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awxcoffeexno · 1 month

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ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine angst #logan howlett angst #logan howlett xmen #xmen #xmen fanfiction

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fvsm4x · 10 months

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#MAYBE IN ANOTHER LIFE? [Gojo Satoru]

SUMMARY: Your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything, who was your will to live, broke up with you.

— C.W: ex-boyfriend! Gojo satoru x depressed! female reader , dark themes , slightly geto suguru x female reader , no curses au.

— WORD COUNT: 5.3k+

„I think we should break up.“

Gojo’s words hung in the air, as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you fought to keep the tears at bay. You desperately tried to maintain your composure, not wanting to show Gojo just how deeply his words had wounded you.

“Why? What happened?“ You managed to ask, your voice trembling.

Gojo’s gaze softened, but his eyes held a distant look, as if his mind was already elsewhere. “I’ve found someone else,” he admitted, his words like a dagger to your fragile heart.

A whirlwind of emotions engulfed your thoughts. Insecurity, confusion, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over you. You had always known Gojo was popular, surrounded by women who seemed to possess an otherworldly beauty that you could only dream of. But you had hoped that your connection would be strong enough to withstand any external temptations.

As tears welled up in your eyes, you couldn’t help but question your own worth. Gojo had been your beacon of light, the one who had brought joy and stability into your chaotic world. You had believed that your love was strong enough to overcome any obstacles.

But now, faced with the harsh reality of Gojo’s confession, your insecurities resurfaced with a vengeance.

How could Gojo have led you on, making you believe that your love was real, only to discard you so easily for someone else?

But despite the storm of emotions raging within you, you knew that you had to find the strength to let Gojo go. You couldn’t force someone to love you, no matter how much you wanted to.

And so, with a heavy heart and tears streaming down your face, you whispered, “If that’s what you truly want, then I won’t stand in your way.”

You wiped away your tears and caught Gojo’s gaze. His eyes were filled with regret and sadness, and you could see the pain he felt in his expression. It was as if he realized the gravity of his decision and the hurt he had caused you.

“I’m so sorry,” Gojo whispered, his voice filled with genuine remorse. “I never wanted to hurt you. It’s not about your worth or how you compare to anyone else. It’s about me and my own shortcomings.”

You looked at him, surprised by his words.

“I understand,” you replied softly, your voice filled with a mix of sadness and acceptance. “I know I can’t change your feelings or make you stay. I’ll start packing my things so you can have your apartment back.”

As you rose from the plush couch, your footsteps echoed through the spacious apartment, the sound muffled by the thick carpet beneath your feet. With a heavy heart, you made your way to the bedroom you had once shared with Gojo. The room seemed to hold its breath, as if aware of the impending change that would soon occur.

You opened the grand closet, its ornate doors revealing a collection of clothes and personal belongings. The air was filled with a bittersweet nostalgia as you carefully selected each item, their presence a testament to the love and happiness you had once shared. The room seemed to whisper your name, its walls bearing witness to the countless moments of joy and intimacy that had unfolded within its confines.

As you held each cherished possession in your hands, memories flooded your mind like a river. The soft touch of Gojo's hand, the warmth of his embrace, and the laughter that had once filled the room. Each item carried a weight of emotions, a reminder of the love you had believed to be unbreakable.

Gojo, sitting on the edge of the bed, watched you with a pained expression. The reality of the situation seemed to settle in, and he realized the depth of the connection he was severing. The room felt colder, emotions hanging thick in the air.

As you folded your clothes and placed them in a suitcase, Gojo finally spoke again, his voice carrying a tinge of regret. "I never wanted it to come to this, Y/n. You deserve happiness, and I hope you find it even if it's without me."

His words lingered, a bittersweet acknowledgment of the end. The room, once filled with shared laughter and intimate moments, now felt like a haunting memory. The pain was palpable, and you couldn't help but wonder if it would ever subside.

As you zipped up your suitcase, Gojo approached, his hand hesitating in the air as if unsure whether to touch you.

He gently brushed away a tear that rolled down your cheek.

"I'm truly sorry," he murmured,

With your suitcase in hand, you stood near the doorway, taking one last look at the place that had been your shared sanctuary. It was a goodbye to not only Gojo but also to the dreams you had woven together.

As you walked out, Gojo remained in the room, the emptiness echoing the void left by the shattered relationship. The door closed behind you, sealing the end of a chapter that had once promised forever.

In the days that followed, the task of finding a new place to call home became increasingly overwhelming. The once vibrant city, which had once been a source of shared dreams and promises, now seemed indifferent to your struggles. Each apartment viewing brought with it a fresh wave of emotions, serving as a painful reminder of the life you had envisioned with Gojo.

In the midst of this turmoil, old habits resurfaced. You found yourself reaching for cigarettes and turning to alcohol as a means of coping.

It was disheartening, as you had believed that these vices were behind you after Gojo entered your life and seemingly fixed all your problems. But now, they have reappeared, threatening to consume you once again.

What made matters worse was the lack of support you had. There were no parents to lean on, no friends to turn to for help. You were left to navigate this challenging situation all on your own, starting from scratch.

Before meeting Gojo, you had worked countless jobs to pay your bills and support your studies, scraping by with whatever little money you had.

The weight of it all was taking its toll on you. You felt yourself falling apart, the stress and uncertainty chipping away at your resolve.

But then, Gojo appeared, and your life took an unexpected turn. It was as if the universe had conspired to bring the two of you together. The first time you laid eyes on him was when you were working as a waitress at a cozy bakery. As he walked in, time seemed to stand still. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in his striking features.

His vibrant blue eyes, reminiscent of a clear summer sky, held a depth that drew you in. His snow-white hair and lashes added an ethereal touch to his already captivating appearance. And when he smiled, it was as if the whole room lit up with warmth and charm. You were instantly captivated by his presence, unable to tear your gaze away.

To your surprise, Gojo noticed your lingering glances and, with a confident stride, approached the counter where you were working. He invited you to join him, and you couldn’t resist the opportunity to spend more time with this enigmatic man. As you sat together, indulging in delectable desserts, the hours seemed to melt away in a blur of laughter and shared stories.

Days turned into weeks, and Gojo became a regular at the bakery, always seeking your company. The two of you would engage in deep conversations that spanned a wide range of topics, from the trivial to the profound. Each interaction only deepened your connection, and before you knew it, you found yourself falling for him.

However, amidst the blossoming romance, a nagging doubt lingered in the back of your mind. You couldn’t help but notice the parade of women that seemed to surround Gojo. He would visit the bakery at least twice a week, each time accompanied by a different woman. They would engage in affectionate displays, acting as if they were a couple.

As you observed these interactions, a wave of insecurity washed over you. Comparisons became inevitable, and you couldn’t help but feel inadequate in comparison to these stunning women. Their flawless skin, plump breasts, and alluring curves seemed to highlight your own perceived shortcomings. Their beauty was undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you would ever measure up.

But despite these doubts, Gojo continued to seek your company, showing genuine interest in your thoughts, dreams, and aspirations. His actions spoke louder than words, and you began to question your own self-doubt. Perhaps there was more to this connection than meets the eye.

Maybe, just maybe, Gojo saw something in you that went beyond physical appearances.

Motivated by this newfound hope, you made a conscious effort to break free from your bad habits. Weeks turned into months, and Gojo continued to visit the bakery every day just to see you.

However, one day, something special happened. Gojo waited patiently for you to finish your shift and then walked you back to the motel where you were staying. It was during this walk that he truly realized how difficult your life actually was.

Seeing you work tirelessly, with dark circles under your eyes and wearing the same clothes day after day, Gojo couldn’t bear to see you living in such difficult conditions. He noticed the presence of alcohol and cigarettes in your room and insisted that you stay with him instead. He wanted to provide you with a better life, free from the struggles you had been facing.

And so, you took up Gojo’s offer and moved in with him.

And that's when you became a couple.

But after two years of being in a relationship with Gojo, he found someone else. The person who used to hold you in his arms, whisper sweet words of love, and make you feel like the most important person in his life was now directing those affectionate gestures towards someone else.

You didn’t want to let him go. The thought of losing him was devastating. However, you also understood that you couldn’t force him to stay with you if his heart was no longer fully committed. Questions swirled in your mind. Did you do something wrong? Were you not exciting enough for him anymore? Was there something else that led him to find someone new?

Despite the heartache, one thing remained certain- your love for Gojo would never fade. The pain of knowing that he loved someone else, someone who wasn’t you, was excruciating. No one could ever replace the way Gojo had changed you, the way he had touched your heart and made you feel alive.

You sat alone in the dimly lit motel room, a bottle of liquor in hand, you sought solace in the numbing effects of alcohol. The pain in your heart seemed unbearable, and you hoped that drowning your sorrows would provide temporary relief.

The room felt suffocating. Each sip of the bitter liquid seemed to momentarily wash away the ache, but deep down, you knew it was only a temporary escape. The truth remained that Gojo had moved on, and you were left grappling with the shattered pieces of your heart.

With a heavy sigh, you placed the half-empty bottle on the grimy nightstand and slowly rose from the disheveled bed. Your footsteps carried you towards the suitcase, which stood dutifully beside a small table, as you rummaged through its contents in search of something comfortable to wear for the night. The weight of your emotions bore down on you, causing you to push up your hoodie, removing it with a forceful toss onto the nearby chair, as you attempted to regain control over your tears.

The question echoed in your mind once again, piercing through the haze of confusion and hurt. How could he do this to you? The betrayal felt like a knife twisting in your heart, leaving you gasping for air amidst the waves of anguish.

You made your way towards the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a vulnerable and exposed version of yourself. The longer you gazed upon your topless form, the deeper the sadness seeped into your being. Your hand instinctively reached out, fingers grazing the surface of your bare stomach, as if trying to grasp the weight.

Could it be that your weight gain was the reason behind his abandonment? Did he no longer desire to be with you because of the changes in your body? The thought gnawed at your self-esteem, fueling the belief that the girl he now chose to be with possessed a flat stomach, a flawless figure, and enviable curves. Qualities that you, in your own eyes, did not possess.

Feeling the ache in your stomach intensify, you released your grip and turned your attention back to the task at hand. Pulling out a set of comfortable pajamas from your suitcase, you quickly changed into them, hoping that the soft fabric would provide some comfort amidst the chaos of your emotions.

As you lay down on the bed, the worn-out mattress offering little respite, your mind raced with thoughts of the uncertain future that lay before you. The realization hit hard – you would have to find a job, and fast. The fear of being kicked out of the motel, with nowhere else to go, loomed over you like a dark cloud.

You lay there, staring at the ceiling, your mind began to form a plan. You closed your eyes, the weight of exhaustion finally settling upon you.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days as you tirelessly searched for a job. The motel room became a temporary refuge, a place where you could rest your weary body and gather your thoughts before facing the world again. And then, finally, your efforts paid off.

You received a call from the bakery where you had once worked, offering you a position. Excitement and relief flooded through you as you accepted the job. It was a familiar place,

The first day back at the bakery was filled with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. As you stepped through the familiar doors, the scent of freshly baked bread enveloped you. The warm smiles and greetings from your former colleagues made you feel instantly welcome, as if you had never left.

You returned to your old position as a waitress and memories of Gojo lingered in the back of your mind. It had been a while since you had seen him, and you had made peace with the fact that he no longer wanted anything to do with you.

You let out a sigh as you walked over to the table where some guests were seated. Taking their orders, you jotted them down on a small notepad and headed towards the counter to place it.

As you turned around, the door opened, and there stood Gojo Satoru, looking as charming as ever. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on you, and a smile instantly spread across his face. He waved at you, and for a moment, your heart skipped a beat.

Beside Gojo stood a breathtakingly beautiful woman, exuding confidence and radiating charm. It was clear why Gojo was drawn to her, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

With a polite smile, you excused yourself and walked away, seeking solace in the different side of the bakery. Your heart raced as you tried to process the unexpected encounter. The memories of your past relationship flooded back, bringing with them a whirlwind of emotions.

In the safety of the different side, away from prying eyes, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart.

As you continued your work, serving customers and attending to their needs, you found solace in the routine. The hustle and bustle of the bakery provided a distraction, allowing you to momentarily forget the turmoil that Gojo’s presence had stirred within you.

But deep down, you knew that healing would take time. The wounds were still fresh, and seeing Gojo with someone new had reopened them. Yet, you refused to let it define you.

As you stood behind the counter, your eyes scanned the room, searching for any customer in need of your assistance. However, it seemed that everyone was content, engrossed in their conversations and meals. Your gaze involuntarily shifted towards the table where Gojo sat with his new girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but observe the way Gojo’s eyes sparkled with adoration as he looked at her. The way his face lit up with a blush whenever she smiled at him was a sight you had never witnessed before. It was as if he saw her as a goddess, someone worthy of his utmost devotion and affection.

A pang of jealousy washed over you as you compared Gojo’s current demeanor with how he had looked at you in the past. His eyes had never held that same lovesick gaze when he was with you. It was a bitter realization that he had never regarded you in the same way he now regarded this new woman.

You couldn’t help but wonder what it was about her that captivated Gojo so completely. Was it her radiant smile, her confident aura, or perhaps something deeper that you couldn’t comprehend? Whatever it was, it was clear that Gojo had found someone who made his heart race and his eyes shine with love.

As you continued to observe them from a distance, a mix of emotions swirled within you. Part of you longed for Gojo to look at you with the same intensity, to make you feel like the center of his universe. But another part of you knew that it was time to let go, to accept that Gojo had moved on and found happiness elsewhere.

With a heavy sigh, you turned your attention back to your duties, reminding yourself that your worth was not defined by Gojo’s affections.

You carefully balanced the two deserts and the cup of hot chocolate on your tray, making sure everything was secure. Lost in your thoughts, you absentmindedly glanced at the table number where this order was meant to be served. Without looking up, you started walking towards the designated table, unaware of the impending collision.

Just as you were about to lift your gaze, your body collided with someone, causing your grip on the tray to loosen. The board slipped from your hands, and the cup of hot chocolate tumbled through the air, its contents splattering onto the person you had unintentionally crashed into.

Your eyes widened in shock, and panic surged through your veins as you realized the gravity of the situation. You quickly raised your gaze, meeting the eyes of the person you had accidentally drenched with hot chocolate. And in that moment, your whole world seemed to crumble around you.

It was her. The woman for whom Gojo had left you. The same woman who had stolen his heart and shattered yours in the process. The sight of her standing before you, her face contorted in pain as tears streamed down her cheeks, was like a knife to your heart.

She hissed in pain as the scalding hot chocolate made contact with her skin, desperately trying to wipe away the sticky liquid that clung to her. Your hands trembled as you reached for tissues from a nearby table, desperately attempting to alleviate the discomfort you had caused.

But just as you were about to wipe away the hot chocolate, a forceful hand slapped yours away, taking over the task of cleaning the girl's skin. Startled, you looked up and saw Gojo, his face contorted with fury. His eyebrows knitted together as he witnessed the tears streaming down the girl's face, his protective instincts kicking in.

You stood there, next to Gojo, your voice barely audible as you muttered apologies, trying to explain that it was an accident. But Gojo's anger seemed to drown out your words. He finished wiping away the hot chocolate from the girl's skin and pulled her into his arms, shielding her from any further harm. His gaze shifted towards you, his eyes filled with a mix of disappointment and rage.

"Why would you do that?!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the air. His words pierced through your heart, intensifying the guilt that already weighed heavily upon you. You could see the hurt in his eyes, the pain of betrayal mingling with the anger. But you couldn't find the words to defend yourself, knowing deep down that there was no justification for your actions.

„It was an accident-“

He took a deep breath,"Save it, I know why you did it.“

„Just because I found someone else and that I’m happy with them doesn’t mean that you’ll get to hurt them out of jealousy!“ he spoke

„I thought you were better than that," he said. The girl, still in his arms, chimed in, her voice filled with anger. "Call your manager, you need to be fired!"

Gojo's gaze shifted back to you, his eyes searching for an explanation. The weight of his disappointment and the girl's demand for your termination bore down on you. Panic set in as you realized the implications of losing your job. You couldn't afford to be fired; you needed the money to support yourself.

Desperation filled your voice as you pleaded with Gojo, "Please, don't ask for my manager. It was just an accident. I need this job, I can't afford to lose it." Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to convey the sincerity of your plea. You knew you had made a mistake, but it was one born out of carelessness, not malice.

You instinctively grabbed Gojos' hand,“Please-!“ you begged, but your hand only got slapped away by the woman in his arms.

„And now you go touching someone’s boyfriend? What‘s wrong with you!“ the girl shouted as she slapped you.

Your head turned to the side from the force of the slap, a surge of pain radiated through your cheek. The impact left your skin hot and flushed, a visible mark of the humiliation you felt. You fought back tears, determined not to let them see your vulnerability.

With trembling hands, you gently placed your palm against your reddened cheek, trying to soothe the pain. Your eyes flickered towards the girl, searching for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all you saw was a cold, dismissive gaze. Her arms crossed defiantly, she demanded that you call for the manager, her voice dripping with disdain.

„Call the manager.“

Desperation welled up within you, and you mustered the courage to speak, your voice quivering with a mix of fear and desperation. "Wait, please! I... I really need this job," you pleaded, hoping that she would see reason, that she would understand the dire circumstances that led you to this moment.

She cut you off, her words sharp and dismissive. "I don't care, call for your manager," she interrupted, her tone leaving no room for negotiation or empathy.

Your gaze shifted towards Gojo, silently pleading for his intervention, for him to vouch for you or at least offer some support. But as you looked into his eyes, you saw a furrowed brow and a hint of disappointment. His voice, barely above a whisper, carried a weight of disbelief and disapproval. "Can't believe you would pull something like that," he murmured, his words landing like a heavy blow to your already wounded heart.

Your hand, still trembling, fell from your cheek as you straighten your posture. With a deep breath, you mustered the strength to bow,

"I'll get t-the manager right away," you said,

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Gojo and the girl, making your way towards the counter to call for the manager.

Your hands trembled slightly as you picked up the phone, dialing the number with shaky fingers. Each ring felt like an eternity, amplifying the anxiety that coursed through your veins. Finally, a voice answered on the other end, and you took a deep breath, trying to steady your voice.

"Hello- this is Y/n L/n from [Bakery]. I... I need to speak with the manager, please," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. The person on the other end assured you that they would connect you, and you waited anxiously, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you waited, your mind raced with thoughts of the consequences that awaited you. Losing this job would mean losing your only source of income, and the financial strain it would bring was overwhelming. You couldn't bear the thought of disappointing your loved ones or struggling to make ends meet.

Finally, the manager's voice came through the line, and you mustered up the courage to explain the situation. You recounted the accident, your sincere apologies, and the girl's demand for your termination. The manager listened attentively, their voice calm and composed as they absorbed the details.

After a brief pause, the manager spoke, their tone firm yet compassionate. "I will come over to assess the situation and speak with all parties involved. Please remain calm and await my arrival."

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you hung up the phone.

As you turned around, you noticed Gojo and the girl engaged in a hushed conversation. Their expressions were still filled with anger and disappointment, but there was also a hint of uncertainty. You approached them cautiously, your eyes downcast.

"I've c-called the manager," you said softly,"They will be here soon to address the situation. I... I'm truly sorry for what happened. It was never my intention to cause any harm or distress."

„Sure“ the girl replied.

Months had passed since that fateful encounter at the café. You had lost your job, the incident with Gojo and the girl tarnishing your reputation and leading to your dismissal. Now, you found yourself standing by the reception desk of another run-down motel, desperately seeking a place to stay for the night because you got kicked out of the last one.

As you approached the receptionist, a tired-looking man with a permanent scowl on his face, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of anxiety.

“Excuse me,” you began, your voice wavering slightly. “I was wondering if you have any available rooms for tonight?”

The receptionist glanced up from his paperwork, his eyes narrowing as he took in your disheveled appearance. His tone was curt as he replied, “We do have a few rooms left, but I’ll need payment upfront.”

Your heart sank. You had been scraping by, barely making ends meet, and the little money you had left was barely enough to cover your basic necessities.

“I… I’m sorry,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t have enough money to pay for a room.”

The receptionist’s scowl deepened, his impatience evident. “Look, we can’t just give away rooms for free. If you can’t pay, then I suggest you find somewhere else to go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the gravity of the situation. You were alone, with nowhere to turn and no one to rely on. The weight of your mistakes and the consequences they had brought upon you felt suffocating.

With a heavy heart, you turned away from the reception desk, feeling the eyes of the other guests in the lobby on you, judging and pitying your predicament. As you walked towards the exit, a mix of shame and desperation washed over you, threatening to consume your spirit.

Outside, the cold night air greeted you, a stark reminder of your current reality. You stood on the sidewalk, feeling lost and defeated. The world seemed to blur around you as you pondered your next move, wondering how you had ended up in this dire situation.

Suddenly, a voice chimed in from behind, jolting you out of your thoughts. Startled, you turned around to find yourself face to face with Geto, your ex's best friend. His black eyes bore into yours, his raised eyebrows conveying curiosity and surprise. His gaze drifted to the suitcase clutched tightly in your hand, a silent question hanging in the air.

"Geto?" you questioned, your voice tinged with confusion.

A puff of smoke escaped his lips as he exhaled the cigarette between his fingers,"How many times do I have to tell you, you can call me Suguru," he replied,

“Why are you here?” he asked, standing before you and peering into your eyes. But before you could answer, another question slipped from his lips, catching you off guard. “Where is Satoru?”

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. He didn’t know. How could he not know? Wasn’t he Satoru’s best friend? Shouldn’t he have been informed about the breakup that had occurred just last month? Did Gojo, your ex, not bother to share the news with him?

“Didn’t Satoru tell you?” you asked, breaking eye contact with him, unable to bear his gaze any longer.

“Tell me what?” he questioned. He removed the cigarette from his lips and threw it to the ground, crushing it under his shoe.

“That we broke up,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. As you watched his reaction, you noticed a flicker of surprise in his eyes before he regained his composure.

“You two broke up..?” he questioned,“Since when did you-”

“Last month we broke up,” you interrupted,

“Is there any reason why you two broke up? Everything was good, wasn’t it?” As he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“He…” you hesitated, your gaze shifting to the side. “He found someone else,” you admitted, your lips trembling slightly.

“Oh,” he responded, his hand retracting from your shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest. His eyes turned towards the night sky, lost in his own thoughts, before refocusing on you. “And why are you here in the middle of the night?” he asked, his gaze scanning you from head to toe, taking in your worn-out clothes. His eyes returned to your face.

“I got kicked out of the motel because I couldn’t pay for it anymore,” you replied,

His brows furrowed,"I'm so sorry to hear that," he said softly,"You shouldn't have to go through this alone."

Without hesitation, he reached out and gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Listen, I have an idea," he said,"Why don't you come stay with me until you find a job and get back on your feet?"

Surprised by his offer, you looked at him,"I- I can‘t do that-!" you spoke.

A warm smile spread across his face. "Of course you can," he replied. "I have a spare room and it would be my pleasure to help you out. Sometimes, all we need is a little support to get back on track."

„But-!“

„No buts.“

"Thank you," you whispered, "I don't know what to say..."

He smiled warmly, his eyes sparkling,"No need to thank me," he insisted. "We all go through tough times, and sometimes we just need a helping hand. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

He took the suitcase from your hand and turned around, walking towards his house. "Let's go," he said, looking back at you.

You nodded and followed after him.

7K notes · View notes

malusokay · 11 months

Text

becoming a better student ₊˚⊹♡

Prepare for your classes ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Wake up on time. We don't want to be stressed first thing in the morning, right?

Eat breakfast. So you will be able to better focus in class.

Assigned reading and homework. Make sure you are prepared for your classes!! :)

Review your notes. Going through some of your flashcards before class is really helpful.

Check your bag and charge your devices. Ensure you have everything you need: Books, homework, chargers, pens, water...

In Class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Listen and pay attention. You can save yourself a lot of trouble by simply paying attention, trust me.

Take notes. My favourite note-taking method is the Cornell method; I can make a separate post on that!! <3

"Quick notes." If you struggle with note-taking, try taking quick and messy notes. You can clean them up once you get home!!

Engage. If you have any questions or don't understand something, make sure to ask!! Most teachers really appreciate students who speak up. :)

No distractions. Turn off your phone, no chatting, you'll be glad...

After class ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Finish your assignments as soon as you can. Go home, put on a cosy outfit, have a snack, and get working!! <3

Prepare flash cards. A great way of reviewing your notes, too... :)

Update your Study schedule. Write down any assignment and due dates, reading you must do, upcoming tests, etc...

Clean up your notes. Review them, highlight the important parts, and maybe even make them look cute!! :)

Don't avoid topics/Subjects you dislike. I know it is tempting, but you can't avoid them forever, so you might as well get them done

Structure and routine ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Goals and Priorities. Keep them realistic and manageable.

Time management. Having a set schedule makes studying less overwhelming; it takes some discipline but is so worth it!! <3

Develop a routine. Figure out what works best for you; I prefer studying in the morning or at night.

No "zero days". Even if you can only do a bit, do it!! NO. ZERO. DAYS.

Remember your goals. Dreams will keep you motivated; remind yourself of what you're working for!! <3

Self-care and balance ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Don't forget about your hobbies. You need to do things that make you happy, so make time for those things!!

Maintain a balanced diet. I know chocolates and junk are tempting, especially when you are busy studying all day, but you're not doing yourself any favours.

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. 8 Hours. Non-negotiable.

Exercise regularly. Even if it's just a walk, put on some headphones, listen to music, and give yourself a break. <3

Care for your social life. Reach out to your friends, make plans, and keep in touch; a good work-life balance is critical!!

Romanticising ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Study dates. Meet up with your friends at a cosy cafe, discuss your work, and have some fun!! Studying doesn't have to be all serious all the time ;)

Silly Pinterest boards. Visualising your goals will help you find motivation!!

Music to set the mood. I have a bunch of playlists on my Spotify that might help!! <3

Cosy sweater and candles. The cosy Rory Gilmore vibes haha...

Getting a coffee before class. A little treat before things get serious... Simple pleasures, you know? :)

Babes, The hiatus is OVER, and I'm finally back!! I got a lot of asks on studying, burnout, and school in general, so I thought, why not start off with a little student guide?? I Hope October has been kind to you, and school hasn't been too overwhelming (though I know it, unfortunately, has been for many of you), and I'm glad to finally be back!! <33

As always, Please feel free to add your own suggestions and tips in the comments!!

✩‧₊*:・love ya ･:*₊‧✩

7K notes · View notes

rowarn · 7 months

Text

NEIGHBORLY.

simon riley/reader feat. soap + gaz

tags: smut, established relationship (engaged), retired!simon, neighbors!soap+gaz, afab!reader, gn!reader, age gap (not specified but i imagine 30s/20s), long winded pwp

cw: voyeurism, size difference, no foursome, cucking, throat fucking with fingers, blowjob, dacryphilia, pet names: love/lovie/sweetheart, praise, outdoor sex, cunnilingus, wet&messy, simon picks up reader bridal, striptease?, fingering, dirty talk, praise, lots of compliments!!!, masturbation, clothed/naked sex, standing sex, hand on throat!!!!!, creampie

; two guys called soap and gaz move in next door and aren't good at hiding the crush they develop on you. your fiance, simon, decides they're fun to play with.

"You had dressed up so nicely for your company and here he was, stripping it off of you in front of them instead."

8.5k words

When your fiancé surprised you by buying a quaint little house for the two of you to spend the rest of your lives together in, you were elated. It was straight out of your dreams, cute and cozy, yellow on the outside and enough room for a little garden if you so wished. It was in a quiet neighborhood but near enough to everything you needed that you could walk there if you so chose.

It was all so perfect – living with the love of your life in your first house together. Ready to start your lives and plan the upcoming wedding. Things were peaceful and you couldn’t have been happier.

Then the house next door sold.

“You really have to give them away?” Simon huffed from where he sat at the table, cheek resting on his propped up hand. His lidded gaze followed you as you flitted about the kitchen, cat-themed apron covered in flour.

You laugh over your shoulder, “It’s the polite thing to do! We have to be good neighbors!”

“They smell good…” Simon muttered, only making your smile broaden as you walked over to him.

His hands found your hips when you placed yours on his broad shoulders, black t-shirt getting white specks all over it from the flour still on your fingers, “After I get back from delivering these I’ll make a whole batch just for you, deal?”

He tongues the inside of his cheek before nodding, “Let’s get it over with.”

“You’re coming?” you ask, brows raised in surprise.

“Of course,” he huffs, giving your bottom a little pat when you bend over to grab the tupperware out of the lower cabinet.

You giggle and carefully place parchment paper inside before organizing the cookies in a way that looks nice. You pop the lid on and make your way to the door where Simon is leaning against it with his arms over his chest.

You try your best not to ogle him but he looks damn good; a simple pair of blue jeans fastened with a leather belt and a tight shirt that hugs his pecs and stretches the sleeves around his biceps when they flex.

“Maybe when we get back,” you hum, slipping your feet into your slides, “You can let me suck your dick on the couch, yeah?”

Simon rolls his eyes but doesn’t do a good job of hiding the crooked smile that slips across his face. He turns his back to you and opens the door for you before following you out and down the porch..

His heavy boots pound against the stairs, reminding you just how intimidating his stature is. It makes you pause, halfway between your yard and the new neighbors. You turn around and look up at him.

“What?” he raises a thick brow, crossing his arms over his chest again.

“Just…” you take a few steps backwards, playfully squinting at him with pursed lips, “Stay here, okay? We don’t want to scare the new neighbors.”

“You implying I’m scary, love?” he huffs, a smirk on his lips.

“I’m not implying it, Si,” you grin, “Just stay here while I deliver these.”

“You’re the boss,” he sighs.

True to his word, his feet remain planted right where he stands as you cross into the new neighbors yard. You hop up the stairs and ring the doorbell.

You hear a clamoring from the other side of the door before there’s a slam against the surface and muffled cursing. You bite back a laugh before smiling politely when the door swings open.

Two men stand in the doorway, one with a mohawk stands closest to you – probably the one who ran into the door.

“Oh,” he clears his throat, fixing his posture before flashing you a crooked grin, “Can-can we help ye?”

The other man, with pretty, brown eyes scoots closer, bumping shoulders with the other man, “You’re from next door.”

“Huh?!” The mohawk man gawks, whipping his head over to stare at the other man, “We had a pretty neighbor this whole time and you kept it to yerself?!”

“Are those for us?” he ignored his companion and looked at the tupperware in your hands.

“Oh!” you brush off mohawks comment and nod, holding the box out, “I made you some cookies. They’re just plain chocolate chip, I hope you don’t mind.”

“That’s very sweet of you,” he kindly smiles and takes the container from you, fingers brushing against yours.

“So,” mohawk rests his arm up on the door frame, eyeing you up and down, “My name’s Johnny but everyone calls me Soap.”

“Nice to meet you,” you nod your head in greeting, introducing yourself before looking at the other man who has opened the tupperware to take a cookie out.

“Kyle,” he offers before taking a bite, humming in satisfaction, “These are delicious.”

“Hey, don’t hog those for yourself, ye pig!” Soap cries, snatching a cookie out of the container before shoving the whole thing in his mouth with a moan, “These are good.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you like them,” you giggle, “You can return the tupperware whenever you’re ready.”

“So,” Soap hums before you can leave, “You’re pretty and you can bake, what else can you do? How about you come in and we can get to know each other more.”

You bashfully lower your head and laugh, “I don’t think my fiance would appreciate that very much.” You gesture over your shoulder.

Both men comically lean out of the doorway to look into the yard where Simon still stands, arms over his chest, brown eyes practically piercing through them.

“Ah, that’s a shame,” Soap mutters under his breath before sighing, “Figures, I suppose. Lucky bastard.”

You shake your head tossing a little wave to Simon before looking back at your neighbors, “I’ll be seeing you guys around. Enjoy the cookies!”

You can feel their eyes on you as you go and it isn’t until you reach Simon that you hear the door shut.

Your fiance looks down at you when you stand in front of him, “They liked the cookies.”

“Bet they did,” he hums, letting you take his hand and lead him back to the house where he proceeds to demand a fresh batch just for himself – as you promised.

The next time you see your neighbors, it’s just Kyle. You’re outside, kneeling in the grass with your hands covered in dirt as you plant some flowers.

“Hey there, neighbor,” a friendly voice calls from behind.

You turn to look to see Kyle dressed in a compression shirt, shorts, and running shoes, “Oh hello, Kyle!”

“Doin’ some dirty work, are you?” he asks, eyeing the holes you’re carefully digging.

“Just getting started on my garden,” you explain, “What about you? Going for a run?”

“That’s right,” he nods, “May be on leave but gotta keep movin’ or I go crazy.”

“Leave?” you ask, sitting up straight in interest, “You’re in the military?”

His eyes light up as he nods, “That’s right. Soap and I both.”

“You don’t live on base?” you ask, unable to hide your interest.

“Nah, had to live in the barracks for way too long I couldn’t handle it anymore,” he laughs, a charming smile that makes you smile back, “You interested in military men, love?” he asks, flirtatious tone more than obvious.

You laugh softly, “You could say that,” his brows raise in interest, “My fiance is ex-military. Discharged at Lieutenant for an injury.”

His smile is wiped from his face quickly and you bite back another laugh, “Right, your fiance.”

“I could introduce you, if you’d like,” you offer, “Simon doesn’t really get to talk to many people who know what the military is really like–”

“That’s alright, love,” Kyle says, smiling politely, “I’ve got a run to go on, I’m sure I’ll get the chance to meet him soon enough.”

“Alright,” you wave, hands still covered in dirt as he makes his way back to the sidewalk before jogging off and out of sight.

You finish planting and watering before you place all your tools in the shed and head back inside. Simon sits at the kitchen table, watching the tv that plays some movie from the living room.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets without looking away.

“Hi baby!” you chirp, making your way over to the sink so you can scrub your hands free of dirt, “I ran into Kyle outside!”

“Who?” he asks, barely showing any hint of interest.

“One of the guys from next door!” you remind him, turning off the water and grabbing a towel to wipe your hands dry, “Turns out they’re both in the military!”

“Is that right?” that finally gets his attention.

You nod, turning to look at him, “I offered to introduce you but I think they’re a little scared of you after all.”

He laughs through his nose before standing up, approaching you in a couple broad steps. He crowds you against the counter, hands on either side of you to prevent you from fleeing, “Think they wanna fuck you, lovie.”

You swallow thickly and look up at him, “Th-They’re just flirts…”

He hums, leaning down to press his lips against your neck, “Think I don’t know blokes like that? Young guys in the military like them only think about stuffing their pathetic pricks into whatever tight, wet cunts they can find.”

“S-Si, I haven’t showered yet…” you whisper when he starts trailing his lips along the side of your neck, “I was outside, remember?”

He scoffs, “What kinda man do you take me for?”

You giggle, squirming your way out of his hold, prancing past him and towards the stairs, “You can show me what kind of man you are after a shower.”

A grin spreads across his face as he chases after you, your sweet giggles music to his ears and cock already hard and heavy against his thigh, ready for you to be beneath him or the night.

He waits patiently for you to finish your shower. The second you’re out, a towel the only thing wrapped around you, he has you pinned on the bed.

“You like keeping me waitin’, lovie?” he huffs, nipping at your jaw as he tugs your towel open so he can palm your breasts. You spread your legs for him, legging your knees rest on his hips, “Leavin’ me here with a hard-on. Got my cock achin’, sweetheart.”

“Si…” you sigh wistfully, lashes fluttering as his dirty words make you clench around nothing, “I-I’ll make it up to you.”

“Oh?” he grins, broad tongue licking flat over one of your nipples, “I like the sound of that. You gonna let me use that pretty cunt?”

“Mhm,” you whimper, hands coming up to grip his strong shoulders from the pleasure his tongue brings you.

“So sweet for me,” he hums, rough hands sliding down your body, over your hips and trailing along your thighs until goosebumps rise on your skin. He brings two fingers between your legs to spread your folds apart, the sticky noise audible between the two of you and it makes him snicker, “You’re this wet?”

Your cheeks burn in humiliation, “Sh-Shut up, don’t be mean.”

“Mean?” he asks incredulously, “You’re callin’ me mean while I’m playin’ with this pretty cunt?”

You open your mouth to retaliate but he slides two thick digits into your pussy. You whimper at the burn that it causes but it fades quickly when he crooks his fingers just right to prod that sweet little spot inside you.

Your blunt nails dig into his shoulders, clutching the fabric of his shirt as he surges up to pull you into a kiss. You whimper into the kiss as he continues to stretch you open on his fingers, carefully introducing a third so you can take his cock later with ease. As you kiss, you grind your hips against his hand, his palm rubbing against your clit. The pleasure makes you sigh and shiver, a sweet little sound that makes Simon’s cock twitch in interest.

The kiss is sloppy and wet, messy strings of spit between your lips every time you part to take a breath. Your cunt clenches pathetically around his fingers as he fucks you with them, scissoring his digits to really stretch you out. He doesn’t know how much longer he can wait

“Please, Si,” you gasp, the plea making him stop, glancing over your face to see how badly you really need it.

He sits back on his knees, flingers sliding out of your cunt with an obscene schlick. He unbuttons his jeans and moves the fabric out of the way so he can pull his hard, leaky cock free. He wraps his hand around himself, using the slick covering his fingers to lube himself up.

“Take it off,” you whine, making him pause.

He wants you so bad, just wants to fold you up and stuff his aching cock right in the tight, hot clutch of your pretty pussy. But the puppy-dog eyes you’re giving him has him huffing and obeying.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” he mutters, hooking his fingers under the hem of his shirt so he can yank it over his head.

“Fuck,” you whisper, leaning up to run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling the firmness underneath your explorative fingers while he rids himself of his pants and boxers.

Once he’s finally bare, he gives you no more time to admire his body before he’s pinning you down underneath his massive weight. You can’t do anything but let him, breathing in his scent while enveloped by his overwhelming warmth.

He grips the base of his cock and slides the tip up and down between your folds, circling your clit to spread his precum all over it before meanly slapping the head against the little bud. The impact makes your thighs twitch and jump, a choked whimper of his name escaping your throat.

You arch your hips just right, finally drawing the fat head of his cock into your clenching cunt. He grunts, thumb coming up to swirl against your clit.

“Oh, that feels so good, Si,” you whimper, your praise making his whole body shudder as he works his hips forward, sinking more of his cock into you.

“I know, love,” he chokes out, eyes pinned on where you slowly take him inch by methodical inch, “I treat this little cunt just right, don’t I?”

“Uh-huh!” you whimper, thighs twitching against his waist when he hits that sweet spot with practiced ease, sinking balls deep easily with how absolutely soaked you are for him, “No one fucks me as good as you, Si.”

He plants both hands on either side of your head, pulling his hips back so only the head is enveloped by your hot little pussy before he rolls his hips forward and stuffs his full length right back inside. He hits your cervix, a painful shot zaps up your spine and makes you grasp his arms to dig your nails into his skin.

“I’m the only one who gets to fuck you, lovie,” he huffs, pressing a sweet kiss to your temple as an apology for hurting you.

His next thrust isn’t as deep, avoiding slamming against your poor cervix but still deep enough that he can grind his pelvis right against your clit every time his hips meet yours.

“Simon!” you squeal, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your orgasm building.

“Fuck, look at that,” he grunts, head hanging between his shoulders, his wild hair tickling your face as he watches the creamy mess you’re covering his cock in, “Makin’ a fuckin’ mess, lovie.”

“You’re gonna make me cum!” you sob, hands slapping against his shoulders when he suddenly redoubles his efforts, encouraged by your announcement.

“I know I am, sweetheart,” he grunts, teeth clenched, “Always make this pretty cunt cum don’t I?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” you wail, throwing your arms around his neck, nails drawing thick, red marks down his back, “Cumming, cumming, cumming, Si! Fuck!”

He curses right in your ear, one arm wrapping under your arched back to pull your chest snug against his. He grinds his cock into you, no longer pounding into the gushing heat of your pillowy cunt, humping his pelvis against your clit to work you through the orgasm.

When you sag against him, sticky cunt still spasming around him from the aftershocks, he starts fucking you again, this time to his own end. He grunts and groans in your ear, body trembling from the effort of getting his own orgasm – his reward for making you cum nice and hard around him like you deserve.

“Shit, I love you s’much,” he slurs, lips getting loose from how close his high grows closer. His heavy balls slap against you, aching from how full they are, needing to fill you up with the load he built up just for you, “My pretty baby, so sweet and wet for me. A nice, perfect cunt for me to fuck, shit.”

Your cunt clenches pathetically at his filthy words, hearts in your eyes as you watch how handsome he looks with his brows furrowed and his pupils blown huge, making his brown eyes appear black, “Love you, Si. Please cum inside me, wanna feel you cum, please.”

He pants, slumping against your chest as he uselessly works his hips until his orgasm finally washes over him, spilling his cum inside you with a final, long, drawn out moan.

“Shit, that’s it, baby,” he whispers, hoarse and breathless as his cock throbs and pulses, spitting out ropes of cum that fill you up just right, “Take it all.”

“Ah…Si…” you sigh softly, carding your fingers through his hair as he rests against you, waiting for his cock to stop twitching from the aftershocks before he pulls out.

“You alright, lovie?” he coos, soothing his large hands over your body, “You did so well.”

You smile, cheeks warm and body buzzing from the incredible dick he had just given you, “Never better. You’re so handsome.”

He scoffs, rolling over to toss his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. He picks up his discarded shirt and uses it to wipe off his softened cock, cleaning the mess of your combined cum off of himself.

You hum, “I have to take another shower. Would you like to join me this time?”

He looks up at that, eyes twinkling in interest.

One afternoon, there’s a knock on your door that interrupts your peaceful dinner preparations. You wipe your hands off on your apron and make your way to it, passing by where Simon is transferring the wet clothes into the dryer.

On the other side stands Soap, an empty tupperware container in his hands.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he greets, holding the box out, “Gaz and I loved ‘em.”

“I’m glad to hear it!” you giggle, taking it from his hands, careful not to touch his hands with leftover vegetable residue on your own.

“Somethin’ smells heavenly,” he groans, leaning over your shoulder to take a whiff of the aroma drifting from your kitchen.

“I’m just making dinner,” you explain with a little shrug.

“Guess you’re one hell of a cook too, huh?” he compliments, a charming smile on his face.

“I get by,” you laugh.

“Say,” he says suddenly, “Is that big bastard really your fiance?”

You blink in surprise at his bold question, “Y-Yes..?” your response comes out more as a question.

“Is that a problem?” a deep, annoyed voice comes from behind you.

You jump when Simon’s firm, tattooed arm wraps around your waist, “Si, you should be watching the stove.”

“You go ahead and finish up, lovie,” he mutters, kissing your temple before shooing you away from the door.

“Ah,” Soap clears his throat awkwardly, as his back straightens, “Simon was it?”

“You’d be wise to watch your tongue,” Simon warns, “I’m not above putting you in your place.”

“Y-Yes sir,” Soap whispers, hands clasped behind his back, “I’ll be more mindful.”

“Get the hell off my porch,” Simon orders, watching the young man tuck his tail and dash down the stairs.

Simon quietly closed the door and made his way back to the kitchen where you were plating the food, “Everything okay, Si? You weren’t too hard on him, were you?”

Simon bites back a smile and takes the plates from your hands to put them on the table for you, “Who do you think I am?”

You give him a skeptical look before taking a seat in front of your food, “I don’t want to make enemies with our neighbors, Simon.”

He sighs, taking a seat across from you, “Alright, I’ll be nice, love. I promise. I’ll go over tomorrow and apologize for bein’ rude, will that make you happy?”

“Yes,” you smile, “They’re not too bad. They’re just…rambunctious. You said so yourself, you know how their types are! They’re just flirts.”

He nods, “They’re…interesting characters.”

The next day, true to his word, the next morning, Simon is standing in front of their door.

“Oh, hello neighbor,” Kyle greets nervously, “Is there something you need?”

“Your friend,” Simon grunts, “I’d like to talk to him.”

Kyle looks worried for a second, glancing over his shoulder where Simon assumes Soap was, “Whatever he did, don’t mind him. He’s just an idiot.”

Simon huffs out a laugh through his nose, “I wanted to apologize to him.”

“Oh!” Kyle gasps before looking back over his shoulder, “Soap, door for you!”

Soap rounds the corner and freezes when he sees Simon standing there, “Hello, sir.”

“Soap, right?” Simon says, “Listen, I was rude last night. I wanted to apologize.”

“Ah, well,” Soap shifts on his feet, casting a sideways glance at his friend, “I-I deserved it, I shouldn’t have said what I said either. Your relationship isn’t any of my business.”

Soap actually looks like a kicked puppy and Simon feels his own interest piqued, “Pretty, huh?”

“Sir?” Soap blinks in confusion.

Simon says your name, “Pretty little thing. Can’t blame you for makin’ eyes.”

“I…” Soap licks his lips, blue eyes wide in shock, “W-Well, yes, sir. Very pretty.”

Simon laughs softly, glancing over at his house where he knows you’re bustling about inside, “You think they’re pretty now. You should see them in nothing, bent over the kitchen table in tears.”

Soap’s throat moves as he swallows around the lump in his throat, mind conjuring up sinful images. Kyle’s eyes practically bug out of his head at Simon’s words.

The large man gives a tight lipped smile as a goodbye before he's stalking off of the porch, leaving the two young men slack-jawed and stunned into silence.

When Simon’s in the safety of his own home, he places a hand over his face and lets out the low chuckles he had been holding back.

“What’s so funny, Si?” you ask when you descend from the stairs, a laundry basket in your hands – the second load from yesterday that you hadn’t had the chance to do.

“Nothin’, lovie,” he grins, sharp canines on display, “Let me help you with that.”

“Did you make up with the neighbors?” you ask, letting him take the basket from your hands.

“I sure did,” he coos, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before leading the way to the laundry room.

You give him a suspicious look but decide not to press the issue further, instead choosing to focus on the other chores you still had to do for the day.

Things seemingly settle down for a little while. You don’t see either of your new neighbors except for polite greetings in passing. All in all, things seem to quiet down.

You’re relaxing with Simon on the back veranda, curled in his lap on a swinging bench with a book in your hands. Usually, you’d be scrolling on your phone but Simon was always adamant about being tech-free when you were outside together like this.

Enjoy nature and relax he would say, only laughing when you would call him an old man.

Just as you start a new chapter in your book, Simon’s hand begins to wander. Your lips twitch as you fight smiling, watching his fingers slip beneath the leg of your lounge shorts. The feeling of his callused skin brushing against the hem of your panties already has you clenching around nothing.

“Look so pretty like this,” he coos in your ear, hand coming from between your legs to wrap around your throat.

You smile against his lips, “I haven’t even gotten dressed yet today.”

“I know,” he breathes, pressing his lips to yours in a sweet, simple kiss before pulling back to add, “You’re pretty without even havin’ to try, lovie.”

“You’re just trying to butter me up so I let you in my pants,” you tease, practically melting at the feeling of his thumb stroking the skin of your cheek.

“Don’t gotta butter you up for that, do I sweetheart?” he coos, “You’ll let me right between those thighs without even havin’ to ask.”

Your lashes flutter at his words, heart pounding in your ears because he’s right. Even right now, your panties have grown sticky. His thumb traces over your lips and you open your mouth to let the digit inside. The action makes him raise a brow.

“You want somethin’ down that little throat?'' he asks. You nod your head, not caring how desperate you look, “Even with our little audience over there?”

He watches your eyes widen, clearly startled out of the moment. Your gaze flicks past his face to see your two neighbors Soap and Gaz on their back porch, both nursing beers. They look away when your gaze falls on them but it’s clear they’ve been watching the whole interaction with your fiance.

“Don’t care,” you find yourself muttering, eyes falling back onto your fiance.

“That’s what I thought,” he huffs, leaning forward to brush his lips against yours, “Knew you were filthy, don’t mind if anyone watches you as long as your pretty cunt gets to cum, yeah?”

You feel breathless as you nod your head. Simon brings his index and middle fingers to your lips that you eagerly open up for him.

“Good,” he praises, slowly slipping the fingers into your mouth, careful not to gag you on them until you’re ready.

Your lips seal around the digits, rolling your tongue over the salty skin until they’re covered in spit. Then he slowly starts sliding them deeper into your mouth until the tips are buried in your throat.

“Relax, just like that, good,” he praises, cock leaking against his thigh at the sight of your eyes filling with tears. He pulls his fingers back carefully just to stuff them back in, biting back a groan when you choke around them.

Simon casts a glance over his shoulder to see the two neighbors you were giving the show to watching with wide, unblinking eyes. Neither could take their eyes off of you as you eagerly let your fiance fuck your throat with his fingers.

He could see Soap had his hand on his crotch, no doubt gripping his hard cock. Kyle at least had enough pride to not touch himself to the sight of you.

You reach up to grab Simon’s wrist, signaling for him to pull his fingers out of your mouth. When he did, a string of thick drool connected your lips to the tips. The sight made his cock throb painfully, desperate for some kind of friction.

“I want you, Si,” you whimper, reaching down to cup his hardened cock through his pants.

“Is that right?” he asks, raising a brow, “Is that pretty little pussy wet?”

You nod your head, “Want your tongue, Si.”

He licks his lips, chasing the fantasy taste of you before glancing back over to the neighbors who now don’t even bother hiding the fact they’re watching the two of you.

“Want me to eat you out right here?” he asks, subtly gesturing his head to next door.

“Don’t care about them,” you whine, a cute little frown on your face that he just couldn’t say no to.

Before you knew it, Simon was on his knees, tugging your shorts and panties off in one fell swoop. You eagerly spread your legs, locking your arms around your knees to let Simon have as much room as he needed.

“Look at you,” he coos, using his thumbs to spread your lips apart, exposing your drooling entrance and swollen clit.

The little bud twitched under his heated gaze, hole dribbling out more thick juices that made his mouth water. He can’t resist the call anymore, leaning forward to slide the flat of his tongue over the length of your cunt, ending with a flick against your clit that made your whole body twitch.

“Thaaaaat’s it, pretty,” he coos, muffled from the way he refuses to part from your cunt, “Let us hear you.”

Your mouth falls open as he starts eagerly tonguing your pussy, swirling the muscle inside your hole before coming up to wrap his lips around your clit. He eats messy, not caring for all the drool and cum that covers his face or drips down to the floor below.

He uses his thumbs to keep your folds spread so he can focus on your clit. His tongue swirls around and around, lathering the poor little bud in a heavy film of his spit before he’s wrapping his lips around it again and sucking.

The feeling makes your back arch and you can’t help the loud moan that tears from your throat. Your nails dig into the soft meat of your thigh, the only thing you can grab from the position you’ve chosen for yourself.

Simon’s eyes are closed and there’s a crease between his brows of concentration. Neither of you even remembers the fact you’re outside and have an audience of two just next door. All you can think about is how good your fiance’s tongue feels worshiping your clit.

“Si!” you squeal when he reaches up to tug the hood of your clit back, exposing the little bud for him to tongue at. It’s so sensitive that it aches but it feels too good to stop him, only able to lay back and twitch as you take it.

He groans in response to you calling his name, cock leaking down his thigh so much that his sweats are sticking to him. Your slick drips off of his chin and he can think of nothing but how good you smell and taste – a 5 star meal all laid out just for him.

“Oh, I’m gonna cum!” you cry out, “You’re gonna make me cum, Si!”

He can’t even bring himself to pull his mouth off of you to encourage you like he usually does. Instead, he doubles his efforts, slurping and sucking at your clit. His jaw is aching but it’s barely a blip on his radar as he feels the tender little bud throb beneath his tongue.

Your orgasm washes over you quickly and hard. Your eyes roll back in your head as your jaw falls open, a symphony of pleasured cries flit through the air. Your fiance eagerly works you through the orgasm he so easily gave you, tongue swirling and circling your clit until your thighs clamp shut and you push him away, still trembling and shaking from the aftershocks.

He pulls back, chest heaving as he finally takes the first deep breaths he’s gotten since he started.

“Good?” he asks, licking his lips to clean your cum off of them.

You nod, breathless, “Take me inside and fuck me, please Si.”

He’s on his feet in seconds, scooping you up bridal style before hurrying back inside, forgetting all about the book you left behind – and the audience still on the porch next door.

You learn that Simon seems to really enjoy torturing your two neighbors when just a few nights later, he corners you in the bedroom.

“Our neighbor’s a nosy little bastard,” he coos into your ear.

You cast a glance over to the window where you can see Soap is lingering in front of his window, acting like he wasn’t watching and waiting to see what would happen next.

“He’s waitin’ so patiently,” Simon says, “It’s only polite of us to give him somethin’ to look at.”

“Glad to see you’re finally being neighborly,” you tease, a cheeky grin growing on your face.

Simon’s fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, sliding it up and up until you lift your arms and let him tug it over your head. Your bare breasts bounce free and Simon sucks in a breath at the sight.

“Fuck,” he coos, large hands cupping them, “Can’t believe I get to marry you some day.”

“We still need to pick a date,” you mutter, voice cracking when he wraps his lips around one perked nipple.

He groans against your chest, “I’d marry you right fuckin’ now if you’d let me.”

You whimper, hands carding through his messy hair before he abruptly pulls away. He grips your shoulders and turns you so your back is pressed against his chest and you’re facing the window – and Soap, who still stands there stunned.

Kyle pops in from the left, mouth dropping open at the sight of your tits on full display for them to ogle. Simon stares over your shoulder, watching their reactions as he gropes your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers.

You can’t stop the soft whimpers and gasps that fall from your lips as he plays with your nipples. Your thighs clench together, a weak attempt to quell the ache that settles in your cunt. You never thought you’d enjoy being watched like this – it felt so dirty and wrong but that’s exactly what turned you on. The fact your neighbors wanted you so badly that they would just watch you get touched like this.

“You wanna give ‘em a show?” he asks, voice dark and deep in your ear, “Somethin’ they’ll be fistin’ their cocks to later?”

“Yes, anything, Si,” you whimper, hands coming up to grip his wrists as he squeezes your breasts, “I’ll do anything you want.”

“Then get on your knees,” he orders, letting your chest go so you can drop to your knees in front of him, “There you go. Just where you belong.”

He unbuckles his belt and pulls his zipper down, reaching inside his boxers to pull his half-hard cock out. You watch with wide eyes as he slowly strokes himself to full hardness.

A bead of precum oozes from the tip and it makes your mouth water. Before Simon even says anything, you lean forward and wrap your lips around the head of his cock. A soft, sweet sound comes from his throat at the feeling of your hot, soft tongue sliding over the sensitive skin.

His hand comes down to cradle your jaw, lidded gaze watching how you start to take him deeper.

When he feels his cock pop into your throat, it feels like the air gets punched out of his lungs. His touch moves from your jaw to your throat, feeling the way it bulges the deeper you take his length down.

He glances out the window to find Kyle has joined watching with rapt attention at how you swallow his cock. The sight of it makes him pulse in your throat and you whimper at the salty taste of his pre-cum on your tongue.

When you’ve swallowed all of him that you can take, you bring up a hand to stroke him to the same rhythm that you bob your head. Simon tosses his head back, brown eyes rolling into his skull at the sloppy sounds of you choking and drooling all over him.

He feels your spit dribble down his balls and over your chin to his hand. It’s everything – it’s messy and sloppy. He can’t even bring himself to look at you, too scared he’ll blow his load right down your tight little throat before he can even fully enjoy it to the fullest.

“Fuck,” he groans, the sound going straight to your cunt. You can’t help but slip your hand down your panties, finding your cunt slippery and wet. Your fingers circle your clit as you gag around your fiance’s thick cock.

“That’s it, lovie,” he huffs, “Touch that pretty cunt for me.”

Your lashes flutter at his words, rocking your hips against your own touch. Simon’s hand rests on the top of your head, slowly starting to rock his own hips, heavy balls slapping against your chin with the movement. You halt stroking him with your hand and brace yourself against his thigh, giving him permission to fuck your face as he wants.

“There you go,” he grunts, teeth gritted, “Cum on those fingers for me and I’ll cum down your throat, yeah? Think you can do that?”

You nod your head, doubling your efforts between your legs. The mess of drool that Simon fucks out of your mouth froths and drips everywhere, the entire endeavor growing messier and messier with each thrust he makes.

Simon watches the way your eyes roll back in your head, thighs twitching and spasming around your hand. He can feel the muffled vibrations as you whine against the cock filling your mouth.

With a final, deep groan, Simon’s balls draw up and his brows furrow before he’s spilling right down your throat – as deep as he can. You eagerly swallow around him, taking down every single drop he has to offer.

When he’s finally done, cock still twitching in sensitivity as he slowly softens, he pulls out. His cock was a mess, drool and cum still clinging to the skin in sticky strings.

“Fuck,” he laughs breathlessly, “That little throat is dangerous.”

You giggle, biting your lip as he moves towards the window, sending a last look to your neighbors before drawing the curtains closed. End of the show, it seems.

You never thought about how you would feel when you’d have to face your two neighbors again. Given the fact they were actively in the military, you could go days before you caught sight of one of them again. Ever since Simon had started this little game of teasing the poor guys you hadn’t actually spoken to them face to face.

“I invited Soap and Kyle over for dinner,” Simon muttered one late afternoon as he sipped on a cup of tea.

You nearly dropped the knife you were using to chop vegetables as you turned to look at your fiance in shock, “You what?!”

“Saw them while I was out on my mornin’ run,” he explained, taking a sip from his cup that was all too nonchalant for the utter anxiety that you felt, “Thought I’d be neighborly and invite them for dinner since we haven’t yet.”

“Simon!” you cry out indignantly, “How am I supposed to face them!?”

“What do you mean?” he asks, hiding his smile behind the cup.

“Th-They’ve watched us do all sorts of shit!” you whine, turning back around to anxiously cut the vegetables once again.

“So?” he hums, “We’re all adults. You think they can’t act normal just ‘cause they’ve seen you with a cock down your throat?”

You let out a frustrated sound, “You’re so-!”

“Relax, sweetheart,” he croons, placing his empty cup down, “It’ll be okay, I promise.”

You should have known better than to believe him. Simon seemingly couldn’t resist teasing the two men. As soon as all four of you were sitting at the table, you knew right away that this was not going to be the peaceful dinner you were hoping for.

Kyle and Soap were painfully quiet, trying their best to keep their eyes off of you in fear of making your fiance angry. Simon was keenly aware of this and before any of you had a chance to finish your meals, he was pushing his chair back and pulling you from your own seat, your back pressed against his front.

“I think we all know what we want,” he sighs, “So why don’t we cut the shit and get on with it.”

Rough, experienced fingers slowly start undoing the buttons on your shirt. You had dressed up so nicely for your company and here he was, stripping it off of you in front of them instead.

One by one the buttons came undone, your fiance giving you ample opportunity to stop him and back out should you decide this wasn’t something you wanted to do. But you never did.

Your breathing fastened and your heart raced in your chest at the excitement of the whole situation. Soap and Kyle sat in their seats, wide eyes following each methodical movement of your fiance until the final button was undone and they were able to see your bra.

Kyle licked his lips at the sight of your breasts wrapped in the sheet material, giving just a hint at what was beneath.

Soap follows Simon’s hand as it slides down your front to the button on your jeans. The button comes undone followed by your zipper, giving a little peak of the maroon colored panties you wore.

“What do you think?” Simon asks them, nosing softly at your cheek until you let your head fall to the side, exposing your neck for him to kiss.

“A fuckin’ dream,” Soap whispers, sounding like he’s in a daze.

Kyle audibly gulps, too lost in a daze to say anything as his eyes practically burn holes into you.

After pressing a kiss against your jaw, Simon finally slides the shirt off of your shoulders. The fabric flutters to the ground but you don’t have time to think about it before the clasp of your bra is undone and your bra joins it.

Both men at the table inhale sharply at the sight of your bare breasts.

“Prettier up close…” Kyle mutters, resting his chin on his hand, simply admiring the view before him.

Simon takes a second to cup your tits, squeezing them in his rough hands before his thumbs hook under the band of your pants and tugs them down. You shimmy in place, helping him tug them over your hips until they pool on the ground and you can step out of them completely.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap whispers, leaning even closer from where he sits, trying to get an even better view of you standing in just a pair of pretty, sheer maroon colored panties.

“Aren’t they so lucky?” Simon coos in your ear, one hand slipping between your thighs to cup your clothed pussy while the other eagerly gropes your tits, “Gettin’ to see you like this when only I should get to.”

“Si…” you whimper, gripping his arm in your hands as he carefully strokes you through your panties.

“What do you say, men?” Simon asks sharply, glaring at your two guests.

“Thank you, sir,” both of them say in unison without taking their eyes off of you.

Simon hums, seemingly satisfied enough to slip your panties down so you’re completely bared – the only one naked in the room. It made your cheeks burn in humiliation but that humiliation only made your wetter.

Simon’s fingers slid between your folds, a sticky noise accompanying the movement. You hear him suck in a breath when he feels your slick coating his fingers. You lift your leg and place it on the nearby chair, giving both men at the table a perfect view of your pretty cunt being spread by your fiance’s fingers.

“There you go, lovie,” he coos, “Show them how wet you get for me.”

He slips his middle finger inside, letting it slowly sink in the final knuckle. Your lashes flutter at the feeling of being stretched but it’s not enough – one finger would never be enough when you’ve had his perfect cock inside you so many times before. So Simon quickly slides his ring finger in right alongside his middle and your head falls back against his shoulder.

You practically forget about the two pairs of eyes on you when he crooks his fingers just right and grinds the tips against that gooey little spot that makes your thighs tremble.

“Si!” you squeal, nails biting into his wrist as you grind your hips, humping your hardened clit against his palm.

“Yeah?” he responds, tucking you firmly against him so he can fuck you properly with his fingers.

You’re unable to stop the cries and sobs of pleasure as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm with every press of his fingers against your sweet spot and every slap of his palm against your clit. Drool drips down your chin as your whole body twitches, eyes rolling back in your head as the orgasm builds and builds.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Kyle breathes, a trembling hand placed over his mouth in awe.

Finally, your high washes over you and you slump forward, held up only by Simon’s strong arm grappled around you. Your knees tremble as Simon’s fingers continue to fuck you through it until you’re gushing in messy spurts all over his hand every time his fingers are stuffed back inside. It splatters to the floor and drips down your thighs, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment.

Simon pulls his fingers out of the hot clutch of your cunt with a humiliatingly loud squelch before he pops the digits right into his mouth, humming at the taste of your cum on his tongue.

He lifts your chin up and immediately plants his lips right on yours, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You sigh into the kiss, cum-drunk brain getting lost in the familiar affection. You don’t even notice Simon undoing his jeans until you feel the hot, blunt head of his cock prodding your entrance. You whimper into his mouth when he simply ruts his hips, sliding the head back and forth, over your clit and back down – coating himself in the cum he had already fucked out of you with his fingers.

“How are you boys enjoyin’ the show?” Simon asks, suddenly reminding you of their presence.

You dazedly look at them, finding both of them sitting back in their chairs, stroking their cocks in the open. Soap’s got a thick, veiny cock that looks like it would make you cry if you tried to take it down your throat. Kyle, on the other hand, has a long, pretty cock adorned with a piercing on the tip that makes your cunt clench around nothing just imagining what it would feel like. Maybe you should ask Simon to get a piercing just to see.

“Fuckin’ incredible, sir,” Soap chokes out, squeezing his cock tight in his fist.

Simon chuckles under his breath before his attention turns back to you, a well-practiced rut of his hips sinks the head of his cock into your warm, sticky cunt. Your mouth drops open at the feeling, eyes accidentally locking onto Kyle’s, who is watching you with a dark, focused gaze.

You find yourself unable to break eye contact as your fiance slowly and carefully stretches you open on his cock until he finally sinks to the hilt, full balls sleeping against your clit. Your eyes roll back and you bite your lip to suppress the absolutely sinful sound that threatens to escape your lips.

Simon groans at the feeling of being clutched so tightly by your precious cunt. Your hand comes down to circle your clit with desperate, shaky movements until you’re suddenly cumming around his cock.

“Shit!” Simon practically howls, blunt nails biting into your skin as he holds your twitching body against his through the sudden orgasm you’ve given yourself, “Cummin’ just from gettin’ my cock in you? So sweet, lovie.”

You whimper his name in a little hiccup, tearily looking up at him from where your head thumps back against his shoulder. The pathetic look in your eye is what prompts him to start moving – fat cock sliding out of you before a powerful roll of his hips ends it back deep. He prods your cervix in a way that makes pain mix deliciously with pleasure – an addictive feeling that only Simon could ever give you.

His harsh thrusts jostle your entire body, your tits bouncing in time to the movement. You’re not able to keep quiet, every time he sinks deep, it punches a moan out from your lungs. His heavy, fat balls slap against you, only adding to the lewd sounds of squelching and moaning.

Soap and Kyle continue to stroke their own cocks to the sight of your getting fucked. Leaking cocks squelching quietly in their own grips.

“Shit…” Soap groans through his teeth, “Wish I could wrap my lips around that pretty clit, darlin’.”

You whimper, eyes rolling back at the very thought of having a tongue worshiping your neglected clit. With Simon’s cock stuffing you full, you know it would work the most magnificent orgasms out of you.

As if sensing your greedy thoughts, Simon wraps a rough hand around your throat, forcing you to look up at him, “Felt that little cunt squeeze me when he said that. My cock not enough for you?”

“Y-You are!” you sob, tears filling your eyes from how he starts an even rougher pace, “J-Just wanna cum, Si!”

Your fiance scoffs at your words, harshly knocking your leg off of the chair that you had it propped up in. You cry out at how the angle changes with his hand still wrapped around your throat, forcing you to arch your back to look up at him. His cock grinds incessantly against that gooey little spot that makes your entire body twitch every time he pounds against it.

It’s even more difficult to keep yourself upright without the chair to help, both your knees are shaky and if Simon wasn’t holding you tight against his chest by your throat, you’d certainly be slumping to the floor.

Simon’s hand tightens around your neck and it cuts off the noises that are escaping. Your vision fuzzes up as your orgasm builds and builds.

“Si, Si, Si–” you choke out, drool dripping down your chin, “Please, I’m gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Course I am,” Simon snarls, letting his free hand drop to your clit, harshly slapping the little bud before rubbing soothing circles around it.

That sends you over the edge, gushing all over him and down your thighs. You squeal, unable to do anything except hang on for the ride as Simon fucks you through your high until he reaches his own end – spilling his load inside you without a second thought.

You’re left trembling and twitching, gasping and whimpering with tears dripping down your cheeks. Finally, Simon allows you to slump forward, your chest meeting the kitchen table as he pulls his softening cock from your dripping cunt. Sticky, thick strings of his cum connect to his length from your clenching pussy. He soothes his hand down the length of your spine, soothing the little trembles that still wrack your body as you come down.

“Holy fuckin’ shit,” Soap pants, wiping his cum-covered hand off on his pants.

“You,” Kyle adds, “are one hell of a neighbor.”

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cheonstapes · 9 months

Text

miguel o’hara stars in… ‘THE SWEETER THE JUICE’ o(^-^)o

･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡. miguel o’hara x reader .｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･

SMUT

now he’s finally got you pregnant, he’s gonna do what he’s been dreaming of all these years. suck. those. tits.

same universe as this miguel.

cw; lactation kink, pregnancy, breeding kink (not really but yknow me), dry humping, titties, older nerd!miguel, they’re finally married!

800+ words

@cheonstapes : she’s back! again!

if miguel had to pick a part of your body he loved the most, it’d definitely be your tits.

if you think he was obsessed before — you don’t wanna know what goes through his head as he watches you waddle around his house, carrying his kid, sighing every time you leak through another shirt. you had forgone a bra ever since you got pregnant, saying how uncomfortable they feel against your chest — not that he was complaining.

“for fucks-sake, again?”

he was so used to hearing you say that, he already had a shirt on hand for you to change into. you were so grateful for your doting husband that you completely missed that nasty glint in his eyes you usually only see when he’s bending you over the bed and fucking you raw — luckily for him.

“here, honey. lift your arms for me.”

as you do, he pulls the shirt up — the soiled fabric catching under your swollen breasts as he wiggles it off you. “ah, shit — thanks, baby. but fuck, am i’m so tired of changing shirts every 10 minutes!” you might be tired, but miguel cannot get enough of it. he was already so fucking hard, practically salivating at the sight of your bare breasts still leaking down your heavy belly.

“maybe you should just ditch the shirts all together, love — you know i hate seeing my beautiful wife uncomfortable.” miguel’s voice was a soft whisper in your ear, lips slowly tracing down the side of your jaw to your sensitive neck — kissing the skin so tenderly. his calloused hands gently massaged the taut flesh of your tits, probing and squeezing at your nipples to let out small trickles of that sweet milk.

“migs, how many times are you gonna say that?”

“as many as it takes for you to finally listen.”

the breathy laugh you let out did little to qualm the feeling deep in his gut — he was dead serious, there was absolutely no reason for you to be in shirts all the time when you have him to take care of you whenever you needed a good milking. his hips were already sinking into to the plush of your ass that he loved oh-so-much — especially with how much fatter it got during your pregnancy.

it was almost as if he had lost control of his body, a hand landing on your waist to bend you over the counter as he mindlessly ruts into you. “dios, nena, eres tan hermosa. vas a ser la mamá más guapa, ¿verdad? mm, my pretty, little mama.” miguel never failed to turn you on to no bounds, like, you have a walking greek god as a husband — but those fucking hormones were making it unbearable.

the force at which he was pushing against you had shifted your drenched panties to the side, leaving practically nothing between you and his drooling bulge. his fingers tightened around the fat of your hips, squeezing the flesh delicious hard as his free hand flipped you over — pushing your back against the edge of the counter. “shit…been waiting to taste these all fucking day, honey.”

mindful of your growing belly, he hiked one of your legs up on his hip — craning his neck down to suck on a pert nipple. wasting no time, and at a much better angle, he continued to grind against you — his tip catching against your engorged clit. “m—migs, baby, fuck…” the way he swirled and sucked so eagerly reminded you of when you first started dating, how determined he was to knock you up before the two of you even moved in together.

the taste was so addicting, some of your milk trickling down his body — dripping onto the ground beneath you. you knew he was about to cum, hard — his eyes had rolled back, breathing in heavy pants, hands rushing to pull down the waistband of his sweats. “gonna paint my girls in my cum, love — sé una buena chica y mantenlos juntos para mí.”

“‘course, baby.” you nodded breathlessly, squishing the globes of fat together as he pumped his cock dry — head thrown back as ropes upon ropes of his hot seed coated your tits, sliding into the self-made crevice. “god, what did i do in my past life to have a wife as sexy as you, mamí?” his spent cock bobbed against his thigh as he trapped you against the counter — kissing you deeply as his wet hands reaching up to rub the cum into the skin of your breasts.

“mmph — y’know, i heard cum’s good for the skin. it, uh, helps with the blood circulation in your tits — i think we should do this more often, love.”

“migs, if you weren’t, like — a whole scientist, i might’ve believed you. if you want a titjob, just say that.”

“…i mean, you said it — not me.”

all your home shirts were promptly locked away and never to be seen again.

-new year, new waiting for cheon to get her shit together andpost!

#cheonstapes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara headcanons #miguel smut #miguel o’hara smut #cheonstapes films!🪷#miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #nerd miguel smut #nerd miguel

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inkskinned · 3 months

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one of the things that's the most fucking frustrating for me about arguing with climate change deniers is the sheer fucking scope of how much it matters. sweating in my father's car, thinking about how it's the "hottest summer so far," every summer. and there's this deep, roiling rage that comes over me, every time.

the stakes are wrong, is the thing. that's part of what makes it not an actual debate: the other side isn't coming to the table with anything to fucking lose.

like okay. i am obviously pro gun control. but there is a basic human part of me that can understand and empathize with someone who says, "i'm worried that would lead to the law-abiding citizens being punished while criminals now essentially have a superpower." i don't agree, but i can tell the stakes for them are also very high.

but let's say the science is wrong and i'm wrong and the visible reality is wrong and every climate disaster refugee is wrong. let's say you're right, humans aren't causing it or it's not happening or whatever else. let's just say that, for fun.

so we spend hundreds of millions of dollars making the earth cleaner, and then it turns out we didn't need to do that. oops! we cleaned the earth. our children grow up with skies full of more butterflies and bees. lawns are taken over with rich local biodiversity. we don't cry over our electric bills anymore. and, if you're staunchly capitalist and i need to speak ROI with you - we've created so many jobs in developing sectors and we have exciting new investment opportunities.

i am reminded of kodak, and how they did not make "the switch" to digital photography; how within 20 years kodak was no longer a household brand. do we, as a nation, feel comfortable watching as the world makes "the switch" while we ride the laurels of oil? this boggles me. i have heard so much propaganda about how america cannot "fall behind" other countries, but in this crucial sector - the one that could actually influence our own monopolies - suddenly we turn the other cheek. but maybe you're right! maybe it will collapse like just another silicone valley dream. but isn't that the crux of capitalism? that some economies will peter out eventually?

but let's say you're right, and i'm wrong, and we stopped fracking for no good reason. that they re-seed quarries. that we tear down unused corporate-owned buildings or at least repurpose them for communities. that we make an effort, and that effort doesn't really help. what happens then? what are the stakes. what have we lost, and what have we gained?

sometimes we take our cars through a car wash and then later, it rains. "oh," we laugh to ourselves. we gripe about it over coffee with our coworkers. what a shame! but we are also aware: the car is cleaner. is that what you are worried about? that you'll make the effort but things will resolve naturally? that it will just be "a waste"?

and what i'm right. what if we're already seeing people lose their houses and their lives. what if it is happening everywhere, not just in coastal towns or equatorial countries you don't care about. what if i'm right and you're wrong but you're yelling and rich and powerful. so we ignore all of the bellwethers and all of the indicators and all of the sirens. what if we say - well, if it happens, it's fate.

nevermind. you wouldn't even wear a mask, anyway. i know what happens when you see disaster. you think the disaster will flinch if you just shout louder. that you can toss enough lives into the storm for the storm to recognize your sacrifice and balk. you argue because it feels good to stand up against "the liberals" even when the situation should not be political. you are busy crying for jesus with a bullhorn while i am trying to usher people into a shelter. you've already locked the doors, even on the church.

the stakes are skewed. you think this is some intellectual "debate" to win, some funny banter. you fuel up your huge unmuddied truck and say suck it to every citizen of that shitbird state california. serves them right for voting blue!

and the rest of us are terrified of the entire fucking environment collapsing.

#spilled ink #writeblr #i hope it is clear here that i actually very much care about equatorial countries #and that's part of what makes me so angry bc im like. climate refugees exist.#they've existed for a while!!!#and the reply is almost always ''should have thought about that before living on an island"#like fuck dude. do you need to like how people vote before ur like #your entire house shouldn't burn down each summer????#so many of these people make it their life to mock california that they think it's FUNNY #and im like. girl you should be fucking trembling. TEXAS??? ARE YOU LISTENING??#this is one of those times that like. i need to stress how fucking stupid it would be #to let trump win. bc he could have “reached across the aisle.” covid could have been #a MASSIVE commercial success. he has such a huge and bigoted and brainwashed following.#literally just a PR campaign called COWBOY UP and it's pictures of cowboys in bandanas #trump reinvisioned as the lone ranger fighting for the american people against covid. EASY SELL #and instead. companies bought him. it became political. it was not ''oh shit this is 1 enemy let's all be human''#it was ''you deserve to die.''#climate change should be GLOBAL. it should be like ''yeah i hate u but. we do all live here''#i don't have to LIKE my group members to do well on a team project bc we are ALL getting graded.#is that simple enough of an under-explaination lol

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oddinary4bts · 8 months

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To Give a Helping Hand | jjk

☆summary: when Jungkook comes home from the gym, he goes feral thinking about you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, explicit content: masturbation. that's it, that's the whole thing. Cumshot on his hand tattoos. Jungkook is hella horny for reader and jerks off thinking about her - fantasies of oral sex (male and female receiving), of unprotected sex, of rough sex, of hickeys and marking (scratches on the back), of shower sex, of spanking, of choking, of creampies, of clit play, of fingering and squirting. Multiple orgasms, lowkey pain kink and praise kink (let me know if I forgot something)

☆word count: 1.8k (I think it's the shortest thing I've ever written on here lmao)

☆a/n: pure unedited sins bc mr jeon jungkook makes me horny despite being in the army. hope this doesn't disappoint lmaooo thank you to @wintaerbaer for her help with the banner (it would have been a horrible mess without your guidance) and for encouraging me to write this!! love you Ari <3333

☆☆☆☆☆

You’re driving him insane.

You. Are. Driving. Him. Insane.

Insane.

Every time Jungkook sees you at the gym, he goes insane. Completely, utterly, insane. He thinks there has to be a better word in the dictionary to describe what you do to him but, alas, he can’t find it.

So insane it is, and he tries to live up to the name.

He’s been home for five minutes, and he’s already in his bed, dick so hard he thinks it’ll explode. Because of course you had to be doing squats today, in those way too tight biker shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. Your thick ass, stretching the fabric so much he thinks he spied a thong underneath…

Jungkook grunts, hiding his eyes behind his arm, trying to erase the picture from his mind. But he can’t. You’re everywhere – behind his closed eyelids, or a ghost in his room when he opens his eyes again.

It’s been that way since the very first day he saw you at the gym. Jungkook caught sight of you and immediately had a boner, which hadn’t happened to him since he was a teenager. He’s a grown man, for fuck’s sake, yet the sight of you turns him on far more than anything ever has.

You’re just… perfect. Too hot, your body perfectly sculpted by the hours you spend at the gym every week. Jungkook dreams of dragging his hands, his tongue, on every inch of your body. Of caressing your hard-earned muscles, of gripping the meat of your ass…

Of grinding into you and hearing the little breathy moans he’s sure that you make in the thralls of passion.

Fuck.

If he’s honest, he would have fucked you that first time. Would have approached you and charmed you, seduced you until he’d have you writhing under his body. But one look – one damn look – at your keychain, and he knew you were off limits.

The bright pink Kooky plushie hanging from the keychain was a firm reminder that he cannot approach you, ever. Indeed, he doesn’t mix pleasure with work, which is starting to prove increasingly hard as he gets more famous, and as his fans grow way too numerous.

As his fans, as you pretend that you don’t recognize him when you go to the gym, even though he catches you looking at him all the time. Yet he can’t approach you, won’t approach you, ever. But nothing stops him from exploring his dirty little fantasies, whenever he wraps his hand around his cock…

Jungkook grunts, and he decides to take manners into his own hands, literally. He wishes it’d be your hand, gripping his cock once he’s pushed his shorts and underwear down. Wishes you’d hold him tight as you’d jerk him off slowly, eyes never leaving his.

He imagines you taking him in your mouth. Your plump lips, wrapping around the tip of his cock, sucking once as he’d fist your hair, restraining himself from thrusting in your mouth. Or maybe you’d give him the go to fuck your mouth, to unleash himself on you…

Jungkook moans, and he jerks himself off, slowly. Eyes closed as he imagines everything he wants you to do to him, everything he wants to do to you. His hand is not nearly enough to pleasure him, not when he’s been craving you the way that he has…

But it’ll make do.

Spitting in his other hand, Jungkook holds his dick up to rub the natural lube on the head of his cock. He winces – he’s already so damn sensitive… Probably because he’s sported a semi since he saw you at the gym.

Who gave you the right to go to the gym in those shorts, with only a sports bra to pair with them? You looked devilish, downright sinful, and you’ve dragged him to hell.

Once his dick is lubed up, glistening in the dim light from the hallway because he sure as hell didn’t have time to turn the lights on in his room, Jungkook strokes himself, slowly. Tattooed fingers firmly wrapped around his cock, just the way he likes it – right under the tip, hard enough to hurt just a little bit.

Hard enough to make him wish he was fucking your tight pussy instead. He imagines the drag of your walls on his dick, on his veins and on the ridge of his tip. He imagines your breasts bouncing up and down as you’d ride him, and then your face, contorted in pleasure, as he’d jackhammer into you.

He’s had noise complaints from his neighbours once, because of the loud singing he does once in a while, when he goes live for his fans. Right now, he wishes he’d get a noise complaint because they’d hear him fucking you good, fucking you until you’d crumble into ecstasy.

He picks up the pace on his dick, free hand grabbing at the white sheet of his bed. Would you be the type to moan unabashedly loud? To say his name when you come, when your walls flutter on his dick?

The thought makes his dick twitch in his hand, and Jungkook grunts again, curses underneath his breath. He doesn’t even know your name, but he sure as hell knows he’d come with your name a litany on his lips, a sinful melody he’d sing just for you to hear.

Would you drag your nails on his back, marking him so that the world knows you’re his? Would you suck on his neck, leave hickeys behind that he’d have to hide under foundation? Would you beg for him, or would you be a brat?

He wants you to be a brat. He wants to have to put you back into your place, to spank your ass and choke you until all you know is his name. He’d be feral with you – he’s feral just thinking about you. And maybe one day he’ll betray his number one rule, maybe one day he’ll fuck you into the night, hear you cry with pleasure as he’d pump his load inside of you…

His imagination is running wild, and his pace on his dick is relentless, unforgiving. His bicep burns already, even though he’s barely started. Or maybe he’s just too lost in his fantasies, losing track of time. But he doesn’t care – he’d lose track of time fucking you, too.

“Fuck,” he moans, eyes closed tightly, eyebrows bunched together as if in pain. But he’s not hurting – he feels way too good, the pleasure running through his blood a symphony every cell inside of him is addicted to.

You’re just too beautiful to him. He’d fucking crawl on his knees for you, or maybe he’d make you crawl. He’d force you to crawl, to beg for him, to…

Jungkook grunts loudly, his orgasm hitting so hard it feels like a trainwreck. He doesn’t slow down his pace on his dick right away, letting his cum spurt out and drip on his fingers, on the back of his hand. He doesn’t even care if he makes a mess – he’s lost to his pleasure, and he doesn’t want to come back to sanity. He wants to stay insane, and so he drags his orgasm out, milks it out of himself.

And he comes a lot, painting his whole fucking hand white. He’d think it to be disgusting, but when he looks down at his hand, fuzzy from his blissed-out pupils, he sees that he’s covered his tattoos with cum. His army tattoo – the closest he’ll get to come on you. He curses at the sight, hates that it’s turning him on again and that his dick twitches, begging for more. But all he does is watch the cum – it covers the three first letters, but it’s slowly dripping towards the y, and soon the whole tattoo will be covered, like he fucking wishes your pussy would be covered with his cum, dripping with it. He’d finger you with it.

Fucking hell.

Jungkook gives in to the unrelenting desire once he’s in the shower, trying to clean himself. A single thought of your thick ass and the stretched fabric of your biker shorts sends him back to square one, and he jerks himself off again, fast and hard, his free hand leaning on the wall. He’s quick to shift and put his forearm against the wall instead, hiding his face in his arm. And then he imagines fucking you in this shower, taking you from behind as your ass cheeks shake from his ministrations. He imagines you trying to find purchase on the wall, your hands slipping until he pulls you back into his chest. He’d hold you tight, wrap a hand around your neck, and he’d find your clit with his other hand.

He’d make you come so fucking hard. All night long. He doesn’t think he’d let you even fucking walk out of his apartment. He’d fuck you seven days a week, wouldn’t even leave his bed.

This time, his release hits differently, not as strong. It still fills his blood with ecstasy, and his head swims as he watches his cum go down the drain. His hand, his tattoos, are mostly clean this time around, and he imagines them covered in your cum instead. In your sleek juices as he’d finger you, making you squirt everywhere…

He curses loudly, turning the shower to cold, immediately wincing as the water hits his back. But it’s the only way he thinks he’ll manage to chase his arousal away. Hell, he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his fucking evening masturbating. Though it’d be worth it, and he’s fully aware that he’d be able to. He’d just need to think of you, and he’d be ready to go again.

But when he steps out of the shower, he decides otherwise. He decides to go live – are you watching him, from wherever it is that you live in this city? Do you know that you make him insane, so, so insane that he just came twice to the thought of you?

He smirks, watching the comments coming in even though he hasn’t said anything yet. They fly too fast for him to be able to read anything, but he knows.

He knows that you’re there, on the other side of the screen, watching him as he watches you. Where else would you be?

And he knows damn well that next time he’ll see you, he’ll talk to you. Fuck the rules, fuck the fact that you’re his fan. He needs to fuck you, to know what your pussy taste like and how you sound when you come.

So next time he sees you, instead of jerking himself off alone, Jungkook knows he’ll ask you to give a helping hand.

☆☆☆☆☆

Welcome to the land of sinning lmao hope you enjoyed this short ride! Let me know what you thought - it always motivates me to write more stuff like this ;)

#to give a helping hand #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fic #jjk #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #btswritersclub

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