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pucksandpower · 19 hours ago

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I’ve Always Chosen You

Lando Norris x wife!Reader

Summary: in which your husband gets drunk, forgets that you’re married, and cries his heart out about it … at your own wedding

The music pounds against the walls of the reception hall, vibrating through the floor. Voices chatter in the distance, loud and messy in the aftermath of too many champagne toasts.

The after-party has begun, and it feels like the room is made of laughter and bubbles and the slight hum of joy that still hangs in the air. But you’re standing at the edge of it all, eyes sweeping the crowded space. Your smile falters, just slightly, because there’s one thing out of place.

Lando is gone.

“Where is he?” You ask for what feels like the hundredth time. This time, you’re standing next to Max, who shrugs and hands you his drink.

“I saw him last by the bar,” Max says, but his grin is wide, unaffected. He doesn’t get it. Nobody does.

“He’s drunk,” you say, more to yourself than to anyone. It’s not unusual for Lando to drink too much at a party, but tonight is different. It’s supposed to be different.

Max chuckles, clinking his glass against his own. “Well, it is his wedding.”

Your wedding. Your wedding.

Your chest tightens, and you can’t explain why you feel a sudden rush of panic.

“I’m gonna find him.” You don’t wait for Max’s reply before you slip through the crowd, searching every corner of the reception hall for any sign of him. His jacket is still draped over the back of his chair at your table, his drink — now abandoned — sweating on the tablecloth. You glance toward the dance floor, where some of his friends are still doing ridiculous moves, but he’s not there either.

Your pulse picks up speed.

The hallway outside the venue is quieter, dimmer, and you start checking doors. One leads to the bathroom, another to a storage room, but no Lando. You feel stupid. This is ridiculous. You should be at your own after-party, celebrating with your friends, laughing, not hunting down your newlywed husband like he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.

But you can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

Another door, this one creaking slightly as it opens. You push it wider, revealing a darkened supply closet, the smell of cleaning products faint but distinct. The softest shuffle of feet, and then a muffled sob, barely audible over the sound of your breath catching in your throat.

“Lando?”

You push the door open all the way, and there he is-sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest, his face hidden in his arms. His entire body shakes with the kind of sobs that come from somewhere deep, uncontrollable. You’ve seen Lando in every state — happy, angry, everything in between — but this? This is something else.

“Oh my God.” You drop to your knees beside him, panic rising in your chest. “Lando, hey, what-what happened? Are you okay?”

He shakes his head without looking up. “No.”

You reach for him, putting a hand on his arm, but he flinches at your touch. “Hey, talk to me. What’s wrong? What happened?”

He finally lifts his head, eyes red, his cheeks streaked with tears. His lips tremble as he tries to speak, but his voice breaks when he says, “You got married.”

It’s the one sentence that shouldn’t hurt, because it’s true. You did get married. To him. You blink, confused, heart still pounding.

“Yeah … I did.”

His head drops again, and his sobs return, louder this time, like he’s tearing apart at the seams. “I-I’ve been in love with you since-since-forever,” he chokes out between ragged breaths. “And-and now you’re-you’re married. You went and married some-some douchebag, and-and I’m stuck here-”

“Lando,” you say, a little too sharply, but he’s not listening.

“I-I was going to tell you,” he mumbles, barely coherent now. “I-I wanted to tell you so many times, but-but you were always-so perfect, and-and I couldn’t, and now-now you’re married and I’m so-so stupid.”

“Lando.” You try to steady your voice, because he’s not making any sense. “I married you. You, Lando.”

His brow furrows, but the tears don’t stop. “What?”

“I’m married to you,” you say again, softer this time. “Lando, we got married today. You’re my husband.”

He stares at you, blinking rapidly, but the confusion stays etched in his face. “No. No, you-you married someone else. You-”

“Lando.” You grab his face, forcing him to look at you, your thumbs brushing away the dampness on his cheeks. “Listen to me. You’re the one I married today. We just had a whole reception. We danced. You gave a speech that made my mom cry. You kissed me, like, twenty times in front of all our friends.”

He’s still shaking his head, even as his breath hitches and his sobs quiet a little. “No. No, I-I would remember that.”

“You’re drunk, Lando. You’re wasted,” you say, your heart squeezing because you’ve never seen him like this, never seen him this broken. “You don’t remember because you’ve had, like, ten drinks, but trust me. You’re my husband. We got married today.”

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, searching for something-anything-that makes sense. But then his face crumples again. “No,” he whispers, “no, no, no, you don’t-don’t say that. Don’t mess with me like that.”

You let out a shaky breath, kneeling closer, pulling his face gently into your hands. “Lando. I’m not messing with you. I married you because I love you. You. There’s no one else. I don’t know why you’re-why you’re so upset, but I swear to God, you’re the only one.”

He looks at you, really looks at you this time, and for a moment, you think maybe-maybe he’s starting to understand. But then his lip trembles again, and his breath catches.

“I-I’ve loved you for so long,” he whispers, voice cracking. “I-I don’t know what to do with that. I thought-thought it was too late.”

You shake your head, biting back tears of your own. “It’s not too late. It’s never been too late. I’m right here. I chose you. I’ve always chosen you.”

His whole body shudders as another sob escapes his throat, but this time it’s quieter, like the fight’s leaving him. His hand comes up, trembling, to rest against yours where you’re still holding his face. His skin is warm and damp under your touch, and he closes his eyes, like he’s trying to hold onto the moment, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, voice barely audible. “I-I don’t know why I-”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you whisper, feeling the burn of tears in your own eyes now. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhales shakily, his forehead pressing against yours, and for a second, the world stills. The chaos of the after-party, the music, the laughter-it all fades away, leaving just the two of you in this dark, quiet space.

“Promise?” He asks, voice so small it makes your heart ache.

“I promise,” you whisper back. “Forever.”

He nods, but he doesn’t say anything more. You can feel the weight of his exhaustion now, the alcohol and emotions and everything else taking their toll on him. His arms snake around your waist, pulling you closer until your body is pressed against his, and for the first time all night, his breathing begins to steady. He’s still holding you like you’re the only thing keeping him from falling apart, and in that moment, you realize that maybe you are.

You sit there with him, in the dark, in the silence, just breathing together. And for now, that’s enough.

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lymtw · 14 hours ago

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Toji and his shy girl cuddle fucking WHO SAID THAT

A/N: EEHEE I heard it too 🤭 Even if the echo took a while to reach me 😔 No, but really, I loved this! It's been a while since i've written out a request 😅 I'm excited to start trying some of these, again :)

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and His Shy Girl

"Hey, you," Toji says, grinning like a menace at the way your body minimally jolts, like he scared you. "You don't like me or something?"

You turn to look at him, a barely there crease between your brows. "What? I do. What do you mean?"

"I mean, why don't you wanna be with me? You're sitting on your own island over there, while i'm over here... all alone... feeling like chopped liver."

He's cute, you think. Playfully dramatic enough to make you giggle. It's always nice to know he wants you around, too, when you keep your distance to give him that choice.

"I just thought you would want some space, is all," you explain. "This is a pretty long movie, I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"Would sitting with me make you uncomfortable?" Toji asks.

"No," you respond, though the thought of sitting next to him or on him, has your heart rate picking up. Most of the time, Toji wants it to be the latter, and when this happens, it feels like he's peeking af your soul. You feel like every nerve in your body is tingling and like your skeleton is buzzing. You know he can sense your nervousness, most of the time, and yet he doesn't take it easy on you. His patience, his charm, and his irresistible way of trying to seduce you—none of it ever gets easier to withstand without you feeling flustered.

"You're comfortable, I'm comfortable. We're both comfortable, so, come closer, sweetheart." He sees hesitance flash through your features, before you finally give in and start inching closer.

"Come on. Closer, baby," Toji instructs, watching as you continue to inch towards him. "Look at all this space. Get rid of it."

He chuckles at the properness of your folded hands in your lap, when you sit on the edge of the couch cushion, in front of his legs. "You're gonna stop there and keep watching the movie all uncomfortable?"

"It's fine," you say, smiling at him before facing forward, again. You can feel him staring at you as you try to focus on the movie. His hand goes to your thigh, an act that has your heart beating rapidly in your chest, close to being heard in your ears. He tugs at your sweatpants, earning your attention.

"I'll spell it out for you, doll. I want you here, lying right in front of me. Wanna cuddle with you and shit." You return your gaze to the screen and though anybody would think that it's rude, because it seems like you're ignoring him, Toji knows what it means. He knows it's hard for you to hold eye contact with him, sometimes, and that you looking away gives you time to collect your thoughts and prepare what you want to respond with.

"But you won't be able to see the movie," you say, as a last ditch effort to let him enjoy the movie without obstructing his view and invading his personal space.

"We'll make it work. Just come here. Please?" He pats the spot in front of him, directing you to lie right where he wants you.

"Okay," you say, more to yourself than to him. You scoot down a little more, before lying down on your side, on the exact spot he said he was wanted you. In an instant, you're swallowed up by him. He pulls you in so that you're pressed up against him, his leg overlaps yours, and his face goes straight for your neck.

"T-Toji, I know you can't see the movie. I can go back, if you want."

"Mm-mm. Nope. It's all good. Got what I need," he assures, low against your neck, a hand planted on your stomach. "Pretty baby," he murmurs, pressing kisses onto your skin. "You smell so fucking good."

You feel like some sort of soothing toy for him, with the way any time you sit with him, you end up stealing his focus and withstanding the way he mouths at your skin and runs his hands all over you.

"You comfortable? Have enough space?" He asks, kissing your earlobe. You nod in response and he hums, a click of his tongue and a couple pats to your stomach, expressing his disapproval of the nonverbal confirmation. "Say it, baby. Yes or no?"

"Sorry. Yes, i'm comfortable," you confirm, in a manner more to his liking.

"Mm... you're so good to me, doll," Toji praises, adding a kiss to the appreciation.

He understands that sometimes it's difficult for you to say things out loud and you'll dismiss your own discomfort for the sake of not having to verbalize what is bothering you. It's why he's so adamant on hearing you talk, over seeing you nod or shake your head in response to things. He's working on this with you. He's heard 'sorry' so many times, now, and each time, he rejects your apology, deeming it unnecessary, because he knows you're trying.

Things are still for a few moments. You get fully comfortable, lying there on the couch, with Toji spooning you, and manage to refocus on the movie. His hand goes under your shirt, meeting the warmth of your skin. It's a gesture that disturbs the calmness of your heart, as well as your focus on the TV, again.

"This okay?" He asks, caressing your stomach, occasionally pinching it, gently.

"Mhm," you hum, in response, before pretending to pay attention to the movie. You're too distracted by the dragging of his fingertips and the goosebumps he lures onto your skin. You're sure he can feel them, too, because his hand starts wandering higher up your torso, like he wants to get more reactions from you. You shift minimally when his fingers slide beneath the elastic band of your sports bra, grazing the bottom part of your breast.

"Still comfortable?" Toji asks, keeping his hand still until he receives a response from you.

"Yeah... you're okay," you assure, once again, resting your hand on his forearm. Your breath hitches when his fingertips brush against your nipple. Toji grins at the involuntarily squeeze you offered his arm, finding amusement in the way your body reacts to his touch.

Toji chuckles, lowly, at all your sudden fidgeting. "Does that feel good, mama? Want me to keep going?" He asks, planting a kiss on your shoulder. You're not stopping him. If anything, he can feel you gently pushing his arm so that his entire hand goes up your bra. "It's alright. You can tell me," he says, encouraging you to respond.

"It feels good. Please..." Your soft voice halts, a shuddered exhale released through your nose.

"Mhm, give me more. Please, what?" He says, baiting a more elaborate response from you. "Just saying 'please' doesn't tell me what you need, pretty."

"Please... keep touching me." You cringe, internally, the second the words come out. You don't even realize how proud Toji is or get to indulge in the praise he offers, because you're too busy overthinking what you just said.

"That was perfect," Toji murmurs, scattering light kisses onto your neck. His enormous hand stretches your bra, and grabs ahold of your breast. "I'll give you anything you want, sweetheart. Anything. The trick is... you gotta ask for it."

That alone is enough to teach you another lesson on not always being able to get what you want. It's not always so easy for you to ask Toji for things. He's seen you get frustrated, because of this. It happens, even if your frustration is never loud and you don't raise your voice or throw a tantrum. It's quite the opposite. Too many questions to your initial request, results in you shaking your head, as if to say, 'never mind. I'll do it myself'. Having to repeat yourself too many times, gets a similar result. Even in times when he's just asking you to describe something more, you lose patience with yourself and your inability to communicate what you need, efficiently, and essentially give up on explaining it to him, doing it yourself, instead.

It's times like these that really help you out in that aspect. You want something that you can make yourself feel, but receiving it from Toji makes it so much better, because of the element of surprise. You give him access to your entire body and he gives you everything you could ever want in terms of pleasure. You never know where he's going to touch you and what he's going to touch you with.

"You understand?" Toji asks, seeking comprehension from you. A small whimper interrupts the silence of an expected response. "I know. Tell me," he encourages.

Your grip on his arm gets tighter and more of your restrained soft sounds reach his ears as he keeps rolling your stiffened peak between his fingers. You gasp when he shifts his attention to your other breast and writhe in his arms. "Y-Yes—please—yes, Toji. I understand."

"Sensitive thing." He chuckles. "Look at that little arch. Bet you're soaked, already, huh?"

"Oh... god, i'm sorry," you mumble, relaxing your back against him, again. You feel like you could implode with how much attention you're being given. You just want to shrink and hide under the couch, and just watch the rest of the movie from there.

"You're fine, doll. I know the slightest touch does a lot to you," he says, brushing over your nipple, knowing that your reaction will emphasize his point. "You nervous?"

You groan in response to the question and turn your head so that your face is planted in the pillow, earning another deep chuckle from Toji.

"I'm not gonna eat you, mama," he jokes, grinning at the way your body trembles with contained amusement. "I mean... I can't lie and say I haven't thought about it before. You're sweeter than any candy or cookie—even cake. You're sweeter than all of it, but I need you here with me, so I can't... I won't eat you, alright?" His method of getting you to lighten up worked enough to lure giggles from you. "Yeah, there you go. Relax. Just wanna love on you," he murmurs, pressing kisses to your shoulder. "Wanna make you feel good. You want that, gorgeous?"

Throughout your time with Toji, you've learned that he's a very hands on man. He's constantly seeking your warmth and softness, because physical touch is his love language and he'll put in the work to get you to comfortably connect with him that way, too. You find that sometimes when you're lying in his bed, ready for the sleep part of sleeping over, he'll stick his head up your shirt and just fall asleep like that on your chest. It's easy for him to relax when he can hear your heart wildly beating in your chest. Sometimes, randomly, when you're just sitting next to him, he'll pick you up and set you down on him, just to watch you get flustered when he starts talking to you within such a close proximity. He loves the way you scramble to escape his sight, always ending up with your face buried in his neck.

"Aw, don't go all quiet on me, now, pretty. You know better. Say what's on your mind." His hand slides out of your bra and goes back down to your stomach, the roughness of his palm rubbing your soft skin. You don't like making him beg for you. He's patient enough with your nervous tendencies, you know he doesn't deserve it.

"I want you, Toji," you say, softly. It's a huge contrast to the hammering going on in your chest and the annoying rhythm in your ears.

"Yeah? Keep fucking going, baby. How do you want me?"

"Please," you mumble, reverting back to the familiarity of simplicity.

"No, not like that. Give me a little more," Toji clarifies.

"I... I want you to touch me... and make me feel good. Want you to feel good, too."

You feel and hear the rumble of his laugh behind you, a sound that makes your fingertips tingle and your stomach erupt with butterflies all over again.

"You precious angel. You want me to fuck you?"

You don't know how long you can last with your heart beating so fast. It's a miracle that it hasn't exploded, with how it's almost always racing when you're around Toji.

You feel like your face is on fire, but you nod, and offer a soft, yet, clear, "yes, please," giving Toji the consenting words he's been listening closely for.

"Alright, ma. You just focus on the rest of the movie and i'll take care of you, 'kay?"

"Mhm," you hum, in response. You pull on the drawstring of your pajama bottoms and begin pulling them down with one hand. Toji watches with a sly smirk on his face as he feels you shift around, more of your skin coming into view. This is your effort. This is what makes him love you so damn much. You try for him. He knows your heart is probably shambles, as you kick the article off and wait for what's to come, but you're showing him that you want this, and that means beyond everything to him.

"You're so perfect, my girl," he says, pressing kisses to your ear. "So, so perfect..." he trails off when his fingers meet the wetness of your panties. He was right. You're utterly soaked. His hand dips into your underwear, instantly greeted by your warmth as he keeps digging. Two fingers drag through your slit, back and forth, for just long enough to have you fidgeting as he collects a sample of your sweetness. Once your thighs attempt to shut around his hand, craving more, he pulls it out and admires the glossy coating on his fingers. Without hesitation, he brings the digits into his mouth, a low hum of satisfaction leaving him as he licks them clean. His cock is throbbing in his pants, straining mercilessly against his boxers as he savors the aftertaste of you on his tongue.

"Straight up fucking sugar," Toji murmurs, as he hastily starts pulling down his own pants, ready to get a feel of what he just tasted. There's a breathiness in his voice, urgency that you can't process, because you can barely believe he sounds that way after tasting you. Then you feel it—the monster he packs, pressing against you.

"I'm all hard, just for you, pretty," he murmurs in your ear, as he starts grinding his bulge against your ass. "Feel that?" He groans. "It's all for you. All yours." He plants a kiss on your neck and halts the movement of his hips against you. His hand returns beneath your shirt, a slow drag up your abdomen, towards your chest. His fingers dip beneath the elastic once more and splay over your breast, squeezing. He can feel the stutter in your chest as he feels up the entirety of it. You keep fidgeting against him, and he recognizes this as your way of saying you need more.

"You ready for me?" He asks, still toying with your stiffened, sensitive peaks.

"Ready," you respond, maintaining your voice as steady and clear as possible. You squeeze his hand through your shirt for deeper assurance.

Toji smiles softly at your little gesture and pulls his hand out of your shirt. Just as he did when he was directing his touch towards your chest, he follows the same path down, tracing your curves until his hand makes it way between your legs. He moves the gusset of your underwear aside, an act that has you shaking your foot against the couch cushion.

"Relax, sweet girl," Toji hums, a low chuckle following. He lowers his boxers enough to pull his throbbing, drooling cock out and smears the precum that beads on his tip all over his length. Once it's all covered he guides his tip to the warm, slick ridden space between your legs. After running it through your slit a few times, to hear the squelching sounds and your little whimpers when he catches your clit, he slowly starts sinking into you.

"There, baby," Toji murmurs. His warm palm rubs the softness of your stomach and he scatters wet little kisses on your shoulder and your neck, all while he continues feeding your cunt his inches. "You're so fucking cute," he coos, listening closely to the sound of your little whimpers and gasps. "Fuck..." he groans, once his hips are flush against you. He can feel the way you clench and flutter around his pulsing cock, making the fit even more snug for seconds at a time.

"All good, little lady?" He asks, pinching your goosebump covered stomach.

"Mhm," you hum, a chime of your giggle following.

Toji's hold on you is secure. He has you. Warm and gentle caresses and brushes of his fingers on your skin prove it, along with the way he languidly grinds his hips against you, as if to remind you that you're connected in the most physically intimate way. It's not like you could ignore it, anyway. You feel all of him. His warmth, his strength, his company. It's impossible to ignore Toji.

"This movie's pretty boring, huh?" He asks, not even paying attention to what's going on, like he hasn't been since you crawled into his arms.

"You're not even watching," you reason, smiling at the kisses he presses to your ear.

"Got a reaaally good distraction right in front of me." He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent. "So warm and pretty and mmm... Can't focus on anything else," he purrs.

"It's okay. You can choose the next... the next one, too..." you gasp at the slow thrusts he offers. With every roll of his hips, his cock slides out just about halfway before sheathing back into the velvety warmth of your walls.

"I don't want to watch TV, anymore. Wanna watch you," he murmurs, monitoring your reactions to his movement. Every twitch, every shift of your legs against his. It's adorable, the way you push your face just a little bit more into the pillow when he tries to get a peek at you.

"Like that, baby?" He murmurs, a deep groan following. "Mhm? Yeah, I know," he says, like he's responding to your moan.

"Toji," you hum out, an unintentional amount of sultriness dripping off his name.

"Fucking- god,you sound so pretty, mama. Let me hear that again. Do it again."

His hips pick up the pace a little, just enough to coax more of those melodic sounds of yours. His hand dips lower, proceeding down the front of your underwear, his thick fingers gliding down towards your slippery clit. It doesn't take much of this electric addition to your pleasure to have you squirming and writhing against him. It's hard not to want to squish his hand between your thighs.

You whimper, a slight arch curving your back. Your clammy, shaky hands grip onto the couch cushion beneath you, your knuckles protruding from the force you put into your hold. You think he's on the brink of devouring you—absorbing you— with how he's holding you like you'll teleport into space if he lets go for a second.

"Say my name," he says, calmly, directly in your ear. "Call for me, sweetheart. Who's touching you? Who's making you feel like this?"

"T-Toji," you obediently pronounce, meekly, yet, to the man's utmost satisfaction.

"Again—fuck, baby—again," he groans, speeding up his fingers on your clit. He knows the motions spiked your pleasure because of how your body tensed up against him.

Sloppy kisses are pressed to your nape, as well as the side of your neck, where you know fully well that he must have left a plethora of marks already. You can hear the consistent sharp breaths he releases through his nose as he begins to desperately roll his hips into you, chasing what's coming up on him ridiculously fast. He's not aggressive—not entirely soft—but there's just enough movement to where you can hear a slight creak in the couch.

"Toji," you croon, softly. "T-Toji, Toji," you repeat, a high pitched whimper ending your little chain of his name.

"Oh, you're so fucking sweet, doll. So fucking sweet..." he mutters, his voice deep enough to make goosebumps spread anew, all over you. He hums at the feeling of your cunt erratically clenching around him. It's a tell tale sign—along with the frequency of your precious little sounds—of how you're right there, about to cum all over his twitching cock.

Toji loves how flustered you get when he has you tell him that you're about to cum, but he also loves the abruptness that comes with you being so overwhelmed by his touch and how he handles you, that for a few seconds you tense up and release all the sounds that bubble up in your chest, caving to the relentless amount of pleasure you feel without a warning.

"You're my pretty girl," Toji says, lowly, grinning when that's all it takes for you to gasp and arch off his front. Your body trembles and your thighs squeeze around his hand when his fingers continue to rub your clit. His tip just continues to prod at the sensitive spot within you, further intensify the sensation coursing through you. You're aware of how your moans have gotten louder and attempt to muffle them with the pillow, but your breathy little cries can be heard, regardless.

They spur on Toji's own release. His hand comes out of your underwear to avoid overstimulating you and glides up your abdomen, aiming towards your chest. He grabs ahold of one of your breasts, his hand smothering the entire thing as he squeezes and kneads it. You can hear his breathing grow heavier, his thrusts more punctuated, and a little faster in pace. The creaking of the couch is more frequent, as are his groans in your ear. His hold on you is tight. With his forearm having brought you back as close as you can be to him, you're locked in. With a few more thrusts, into your dripping wet warmth, he's spilling his load into you, breathy, deep voiced expletives tumbling off his lips as smears your gooey walls with all the warm, creamy substance.

"F-Fuck..." he groans, slowing the roll of his hips to a languid grind. "I got you," he says, chuckling at the gasp you let out from being filled even more. He drags unfocused, wet kisses over your shoulder and stills his hips entirely with a heavy breath. "Got you, mama." He loosens his hold on you, allowing you to breathe and move a little more freely. "Good?"

"Mhm. Good," you assure.

"Good. Gimme a kiss," he requests, smirking at the sound of your tittering. "What? You laughing at me 'cause I want a little smooch?"

"No," you say, through soft, but, more audible giggling.

"You promise?" He says, grinning at the slight tremble of your shoulders as your twinkles of laughter continue. "I'll let it slide, just this once. Now, give me a kiss, baby."

With a smile lingering on your face—the aftermath of your short giggle fit—you lie back a little and crane your neck as much as you comfortably can. Toji leans in the rest of the way and presses his lips to your sweet, lip balm layered ones, brushing them over and over as if he's parched and you're a glass of water. Both of your bodies react to the spark of desire reigniting through the gentle gesture. You can feel him throbbing inside you, while he can feel you clenching around him. His hand pawing at your chest makes butterflies swarm in your stomach and fuels the fluttering going on below.

You hear the dramatic background music of the movie's end credits and break the kiss, facing forward. You realize now that you paid just as much attention as he did—almost none—even when you agreed to keep watching as he touched you.

"Play another boring one," Toji says, behind you, already nipping at your ear, because your attention isn't solely on him anymore.

"But you won't watch it," you say, shuddering at the chill that runs down your spine, when you feel his lips behind your ear.

"That's the point."

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flwrstqr · 1 day ago

Text

【備考】 STUCK WITH U ⟡ GIRLFRIEND PRIVILEGES ───𝖣𝒾𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖤𝖲 ㅤ. . 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗍𝗎𝖼𝗄 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎

SCR𝓲PT : enhypen and their girlfriend privileges 1OOOwc. ˊᯅˋ fluff head canon ❜ fem!centered && skinship, petnames . . ARCHiVE&CLICK

다니 : i love stuck with u.. it's been my top listened song for the past month. i think i'm addicted to ariana grande TT listening to ari's music & writing = my life

LEE HEESEUNG

"no." heeseung deadpans, effortlessly shutting down jake’s request to borrow one of his hoodies. sunghoon tries next, but heeseung doesn’t even let him finish his sentence before shaking his head. “absolutely not.” the boys groan, grumbling about how selfish he is, but then you come along, blinking up at him with those pretty eyes, and suddenly, he’s a goner. “baby,” he hums, already tugging off the hoodie he’s wearing, “you cold?” he drapes it over your shoulders before you can answer, hands lingering on your waist as he leans in, voice dropping. “looks better on you anyway.” “if you want more, just say the word, love. i’ll empty my whole closet for you.” heeseung smiles. then he smirks, tilting your chin up. “told you,” he muses, thumb brushing your bottom lip, “only my pretty girl gets this privilege.”

PARK JAY

jay doesn’t think twice about it—his card is already out before you can even reach for your wallet. “babe, i got it,” he says, tone final, as he taps to pay for your meal like it’s second nature. he barely ever does this for his members, maybe on their birthdays if they beg, but for you? every time. whether it’s coffee, late-night takeout, or a whole shopping spree, jay never lets you spend a single cent when he’s around. “but jay—” you start to protest, only for him to shoot you a look before casually slipping his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “don’t ‘but jay’ me,” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple. “just let me take care of you, okay?” and how could you say no when he’s looking at you like that—like spoiling you is the easiest, most natural thing in the world?

SIM JAKE

jake's phone is always on do-not-disturb or muting conversations—except for you. no matter where he is, what he's doing, or who he's with, the moment your name flashes on his screen, he’s answering. even if it’s three in the morning, voice thick with sleep. “baby?” he murmurs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he sits up, already alert. “what’s wrong? you okay?” his voice is laced with concern, but there’s something else—something soft, like he’d wait all night just to hear you breathe. you don’t even have to say much; the second you sigh, he’s whispering, “i got you, sweetheart. just talk to me.” his hand instinctively reaches for where you’d usually be beside him, but when he finds nothing, he groans, already pulling on a hoodie. “stay there. i’m coming.” because when it comes to you, nothing—not time, not sleep,—gets in the way.

PARK SUNGHOON

sunghoon never lets anyone touch his closet—not even his members. but you? you get free pass, standing in front of his neatly arranged wardrobe as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with that soft, amused smile. “baby, not the leather pants,” he groans, watching as you hold them up with a mischievous grin. “they look so good on you, though,” you tease, stepping closer, smoothing your hands over his shoulders, adjusting the collar of his shirt. he exhales, defeated, letting you fix his hair next, his sharp eyes softening under your touch. “you really like dressing me up, huh?” he mutters, but he’s already slipping into the fit you picked. when he turns to the mirror, he huffs a small laugh. “okay, fine. you have good taste.” then, quieter, as he tugs you against him, pressing a kiss to your forehead—“but only you get to do this, got it?”

KIM SUNOO

you’re the only one who gets to take sunoo's phone without asking, stretching out on his bed while you tap away at some game or fill his gallery with blurry selfies. “baby, at least make them cute if you’re stealing my storage,” he whines, but there’s no real complaint in his voice, just fond exasperation. when you glance at him, pouting, he sighs and moves closer, gently pulling you into his arms. “here, let me help,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your arm as he watches you play. and even though he’d usually never let anyone touch his screen, he doesn’t even blink when you scroll through his messages like it’s yours. because, well—so is he.

YANG JUNGWON

jungwon sits at his desk, brows furrowed, fingers flying over his keyboard, deep in concentration. anyone else would know better than to interrupt him, butyou have privileges. without hesitation, you step behind him, draping your arms over his shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to his temple. he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even pause, just hums in acknowledgment as you pepper kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the slope of his nose. “missed me today, didn't you?” he murmurs, voice laced with amusement, but he tilts his head ever so slightly, giving you more access. you giggle, cupping his face and pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. “hmm maybe,” you tease, and he finally turns his head, letting his lips brush against your cheek. “only because your my pretty princess,” he says.

NISHIMURA RIKI

riki never lets anyone touch his hair—never. he dodges, swats hands away, glares if someone even tries. but right now, he’s sitting on the floor in front of you, his head resting against your knees as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his soft strands, twisting and braiding as a tv show plays in the background. he doesn’t say a word, just hums lightly, his body relaxed like he was made to be here, like your hands in his hair are the most natural thing in the world. when he turns his head, his lips brush against your fingers in a lazy attempt at a kiss, and you gasp. “ack—stop moving, riki! i was trying to braid your hair!” you huff, tugging a little. he only grins, eyes half-lidded as he tilts his head back into your hands. “then don’t stop,” he murmurs, voice teasing. and god, he’s so down bad, because if it’s you, he’d let you do this forever.

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cowgirlvi · 3 days ago

Text

mdni, sub bottom!vi, fem top!reader, vaginal sex, strap-on usage, rough sex, filthy

wc; 1,256

thinking about being ex-girlfriends with vi. since the breakup, you’ve heard numerous rumors about her getting around campus, taking girls out on sweet little dates and then fucking them stupid afterwards. it would normally bother you, except you know vi’s pent up, you know she’s not fully satisfied with the sex she’s having, because you know none of these other girls have put in the effort to fuck vi.

you’ve yet to hear any rumors about these girls stuffing vi’s hole with their cocks, and you know it must be killing her. she’s always had a greedy hole, one that needs constant attention— whether it’s from your tongue, your fingers, or your strap.

after seeing the types of girls vi has been taking out on dates, you know for a fact that they’re not fucking her— and even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her right, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her like you do.

so you honestly find this whole situation funny, the way vi is so clearly trying to rub these girls in your face. you’re not falling for her bait, you’re not going to give her a reaction, because there’s nothing to even react to.

which is why you aren’t surprised when vi shows up at your doorstep a week later. her cheeks are flushed and her puppy-dog eyes are round and filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. you almost laugh in her face, but you’re quick to school your emotions.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i help you, vi?”

”i just— i feel bad about the way things ended between us,” vi replies. god, her eyes are so blue, so full of hope and desperation. she longs for you to fuck her, that you’ll finally make the ache go away, the one that’s been tormenting her little pussy.

”mmm, you do?” you tap your manicured nails against your front door, appearing bored and uninterested. “will that be all, vi?” you ask, already beginning to shut your door.

vi is quick to shove her hand against your door with a loud thud, pushing it open and then peering at you with eyes suddenly full of shame. “baby, i— fuck, i miss you, okay?” she finally admits.

you smile. you already knew that.

which explains how vi ended up in your bed, the pink sheets a ruffled mess, her clothes flung across the room, and her muscular frame a trembling mess on your mattress. she’s laying on her back, holding her legs up to her chest, her cute pussy on full display, and your strap is pressed inside her to the hilt.

you can reach so deep inside her in this position, you can hit all the spots that make her shake, that make her cry and scream. not to mention, the view of her cunt swallowing you whole, her fluttering hole drowning your cock in her tangy juices.

you can see the desperation in every line of her body, the way she’s aching to be used. it’s a sight that would have once filled you with jealousy and possessiveness if anyone else were to see it, but now as you stare down at vi, all you want to do is laugh at her, to coo at how pathetic she looks.

”you missed me, huh?” you say, driving your hips forward with a rough thrust. “that’s funny, baby. i heard you’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

vi goes crosseyed when you slam against her cunt, a strangled moan escaping her pouty lips. “mmffuck!”

you run a finger along vi’s slit while keeping a steady pace with your strap, feeling the slick, warm heat of her arousal. vi shudders at the touch, her hips twitching forward slightly, seeking more contact. you giggle, knowing that no matter how many girls vi brought home, no matter how many times she tried to replace you... nothing could compare to this.

”fuck, baby, your pussy’s a mess. none of those girls knew how to take care of this greedy cunt, did they?”

vi immediately shakes her head, mindlessly moaning. “ahh, only y-you— it’s only ever been you— unhh— i swear!“

you know vi too well, you know her body better than vi knows it herself. you know that vi needs to be stretched, to be filled, to be used hard and fast and without mercy. and judging by the desperate— borderline anguished— look on vi’s face, you were right to assume that none of those other girls could give her what she craved.

vi’s feet bob aimlessly in the air, her legs spread as wide as her flexibility allows her to, and she looks like an easy whore— she looks like the type of dumb slut that would be desperate enough to beg some rando on the street to fill her up.

”poor baby,” you coo down at her. “you just needed me to take care of you all this time.”

”yes, yes, fuck! need you, uuuh—“

you relish in the desperation in vi’s voice. you know you have vi right where you want her, trembling and needy, craving the one thing no one else can give her.

the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by vi’s high, breathy moans and grunts. you know you’re hitting all the right spots, know that you’re fucking vi in a way no one else will ever be able to replicate. she’s stuck with you forever.

"fuck, baby... you're so tight," you groan, your hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. “your pussy is sucking on me so hard— mmf— can’t get enough, can you?”

her creamy pussy is hugging your strap like a vise and you relish in the way her body spasms around you. you know vi is addicted to this feeling, to the delicious mix of pleasure and pain that only you can give her, to the way you stir up her guts. it’s a high she can’t find anywhere else, a blissful oblivion that vi has been desperately chasing ever since your breakup.

you watch in dark satisfaction as vi’s tough, muscular body goes pliant and soft underneath you, all because she’s filled with cock. vi’s a fucked-out disaster; her abs twitching and flexing, her arms trembling as she tries to hold her legs back for you, her thick thighs quivering.

”ohh— hnnnggff! fuck, fuck, i’m gonna come!” vi sobs, her back arching harshly, her tits bouncing obscenely with every slam of your hips. her voice is raspy and she looks sinful.

you grip vi’s waist hard enough to leave bruises as you piston your hips impossibly faster, her wetness splashing between the two of you. vi’s eyes roll back in her head, her tongue hanging out stupidly as she surrenders to the intense pleasure radiating from her core.

“come for me, vi. who knows, ah, if i’ll ever wanna fuck you again after this, so you better come right fucking now,” you threaten.

it’s like a flip switches within her because suddenly vi’s body seizes beneath you, as if she has no choice but to obey. she’s squealing and gasping as her body tenses and shakes at the same time, her thighs trying to close around you, but you’re quick to shove her legs back open; you’re determined to wring out every last drop of pleasure.

“mmffagh! holy fuuck— ahhh! yes, yes, please!”

it’s the most devastating orgasm of her life.

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themidnightcrimson · 1 day ago

Text

she's my collar ࿏ wm

summary: in which you make wanda wait to get what she so desperately needs.

words: 4.5k

warnings: top!wanda, power bottom!reader, dubcon, enhanced strap, cumstrap, orgasm denial, teasing, grinding, use of leash and collar, slight breeding kink, please wanda let me make you beg to fuck me pleaseee i cant oauidsuhfwoierhoquihr

this fic is for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

You knew that her mind wasn’t there all night. Distracted she was, eyes empty yet darkly full like the face of the moon, bouncing around the room with a blankness, but when they caught you… When they caught you, her pupils swarmed like a wolf’s, olive green irises hazy under dim light.

Of course, you recognized that look on her face—that look of pure desperation, of pure carnivorous need for you, nervous and impatient and dialed and lustrous. Wanda was not good at hiding it, not in the least bit. You could see right through her, which was something she was not used to, for in her view it was always the other way around. You could not boast her telekinetic powers, yet you flipped through the pages of her brain like a mastermind, fingers dog-earing the pages you knew tortured her most.

Wanda licked her lips discreetly, casting a shine on their soft pink surface. This was an act easily overlooked by everyone else at the table, but you knew exactly what it meant. It meant that she was getting needier and needier for you, getting so riled up to the point of near drooling. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, took a rushed sip of her drink and nearly spilled it. She’d been like this all night, ever since you leaned up on those little tiptoes of yours and whispered something so disgustingly unrepeatable in her ear in that innocent little voice you knew she loved.

It also didn’t help that now your foot was reaching under the table and massaging her enhanced cock over her pants. Wanda’s face twitched each time you stroked your foot up the inside of her thigh and right to the bulge in her crotch, the hard flat of your shoe digging as delicately as it could onto her.

You were sitting at a table surrounded by Wanda’s friends, all caught up in their own conversation, all completely unaware of the torture you were mercilessly laying on Wanda under the table.

Red hair curtaining her face and darkening her eyes, Wanda leaned her elbow on the table and rubbed her fist over her mouth, letting her teeth graze her knuckles. The great thing, and the twisted thing about it, was that Wanda could stop you if she wanted to. She was taller than you, stronger than you, undoubtedly more powerful than you. Wanda’s magic allowed her the ability to do whatever she wanted to you, or to anyone, for that matter. Most people feared her and avoided ticking her off like their lives depended on it because if she was in a bad mood, it certainly could.

Wanda could control your mind and make you stop. She could simply reach down and push your foot off her. You weren’t forcing anything on her.

She liked it.

You realized early on in your relationship that although Wanda puts up a front of nonchalant dominance and power, there was a part deep inside her that fed off the opposite. With you, and only you, Wanda let herself have no power. She let herself be vulnerable, be manipulated, be used. She let you have all the control. Only you.

And with that power she gave you, came great responsibility. And you used it to the best of your ability to absolutely positively torture the fuck out of this woman at every chance you got.

A grin shocked your face when Wanda’s face started to turn noticeably red. She squirmed in her chair as everyone else continued with their conversations and their eating and drinking, while Wanda’s cock bulged painfully at the fabric of her pants. She cursed herself for wearing sweatpants even though all her friends demanded that they dress cozy for their little casual dinner.

Wanda’s green eyes slowly rose to you, and there was a mix of desperation in them and also a tint of red. A warning.

You laughed out loud.

The red in her eyes faded as she looked around to make sure no one heard you laugh, a look of defeat coming over her face before that desperation came back again. Please stop, she communicated to you in your mind, her tender voice ricocheting off the walls of your brain. You winced a little—it still stung every time she used her powers on you after not using them for a while. She rarely did.

Why? you responded in your head, focusing all your energy on making your inner voice loud enough for her to hear. You could always feel it when she was inside your head. She didn’t like the power it gave her, so she rarely used it, but there was always a slight buzzing in your head when Wanda was in it. I love seeing you get so needy for me. What, you don’t like it?

You dug your shoe harder into her, and she almost squeaked.

I can’t… It almost hurts… Please- Everyone’s here- In public- It feels too good- I need you…

Wanda was losing her train of thought, her ideas coming out in punctuated, nearly incoherent sentences in your head. You smirked—she was going fuzzy for you. That was exactly where you wanted her.

Finally, you slowly released your foot from her crotch, letting your shoe drag along the inside of her leg until you finally dropped it. Wanda sighed in relief and took another shaky sip of her drink to cover it. Turning slightly away from everyone, she fiddled with the fabric of her pants, trying to cover the hard-on you’d mercilessly given her.

When dinner ended and your friends finally all got in their cars and left the restaurant parking lot that was now empty beside Wanda’s car, Wanda was on you.

Hands grabbing your hips, Wanda pushed you against the side of her car, instantly pressing her body onto you. You felt her cock against your hip, still hard, getting harder. She dug her hips against you as her lips devoured yours, slowly letting herself start to grind on you.

“Mmm-Wanda,” you murmured into her mouth before she shoved her tongue into yours, grinding herself so much onto you that she was basically humping you against her car in this empty parking lot. “Wanda, stop.”

“Mmmh-mmh,” she hummed into your mouth, panting breathlessly, her hands going to your jeans and trying to tug them down.

“Wanda, no,” you said with a laugh, using firm grip to shove her hands away from you. You knew that if you weren’t firm with her, she would fuck you right here in this public lot against her car. The thought was hot, but the federal offense wasn’t.

“Please,” she begged, pulling your hand down to her crotch and making you feel her. “I need you. It hurts. Pleaseeeee.” She went in for a kiss again, but you gently pushed her face away from yours.

“You have to wait until we get home, baby,” you told her, watching her eyes immediately widen in disbelief. To be fair, it was a half hour drive home.

“What?! No, please, just suck me off in the car,” she exclaimed, pushing herself harder onto you. As insistent as she was, that was exactly what you wanted her to be when you were building her up all through dinner.

“Nuh-uh, get in the car. You have to wait until we get home,” you said firmly, giving her some gentle taps on her cheek and ignoring the incredibly pouty look on her face as you made your way to the passenger side of the car.

Huffing, Wanda obeyed and got in the driver’s seat. You knew it was evil, physically working her up for hours just to make her wait even longer for release, but as much as she huffed and groaned, it only made her all the more desperate for you.

࿏

Your hand on Wanda’s shoulder pushed her onto the couch of the little apartment you shared. It was a cozy place which Wanda let you have full control over decorating, though you embedded a touch of her in everything. The wallpaper, appearing to be a pretty white and red floral pattern, was actually encrypted with runes. The couch, a nostalgic green and yellow plaid, was actually the same pattern as the shirt Wanda was wearing when you first met. All the kitchen spatulas and ladles were red silicone after her signature color, and watercolor paintings of different kinds of witches hung on the walls. It was your sacred space together.

Wanda landed on the couch with a huff, and you immediately straddled her, throwing one leg over her lap and nestling down as you held your hand behind your back. Wanda perked when she heard a familiar metal clink coming from behind you when you sat down on her. Smirking, you brought your hand in front of you, revealing the pair of handcuffs.

“Baby, no,” she instantly growled, her hands grabbing your wrists. She hated when you cuffed her so that she couldn’t touch you, not for the lack of control, but because not touching you was incredibly hard for her.

“Baby, yes,” you responded with a smirk, waiting for her to let go of your wrists so you could do what you needed to do. When she didn’t, you merely lifted your brow, eyes hardening.

Wanda looked at you with pleading in her eyes which also flickered to the silver shine of the handcuffs, her wrists buzzing as they remembered the cold, hard embrace of them. Finally, she gave in, slowly letting go of your wrists.

“That’s it,” you whispered with a sharp grin. “You listen so well.”

Wanda’s soft cheeks blushed a gentle maroon as she instinctively put her wrists behind her back and leaned forward, letting her chin rest on your shoulder. You could feel how warm her body was, so close to you.

Leaning forward, you cuffed her wrists behind her back and guided her to sit back against the couch properly. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you asked in an innocent tone as you moved to get up, letting your knee brush the thing in her pants that indeed was very hard.

The maroon in her cheeks deepened. Wanda watched you, her red hair slightly covering her lips which were already agape and letting out measured, heavy breaths. You stood before her, letting your knees touch her bent ones, and pulled your shirt over your head. Wanda’s eyes followed you the way a lion follows its prey, tracking every little movement, totally locked in for the kill, nostrils flaring with the scent of blood. There was no mistaking that where dominance lacked in Wanda, lust replaced it. If you didn’t make her follow your rules, you were sure she would be fucking you every minute of the day with her enhanced strap.

While you had spent working Wanda up all night, you had also worked up yourself. You could feel the wetness in your underwear as you stripped down to wearing only those lacy black panties, your clothes and bra left discarded on the carpet at Wanda’s feet. She was pitching a tent now, squirming at the mere sight of you. You’d trained her so well.

“I can’t recall you ever being this whiny,” you chuckled as you slowly and gracefully got back on Wanda’s lap, your core buzzing with the new exposure. As you straddled her, you let your buzzing core line with her crotch, settling down on her bulge and sighing deeply with satisfaction. Wanda made an incoherent noise and twitched, squirming more as you sat right on her strap. With the pressure, you could feel even more how wet you were at the center, your closeness with Wanda now increased with the absence of another layer.

Wanda, distracted from your slight as she struggled to remain calm with the incredible warmth of you directly on her, let her eyes graze over your bare chest. Her arms twitched behind her, cuffs clinking, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her obvious attempt to touch you before remembering she was tied. She let out a groan that escalated into another whine.

“See? Whiny thing,” you remarked. Letting your fingers tangle in Wanda’s hair, admiring just how pretty she was, you suddenly rolled your hips over her with the perfect amount of pressure. Wanda gasped, the cuffs clinking harder as her body jerked in an instinct to grab your hips. Chuckling, you rolled your hips again, feeling through the thin fabric of your panties and the soft fabric of Wanda’s sweatpants as your clit rubbed onto the hardness of her cock. Wetness gushed more out of you.

“Fuck, baby,” Wanda whined as you began to grind down on her cock, the mere image of your nearly naked body straddling her lap, your back arching just right, your tits so near to her face, would have been enough for her to get the release she desperately needed if you were not denying her of it.

And God how pretty she looked. Her green eyes so full of shadow now, brimming with lust, staring up at you from under her brows, something between a lip bite and a smirk on her face. Her red hair fell more in front of her face now, shadowing it further, brows creasing with frustration. That was what you desired most about Wanda—how deeply and with fiery passion she desired you right back.

A moan escaped your lips as you watched her, how worked up she was, the way she was trying not to buck her hips up to meet your grinding, her cock warm and twitchy under the tense fabric of her pants as you rolled your clit over it, feeling your folds slip together with how wet you were now. Torturing her, teasing her.

“I’m gonna—”

“No,” you instantly denied her, feeling her cock bulge more underneath your slit. “You’re not allowed.”

“But—” Wanda tried to argue breathily, her voice raspy and heavy, brows still creased with frustration.

“Hold it,” you demanded, letting your fingers tug harshly at her hair. “Be a good girl for me and hold it. You can wait, can’t you? Is this all it takes to make you spill?”

The whine that escaped from that woman’s lips was enough to push you three steps closer to the edge.

“I-I’ve been waiting all night,” she groaned, closing her eyes now, squeezing them shut hard. She looked so cute, wincing, gritting her teeth together, the cuffs clinking wildly as she squirmed and tried to not buck her hips into you.

“You can wait longer,” you harshly spat, breath heavy as you grinded yourself more wildly, bouncing on her bulge, tugging hard at her soft hair. “Fuck… fuck…” Your stomach tightened, hole clenching around nothing as you finally reached your orgasm.

Wanda threw her head back and squeezed her eyes shut, teeth clenching so hard that sharp pains erupted in her jaws, as she used every ounce of strength in her to not cum. She was desperate for release, but she was more desperate to obey you and please you.

Nosediving into Wanda’s neck, you inhaled her glorious scent as you came down from your high, moaning softly in her ear that burned at the sound, slowing your hips down. She whined pathetically in your ear, practically trembling under you.

Pulling away, you got up slightly and saw that there was now a large dark wet spot right on Wanda’s crotch. First thinking she had cum without telling you but then remembering that she would never do that without telling you, you realized it was your wetness that had seeped through your underwear, mixed with a little bit of her precum helplessly leaking in her pants. Clear strings kept you connected to the wet spot as you lifted, standing up from her lap.

Wanda already looked like she was in incredible pain. Her lips were ajar, head leaning against the couch cushion, her crotch still bulged now with a pathetic wet spot on it.

“You’re pathetic,” you told her with a chuckle as you kicked your pants down your legs and to the floor. Wanda peaked at this, sitting up a little better.

“I need to be inside you,” she told you directly. Just because Wanda submitted to you did not make her unable to be lustfully honest with you. “It hurts, baby, I need to be inside.”

Heat washed over you at her declaration of need for you, hitting you right in your clit that was still throbbing. As much as you loved torturing her endlessly, you also always anticipated finally giving her what she wanted.

But you weren’t quite done yet.

Going closer to her, you uncuffed the handcuffs and instead pulled something else out of the drawer of the end table.

Wanda’s leash and collar.

An excellent scarlet leather, her leash and collar were tools you rarely used, but when you did, it made Wanda weak. She was already practically drooling as you clipped the collar around her pretty neck and clipped the leash to the ring at the front, letting the cold metal chain of the leash zip through your hands as you tugged on it, forcing Wanda’s head closer to you.

But now Wanda’s hands were free, and they were all over you. Grabbing at your tits, your hardened nipples, scratching your waist, groping your hips. Her eyes stared up at you blankly as you held the leash in your hand.

Power. Control. Authority. These were things that no one had ever been able to boast having over Wanda. She was always the one with the power.

Except with you. You now controlled her, leather and chain in palm, collar digging at the tenderness of her neck.

Smirking, you leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss on Wanda’s lips before you slowly laid down on the other end of the couch, legs spread open, pussy red and glistening.

“C’mere,” was all you had to say, and Wanda was already lowering herself between your legs, frantically pushing down her sweatpants to reveal her scarlet enhanced strap that bounced and poked at your inner thigh.

“Wait,” you ordered right as she started to line herself up with you. She stopped, eyes snapping up at you impatiently but also expectantly, ready to take your orders but overwhelmed with physical need. “Beg,” you whispered, tugging on the leash in your hand, causing Wanda’s head to jerk forward. “I want you to beg for my pussy.”

Wanda melted, lowering herself down so she was closer to you. “Please,” she started, her hand coming to rest on your neck gently. “Please let me have your pussy.” Nearly panting, she left a hot kiss at the corner of your jaw. “Please let me fuck you. I need your pussy. I need to be inside you. Please let me.” There was pain in her voice, her cock poking again at your inner thigh, nearly hot to the touch from the intensity of the magic flowing within her. “Please, please, please.” She left rushed, heavy kisses all up and down your jaw, her hands slipping under you to grab at your ass, her hips trembling between your open legs. Your hole ached for her.

“Fine,” you whispered, turning your face to nip at the tip of her ear, causing her to yelp. “Fuck me, pathetic thing.”

With a groan of excitement, Wanda grabbed her cock and lined it with your entrance, recklessly snapping her hips forward to shove herself inside you. Though she was large enough to still stretch you, she slipped in with ease from how wet your cunt already was. Her cock filled you, swarming all the way inside until she landed at your cervix, causing you to yell out and throw your head back in a mix of pleasure and pain.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, her face feeling hot with embarrassment as she laid it on your cool chest. “Fuck, sorry,” she apologized as she started to wildly fuck you, every inch of her cock burying deep inside you. Since she was so large, she usually started off slow with you, but she was giving you every bit of her, her cock going as deep as it could physically go inside you. You could feel her in your lower belly, rearranging your guts as she pumped inside you with chaotic rhythm.

There was hardly any trace of rhythm as Wanda plowed herself inside you, gently biting at the skin of your chest and digging her nails into your hips to keep you still. You were sure that if you tried to leave now, Wanda might murder you whether or not on accident. Though she submitted to you, she took absolute hold of you once you gave yourself to her.

A shriek of pain escaped your lips, your hands scratching hard at Wanda’s warm back under her shirt. Her sweatpants were shrugged at her knees, her ass bare in the air as it plowed between your legs. The couch squeaked shamefully under the weight of your bodies. Her leash bounced against her chest, the other end held loosely in your palm still.

“Sorry,” Wanda mumbled over and over each time you made a noise of pain, but she made no effort to slow down until her hips started to catch. Wanda’s moans turned higher in pitch as she buried her face into your neck and suddenly stopped, pulling her cock out of you and hovering her hips completely still between your legs.

Catching your breath, you tried to turn your head to look at Wanda, but her face was buried in your neck. She was even holding her breath.

“Wanda, what’s wrong?” you asked with concern, tugging softly at her leash which made her let out a little hum.

“I… I have to stop for a second,” she breathed hard into your neck finally.

“Why?”

“Because I—I keep—I keep almost cumming.”

Your lips twirled into a curl as the woman trembled on top of you.

“Keep going,” you firmly demanded.

Wanda made no movement, only shifted her face in your neck. “I just need a—”

“No.” With a harsh tug on her leash, Wanda lifted her head and looked at you, eyes crazed. “I said keep going.”

Wanda made a face in argument, but you locked your legs around her hips and forced her down between your legs again, reaching down and grabbing her cock with your hand.

“Ah!” Wanda started as you basically forced her back inside you, sighing at the stretch as she filled you again.

Wanda hung her head and made no movement, breathing hard in an obvious effort to control herself. With how sensitive her enhanced strap was, even feeling the pressure of your tight cunt around her was too much to bear.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, yanking harder again at her leash and letting it slap against her. The skin of her neck around the collar was starting to blush red.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda slowly rolled her hips and pumped herself in and out of you, simultaneously letting out a whine. “Please, can I please c—”

“No,” you responded, grabbing her hips and forcing her to go faster. “You can’t cum until I say you can, and you can’t stop, either.”

Biting her lip so hard it turned white and squeezing her eyes shut, Wanda fucked you painfully. While it hurt her to hold back her orgasm that had been a long time coming all night, she was completely lost in total pleasure. You felt so wet and warm around her, so tight and welcoming, your walls clenching around her shaft. She was obsessed with you and being inside you. It was her favorite place to be, yet it was where she had the least control.

“Faster,” you demanded, and Wanda attempted to pick up her speed, but every single movement was an offensive attack on her control. She was almost pale, trembling above you and not daring to open her eyes in fear that the sight of you would make her spill.

Growing impatient, you grunt and push her away, her cock leaving you with a wet pop. Confused, Wanda let you grab her and push her to the ground, forcing her to sit against the bottom part of the couch as you found yourself straddling her again. Lining your entrance with her tip, you gave Wanda no time to prepare as you slammed yourself down on her strap, tugging her leash at the same time.

“Fuck!” Wanda yelled out as you fucked yourself onto her on the floor, bouncing up and down on her cock that now hammered harshly inside you. Wanda’s nails dug hard into your sides, drawing blood, but you continued forcing every inch of her cock inside you with sickeningly wet sloshing noises.

“Baby, baby, baby, baby,” Wanda breathed, panting, eyes closed. She started to push at your hips, kicking her legs and trying to get you off of her. “Baby, I can’t stop it, I can’t stop.” She pushed hard at you to get you off her, and you knew it was because she had to ask to cum inside you, and if you decided to deny her, there was no way she’d be able to stop herself. And oh, how Wanda wanted so badly to be good for you.

You’d only let Wanda do it inside once before, knowing the value of the reward that you so often hung over her head during sex. You would promise to let her cum inside then shove her off you at the last moment, forcing her to cum all over your stomach or tits instead.

Licking your teeth with your tongue, you cradled the back of Wanda’s head, leash held taut in your hand, and came close to her face to whisper, “Cum inside me.”

Wanda’s eyes snapped open, and as if your words were a remote control to the machine of her body, she released.

Expletives came rushing out of Wanda’s mouth one after the other, most of them mostly incoherent from the incessant moan that escaped her throat. Wanda’s cock finally bulged one last time before unloading inside you, her hot cum shooting deep in your tummy. You forced yourself down as far as possible on her cock so that her cum would go deep inside you, biting down on her trembling shoulder as she filled you up with a seemingly endless amount of cum.

It was several moments before Wanda was able to finally compose herself, head thrown back against the seat of the couch, her body basically limp. The skin around her collar was deep red now from how much you had tugged on the leash.

As much as you loved seeing Wanda being torturously teased, seeing her wonderfully relieved was almost equal in beauty. She was so relaxed now, a stupid smile on her slightly sweaty face, her cock gleefully limp inside you, her cum nestled in your tummy.

Humming, you kissed her neck and whispered, “You like cumming in my unprotected cunt, don’t you?”

If possible, Wanda’s skin blushed harder as she slowly nodded, her hands gently rubbing up and down your waist.

You grazed your smirking lips against her ear. “Wanna do it again?”

With that, her strap stiffened inside you.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #lesbian #marvel #lgbt #dark!fic #dark!wanda #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #power bottom #themidnightcrimson #elizabeth olsen #sub top

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beloveds-embrace · 1 day ago

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(More of designationless reader based on this idea)

You had always been less.

Less noticeable, less intrusive, less of a presence that mattered, and you learned early on that your family didn’t want you too close. Their scents were for each other, their touches were reserved for those who belonged. You were something other, something they tolerated rather than accepted.

It started small- your mother shifting away when you tried to curl up beside her, your father keeping his voice clipped, distant, like warmth was something you hadn’t earned. Then it became something more. You weren’t allowed in the nest, weren’t allowed to linger where they laid together in a comforting tangle of limbs and scents. You could watch from the doorway, but never enter. Could exist near, but never within.

And so, your body adapted to your family- and now it it was adapting to your pack.

Once more, it started with small things.

The way Ghost would stand a little closer than usual, his hulking body looming just within reach. The way Gaz would brush his fingers over your wrist whenever he passed by, lingering like he was trying to confirm something, brows furrowed. The way Soap had developed the sudden habit of hooking his chin over your shoulder, inhaling deeply before he even seemed to realize he was doing it.

You thought nothing of it at first. They were tactile- it wasn’t unusual for them to be close, to press up against you like you had a scent they could bury themselves in. You had never complained about it before, so you assumed it was just… normal.

But then Price had done it.

He wasn’t the type to be overly affectionate- comforting, yes, steady and there,, but not one for unnecessary touches even if sometimes he’d hold you tight and close. And yet, when you had handed him a cup of coffee that morning, he had taken it and your wrist, holding you still for just a moment too long. His fingers had tightened, just slightly, like he was resisting the urge to pull you closer. His nose flared subtly, lips parting before he let you go with a slow exhale.

You frowned at him, but he only took a sip of his coffee and looked away like nothing had happened.

It started escalating after that- after you joined their nest and arms regularly of your own will.

Ghost wasn’t just standing close anymore- he was standing behind you, his chin nearly brushing the crown of your head as if debating whether to bury his nose there. Soap had stopped using pillows entirely, opting instead to just tuck himself against your side, his face pressed somewhere against your shoulder, your throat, your hair. Gaz had taken to curling around you when you were sitting together, nuzzling shamelessly, inhaling against the skin of your neck like he was trying to memorize something.

And the worst part?

You could feel it.

There had always been something missing, something hollow where others had instincts- some part of you that had never quite woken up. You had learned to live without it, learned to ignore the way packs moved around you instead of with you, the way scent markers never quite stuck no matter how much time you spent pressed into someone’s arms. You had long since accepted that whatever part of you was supposed to respond to this kind of attention had simply been burned out of you long ago.

But now-

Now there was something stirring, something faint and new and wrong.

A deep itch beneath your skin, something that made your stomach curl and your head swim every time one of them leaned in close. Something that made the back of your throat tickle whenever you rested with them, calm and content.

It wasn’t a scent, not really- more like the promise of one, something so faint and elusive that even you couldn’t quite catch it.

But they could, because they had noticed before you did.

That much became painfully clear when Ghost backed you into the corner of the common room one evening, pressing close, his head tilting as he breathed deep, slow, deliberate.

“…The hell are you doing?” Your voice came out unsteady, but he didn’t move, only leaned in closer, eyes dark and fixated like he was trying to map something beneath your skin.

“You smell different.” He murmured.

Your heart lurched.

“No, I don’t. I don’t have any smell.”

Ghost just huffed, a sound that was almost a growl, but not quite. Behind him, Soap shifted where he sat, his nose scrunching, his brow furrowed like something was bothering him.

“I noticed it too,” Gaz muttered. “It’s… new. But it’s there.”

Price had been silent up until that point, but when he finally spoke, his voice was careful.

“…It’s not strong.” His gaze pinned you, assessing, like he was searching for something just out of reach. “But it’s there, love.”

Your stomach twisted.

You had lived your whole life thinking you were empty, thinking you had simply been born wrong. And now-

Now they were telling you it had been there the whole time?

You- you couldn’t believe it. You refused to believe it, refused to accept it after everything, but-

That night, you barely got a moment to yourself.

Ghost wasn’t just standing close anymore- he was practically wrapped around you, his face pressed against your throat, his breath hot and deep as he inhaled in his sleep, mouthing at your neck. Soap was sprawled over your stomach, arms locked around your waist, while Gaz had curled up at your side, face tucked into your shoulder. Even John, John, who had never been one for unnecessary indulgence, had you caged, his body curled around the entire mess of you, nose buried in your hair, lips pressed against your temple.

It was suffocating. It was overwhelming.

It was the safest you had ever felt in your life.

Omegaverse Masterlist

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st7rnioioss · 3 days ago

Text

₊˚⊹♡ ❛❛SLIP OFF A NEW DRESS❜❜

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬... smut, fluff, softdom!matt, unprotected sex (wrap it guys), kissing, swear words, pet names

(you make me wanna) go dancing (you make me wanna) try on feminine (you make me wanna) go buy a new dress (you make me wanna) slip off a new dress

♡ ˖ ࣪ ◟ “ta-daaa!” you twirled for matt, the soft glow of his lamp lighting the room you stepped into, making the colors of your new dress stand out. you had a widespread smile on your lips, your arms open and wide while spinning a few times for him, the dress fanning out. “isn’t it cute?”

while matt was at work today you’d thought why not buy a new dress? you took some time for yourself in the morning to get ready in the small bathroom of matt’s apartment, before spending most of the day treating yourself, even going to visit matt, just to say hi.. and kiss in the back room.

matt was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring up at you with wide, lovestruck eyes, his heart fluttering at both your cute, new dress, but your excitement most of all.

a record was playing in the back, some '60s blues fading into the back while you prettily strutted and turned for him, running your hands down your body to smooth out the fabric. matt was stunned, to say the least, and though he tried not to be a pervert about your beautiful dress, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander places they shouldn’t.

“it’s more than cute. you look very beautiful,” he complimented you, reaching out to take your hands in his when he stood up, making you twirl one more time for him. he basically had heart eyes for you, his lips stuck in an upwards curl.

you were laughing, your cheeks red from his sweet words and deliberate touch on your waist when he let go of your hands. “thank you very much.” you tiptoed to press a kiss to his forehead, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

“matter a fact, i think you look way better than beautiful,” he smiled at you, peppering kisses all over your face, making you chuckle until you playfully shoved him away when it tickled too much.

“matter a fact. maybe i am in a relationship with a big, sappy dork,” you jokingly mocked his words.

matt laughed along with you before he let go of you to take another look at you. “you’re staring, matt.” you smiled while poking his arm when he basically couldn’t stop himself from taking in the sight of the dress hugging your figure so perfectly until he forced his eyes back up to meet yours. “i’m just savoring the sight because that dress will be long gone in a minute.”

matt’s words were promised.. kind of. soon enough, your hips were digging into the edge of matt’s bed, resting on your elbows while he stood close behind you, pressing his erection into the plush skin of your ass that was still covered by the dress.

the room was silent, except for the heavy breathing from the two of you and the record that was close to ending. matt’s hands were resting on the side of your torso, running down your waist and hips to get a firm grip and a feel of the new, and almost luxurious material.

“you’re so pretty..” he whispered, leaning even closer over your body to let his words mingle in the shell of your ear, making shivers run down your spine. “so.. so lovely.”

his hand brushed your hair out of the way on your back to show off the beautiful details and lace while you mumbled a small “thank you”, his fingers carefully fiddling with the bows to undo it.

it was as if every second felt like an eternity, his slow and delicate fingers undoing the ties you had tightened just earlier. your breath hitched when he slipped the straps of the dress down your shoulders, his palm smoothing out over your upper back.

“maattt.. i need you to touch me,” you whined under him, growing impatient and needy with every lingering touch.

he chuckled smugly at your poor attempt to hurry him up, wiggling and shifting underneath him. but he gave in, mostly because he couldn’t hold himself back either, his hard dick pressing into your skin.

“okay, okay.. sorry,” he chuckled again, going to unzip the last part of the back, revealing the hem of your panties to him.

his breath hitched, watching as you went to pull the straps down your arms, but he stopped you, his hands softly grabbing yours.

“wait.. i- i want you to keep it on.. is that okay?” he whispered, turning into something close to shy when asking the question, his ears and cheeks red.

you hesitated to answer, staring blankly into the air, but you nodded while a pink tint brushed over your face. “yeah. that’s okay..” you murmured back, slipping the straps up your forearms but keeping them there, letting the fabric stay loose.

“thank you.. thank you,” matt nodded behind you, carefully flipping the dress up over your ass to rest on your back, hitching the hem of your skirt up to wrinkle around your waist—but not to worry, he’d wash it and iron the wrinkles out in a heartbeat if you complained about it without a second thought.

your pants were heavy, coming slow and steady when his fingers dipped under the elastic of your panties. your lips curled up into a tiny smile, excitement running through your veins when he tugged the thin fabric down your thighs and legs, feeling as they pooled around your ankles.

matt’s eyes were stuck to your gushing folds, blinking as if he’d return to bed, forgetting all about the dream right in front of him—but he never did. he never woke up in his bed, no matter how many times he blinked.

you soon enough caught onto his hesitance, wiggling your hips into the mattress and purposely showing off your ass for him, giggling quietly. matt groaned with a laugh, finally letting his hands reach for the lush skin of your ass, kneading your skin between his fingers and palms. “you- you’re adorable.. as pretty as a picture.”

your skin felt hot with every touch of his delicate and deliberate fingers, how they both snook down your inner thighs to brush over your slit, making a desperate and needy moan slip from your lips that were curled into a smile.

“fuck matt, please.. i need you so bad,” your voice was high-pitched and laced with desperation before you felt the absence of his warm hands on you.

you turned your head over your shoulder to look back up at him, and met with the sight of him unbuckling his belt, his eyes flickering from your exposed body to your face. you were staring, glancing up at him with wide eyes while impatiently rutting your hips and waiting for him to finally do something about the throbbing between your legs. your gaze made its way down his body, ending up on the tent in his pants that was being freed with a breathy moan.

you turned back around, your slick basically smeared all over your inner thighs by now, your fingers balling the sheets under you up into your fist. “is- is this okay?” he whispered when his boxers dropped to his thighs, guiding his leaking tip to your entrance with one hand, the other one holding onto your waist.

a breath got stuck in your throat, nodding as a small whimper was elicited from you. “yeah, it’s- it’s good.. keep going, please?” you moaned before you felt him push his tip just a little further inside of you, both his hands planted on either side of your waist, on top of the smooth fabric.

you both moaned in unison all while matt was mumbling something about how beautiful you looked; something he’d probably already told you a million times, but it still made butterflies erupt like crazy.

his fingers dug into your skin, stuffing your slick pussy full of his hard and throbbing cock, making a string of guttural moans being pulled from your mouth. his bigger and stronger thighs spread yours apart from behind easily, allowing him more access to plunge his dick into your dripping cunt.

“i-i’m so fuckin’ captivated by you.. y’feel like a dream,” he moaned, leaning his body almost fully on top of yours to mumble into your ear, his hands gripping your sides almost harshly. you couldn’t help but smile at his choice of words, which obviously paid off from his excessive reading.

“m-matt.. i love you,” you whimpered when you felt him bottom out completely, his cock snuggled deep inside of you, his tip kissing and prodding at that soft, sensitive spot in you.

he felt a rush of.. adoration? your words make his heart throb in the best way possible, his skin feeling as if it was on fire, beads of sweat already formed on his forehead. it didn’t take long for him to pull out halfway, before he thrusted his hips forward, slapping against your ass.

“i-i love you more, holy fuck..” he whined right into your ear, making a turmoil of pleasure strike through you, gripping even harder for the sheets until you let go.

you were both a whimpering mess when he picked up his pace, letting go of your waist to reach for your hands, the back of both being met with his palm, interlacing his fingers with yours from behind while he mewled. “y-you look so gorgeous darling.. so fucking good,” you were panting, your moans high pitched and whiny, leaning your head back and basically arching off the bed.

he was close enough to turn his head to yours, peppering soft kisses to your cheek to mumble his pathetic whines, his fingers squeezing yours when you clenched and clamped around him. both your moans were echoing with the soft sound of skin smacking onto skin, your eyes drifting shut from the pleasure.

matt continued his almost relentless pace, whimpering and whining into your ear. the tension in your stomach was tightening, every moan and thrust from him making your mind cloud up into a blown-out daze, every thought in your head fucked gone, “t-that feels so good.”

matt couldn’t hold back the groans that left his lips, his tight grip on your hands nearly stopping all blood circulation, his thrusts and jerk of his hips turning messy and sloppy. “uh-huh? do you like that?” you nodded dumbly at his words, continuing to moan profanities and repetitive whines of his name.

“so wet for me.. just for me, yeah?” the coil in your tummy soon enough tightened, your legs close to giving out from how your knees were buckling under your. matt seemed to notice, of his hands letting go of yours to twist under your hips still clad in the dress, a strong arm lifting your lower body just a little bit above the mattress to support your knees. with the new angle, it was as if he reached even deeper inside of you, making the two of you whimper. “j-just for you..!”

you cried out his name, your free fingers tapping the back of his hand gently. “i-im gonna cum, matt.. please, let me cum,” your head was spinning, the words coming out blabbered and fast, twirling together while you spat them out.

he chuckled breathlessly, his dark hair sticking to his forehead in small strands, his arm withdrawing from your hips. you laid back in your precious position before you felt his fingers moving to press the pad of his fingertip to your swollen and needy clit.

“g-good girl.. you’ve been so good, so nice. cum for me, you can do that..” he whispered, rubbing tight but gentle circles over your bud, making your hips twitch and legs wobble beneath you.

a loud moan emitted from your lips, throwing your head forehead while he continued plunging into you, adding to the stimulation his finger provided.

with a moan of his name and a bundle of swear words, your pussy was convulsing around his cock, coating him in the slick, sticky substance. “o-oh my god matt..” you lied spent on the bed, your cheeks flushed and your forehead having a sheen of sweat beaded across your skin, loosening your grip of his fingers.

“fuuuck, you’re s-so tight.. you sound so pretty too..” but though matt was still thrusting and bucking his hips harshly into your drooling cunt, he was right behind you, close to spilling his release inside of you.

the overstimulation was creeping up on you, your walls clamping around him like a goddamn vice, your release making it easier for him to watch his cock disappear inside of you. “matt, please.. please cum, i can’t take this..” you whined, pleading for him to finish.

your words were all he needed as a final push, his skin prickling and face scorching when he with a final thrust emptied himself into your sticky cunt, painting your inside walls white.

“jesus christ.. i love you,” matt was a mess, his forehead glistening and fingers gripping yours tightly all while mumbling praise and sweet words into your ear, feeling you pulse around him when he stilled his movements.

you groaned with a smile, slumping only the bed fully, completely tired and spent. there was silence for a second, but nothing uncomfortable. it was intimate, the both of you catching your breath.

“i’ll wear this dress again.. definitely,” you broke the silence, your face pink and twisted into a smile. “n-never.. been fucked that good.”

matt snickered along with you, his hand carefully running down the detailing on your back once more, nodding faintly. “oh, i’d fuck you this good every day if you let me.”

˚𝜗𝜚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬... i didn't mean for their first post to be smut but.. i can't stay away. the scammys snatched that from clairo btw BUT THAT DRESS??? i fell back she's so gorgeous.

۶ৎ taglist: @jetaimevous @missmimii @mattscoquette @pearlzier @witchofthehour @elizasturn @loveparqdise @delilahsturniolo @phone4pills @sturnsmia @hearts4werka @cayleeuhithinknott @strnilolover @sturnvxz @lovergirl4gracieabrams @ifwdominicfike @toftomgmf @emely9274 @sturnioloangell @blushsturns @sierrraaaaxz @slut4chris888 @marrykisskilled @sophand4n4 @sturnihoelooo @unknvhx @chrisslut04 @sturniolossss @slvtf0rchr1s @blahbel668 @starkeysturniolo @miolos @user1smvtysturniolo @lizzyzzn @sturnslutz @decimatedxdreams @chrissturnioloswife88 @sturn777 @sturniolonationsblog @frankoceanfanpage @priscillaog @courta13 @sweetrelieef @loverboysturn @sturns-mermaid @cutseylady @sofieeeeex @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @mattsturnii @conspiracy-ash

❛❛ © 𝐒𝐓𝟕𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐒 𝐞𝐬𝐭. 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ❜❜

#🐇་༘࿐ works #₊˚⊹♡ matt #⌗⋆. bookstore owner!matt sheep!reader ⋆. 𐙚 ˚#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #the sturniolos #the sturniolo triplets

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cuntyji · 19 hours ago

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the first video nanami ever posted was filmed on a shaky phone propped up against a bag of flour.

he was making bread—simple, easy, the kind of thing he found comfort in after long days at work. his hands moved methodically, kneading the dough with a quiet precision, and though he spoke very little, the video was oddly calming.

he hadn't expected much from it. maybe a few views, maybe a couple of people who’d appreciate the lack of unnecessary chatter. but the comments were overwhelmingly positive, people asking about his technique, his recipe, his voice—deep, smooth, effortlessly steady. so he made another video. then another.

it was the late-night upload of him singing "baby one more time" by the marías that changed everything.

filmed on an old macbook with a grainy webcam, the lighting barely enough to make out his face, the video had been an impulse decision—one he almost deleted. it was just him, sitting on his couch, his voice low and hushed, the way he usually sang to lull yuuji to sleep. but the internet clung to it like ivy, twisting and reaching until the video had over a million views by the end of the week.

"who is he." "why is this the most intimate thing i've ever heard in my life." "he looks exhausted and sounds like a dream, i'm in love."

he thought it would pass. but it didn't.

his subscribers doubled overnight. the demand for more was loud, insistent. nanami, being nanami, didn’t rush to meet it. instead, he structured it into his routine: one video a week, a mix of baking and singing—because baking was reliable, and singing had never been something he shared outside of yuuji’s bedtime.

his channel evolved. the baking videos became polished, edited with subtle precision. he switched to voiceovers, explaining each step in that same low, deliberate tone that made people feel like he was speaking just to them. and when he sang, it was always songs that carried a quiet sort of nostalgia.

"he only sings songs he sings to his kid to sleep i’m crying." "his lullabies are better than half the music industry." "i don’t know his name, his age, or his face properly, but i know his banana bread recipe by heart."

nanami never explicitly talked about being a single dad, but it was impossible to miss. yuuji’s voice sometimes made cameos in the background, muffled questions about homework, laughter when nanami burnt the edges of a cake. he didn’t hide it, didn’t play it up. it was just a part of his life, and his audience adored him for it.

his faq video—one of the few times he ever directly addressed personal questions—answered almost nothing.

"are you married?" "no." "how old are you?" "old enough." "what's your name?" "nanami."

the mystery only made people more obsessed.

"i know nothing about him but i’d die for him." "his hands. his voice. his existence." "the fact that he bakes and sings for his kid and still won’t tell us his age is crazy."

he now posted twice a week. one video was always baking, the other was whatever he wanted—sometimes music, sometimes a quiet q&a, sometimes just a video of him making tea while rain hit the windows.

people knew everything and nothing about him at the same time. they knew the exact ratio of brown sugar he preferred in cookies but not what city he lived in. they knew he tucked yuuji in every night with a song but had never seen his full face in a single frame. they knew the precise cadence of his voice when he said “and that’s how you make the perfect loaf” but had never heard him say “i love you”—and yet, somehow, they felt like they had.

the internet had fallen in love with him. and nanami, quietly, without even trying, had changed his life with nothing but flour-dusted hands and the sound of his own voice.

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miniscapes333 · 3 days ago

Text

Passionate confession from your FS (18+) (Possesive edition) (part - 1)

PICK A PILE READING LOVES ;)

👇 [PILE - 1] 👇[PILE - 2]

👆 [PILE - 3]

Disclaimer: The images featured are not mine. All credit and rights belong to their original creators.

PILE 1

"You have no idea what you do to me. Or maybe you do. Maybe you see it—the way my jaw clenches when you walk into the room, the way my fingers twitch like they ache to touch you, the way I have to exhale slowly when you get too close, just to keep myself from doing something reckless. Do you feel it, the charge in the air when we’re near each other? It’s unbearable sometimes, the tension, the pull. You’ll brush past me—just the faintest graze of your skin against mine—and I’ll have to force my hands into my pockets, grip the nearest surface, do something to stop myself from dragging you into the nearest secluded corner and making sure you know exactly how badly I’ve been craving you. I don’t think you understand how much I struggle with this. With wanting you and not being able to have you the way I need to.

"And when I think about finally having you—really having you—I imagine it slow, deliberate. None of this rushing, none of this fleeting, stolen touches nonsense. No, when I get my hands on you, I’m taking my time. I want to feel your breath hitch when I kiss that spot just below your ear, want to watch the way your fingers grip the fabric of my shirt when I press you against me. I want to memorize you. The weight of your body against mine, the sound of my name on your lips when you finally let yourself melt into me. Because, love, I’ve been suffering for you. Every time our eyes meet across a crowded room, every time your fingers brush against my wrist absentmindedly—it’s torture. Do you know how many times I’ve had to sit next to you, watch you, be close but not close enough? My fingers flex at my sides, my lips part like I’m about to say something, but I hold it back. Every. Damn. Time. But one day? Oh, one day, I won’t hold back anymore.

"And when that moment comes? When I finally let go of every restraint, every ounce of self-control? I hope you’re ready for what that will mean. Because I promise you, once I start, I won’t stop. Not until I’ve unraveled every little guarded piece of you, not until my touch is so deeply imprinted into your skin that even when I’m not there, you’ll still feel me. My hands on your hips, my fingers tracing slow, lazy circles up your spine, my lips ghosting over yours just to make you wait a little longer, just to hear that soft, impatient sound you make when you want more. And when I do finally give in? Oh, sweetheart… you will know—body, mind, and soul—just how deep my devotion runs."

PILE 2

"You drive me crazy, you know that? It’s not just the way you look—though, trust me, that alone is enough to make my thoughts dangerous. It’s the way you move, the way you carry yourself like you know exactly what you’re worth. That quiet confidence, that effortless allure—it’s infuriating. Because it makes me restless, makes me reckless. I catch myself watching you when I shouldn’t, leaning in closer just to catch the scent of your skin, clenching my fists to stop myself from reaching out and pulling you into me like it’s my right. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? It should be. You should be mine. And yet, here I am, pacing the edge of my own self-control, caught somewhere between wanting to savor every moment and wanting to pin you against the nearest wall just to see how quickly I can make you unravel.

"You have no idea how many times I’ve imagined it—the moment I stop fighting this, the moment I finally let myself have you. The tension between us is unbearable, crackling in the air like a live wire, waiting for the right spark to set it all ablaze. And when it happens? When I finally let go? It won’t be some careful, delicate thing. No, it will be electric. Desperate hands, impatient lips, bodies pressing so close that the world outside ceases to exist. I want to hear your breath hitch when I whisper against your skin, want to see that sharp flash of surprise in your eyes when I finally break past that composure you wear so well. I know you feel it too, that need, that ache that’s been building between us like a storm on the horizon. And when it hits? There will be no stopping it.

"And after? Oh, don’t think for a second I’ll be done with you. No, I’ll have you wrapped in my arms, your body still humming with the aftermath, my fingers tracing lazy patterns against your bare skin like I’m committing you to memory. I’ll watch the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips part ever so slightly, like you’re still trying to catch your breath. And I’ll smirk—because I’ll know. I’ll know that I’ve ruined you in the best possible way. And when you finally close your eyes, thinking you’ll get a moment of rest? That’s when I’ll lean in, lips brushing against your ear, and whisper, ‘You didn’t actually think I was finished with you yet, did you?’"

PILE 3

"You test me. You push me. And I don’t even think you realize it. Do you know how hard it is to sit back and watch you move through the world like you don’t belong to me? To watch other people steal your time, your attention, while I have to sit there and pretend like it doesn’t drive me insane? I don’t do well with restraint—I never have. I’m a person who sees what they want and takes it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. But you… you make me hesitate. You make me wait. And I hate waiting. I hate the space between us, the distance I have to keep when all I want to do is pull you into me and remind you exactly who you belong to. Because you do belong to me, don’t you? Even if you don’t realize it yet, even if you keep playing this dangerous little game of making me work for it—you feel it too. I know you do."

"I’ve imagined it too many times—crossing that line, claiming what’s already mine. And trust me, when that moment comes, I won’t be gentle. I won’t be soft. Not at first. No, the first time I take you, I’ll make damn sure you feel it, that you know there is no one else who can touch you the way I can, who can own you the way I will. I can already picture it—my hands gripping your waist, pulling you flush against me, the sharp little gasp you’ll make when I finally stop holding back. My fingers tilting your chin up just enough so you have no choice but to meet my eyes, so you can see the storm you’ve been stirring inside me all this time. And when I kiss you? It won’t be sweet. It won’t be careful. It will be a claim, a warning, a promise. Because once I have you, I’m never letting you go."

"And after? I’ll keep you close, one arm draped possessively around your waist, my fingers tracing idle patterns against your bare skin. I’ll watch you, the rise and fall of your breath, the way you still glow from what we just did. And just when you think I’ve finally calmed, finally had my fill? I’ll lean in, lips grazing the shell of your ear as I whisper, ‘You thought I was finished? No, sweetheart… we’ve only just begun.’"

Paid readings availabe - check them out here 🫶🏾

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monstersholygrail · 1 day ago

Text

Imagine a big terrifying Alien who’s only heard about love and affection from watching human interactions and romance movies. And ever since then he’s been such a lovable and cuddly guy, but only for you, the one who showed him these great treasures.

Now you can’t go a second without his large hands on you. The way they curl around your limbs and pull you tight against him. His hands that always seem to wander, squishing your soft flesh in his palms, pinching and tweaking at your sensitive nipples, and sliding down to cup and rub the curious heat between your thighs.

And if you could ever manage to sit in your own seat again it would be a miracle. The alien immediately drags you down onto his lap whenever you go to sit down. If you dare to sit next to him or god forbid across from him, he’ll just pick you up and plop you right back into his lap, not caring that he’s knocking over everything on the table in his path.

It’s all innocent, he’s just exploring new sensations with someone he trusts. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Ignoring the knowing glint in his eyes and excusing the alerts you’ve been getting about someone accessing unauthorized websites on your computer.

It’s too hard to think right now anyway as you rock against his skilled fingers that curl inside of you, hitting that spongy spot that has your eyes rolling back. Your thighs and his a mess as they’re drenched in your release. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s made you cum tonight.

He just won’t stop touching you, long thick digits reaching the deepest parts of you. Gliding along your gummy walls and igniting your nerves with every flick of his wrist. Loud squelching echos in your bunker and you’ve long stopped trying to be quiet. Who cares if your crew knows what you’re doing? It’s just another lesson, that’s all.

“O-oh what a good— good mate. Doing so w-well f’me. Can’t get enough, can you? So desperate for my fingers,” the Alien murmurs in your ear, lust seeping into his tone.

You squeeze your eyes tightly, trying not to think about how he learned to talk like that. But instead letting his praise wash over you as he slips in another thick digit, scissoring his fingers and stretching you so deliciously. Ragged moans tear from your throat, body arching into his touch as you grow more and more tense.

Cute little pleased clicks from the Alien’s throat drown out your cries of pleasure as you shake in his arms. Your release gushing all over his fingers and adding to wet spot forming on your bed. He still doesn’t stop, working you through it till overstimulation has your toes curling and your body twitching.

You know he’ll keep touching and touching till you cum all over again and your hips roll back into his, wanting even more. You can feel his massive bulge digging into your ass and promising pleasure out of this world. And you’ve been to many of them.

With a gentle tug, you guide the Alien’s hand out of your core, watching it drip with your release. The Alien hisses at you, very put out that you’ve stopped his loving touches. But you gently shush him and turn around to straddle his giant lithe frame. Your hands already moving to the hem of his sweatpants.

“I think maybe we can move onto your next lesson now. There are many forms of human intimacy you’ve yet to discover, sweet one,” you say seductively.

Just as you slowly tug his sweatpants down enough to have his fat cock pop out from its confines and slap against his toned stomach. His length soaked with his own release just from your grinding but still rock hard.

Oh, he had so much to learn…

Part 2…?

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gf2bellamy · 2 days ago

Note

Can you write about reader and Spencer’s wedding night and him helping reader take down her hair and wash off her makeup and take off her dress. And reader and Spencer being goofy and practicing calling each other husband and wife because they’re new titles that they’re so excited to use

wedding night — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader saying she's suffocating in her dress?😭 a/n: i hope i did your request justice !! <3 i hope you like it <333 ( i wanna be married to spencer so bad oh my god )

You stood behind Spencer, your fingers resting lightly against his back as you waited—not so patiently—for him to unlock the hotel room door.

“Hurry up,” you huffed, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “I need to get out of this tight dress.”

Spencer fumbled slightly with the keycard, mumbling something under his breath that you didn’t quite catch.

Finally, the lock clicked, and he pushed the door open, stepping aside to let you in first. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamps casting a warm ambiance over the space. Rose petals were scattered across the bed—a sweet surprise you hadn't expected—and the faint scent of vanilla lingered in the air.

You barely had time to take it all in before Spencer turned to you, his eyes sweeping over you with the kind of admiration that made your breath catch.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly.

Something in the way he said it made your heart melt. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a statement filled with pure admiration, as if he still couldn’t quite believe you were his.

You smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Thank you, Spencer.”

But then you let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “But you’re going to have to appreciate my beauty without it now because I’m about to suffocate in this dress.”

You turned around, exposing the intricate lacework of the back, and pulled your hair to one side.

There was a brief pause before you felt his fingers graze the zipper at the top of your dress. His touch was featherlight, almost hesitant, and the warmth of his hands sent a shiver down your spine.

He took his time, carefully pulling the zipper down inch by inch, revealing the bare skin of your back. His fingers brushed against you ever so slightly, and despite the fact that you had been with him for years—had just married him today—his touch still made you shiver.

Spencer let out a quiet breath, and you swore you could feel the warmth of it against your shoulder.

“You have no idea how breathtaking you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart skipped a beat.

You turned your head slightly, catching his reflection in the mirror across the room. His gaze wasn’t just admiring—it was adoring. Like he was seeing you for the first time all over again.

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you reached back, taking one of his hands in yours. “I think I do,” you said, squeezing his fingers gently. “Because you always make me feel that way.”

Spencer exhaled softly, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips lingering there for a moment.

You smiled softly, the warmth of the moment still lingering between you and Spencer. But as the cool air hit your back from the half-open zipper, reality set in—you needed to get out of this dress completely and into something comfortable.

Your eyes flickered around the room, searching for your bags. “Where did Penelope put our stuff?” you murmured, more to yourself than to Spencer.

You were practically dreaming of slipping into one of his shirts—something soft, loose, and big enough to drown you in warmth. The thought alone made you sigh in relief.

Spencer, still standing behind you, let his hand drop from your back, his fingers briefly brushing against your skin before he turned to scan the room. It didn’t take long for him to spot the neatly placed bags by the bed, courtesy of Penelope’s insistence on handling every little detail.

Without a word, he walked over, unzipping one of the suitcases and pulling out a familiar button-down shirt. He held it out to you, his fingers lightly gripping the fabric. “Here,” he said softly, his gaze meeting yours.

You smiled, taking it from him, your fingers brushing briefly. As he turned away to shrug off his suit jacket, you wasted no time in stepping out of the gown. The heavy fabric pooled at your feet, and you sighed in relief as the pressure around your torso was finally gone.

Slipping Spencer’s shirt over your head, you felt instant comfort. It smelled like him—clean, warm, and familiar. The fabric hung loosely over your frame, the sleeves falling just past your wrists. You buttoned it up halfway before rolling the cuffs slightly, already feeling cozier than you had all night.

By the time you turned back around, Spencer was standing near the dresser, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves.

You couldn’t help but admire him for a second—how even after all these years, just looking at him could send warmth fluttering through your chest.

Spencer glanced up just in time to catch you staring, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “You look good in my shirt,” he murmured, his voice softer than before.

You grinned, hugging yourself slightly as you rocked on your heels. “I love your shirts. I think I might steal this one permanently.”

You turned away from Spencer with a smile, heading into the bathroom. The moment you stepped inside, your eyes widened in pure awe.

“Wow,” you breathed out, staring at the luxurious space in front of you.

Spencer, hearing your reaction, quickly pulled on something more comfortable before following you inside. “What—” He stopped mid-sentence, his eyebrows raising slightly as he took in the enormous bathroom.

The walls were lined with elegant marble, a massive soaking tub sat in one corner, and a glass-enclosed rain shower took up nearly half the space. But what really caught your attention was the mirror—the biggest bathroom mirror you had ever seen.

“I have never seen a bathroom this big,” you marveled, still taking it all in.

Spencer chuckled softly behind you. “I think this is bigger than my first apartment.”

Your gaze shifted to the countertop, and your heart swelled at what you saw. Lined up neatly beside the sink were a variety of makeup removers, cotton pads, and skincare essentials—things you hadn’t packed.

“Oh my God,” you sighed happily, pressing a hand to your chest. “The girls are angels.”

Penelope, JJ, and Emily must have planned this—always looking out for you, always making sure you had everything you needed. It was such a small gesture, yet it made you feel so loved.

You reached for one of the makeup removers, ready to start wiping away the remnants of the long day, but before you could, Spencer stepped closer.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, gently taking the bottle from your hands.

You blinked up at him, a little surprised, but you didn’t protest. Instead, you let out a soft hum, leaning back slightly against the counter as he got to work.

Spencer carefully poured the remover onto a cotton pad, then reached up, his fingers grazing your jaw as he began to wipe away the makeup with slow, featherlight strokes.

His touch was so delicate—as if he was handling something rare and precious. His gaze was focused, brows slightly furrowed in concentration, and the warmth of his fingertips against your skin sent tiny shivers down your spine.

You couldn’t help the soft smile that crept onto your lips.

“Spencer?” you murmured.

His eyes flickered to yours, pausing his movements slightly. “Hmm?”

A grin tugged at your lips as you stared at him, really stared at him. The man standing in front of you—the man who was so impossibly brilliant, kind, and completely yours.

“You know you’re my husband now?” you said, a teasing lilt in your voice as you grinned at the word.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a small, almost shy smile. He resumed his gentle strokes, wiping away the last traces of your makeup before whispering, “Yes.”

He tilted his head slightly, his thumb brushing over your cheek in the softest caress.

“And you’re my wife now,” he murmured.

Your heart melted.

Hearing that word from him—knowing that it was real, that you were truly his and he was yours—made you want to throw your arms around him and never let go.

You bit your lip, happiness bubbling up inside you like an uncontrollable wave. “Say it again,” you whispered.

Spencer let out a soft chuckle, his hands still cradling your face. He leaned in, pressing the lightest of kisses to your forehead before whispering against your skin:

“My wife.”

Your stomach fluttered, and you grinned at the sound of it. Wife. You were his wife.

Spencer paused for a moment, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. Then, without a word, he set the makeup wipe aside and reached up, his fingers finding the pins holding your hair in place.

You sighed as he carefully pulled them out one by one, loosening the strands from the elaborate style they had been twisted into all day. His fingers worked through your hair, letting it cascade freely around your shoulders.

When he was done, he ran his hands through it gently, smoothing it out before tucking a stray piece behind your ear.

“There,” he murmured, his voice laced with something deep and fond. “Perfect.”

You met his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of him—of you together, standing in this quiet moment as husband and wife.

Spencer’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer against him. You let your hands rest on his back, leaning into his warmth.

“I think I could get used to this,” you whispered.

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your temple, his embrace tightening slightly. “Me too,” he murmured. “For the rest of my life.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fanfic

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promptedwordsmith · 1 day ago

Text

When you make their favourite meal

Caleb

The moment Caleb stepped through the door, the rich, savory scent of braised chicken wings filled the air, stopping him in his tracks. His sharp purple eyes flickered with curiosity before settling on you, standing in the kitchen with a proud yet slightly nervous smile. His gaze softened immediately.

“You made this?” he asked, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it from you.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a kitchen towel. “I know you’ve been busy, so I thought… well, you always cook for me. I wanted to return the favor.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment, taking it all in—the warm, homey smell, the sight of you standing there, the effort you’d put in just for him. A slow smile curved his lips, something rare and unguarded.

He stepped forward, slipping an arm around your waist as he pressed a slow kiss to your temple. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “I hope you made extra, because I’m eating all of it.”

The table was already set, and as soon as you placed the plate in front of him, Caleb wasted no time. He took the first bite, and the instant satisfaction in his expression made you grin. His usual composed demeanor cracked, revealing something far more open, more boyish—genuine delight.

“This is perfect,” he said between bites, barely pausing. “I mean it. The sauce, the seasoning—you got it all right.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “You really like it?”

He glanced up at you, giving you a look that said, Are you seriously asking me that? He reached for another wing, effortlessly devouring it before shaking his head with a smirk.

“Like it?” He gestured to his nearly empty plate. “I love it. Is there more?”

You laughed, already reaching for the extra batch you had set aside. “You’re unbelievable.”

Caleb’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the second helping, his expression unreadable for a moment—until he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “You didn’t have to do this… but you did.” He met your gaze, his usual intensity softened by something else. “I like taking care of you. But it feels nice… being taken care of too.”

You squeezed his hand, and in that simple moment, Caleb understood—this was love, given back in the way he understood best.

Rafayel

The moment Rafayel stepped through the door, his nose twitched, and his eyes widened in delighted surprise. The scent of his favorite meal filled the air, rich and warm, something he hadn’t had in far too long. His usual languid grace disappeared in an instant—he was at your side within seconds, arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace.

"You made this for me?" he asked, voice muffled slightly against your shoulder. He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright with something almost childlike. "You really made this?"

You laughed, pressing a hand against his chest to push him toward the table. "Of course I did. Now sit down before it gets cold!"

He obeyed—mostly—but not without making a show of dragging his chair closer, his expression full of mischief as he picked up his fork. He scooped up a bite, inspecting it dramatically, as if he were a food critic about to judge a five-star meal.

The second it touched his tongue, his face twisted.

"Did you… mix the salt and sugar up again?" he asked, setting his fork down with an exaggerated frown.

Your heart dropped. "What?! No, I— I was so careful this time—!"

His lips twitched. A telltale smirk flickered at the edges of his mouth before fully blooming into his usual grin.

You gaped at him, realization dawning, and then slumped back against the counter in relief. "You’re awful!" you groaned, throwing a napkin at him.

Rafayel merely laughed, catching it mid-air, before promptly ignoring it in favor of shoveling another bite into his mouth—then another, and another, eating like he’d been starved for weeks. "It’s perfect," he admitted between bites, his words slightly muffled. "Seriously, I could eat this every day. You should make it again. Like, tomorrow. And the day after."

"You’re insufferable," you muttered, though warmth bloomed in your chest at his obvious delight.

He only grinned wider, reaching over to tug you down onto the chair beside him. "Maybe," he teased, bumping his knee against yours, "but I’m your problem."

You rolled your eyes, but as you watched him happily devour every bite, you couldn’t help but think—if he wanted this every day, you’d be more than happy to make it for him.

Sylus

Sylus doesn’t look up immediately when you enter his office, his focus still locked onto the documents in front of him. He’s been working for hours, lost in his endless calculations and strategies, barely acknowledging anything outside of his own mind. But when you set the tray down in front of him, the scent of the meal catches his attention. His crimson gaze flicks up, sharp as ever, and then his brow raises—not in judgment, but in surprise.

“You made this?” His voice is smooth, laced with intrigue.

You nod, feeling slightly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. You could have ordered something, could have asked one of his many personal chefs to prepare his favorite meal, but instead, you went out of your way to make it yourself. The effort shows—not just in the careful arrangement of the dish, but in the tiny smear of sauce on your jaw, evidence of your time spent in the kitchen.

Sylus leans forward, resting his forearms on his desk, his eyes locked onto yours. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, he reaches out, taking your face in his hand. His fingers are cool against your warm skin, his grip firm yet careful. You freeze under his touch as his thumb brushes against your jawline, wiping away the stray bit of sauce.

And then, without breaking eye contact, he brings his thumb to his lips and licks it off.

Your breath catches. Heat floods your face, a reaction that only seems to amuse him further. A low chuckle rumbles in his chest, deep and rich with satisfaction.

“How sweet,” he muses, tilting his head slightly, watching the way you squirm under his gaze. “You went through all this trouble for me?”

You swallow, trying to find your voice. “Of course.”

Something flickers in his expression—something unreadable, something softer beneath the usual arrogance. Without another word, he picks up the tray and sets his paperwork aside entirely, pushing it away as if it no longer matters.

He takes his first bite, savoring it, eyes flicking up to you once more. His smirk is subtle, but there’s a rare sincerity behind it.

"It’s good," he murmurs, voice laced with something softer, something real. "You have my full attention now, darling. Tell me—what else do I owe you for such a thoughtful gift?"

Xavier

When you arrive home after a busy day of shopping with Tara, the apartment feels unusually quiet. You make your way through the entryway, setting down your bags, and catch sight of Xavier asleep on the couch, his silver hair spread out messily across the cushion.

It’s rare for him to be so still, especially after such a long day, but he hasn’t stirred even when you entered. He’s usually alert—always on guard, always prepared—but today, he looks like he’s finally let himself rest. His chest rises and falls steadily, the soft sound of his breath filling the room.

You smile softly, your heart tugging at the sight. He’s worked so hard lately, his missions never-ending, always pushing himself past his limits. You’ve been wanting to do something nice for him—something small to show your appreciation for how much he does, for how much he means to you.

You quietly slip into the kitchen, putting your shopping bags aside, and start preparing his favorite meal. The scent of cooked food soon fills the air—the warmth of it feels comforting, almost like the home you’ve built together. The process feels like an act of love, each step taken with care.

When it’s ready, you pause and take a breath before returning to the living room. Xavier is still asleep, his expression serene. You walk over to him, crouching beside the couch and pressing a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then another on his jaw, and one more on his forehead, each kiss soft, careful, trying to wake him without startling him.

His eyelids flutter, and soon, he blinks up at you with groggy blue eyes, trying to make sense of the moment. “Mmm…?” His voice is rough, and he yawns, reaching out with a half-smile that says more than words could.

You lean in and give him one last kiss before pulling away, quick and playful. He reaches for you, his arms still heavy with sleep, but you’re already standing, laughing as you help him up and gently push him to the table.

He sits down with a smile, his eyes still sleepy but grateful. You place the plate in front of him, and when he picks up his fork, he takes the first bite, savoring it as though it’s the most important meal of his life. His gaze lifts to meet yours, and his smile deepens.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice warm, eyes glimmering. “You’re so good to me, you know that?”

You smile back, heart swelling with affection as you sit beside him, happy to see him so content.

Zayne

The day had been longer than usual for Zayne. His normally composed demeanor had been tinged with a faint weariness, the weight of the long hours spent at the hospital starting to show in the slight furrow of his brow. You noticed it—how he seemed a little more quiet than usual, how he sighed a little more heavily when he sat down, how his eyes lingered a moment longer on the clock than on the charts in front of him.

You knew exactly what you had to do.

When you heard that his shift was nearing its end, you slipped into the kitchen, pulling out the ingredients for his favorite meal—a dish you knew would comfort him, a warm, homey meal he rarely had time to enjoy. The scent of simmering broth and spices filled the air as you worked, each movement deliberate, each step taken with the intent of giving him a small moment of respite.

By the time the meal was ready, the sun was just beginning to set, casting a soft orange glow over the city. You packed it carefully in containers, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you imagined his reaction.

You arrived at the hospital just as Zayne’s day was coming to a close. His office door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. He looked up in surprise, clearly caught off guard by your presence.

“Hey,” you said, your voice light, but there was warmth in it. “I brought you something.”

He blinked, his stoic expression softening as he stood up to meet you. “You didn’t have to,” he said, his usual calm demeanor laced with genuine surprise.

When you revealed the meal, his lips curved into a small but pleased smile, a chuckle escaping him. “Well, this is a first,” he teased, eyeing the carefully packed containers. “I wasn’t expecting you to bring me dinner at work.”

You laughed, feeling the tension in your chest ease. "I hope it’s as good as you remember," you said, waiting for his verdict.

He opened the containers, his eyes lighting up with the familiar sight of his favorite dish. “You even got it right,” he murmured, impressed. Then, his teasing nature returned as he looked at you with an exaggerated frown. “But no utensils?”

You hissed in realization, scrambling for something to use, but Zayne just chuckled. “It’s fine,” he said, reaching into one of his desk drawers and pulling out a pair of disposable chopsticks. “These will do just fine.”

He dug in, the first bite making him pause for a moment, savoring the taste. “This is... perfect,” he said between bites, his eyes softening as he glanced at you. “Thank you.”

He offered you some of the meal, but you waved it off. “I already ate,” you said with a smile.

As he finished his meal, he stood and leaned down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. “I really appreciate this,” he murmured, his voice filled with quiet sincerity. “I’ll see you soon.”

And with that, he was off, rushing once again to tend to a patient, but not before giving you one last glance—his eyes filled with a warmth that stayed long after he had left.

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bbyg4rl · 3 days ago

Text

make it fit ♡

cw: bf!JJ x reader, smut, aftercare, fluffy, happy ending !

summary: your bf's dick doesn't fit in you, so he makes it fit. MDNI

< size kink x100, little aftercare, established relationship, fluffy, little overstimulation, unprotected piv sex, cream pie, slight praise kink; switch!jj and breeding kink if you squint >

a/n: for my short baddies ong !!! this also sooo self indulgent bc im also a 4'11 baddie 😫‼️

He didn't fit. It was as simple as that. He was just too big for you. Admittedly, that was what drew you both to each other in the first place— You loved how he enveloped you completely, how you had to stand on your tiptoes just to barely reach his face.

He loved how your face was barely the size of his hand. He'd always felt so small in his life, it was refreshing to feel so big near you. And boy was he big.

This was the first time you both were having sex together. You had the whole house to yourself, You were propped up on his lap, his big hands wrapped around your hips as he guided you against the bulge protruding out of his pants. The Tv playing in the background conveniently forgotten as you rutted into each other.

"I want you" you whisper to him in between soft pants. His eyes flicked open, intrigued at your words.

"Are you sure baby?" He asks you with an eyebrow raised.

"I'm ready" the words gush out of your mouth when his hands tighten around your hips.

He didn't need to be told twice, like clockwork you were lifted up from your seat on his lap and carried off to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, quickly discarding his clothes to climb on top of you. He peppered sweet kisses on your body as he slowly undressed you.

"you're so beautiful" he uttered as he faced your core, letting his fingers lightly dance over your clit.

Not an inch of your pussy is untouched by him. He's making out with your folds like its the only thing he ever wants to do. He's eating you like its his last meal on earth. He's pulling sloppy mewls out of you at every thrust of his tongue into your cunt. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, holding you down as he devours your pussy, restricting any movement you might make.

It's not long before he has you teetering over the edge of ecstacy. JJ notices as your hips buck into him harder and your wrists clench tight against the sheets.

"Give it to me baby. Give it to papa J" he hums against your heat, the vibrations from his mouth snapping the coil in your stomach instantly, making your back arch painfully.

He's reduced you into a creaming mess on his tongue. Moaning into you as you clench around his tongue desperately riding out your orgasm.

He pulls his head away from your arousal, his chin and nose covered in your cum as his fingers lap up the cream leaking out of you only to shove it back into you, He's fucking you with his fingers, watching with delight as your face scrunches up because of the overstimulation.

"Already so full baby?" he mocks you with faux sympathy in his voice as your walls spasm around his fingers in need.

"Ready for me mama?" He asks, his gaze locks in on your pussy, lust clouding his bright blue eyes.

You merely nod at his words, unable to let out anything other than moans from your mouth. He pulls his hand away from you, licking the arousal off his fingers.

"Use your words baby. Do you want this?" He asks, as he wraps his hand around his dick, beads of sticky precum leaking from his slit. He gives it a few strokes, low moans leaving both your mouths when he gives your clit a few taps with his tip.

"Please JJ. Need you" You mewl. Your words are like music to his ears, his hands reach under your knees to prop your legs upon his shoulders.

He reaches down to guide his cock to your heat, his tip nudges at your opening a few times before he starts pushing. Only- he struggles to push in.

Your face turns red as he tries to push in again, His face twisting in confusion as he drops your legs to your side to give him more space to work with.

Neither of you could lie and say it didn't turn you both on infinitely more when JJ struggled to fit inside you.

"J, it doesn't fit-" You moan as he tries to push again. A little embarrassment taking over your features as he struggles against you.

"Then I'll make it fit" His eyebrows furrow as he nudged his tip into your opening again. His hand left your thigh to place his fingers on either side of your hole, holding you open. His eyes find yours "Trust papa J princess?"

You nod and close your eyes in preparation. His eyes move back to your pussy. He starts bullying his dick into you slowly. Soft whimpers leaving his lips as your walls clamp down on him instantly.

"Fuck baby, you're so tight"

He pushes in more, wanting to feel your tight walls around all of him. Your eyes shoot open when you feel a sharp pain in your upper abdomen. He quickly connects his fingers to your clit, trying to soothe the pain.

He knew if he pulled out now, he wouldn't be able to last pushing his cock back in again without immediately climaxing. His attack on your clit works, pleasure taking over pain as he starts pushing again. He wasn't even halfway done yet but you could swear you felt him in your throat.

JJ was sure he'd see a bulge in your stomach when he was done. The thought making his dick twitch in anticipation.

Finally, he bottoms out in you. You're panting like a dog trying to adjust around his length. "So big" you whisper as you look down at him. His eyes trained on your pussy, silently admiring how beautiful you looked all stretched out for him.

He looks at you for approval before he starts slowly thrusting. Your eyes roll back into your skull as you feel inch after inch of his dick as he moved, it hurt a little but was quickly replaced by pleasure as JJ started rubbing hearts on your clit pushing you to reach your edge.

He eventually starts thrusting faster, desperation taking over his actions. His eyes were locked shut at the feel of your walls tightening around him so deliciously.

"Jay- I'm gonna-" you mutter as you near your edge, JJ's hand moves faster against your clit, encouraging you to finish around his dick.

"So perfect-" he drags his words as you clench hard around his dick, He relaxes for a second giving you both a moment to fill your lungs with air.

Before you know it, He's fucking you harder and harder. Now chasing his own climax. His thrusts leave you so overstimulated there's tears in your eyes. He bends down to kiss your lips.

"You're so perfect for me baby" he says as he buries his head in the crook of your neck "Please let me finish inside" he whimpers in your ear. His pleads send butterflies down to your clit.

"Please cum in me" You say as an attempt to push him over the edge, earning you a soft groan from him. His thrusts start to get sloppier as he shoots white ropes deep inside you with a moan so loud even your neighbours probably heard. He bites down on your neck, leaving small hickeys as he continues fucking his cum deeper into you.

He slowly pulls out. Shifting to the edge of the bed to catch a glimpse at his cum oozing out of your worn cunt. He pushes it back in with his fingers.

He presses a kiss to your clit and gets up in search of a towel to clean you up and gets you a glass of water before carrying you to the washroom to let you pee. After he's done taking care of you, he gives you his shirt to wear and snuggles you into him, holding you close as he peppers your forehead with light kisses and whispers sweet nothings in your ear. You drift off to sleep safe in his arms.

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harrysfolklore · 3 days ago

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yes do the lewis fic pleaseee

short and sweet bc i promised anon i would do ittt i hope you like it

You're fidgeting with your rings - his rings, actually, that you stole months ago - when Lewis notices your knee bouncing for the hundredth time. The arena feels too warm despite your backless Valentino.

"You're going to drill a hole through the floor, love," he murmurs, leaning close enough that his lips brush your ear. His hand finds yours, warm and steady.

"Easy for you to be calm," you whisper back. "You've won eight world championships."

"Seven," he corrects automatically, making you roll your eyes.

"The eighth was robbed and we all know it." It's an old argument, one that makes him smile every time. "Besides, this is different. This is-"

"This is you about to win Song of the Year," he finishes, so confident it makes your heart ache.

You turn to face him properly, taking in how unfairly good he looks in his suit. "How are you so sure?"

"Because," he says, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, "I was there when you wrote it at 3 AM on my kitchen floor. When you called me crying because the bridge wasn't right."

"You're biased," you argue, but you're smiling now. "You have to say that. It's in the boyfriend contract."

"Ah yes, the famous 'support your controversially young girlfriend' clause," he teases, and you can't help but laugh. It's become a running joke between you, how the media can't seem to get over your age gap.

"Speaking of which, did you see that headline yesterday? 'Grammy Nominee Spotted Looking Cozy with Elder Statesman of F1'?"

Lewis groans. "Elder statesman? I'm forty, not dead."

"Ancient," you declare solemnly. "Practically fossilized."

He's about to retort when Taylor Swift takes the stage, and suddenly you can't breathe again. Lewis must feel you tense because his hand tightens around yours.

"Hey," he says softly. "Whatever happens, you've already won. Seven nominations in your first year? That's unheard of."

"I just want-" you start, but then Taylor's speaking.

"Music tells our stories," she's saying. "And sometimes, a song comes along that captures something so real, so raw, that it changes how we see love itself..."

You feel Lewis shift beside you, and when you glance over, he's already watching you with that look - the one he gave you the first time you played him this song, the one that makes you feel invincible.

"And the Grammy goes to..." Taylor's smiling now, like she knows something. "'Birds of a feather!"

The world stops. Starts. Explodes.

Lewis is up first, pulling you into his arms before you can even process what's happening. "That's my girl," he whispers fiercely against your hair. "I told you, didn't I? I told you."

You're crying already, you can feel it, but you don't care. His hands cup your face and he's beaming at you with more pride than you've ever seen - more than after any pole position or race win.

"Go get your Grammy, superstar," he says, and then he's gently pushing you toward the aisle.

The walk to the stage feels infinite. You're aware of everything - the weight of your dress, the cameras following you, the deafening applause. But mostly, you're aware of Lewis in the front row, standing and clapping like he's watching the love of his life win Song of the Year at the Grammys (which, you suppose, he is).

"Oh god," you start, gripping the golden gramophone like a lifeline. "I wrote this song about falling in love. About meeting someone who changes everything when you least expect it."

You find his eyes in the crowd, and suddenly it's just the two of you.

"I should probably thank Formula 1 for canceling that race in Singapore, or I never would've been in that hotel bar, jetlagged and grumpy, when this absolutely ridiculous man in the most expensive hoodie I'd ever seen asked if he could buy me a drink."

The audience laughs, and Lewis is shaking his head, grinning that grin that still makes your knees weak.

"To Lewis - thank you for being the most unexpected plot twist of my life. For showing me that timing is everything, even when Twitter thinks our timing is inappropriate." More laughter. "For listening to every demo at 3 AM, for believing in me when I was just another girl with a piano and a dream..."

You're fully crying now, but so is he, so it's okay.

"For never once making me feel too young or too inexperienced, for teaching me that love doesn't follow anyone's timeline but its own. And yes, I know this speech is probably going viral for all the wrong reasons, but you taught me that sometimes the best stories are the ones nobody sees coming. I love you."

The camera cuts to Lewis, who's not even trying to hide his tears. But neither of you seem to care at the moment.

Later, after winning four out of your seven nominations, you're in the back of the car heading home. Your head's on his shoulder, Grammy in your lap, when he speaks.

"You know what this means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"Now I have to win the championship this year. Can't have you showing me up with all these trophies."

You laugh, snuggling closer. "Better get practicing then, old man."

"Menace," he mutters fondly, pressing a kiss to your hair.

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bunny-jpeg · 2 days ago

Text

sinful sentence (five)

lando norris - "you're so very tempting..."

tags: smut/pwp, friends-with-benefits (with feelings), simp!lando, sanrio plushies, possessive behavior, jealousy & manipulation, safe sex

the sinful sentences catalogue

this was not according to plan. this was supposed to be fun. you should be honoured really, lando never liked tapping the same girl twice. let alone three, four, five, seven times. he had lost count the amount of times he had fucked you into the mattress of his bed. watched you reach climax in the sea of soft pillows, your heavy pants into the light grey pillowcases as your back arched with a primal want.

but what started out as a means to an end. had become something a little more intense. it was like lighting matches in a gas station, the inferno was bound to happen. and it all started over a fucking stuffed animal.

"liam got you this?" he asked as he plucked it off of your bed, "are you fucking him?" he tried to keep the jealousy at bay.

"no!" you said as you crossed your arms and looked at him, "you know people give gifts to each other and not just when they're apologizing for something." you had a vast collection of luxury items from lando because he fucked up. you didn't know why he was getting jealous of liam.

lando looked at the stuffed animal, it was of hello kitty or one of those little sanrio things. the marketable plushie that seemed to invade every female's bedroom like mold. lando hated the thing. he looked at it and said, "you're so very tempting... tempting to throw in the trash." and the toy was taken from his hand and you wrapped your arms around it quickly. the face of the toy was right in the valley of your breasts that were covered by your bra.

"excuse me! don't talk that way to my melody!" that was the name of it, "be nice to her!"

lando made a face, "i would be nice to her, if she wasn't given to you by that fucker." he got into bed with you. he got his hands on either side of you and leaned you further back into the bed, "i don't like him touching what is min."

you frowned, "we're just friends, lando. you didn't want commitment, remember?" lando's biggest failure. it wasn't on the track, but rather not pinning you down. he said he was casual and he had regretted it every day since.

"well, unless you wanna be used by drivers until your worn out like a tire, i suggest you limit your driver fucking to one." to him. and you shoved him before you laid back in bed. the toy discarded to the other side of the bed.

"i didn't think you were capable of being so fucking possessive." you said before you pulled him by the front of his t-shirt. you sealed your lips against his and he started to get his joggers off. his stupid fucking words excited you sexually. and while it was all casual, it was nice to see him get so wound up over you.

you knew he was a sucker for you, and you flirted with that idea. liam didn't get you the stuffed animal, you bought it yourself at the drug store and lied to lando about it. to watch the british driver bite his words because some rookie is trying to get in his territory. it was cute in its patheticness. his clothes came off along with your undergarments.

you watched lando angrily grab one of the condoms out of the box on the nightstand and get it on before his situations himself between your legs. his handsome eyes bore into your heated flesh like he was trying to make holes in your skin. only he got to see you like this, under him and sexually needy.

when he sank into you, he cursed under his breath. you fit like a vice and even with the condom on, he could still feel the heat of your pussy. this was why he didn't want liam lawson to be sniffing around what it is. yeah, it was casual, but that didn't mean lando had to share. call him a selfish prick for that, he didn't care. you were his, and no rookie was going to take that from him.

especially when he leaned forward and started to move against you. he maintained eye contact as he thrusted against you. he held onto the covers under you as used the surface as leverage to work his cock inside of you. the bed creaked under the movements and the slick sounds of fucking filled the air paired with your heated noises.

"shit, that's it. that feels good." lando licked his lips and made eye contact with the stuffed toy near the wall. its plastic eyes watched lando ruin your cunt. stuff it full of him. he knew it was stupid, but he grinned wickedly at the toy as he continued to move against you.

he wished he could take photos of what he was doing to you right at that moment. show liam exactly how to pleasure a woman of your caliber. lando was certain that liam wouldn't even make you cum, that you'd have to fake an orgasm. but you've never faked with lando, he knew it. because he knew your body like he knew his. how to hit at just the right spots to make you see stars.

this casual affair between you two was heated to its roots. lando wanted you more than just sexually. but no amount of luxury he could give you was enough. you weren't easily swayed by material goods. as you once told him, "i'm not a crow, no need to distract me with shiny objects." but lando knew he was going mad every time he saw you with someone else.

you sated every need in his body, why couldn't you simply be his? why did you have to keep so close to the terms of being casual. lando needed you and he didn't need someone else trying to worm their way into your life. he couldn't allow it, he wouldn't allow it.

"look at you, under me. don't need plushies when you got me. you hated gifts, what made lawson so special."

you pushed your luck as you replied, "because he's actually a gentleman. not a panting dog looking to get his dick sucked every hour of every day. he at least knows how to treat a woman." it was all utter bullshit, but you felt lando's pace stagger for a moment from your words.

"bigger than me, princess?" he panted heavily, "does it stretch you out the way i do? leave you a mess? i know you talk big game about wanting a gentleman. so i need to know, is he bigger?"

you reached out and held onto his shoulders tightly, "no." then pulled him in for another kiss. you moaned into the kiss and tightened your thighs around his waist as he fucked you with heavy strokes. the pleasure made your head throb as the he clutched onto the covers tighter.

the pleasure was intense, the movements were rough. the sexual electricity was felt between you two as the kisses got more heated. you liked when lando became a man possessed when it came to his envy. he was a slave to his jealousy when it really gripped him. his breathing were heavy pants as he continued to move against you. the pleasure was a monster inside of him as his movements continued.

when he broke the kiss, he looked down at you with a glint in his eye, "he could never fuck you like this. he could never take you the way i do. he's a pussy." he pressed into you further, his pace was brutal and it made you only hotter.

your orgasm felt close the more he fucked you. the more his heavy thrusts made your mind go blank for a split second. you held onto his shoulders tightly and let him use your pussy to his liking. taking every ounce of pleasure that he could give you. if he was jealous then you were greedy for his cock.

he was right, no one else could ever have you the way he did. no other man could bring you to climax the way he did. he had re-wired your brain sexually that other hook-ups seemed so bland. lando knew exactly how to fuck you. so it was no surprise that after another round of heated kisses, you held onto him tightly and your toes curled.

you came around his cock and he soon came in the condom. you tensed up and lurched forward from the sensation and he kept you pinned down as you both finished. then slowly he came to a stop and grabbed you by the face to kiss you once more.

lando groaned against the kiss and he rubbed his softening cock inside of you to get that extra bit of pleasure before he felt content with what he had done. when he pulled out. he got up to toss the condom and when he got into bed. he grabbed the plush and looked it in its plastic eyes.

before he could make more threats to it. you plucked it from his hands, "either your nice to it or you can make yourself comfortable on my couch tonight."

he made a face and mentally promised himself. is liam lawson thought your affection was for sale, then lando would have to double the offer and make sure that you didn't end up in that rookie's arms. <3

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