beautiful, a thin veil of sweat coating his mahogany skin, his tip angrily crying every time you slowly pump up and squeeze around the base of the head. his eyes were glossed over, looking down at you with pleading eyes. every movement you made had him twitching, his muscles pulsing with each wave of pleasure that crashed within his core.
"shhh, hol' still, y'know it'll feel good when i'm done. can you do that for me, ekko? stay nice and patient and pretty for me, like you..." you tightly gripped the base of his dick, hearing his breathy whine being ripped from his throat, "aaallllways..." you stroked upwards, watching how he struggled to keep his eyes locked with yours. "do."
he nods, but you can tell he's struggling because he's really fucking close, but you're proud of him for listening.
"words?"
"shit, y-yes, i can. i can baby."
"good."
you only give him a couple seconds to relax before his tip is touching your uvula, a shocked gasp tearing from him. it only takes 4 seconds before he's spilling down your throat, apologizing profusely through restrained moans.
"fuck, h-holy shit," he gasps. you smile.
"that's what i said earlier!"
he rolls his eyes, pulling you up to lay next to him.
"thanks baby."
"...i dunno why you thankin' me yet, i ain't done with you."
#ekko smut#ekko x you#ekko x reader#arcane x you#arcane x reader smut#arcane x reader#arcane ekko#arcane lol
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Dirty Daddy
Dbf/daddy!Joel x f!reader
Masterlist
Wordcount: 2,489
Summary: Congratulations, you've just earned yourself a daddy, albeit not for being a good girl.
Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, light consensual choking, light slapping, oral receiving m!&f!, fingering, implied age gap, mentions of the names 'slut, brat, babygirl, sweetheart, good girl, and daddy', Joel's all greasy and sweaty.
Notes: it was this picture that inspired this along with part of a request I received that I'm writing a different daddy!fic for. Tysm @saradika-graphics for the divider
Joel groans as he tightens a bolt on his truck, sweat drips down his forehead and mixes with the dirt and grease that cover his face and hands. He's been working on this truck for hours, ever since it broke down on him during a job, his last job of the day. He could be home relaxing. Instead, he's here. Luckily for him, his buddy, your dad offered him the use of his garage to work on it, and Joel gladly accepted. It wasn't often that he got the chance to work on his baby, and he wasn't going to let a little thing like a broken engine get in his way.
But as he stands up and stretches his aching back, he can't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. It isn't just the truck that’s been giving him trouble - it’s you, who's been teasing him mercilessly since he arrived. Wearing those skimpy clothes, that short fucking skirt, that leaves little to the imagination, bending over in front of him and "accidentally" brushing up against him as you walk by. Joel's been trying to ignore you, but it's getting harder and harder to do so.
As if on cue, you walk into the garage with a smirk on your face. "Hey Joel, need any help?" You ask, leaning over the open hood, letting your cleavage do most of the talking.
Joel grits his teeth as he looks up straight at your breasts and then quickly back down to the engine. "No, I got it.” he says as he looks up once more only to see you pouting, but Joel can see the spark in your eye. You're enjoying this, you fucking minx.
"Come on, Joel. I'm just trying to help." You reach up to adjust yourself on the hood of the truck, giving him a clearer view of your breasts that are now pretty much popping out of your top. You catch his gaze and smirk, knowing exactly what you're doing to him. You hop down and start touching his arm, “cmon, I can help, I'll hold the flashlight or something.”
Joel snaps, dropping the tool he's holding, and pushes you roughly against the nearest free wall. His grip is tight around your arms despite being all greased up from his truck. "I know what you're doin'," he growls, "And it ain't gonna work."
You can see the fire in his eyes, and you know you've pushed him too far. But instead of backing down, you challenge him. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Joel's eyes narrow, and you can see the tension building in his muscles. "I'm warnin’ you," he says, his voice gets deeper and quieter. "Stop, or you're gonna get a lot more than you bargained for."
"Is that a promise?" you ask.
Joel's eyes go dark, and he grabs your face roughly, his dirty fingers grasping into the hollows of your cheeks, pulling you close, leaving his musky, grimy scent on you. "You have no idea what you're gettin’ yourself into, do ya?” Joel's grip on your face tightens as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your face. "You think you're being clever, huh? Lemme tell ya something, sweetheart. You're playin with fire, and you're gonna get burned."
You can feel the heat radiating off of Joel's body, and you know he's serious. But instead of being afraid, you're turned on. You've never seen this side of Joel before, and you can't help but feel yourself getting wet.
Without warning, Joel grabs you by the waist and pins you harder against the wall as he grinds himself against you, his hardness pressing into your core. "This whatcha want babygirl?" His lips brush against your ear. "You've been teasin' me all day, I think it's my turn to have a little fun now."
You moan as Joel's hands roam over your body, roughly groping your breasts and ass, leaving dark stains across your clothes. You can feel his cock straining against his pants, and you can't wait to feel him inside of you.
"Please," you whimper, "I need it."
Joel smirks as he pulls away from you. "Beggin already?" He says, 'That ain’t like you."
He reaches down and unzips his pants, pulling out his long, hard cock and starts to stroke it. "On your knees," he commands.
You don't hesitate, sinking to your knees in front of him. You take his cock in your hand, stroking it gently as you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes. Joel's eyes darken as he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling your head towards his cock. "Open wide, and don't fuckin’ bite."
You comply, opening your mouth wide as Joel slides his cock inside. You moan as you feel him hit the back of your throat, your tongue swirling around his shaft as you suck him off.
Joel groans as he fucks your mouth, his hips thrusting forward as he pounds into the very back of your throat. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, every vein hitting your tongue.
"Such a good little slut, suckin my cock like a pro."
You moan around his cock, your pussy getting wetter with every thrust.
"M’gonna come baby, and you're gonna swallow every last drop."
You nod eagerly, your mouth still wrapped around his cock. Joel groans as he explodes inside of you, his hot seed filling your mouth as you swallow every last drop just like he said. He pulls out, his cock still hard as he looks down at you with a satisfied smirk. "Good girl, you earned that."
Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before he walks over and starts to clear off the workbench. He pushes aside tools and spare parts, making enough space for you. Once he's satisfied, he turns to you with a stern look in his eyes. "Get up here," he commands, patting the now-clear space on the workbench.
You don't hesitate, hopping up onto the bench and spreading your legs wide for him. Joel steps between your thighs, his hands gripping your hips as he pulls you closer to the edge. "You've been a brat all day, teasin' me and temptin me," his fingers dig into your skin.
Joel's gaze is intense as he looks at you. His eyes are filled with desire and a hint of something darker. He leans in closer, his breath is hot on your skin as he starts to kiss a trail down your body, his lips leave a burning sensation in their wake.
His hands roam over your body, roughly groping anything he can as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. You can feel his facial hair scratching against your sensitive flesh, and it sends shivers down your spine.
When he reaches your thighs, Joel smirks and spreads your legs wider, exposing your wet and aching core to his gaze and no panties - you drive him crazy. "You've been teasin' me all day, s’only fair. I get to taste what I've been missin.” He looks up at you, his eyes filled with lust as he leans in closer, his breath hot on your pussy. Without warning, Joel starts to lick and suck at your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bundle of nerves as he teases you. You moan loudly, your hips bucking up towards his mouth as you try to get closer to him.
Joel's fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as his tongue delves deeper, exploring every inch of your pussy, sucking and licks at your wetness. Lapping it up like a thirsty dog. He continues to feast on your pussy, his tongue exploring every inch of your wetness as you moan and writhe beneath him. Just as you feel yourself getting close to the edge, Joel pulls away, leaving you wanting and needy.
"Uh-uh I ain't done with ya."
You whimper in frustration, and your hips buck up towards him as you try to get him to continue. But Joel is in control, and he's not going to let you come that easily. He stands up and looks down at you. You can see the hardness of his cock that's been tucked back into his jeans, and you know he's just as turned on as you are.
Joel reaches down and helps you off the workbench, his grip on you is firm as he leads you towards the door of the garage. "We're gonna finish this in your bedroom.”
Your body is still tingling with desire as you follow him out of the garage and towards your house.
As you reach the door of your house, Joel turns to you with a serious look in his eyes. "We gotta be quiet, go make sure the coast is clear.”
You quickly and quietly make your way through the house, checking each room to make sure no one is around. When you reach your father's office, you see that he's deeply engrossed in his work, completely unaware of what's happening just a few feet away.
You give Joel a quick nod, signaling that the coast is clear. Joel grabs your hand and leads you up the stairs to your bedroom, his grip firm, and reassuring. When you reach your bedroom, Joel pushes you inside and closes the door behind you, locking it to ensure that no one will interrupt you.
Joel looks around your bedroom, his eyes taking in the familiar surroundings. He turns to you, "Take off your clothes," he commands.
You hesitate for a moment, your hands hovering over your shirt. But the look in Joel's eyes tells you that he's not in the mood for games. As you slip out of your shirt, Joel's eyes rake over your body, taking in the lacy bra that barely covers your breasts.
"Keep goin,"
As you slip out of your jeans, Joel's eyes follow the movement, taking in the curve of your hips and the softness of your thighs.
"Take it all off baby," he commands.
You comply, slipping out of your bra and panties, leaving you completely naked in front of him.
Joel undresses himself, his movements quick and efficient. He pulls off his shirt, revealing the hard muscles of his chest and arms. His jeans follow, revealing the long and hard cock that's been tucked away, waiting so patiently for you.
You can't help but stare as Joel undresses, your eyes taking in the dirt and grease that cover his body. He's been working on his truck all day, and the evidence is clear on his skin.
"Like whatcha see, babygirl?"
You nod, unable to speak as you take in the sight of him. Joel steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to touch your body. His fingers leave dark stains across your skin, the evidence of his work still present.
He lays you down on the bed, and his body hovers over yours. His hands roam over your body. His touch is rough, but there's a tenderness to it that drives you crazy.
He leans down to kiss you, his lips rough against yours. His tongue delves into your mouth, exploring every inch as he tastes you. You can taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what he's done to you.
Joel's hand moves between your legs, his fingers exploring your throbbing clit. He teases you, his fingers circling your clit but never quite touching it. You moan into his mouth, your hips bucking up towards his hand.
"Please, Joel," you beg, "I need to come."
But Joel is relentless, continuing to tease you just like you did to him, as he watches you squirm beneath him. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your orgasm building deep inside of you.
“Joel,” you whine, “don't be an asshole, let me come.”
Joel chuckles and gives you a light but sobering smack to the cheek. “You don't get to be a little brat and get your way - Beg for it.”
"Fuck you-," you whimper, your voice trembling with need. "Please daddy.”
Joel's eyes blaze as he hears you call him Daddy. He increases the pressure on your clit, his fingers moving faster and harder as he brings you closer to the edge again, he can feel it. "You like that, babygirl?" his breath is hot as he leans close to your ear. "You like it when Daddy teases you?”
“Mmm, yes daddy yes. Feels s-so good.”
Joel can't hold back any longer. He positions himself between your legs, his cock pressing against your wet and aching core. He looks down at you, his eyes filled with lust and something darker. He growls as he thrusts his hips forward, burying himself deep inside of you.
You moan loudly as you feel him fill you up, your pussy stretching to accommodate his ever growing, ever hardening size. Joel starts to move, his hips thrusting forward as he pounds into you. Each thrust is harder than the last, leaving you breathless and wanting more.
Joel's hands grip your hips, holding you in place as he fucks you. His fingers dig into your skin. You can feel his cock swelling inside of you, every vein hitting your sensitive flesh.
"You like it when Daddy fucks ya like the dirty little brat you are?"
You moan in response, your hips buck up to meet his thrusts. You can feel your orgasm building deep inside of you. “Want you to choke me daddy, please.”
Joel doesn't hesitate, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach. He grabs your hair, pulling your head back as he wraps his other hand around your throat, cutting off your airway just enough to make you feel lightheaded.
You moan as you feel his cock press against your entrance once again. He thrusts forward, filling you up completely. He starts to fuck you hard and fast, his hips slapping against your ass as he pounds into you.
You can feel your orgasm building once again, your body tensing up as you get closer and closer to the edge. "Not yet, babygirl, fuck - wanna come with ya.” Joel increases his pace. His thrusts become erratic as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock, your orgasm just on the edge.
"Come for me, baby," Joel commands.
Your moans are muffled and strained as you feel yourself fall over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. You can feel your pussy clenching around Joel's cock, milking him for all he's worth.
Joel groans as he feels you come, his hips thrusting forward as he empties himself inside of you. He collapses beside you, his body spent and satisfied.
As he catches his breath, Joel looks at you with a satisfied smirk. "Next time you pull that shit, babygirl, I ain't gonna letcha come."
#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller#pedro pascal#joel miller x f!reader
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Hi❣️ may i request Suguru Geto with Honey + Pure Sugar + strawberry syrup?
... a bad boy!Suguru whisks you away on his thick Harley 'n wants to put a baby in you. He proposes marriage after only knowing you for two weeks, 'cause he's fucking crazy.
ㅤ★ promptlist
ㅤ★ cws; strictly no under 18s, smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare 🫶
Ah, fuck, why'd you always have to fall for the bad boys? Worse, why did you feel turned on when you watched their knuckles go white just before punching someone's lights out in a bar fight?
Thumb flicking off the excess blood on his cheek, Suguru Geto eyed you up and apologized in a sweet voice, "Sorry, I hate to do this in front of beautiful women." and then eyed you up for the second time before asking, "What's your name?"
That blood smudged off on your cheek 'cause immediately after introducing yourself through a horny stutter, his tongue was exploring your mouth and the two of you were indulging in the sloppiest, nastiest open-mouthed kiss right there at the bar, in the neon lights.
Lips wetted by his filthy kiss, you blinked at him like you've never been so lovestruck before and he focused in on you and only you — then he asked if you wanted to blow this joint. You batted your lashes at him and nodded with starry eyes, too turned on and starstruck to think that maybe you shouldn't abandon Girl's Night for a pierced up and tatted guy bearing a toothy grin and a biker gang emblem on his jacket.
And then you remember trotting outside to his parked motorcycle, giggling like a teenager as your friends yelled for you to come to your senses because you were hopping onto the back of a Harley with Suguru Geto. But it was no use, because you were turned on by the tattoos in his skin and the lingering smoke on his lips and the devilish look in his eyes and the greasy black hair that passed his shoulders and the way his cock made an outline in his leather pants and the way his gloved hands gripped the handles of his motorcycle and how erotic he made smoking seem.
A two week honeymoon with this bad boy, feeding on each other's lust and feasting on each other's bodies and fucking like animals against the walls of a hotel room and sometimes on the bed but nah, usually you got fucked off the bed and onto the floor.
He inhaled at your neck, getting high on your scent 'n starting to thrust harder into you 'cause of it.
"Mm, why do you smell so fucking good...? It's driving me insane." he purrs, rolling his hips 'n grinding his cockhead deep inside your weeping pussy 'till you start choking up because of the depth he reaches.
"I-I dunno, I'm probably ovulating." you innocently squeaked in reply.
"Oh, fuck... really?" he moaned at that, swallowing back his spit in a way that sounded like he started salivating at the thought of knocking you up. Then he slid his hands down and pried your pussy lips wide apart before thrusting into you, his cock frenzied for your ovulating pussy.
Practically glued together, lips locked and tongues fighting, Suguru nearly crushed you under all his muscle as he started fucking you like he was gonna breed your sweet little body.
You naturally leg-locked his slim waist, and he grunted out a "Stay still f'me, doll, 'm gonna fill you with my babies." to which you cried out a string of "Yesyesyesplease!"
Feeling your nails dig into his sides as he rocked his hips into you made his head spin and his cock explode. You rubbed frantically at your clit, came all over him, feeling the sensation of his warm cum filling you up.
Collapsing on you, a panting mess, moans still spilled from his lips as he felt the aftershocks of his orgasm. Next moment, you're giggling and he's rolling off of you and snuggling you in a sweaty afterglow.
Some surprisingly dorky joke comes out his mouth. He pinches at your cheeks. His bicep rests against your side as he holds you. Too tired to clean up yet, but that's fine because Suguru's enjoying the smell of you 'n he hopes all his clothes will smell like you for a while.
"Shit, let's get married... let's just get fucking married. What do you say?" he murmured in a daze, clutching your body tightly, a large hand coming to wipe the sweat off your cheek.
"You're crazy!" you giggled back to him, smilingly biting your thumb and kicking your feet with a ridiculous excitement. "We hardly know each other. And you're a bad boy."
"Aw, come on, I'm not that bad." he grins.
You kick your legs off the bed and sit at the edge, preparing to go to the bathroom. He checks you out; the curve of your back calling out to him to make it arch.
"Maybe you are, maybe you aren't." you teasingly shimmy your shoulders at him.
Suguru grabs at you, groaning and reluctantly letting you slip out his fingers and watching your ass intently as you trot over to the bathroom, 'till you're disappearing behind the door. He rolls over onto his back, looks up at the ceiling, and thinks about how he's gonna get you.
#★ 𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐔𝐏!#mdni#smut#tw: smut#geto smut#geto suguru smut#suguru smut#geto sugu x reader#geto suguru x you#suguru x reader#geto x reader#geto x you#suguru geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutssu kaisen x you
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gross freak
͟͟͞♡ jisung × fem!reader
word count: 2.5k
warning: sub!jisung, dom!reader, kinda gross jisung, established relationship, masturbation (m rec), cock/balls slapping, jisung is gross but they are so in love
=͟͟͞♡ please consider reblogging if you like my works!
“Honey, I'm home!"
Jisung is kicking off his white sneakers in front of the door. They're a bit stained with mud on the sides, and he knows he’s not allowed to step inside the house wearing those unless he wants to hear your voice reverberating through the apartment. He's still wearing his soccer gear, tiny red shorts with a white stripe down the side, cut just above the knee, and a white tank top that you're sure he wore for the training as well. It's 10 p.m., but it's still warm outside, and the white fabric sticks uncomfortably to Jisung's slim body, a few yellow sweat stains under his armpits.
His hair is still damp from the running, tied in a bun. A red hairband is pulling back his greasy locks from his forehead. He hasn't changed that in at least two weeks.
"Idiot," you chuckle in response, "how was it?"
"Uh, fine I guess" Jisung answers while kicking off his grayish, damp socks along with his shoes, "Changbin-hyung fell and ate a bunch of soil, I laughed so hard I peed my pants" he snorts.
"You all act just like children," you reply with a giggle, "I'm glad you had a good time. Are you hungry? Have you had dinner yet?"
"I ate a burger with the boys . It was huuuuge, baby. Can still feel it moving in my stomach," he replies as he finally enters in the living room delivering his signature goofy smile.
You smile as you see him patting his tummy. Jisung is very thin, almost borderline unhealthy, but a small layer of fat sits stubbornly below his belly button, and it doesn’t go away despite all of the physical exercise. Jisung says it’s okay, that he doesn't mind. But you, you love it.
"Good. You didn’t take a shower there, did you?" you ask stretching your legs on the couch and pausing the show you were watching.
"Nah, I didn't feel like it. I'll do it in a while." Jisung answers while opening the refrigerator and fishing out a can of sprite. He opens it with gnarled fingers and brings it to his lips, chugging half of it in one big gulp.
"Ew, Sungie"
Jisung widens his eyes in fake shock and leans against the peninsula of the kitchen. "Ew? To the love of your life? Your boyfriend, your future husband, the apple of your ey-"
"Enough of this," you laugh as you come closer him, leaning across the peninsula. "I could count the grease stains on your hands if I wanted to. You're dirty."
"Mean," Jisung whispers drinking the other half of the sprite and hiding a burp with one fist. "I thought I'd come home and get a better treatment than this."
You burst out laughing at his words. "Uh, did you have plans? What did you expect big boy, tell me."
Jisung chuckles again and you can see a bit of burger sauce pooled at the corner of his lips.
"Uhh, dunno. A massage, maybe? Showing your baby you love him?”
You laugh, "You want a massage? Come here, that can be arranged." You take a couple of steps back and sit on the couch, on the peninsula side, so you can stretch your legs. Jisung looks at you with a lopsided smile and brings a hand to his head, scratching behind his ear. You can see from a distance the oily strands of hair slipping through his fingers. You should find it disgusting. You really should.
You open your arms and offer him a big smile, "Come on, baby. You must be dead tired, hmm? The boys destroyed you. Come to mama, I'll give you what you need."
Jisung gulps and giggles, wobbling closer to you and letting himself fall into the space between your thighs, abandoning his back against your chest. Then he lets himself slide forward a little, pressing the nape of his neck against the softness of your breasts under the shirt you're wearing.
"Uh, uh. That feels nice already," he murmurs adjusting himself against your chest.
"Have you had some drinks?" you ask, bringing your hands to his shoulders and pinching them lightly. The fabric is damp and smells of sweat and the spray deodorant Jisung always puts on when he doesn't feel like showering.
"Just a couple of beers with Chan-hyung," Jisung sobs as soon as your fingers sink lightly into his muscles, "that man needs to get laid."
"Don't be cocky, Sungie," you reply with a grin as your hands descend to work on the muscles in his arms, "if it wasn’t for me, you'd be jerking off to one of your tacky porns as well. Be grateful I picked you up on the streets and decided you would be mine."
Your words are light, he knows you are joking. Even though, to tell the truth, Jisung was a virgin before meeting you, and the first time you had sex he was so nervous he came before he even managed to put the tip in. Adorable.
Jisung laughs and then he lets out a breathy moan when you run your fingers up between his shoulder blades, focusing on a knot. "That’s true. But now he’s the one jacking off to a shower wall. While me, I have a beautiful girlfriend who decided I was good enough to be adopted. I still am thankful for your bad taste in men."
"My taste in men is great, excuse you," you retort as your chin rests on his head, near the band that pulls back his hair. "I pulled the nastiest hottest boy around. I regret nothing."
Jisung laughs. "You literally call me your rat."
"Rats are cute," you answer back piquantly. Your fingers continue to work on the knot in Jisung's back with a little more insistence. Jisung writhes softly. "You just call me that because I'm a little gross."
You lower your head to rest a kiss on his greasy hair. There's gel residue on the strands, and it's a bit crusty.
"You know how much I love that you're a little gross. Makes me feral."
"You're a freak." Jisung laughs as your hands finish massaging his shoulder blades and descend to the front, down to his chest, to caress his sore pecs.
"Maybe," you admit. "Tell me how many beers you've had again. Just the truth this time, hmm?"
"Five. Or six. Maybe six. Ah-" Jisung gulps when you brush your thumb on his pec, grazing his nipple. "Feelin' a bit tipsy."
"I know, my love," you whisper as you continue massaging his chest with your fingers. Jisung's head is nestled perfectly between your breasts and you feel his ribcage swell and deflate quickly, like a baby bird. "You're all wriggly. You just can't sit still when you feel good, hmm?"
Jisung laughs embarrassed before letting a faint moan out when your fingers pinch his nipple again, more insistently. “Not fair though, you're t-teasing."
You nod a few times as your face descends to his ear, kissing the skin behind it, where you know that acrid, powerful smell typical of Jisung accumulates. “As if you didn't have a different kind of massage in mind from the beginning. Don't lie to mama, Sungie."
Jisung shakes his head tentatively, “I wasn’t trying to imply any of that”.
You chuckle at his words, bringing your mouth to his earlobe and nibbling at it. “Now say it again without drooling over yourself, mh?”
Jisung hiccups and goes limp against you, giving you enough space to keep nosing at his neck. A little bit of saliva is bubbling out of his parted lips, forming a shiny coat on his skin and you just wanna suck it off.
“Well, maybe. M-maybe just a little,” he grunts while the tip of your tongue brushes on the shell of his ear. “You’re mean for real.”
“Don’t call me mean when I’m about to jack you off, Sungie. That’s just ungrateful, don’t you think?” you whisper on his skin, breathing the sweet smell of his body in. Even his sweat kinda smells like beer. That’s disgusting and hot at the same time. Maybe you’re a freak after all.
“Oh. Oh. We’re… we’re doing that? Fuck, yeah. Suuuure, cool.” And then he lets out the nervous squeak he does everytime you’re about to touch him. It doesn’t matter it’s been years, he never gets used to you been enough attracted to him to give him pleasure even if he’s dirty. But, to be fair, Jisung is always kind of dirty.
You smile against his skin and your fingers find his nipple again, rolling it between your pointer and thumb over the fabric of his top. Jisung keens at that and you can feel the goosebumps forming on his arms under you.
“Wanna kiss. Give Sungie kiss first? Can you? Please?” He blubbers while your other hand is caressing just above his navel. He turns his face to look at you, and the angle is weird because he needs to force himself in this position, but his cheeks are flushed and cute, and his eyes so big you can almost see your own reflection in them.
The first kiss on his lips is just a peck, nothing else, and you can feel that Jisung tries, he tries so hard not to be affected too much this early, but as soon as you place your mouth on him and start to nibble lightly at his bottom lip, he lets out a broken whimper. He tastes like alcohol and ketchup, and his teeth are all sticky for the sprite he just chugged. You find yourself forcing his mouth open just after a few seconds just to be able to lick at them, feeling the sugar on the tip of your tongue.
“You’re so filthy, Sungie. You’re delicious.” You tease him a bit while sucking his own wet muscle into your mouth and slowly pulling it between your teeth.
Jisung lets out the quietest yet painful moan, "Ah- please, I just...", and he starts parting his thighs just a little bit, the tiniest movement showing how he is growing hard under his pants.
You look down and he is just the prettiest, all spread out for you.
“Never denied you anything,” you mutter as you scoot forward on the sofa to place a last peck on his lips. They’re a bit chapped, and a drop of blood stains your mouth.
Jisung’s head falls back on your chest, nuzzling between the comfort of your breasts, and he looks wrecked already. His eyes are teary and his vision fuzzy while his lips pucker, as if he was trying to suck on the air.
“Fuck, you’re so cute. Wish you had something on your mouth, uh?” you ask him as your left hand puts and end to the lazy massage on his lower stomach and finally cups him through his pants.
Jisung is fully hard already but, to an untrained eye, the two inches tent his erection is struggling to maintain makes him look like he’s just sporting half of a chub.
“Uh, uh - yeah, w-wanna suck please,” he manages while your hands goes a bit lower to graze his balls. “Please, mama- gimme anything.”
“Oh, Sungie, don’t beg,” you whisper kissing the tender skin of his ear one more time. Jisung’s soft sobs always make you feel lightheaded and needy, but you cannot show him. Not now. “Mama’s gonna give you fingers, mhkay?”
Jisung nods and parts his lips as a pavlovian response to your words, his tongue lolling out diligently out of his mouth. Your pointer and middle finger pinch the fat of his bottom lip and he moans softly at the teasing. When you finally ease your fingers inside of the heath of his mouth, Jisung lets out a weak cry. “Thank you thank you thank you thank you,” he gurgles around your digits as an indecent amount of spit oozes out and coat your palm.
When you look over his shoulder, you can see the shape of Jisung’s tiny cock angrily pointing at you, still covered by his shorts. The red fabric is somehow already wet because Jisung is always eager and leaky, and what he lacks in size he makes up in liquids.
“How many minutes today, Sungie? How much can you last for mama?” you ask, tone sticky and sweet while you thrust your fingers deeper inside his mouth and brush at the base of his tongue.
Jisung chokes on the pressure and a single tear escapes from his eyes. His cock twitches and you pat it condescendingly. “Aw, poor thing. How much? Two minutes?”
“Uh- mhhf sowy” he hiccups, mouth full of fingers and saliva, “sorry, I’m not..”
You smile and you finally wrap your free hand around his balls, squeezing it. “Don’t worry, baby. Mama gets it. Wanna come already uh?”
Your face finds its way against the crook of his neck and you lick a fat portion of skin, sucking it into your mouth. He tastes like soil, dirt and sweat. But most importantly, it tastes like Jisung. Like fried food and soda, mint cigarettes to cover the smell of unwashed teeth, ingrown hair and blemishes, acne and cum.
You bite on that sensitive spot and he sobs the most pathetic whimper out as your hand slaps his clothed cock once, twice, thrice, and your fingers go deeper and deeper, almost brushing his uvula and making him drown on his own spit.
“So-oh-sorry” he cries as his cock spasms one more time under the constriction of two layers of clothes. His knees shake and he lets out the most loud and sinful noise his voice lets him. His hips tremble with the force of his orgasm and he goes completely limp against you while spurting warm ropes of cum inside of his sweaty underwear. His eyes are glassy and full of tears while he empties himself for what it seems to be a full minute. He always cums more than he lasts anyway.
You hold him close through it as his high washes over him, arm tight around his waist, and you kiss his cheek, savoring the salt on his skin.
After a minute, Jisung turns his head in search of your reassurance, and he finds you already looking at him, your fingers falling out of his mouth to let him breathe properly.
“Well, that was a record” you chuckle at the sight of his goofy smile.
Jisung huffs and rolls his eyes at you. “I said- I said I had a few beers. That’s why.” He tries to justify himself.
You wink at him and you blow a raspberry on his nose. He always try to be the bigger man, but it never works.
“Whatever you say,” you concede. “Go change your underwear now. And take a shower.”
Jisung lazily shakes his head. “Nah. Too tired. Imma do it later.”
“You’re gross, Jisung.”
“And you’re a freak.”
©️jilixthinker, 2024. please do not copy, translate, or republish my works anywhere.
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little!miya gets sick and single dad!osamu is in over his head. the little boy's fever is raging and he's inconsolable, refusing any of the care his papa is desperately trying to offer him.
he's only asking for you.
"W-WHERE'S BABE? I want my ba-aaaaabe," the four year old wails, his cheeks flushed scarlet and snot dripping from his nose as the tears continue.
"babe's at home, buddy. you'll see her tomorrow once ya get some sleep, alright?" osamu wipes at his son's nose as he tries to comfort him but it doesn't help much. the little boy clutches tighter at the plush toy tucked under his arm—one you bought for him on a trip to the aquarium, one of the first days the three of you spent together—and turns his head away from his father petulantly.
"I ONLY WANT BABE."
samu sighs, raking a hand through his greasy hair. he's exhausted. it's been hours of this, and his son is showing no signs of relenting.
finally he cracks, reaching for the phone in his back pocket.
"he's asleep now."
the bedroom door closes behind you with a soft click.
samu is slumped against the wall in the hallway, his knees spread and head hanging, having been banished from the room by his own flesh and blood the minute you showed up half an hour prior.
"thanks fer this," samu says quietly, keeping his voice low as you crouch down on the floor in front of him. "i'm sorry to call so late."
you press a hand to his cheek, running your thumb over the shadow of fatigue inking under his eye. it's darker than usual, and you understand why.
"call me anytime, samu," you reassure him. "you know i'd do anything for you two."
"ya shouldn't have to do this, though," samu mumbles, struggling to meet your gaze that feels too tender—too comforting and familiar and pitying—right now.
"i barely did anything," you argue, a bit indignantly. "i just read him a story and helped him take off his pyjama top so he could 'wear his jammies like papa.'"
samu laughs tiredly at that, a short, wry breath of air through his nose.
"and i didn't have to do it," you add again after a moment, taking both of his cheeks in your hands and forcing him to look at you properly. "i wanted to, because i love you both very much."
samu's eyes are burning. he knows it's because he's overtired. hell, he wouldn't be surprised if he caught whatever virus his son brought home from school. but regardless of the why, the tears are flooding up inside his chest and threatening to spill over.
"love you," samu says, the words all breath and unequivocal truth. "'m glad yer here."
he leans forward and tucks his face into the crook of your neck, and you wrap your arms around him as you welcome it.
you hold him there, on the floor outside his four year old son's bedroom, for as long as he needs you to.
finally, osamu feels a bit more himself, and is ready to pull away. you brush a few strands of his hair out of his gaze once he's extricated himself from your embrace. there's a little twinkle of mischief behind your eyes. "you should go get cleaned up and ready for bed, and i'll go grab that ice cream i hid in the back of the freezer behind the broccoli."
samu smiles, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the edge of your mouth.
"i love you," he says, speaking the words against your welcoming lips.
"you already said that," you tease him, tilting your head so that your reply meets the centre of his own.
"i mean it, though," samu replies, inching back only far enough that he can see both your eyes, the ends of your noses brushing as he watches your lashes flutter. "so, wanna marry me?"
#osamu x reader#single dad!osamu#miya osamu x reader#osamu miya x reader#hq drabble#hq writing#writing
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