#overwhelmed in a GOOD WAY like. everything feels so good and his face is a deep red and he's breathing so hard and kind of just putty in

[r1kixss]

Kisses and more kisses

summary: your boyfriend fingering you for the first time.

genre: smut

This night at Riki’s house felt... different.

Not in a bad way.

Not in a scary way.

Just... heavier.

The kind of heavy that made you bite your lip nervously and your stomach flip when you caught him looking at you out of the corner of his eye.

You were curled up together on his bed, way closer than normal. He kept pulling you closee when you tried to move away just a little to at least breathe. His arms were around you, his nose pressed into your hair. None of you said it out loud, but the tension was thick, heavy.

You felt it when he kissed the top of your head, when his hand drifted from your back to your waist and squeezed gently. You felt it when his thumb was rubbing circles on your thigh, squeezing just under your ass cheek. It's like he wanted something but was too shy to say it.

Well both of you were shy, so shit.

Half of the movie passed and he sat up a bit more, leaning down to kiss you. It was like he forced himself to do it because he didn't ask if he can, and he always did. Something was brewing.

You melted instantly, gripping the fabric of his hoodie in your fist. He smirked against your mouth and you swore your pussy throbbed. The kisses were lazy at first. Comfy. Sweet.

But it didn't stay that way for a long time.

Before you even realized, his kisses grew hungrier, open-mouthed, greedy even. His tongue slid against yours, and you whimpered quietly into his mouth out of shock because he never kissed like that.

That whimper flipped a switch in him.

He sat up fully, pushing you gently back on the mattress, hovering over you. His hand grabbed your neck - not hard, just holding you down gently.

You kissed.

And kissed.

And from 9.30pm it became 10.00pm.

At some point, his hand slid lower, brushing your collarbone, squeezing both of your tits your sides... until it rested on your hip.

You gasped softly when his fingers dipped under the waistband of your pajama shorts.

He pulled back slightly, breathing heavily, pretty brown eyes looking at your face, his pupils blown wide.

He was waiting for you to say no.

"Is this okay?" he whispered when you didn't say anything, voice a little shaky.

You nodded quickly, biting your lip nervously automatically.

"Yeah" you said quietly, cheeks pink from embarrassment.

You didn't know what he wanted to do, you were just SO turned on you didn't care.

That was all he needed.

His hand slipped inside your shorts, then inside your panties, fingers brushing against your slit. You jolted and he stopped immediately.

"You okay?" he asked again, gentle.

You nodded, cheeks burning. "Just... feels weird. But good weird." He smiled stupid.

God, he looked fucked out just from this. He smooched you gently, whispering against your mouth.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?"

You nodded, swallowing thickly. The way he talked to you mafe your pussy throb. Hard.

Then finally, he dipped his fingers inside your folds. His mouth opened a little, stopping a slutty moan from escaping his mouth. You were so wet.

"Fuck," he whispered. "You're this wet? From what?" He chuckled a little.

You whined at his words, embarrassed but so turned on you couldn’t even care. He smirked, enjoying himself.

He rubbed slow, gentle circles over your clit, just testing, teasing, until you were grabbing onto his hoodie for dear life.

Every little touch was overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It was like your brain melted away and left just him inside of your head.

You rocked your hips against his hand without even thinking, want more friction. More everything. He left your clit for a while and put two fingers inside you, going in and out quickly.

You were sure it won't feel good. You never liked fingering yourself. Felt like nothing, to be honest... but damn. When he did it?

You let out a moan at the nice, pleasurable feeling, loud squelching sounds filling the quiet room. When his thumb started messily rubbing your clit, you were gone.

Hips stuttering, hand squeezing his hoodie so hard, legs trying to close. He didn't stop, no break, no mercy. You couldn't control your pleasure and it felt like heaven.

You felt it building fast, the heat, pressure in your tummy.

"R-Riki," you cried out from desperation because you were loosing your shit. "I'm gonna cum stop, stop-"

"I got you," he whispered, kissing your cheek, your jaw, your neck.

His thumb rubbed faster, two fingers pumped and curled inside you. God knows where he learned this but you didn't care. You orgasmed so hard, pussy squeezing on his fingers tight.

He kissed you through it, slowing his fingers, letting your orgasm ride away and you fell boneless against the bed.

When he finally pulled his hand out of your shorts, he looked right in your eyes and put the two fingers in his mouth, a shit eating grin on his face.

"Riki..." You buried your face in his neck, still dazed.

"What?" he asked, voice low and raspy, pressing kisses to your hair.

You whimpered, too shy to speak yet.

"Tastes good." He said playfully so you won't be insecure or nervous.

He was so stressed himself, not gonna lie. His cheeks and ears were pink, hands shaking.

You smacked his arm for that, but when he pulled you into a hug you hugged back. You two cuddled for a while until he decided its time to clean up.

[1d1195]

Buttercup - Extra II

Read Buttercup here and Extra I here ~3.3k words

From me: centered around this ask entirely. Thank you SO much for the idea. I'm a little too obsessed with the idea 😍🤭

Warnings: SEXTRA, oral (she (me) is a little obsessed with his dick, sorry not sorry), smut smut smut

Summary: Harry's so good to her. For her. She just wants to give him as much pleasure as she gives him and as much he deserves.

Harry was the best boyfriend. If she had been told how good of a boyfriend he would be when she moved in and was subject to his pranks and his constant, irritating presence, she never would have believed it. But instead, he was truly the best. He was so thoughtful, so gentle, and every time he saw her, the smile on his face grew and it was truly heart stopping.

He took care of her and worried about her. He cooked her food and helped her with whatever task she had around her house. Never did he complain or care about what she asked. Everything he did was done with kindness and seriousness. Nothing was too small or too large for him to do for her.

It was so sweet and so different than what she was used to. It was overwhelming at times for him to love her so much in the best kind of way.

But one of the nicest and best bonuses about her new relationship was sex with Harry. The first time she saw him naked in her bedroom, she practically drooled like a cartoon character. How could she not? He was all lean muscles and green eyes. It was impossible to focus on anything for too long. Her primal instincts took over and she wanted him all over her.

“Do y’want me to take y’clothes off, Buttercup?” he hummed, his body radiated with heat. He was so close to her, his dick pressing against her leg as he leaned in and kissed her lips so gently but eagerly. It was hot and made her body vibrate. He slowly moved his lips down, nipping at her skin, pressing kisses along her neck and across her collarbone. His fingers fiddled with the hem of her dress just above her knees, but he waited ever-so-patiently for her consent. Because he always waited for it.

Jus’ because y’give me permission once, doesn’t mean I always have it. But she couldn’t fully explain to him that by saying that specific phrase, he did always have her permission. It made her weak in the knees to hear something so sexy and safe come from his mouth. She nodded. “Please.”

He slid her dress over her head quickly and he pushed her toward her bed. “So pretty, Buttercup,” he murmured and kissed over the swell of her breasts. He reached beneath her as he laid her down unhooking her bra and ridding her of the fabric that kept him from her nipples aching for his mouth.

“May I?”

“Please,” she whispered again.

He lapped his tongue against her left nipple and then kissed across her chest to the right one. He moaned softly nipping and sucking it expertly. For half a second, she thought of all the practice she witnessed as he flaunted the women leaving his house to make her jealous. But experiencing it firsthand, she couldn’t blame the women before her or Harry because he was really good at what he did, and it would have been cruel if he didn’t please them this way. Fortunately, now, she was very happy to know she was the only one receiving this kind of attention—his attention.

His dick was still pressed against her leg, and she was overcome with wanting it in her mouth so badly. She wanted to give Harry a fraction of the pleasure he gave her on a regular basis. “Kneel,” she pressed on his chest, gently pushing him away from her. He smirked so cutely—devilishly, even. She guided him back to kneeling on her mattress, sitting on his heels. The tattoos on his thighs flexed along with his muscles ever so slightly. The movement made her throb between her legs, and she could feel her mouth ready to fall open in preparation for what he wanted.

“What d’you want, baby?” He mumbled. She repositioned herself; the front of her body pressed to the mattress. She arched her upper back slightly, falling onto her elbows so that she was eye-level with his hard dick. It was downright pretty; thick and veiny and she all but licked her lips in anticipation. She gripped the base of it causing Harry to hiss quietly. “Y’want t’suck it?” She nodded, glancing up at him. He was already gazing at her, his eyes hooded, as he watched her with lust-filled eyes. “Go on,” he whispered. “Suck it up, Buttercup,” he encouraged.

She smiled, her cheeks burning at the nickname and the way he sounded already completely gone for her. It was reassuring; in that, she didn’t need to be embarrassed by how bad she wanted him in his mouth. She licked her lips then, a little too aggressively perhaps, but if she did, Harry didn’t say anything. He was watching her every movement very closely. It made her a little self-conscious, but he gently cupped the side of her head. “Y’look so pretty, Buttercup,” he sounded a little spaced-out already.

She wrapped around her lips along the side of his dick, dragging her mouth down the length of the side from tip to base. Licking every inch as she went along. “Holy,” he murmured, and she glanced up to see his head tilt backwards. “That feels so good, baby,” he whispered breathlessly. She followed the same path on the other side getting him thoroughly, completely, and soaking wet with her mouth. As she returned to the tip, she took no time to swallow him down in one movement. It made him gasp and moan. The hand on the side of her head tightened ever so slightly and his other hand went to the back of her head. “Fuck, Buttercup,” he groaned.

She felt immense pleasure from making him moan like that. It was good for her psyche and all the noises he made further encouraged her sucking. She closed her eyes and breathed through her nose as she relaxed her jaw as much as possible. Harry was big and felt heavy on her tongue as she strained slightly to get her all the way in her mouth and what felt like half-way down her throat.

As able as she was, she moved her tongue around his length, doing her best not to gag. He grunted quietly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whispered. It was like music to her ears. She moved her mouth up and down him, alternating between shallow and deep bobs creating an insane amount of pleasure that was indescribable to his blissed-out mind. She sighed dreamily from the feeling which made Harry all but whimper. “Baby, baby, baby,” he croaked. “Oh my God, please,” she moaned quietly hearing how pleased he sounded. But the vibration, the wetness of her mouth, the hollowing of her cheeks and lips wrapped so tightly around him was nearly too much.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pulled her off him quickly. She gasped, a string of drool clinging to the end of his dick and her mouth as he did.

He gently pulled her toward him, turning her in the process so she was no longer laying on her stomach. Instead, he cradled her. Cupped the side of her face again, this time without his dick halfway down her throat. He examined her face quickly for any sign of discomfort or overwhelming emotions. Satisfied he hadn’t hurt her, he kissed her deeply, his tongue tracing her lips one at a time. He rested his forehead against hers pressing the most chaste little kiss to the tip of her nose, before he bent lower and peppered several kisses along her jawline.

He blinked slowly, a smile stretching across his lips. “Do you like doing that, kitten?” He asked.

She nodded. “I like making you feel good,” she whispered.

“Well fuck Buttercup, y’do a hell of a job,” he mumbled rubbing his thumb along her lower lip. His eyes were so wide and green as he gazed at her, leaving only the smallest amount of space between their faces just so she could see him without his face being altered from being too close. “I love you,” he kissed her sweetly.

“You’re just saying that because I didn’t gag on your dick,” she giggled.

“S’absolutely false, kitten,” he chuckled and kissed her again. Harry enjoyed the way her body relaxed into the kiss. “Let me return the favor,” he suggested.

Harry pushed her backwards this time, gently moving her so she was seated with her back propped against the pillows and headboard. He slank down her body, placing kisses along her skin and warming her from the outside in. His fingers deftly hooked around the waistband of her thong, and he slipped it off in seconds.

“Y’want me t’lick you the way y’licked me?” He asked his mouth right at her belly button. He slowly kissed across her stomach.

As much as she loved the way Harry’s tongue felt on the most sensitive parts of her body, she wanted his dick inside her again and now that her mouth had been quenched of it’s thirst for him, there was only one other place she wanted him. “Not now.”

“No?” He frowned. “Not good enough?” He asked, his question muffled into her skin.

“No,” she laughed and cupped the side of his jaw as he peered up at her through while he kissed down her ribcage. “It’s by far one of my favorite things you do to me,” she admitted. “But I’d really like to come on your dick.”

He groaned, dropping his head down to place a kiss lower. “Y’sure, Buttercup? S’hardly fair... nearly made me finish in your pretty mouth, y’know...”

“No,” she whispered shaking her head. It wasn’t going to be a fair fight if his tongue dipped much lower. He spread her knees apart, settling between them.

“A real no?” He asked, pausing his kisses right as his breath fanned over her clit. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. “Or is this a shy no, baby?” She knew if she actually said no, he would stop instantly.

He was too good. Too hot. Too sexy.

“No thank you,” she whispered feeling a little unsure only because she was so conflicted by what she wanted but Harry watched her intently and made her feel like she could decide with just her eyes.

“Another time,” he winked and worked his way back up kissing the path he started on his way down. “Y’jus’ want m’cock, hmm?” He asked instead. Undeterred and still way too pretty for words.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Please.”

He groaned. “So polite, Buttercup... But y’don’t need t’beg, baby,” he whispered. “You’re gonna torture me,” she smiled sheepishly. “Condom?” He asked, reaching for her nightstand drawer.

“Um...” she noted that they were out while she was cleaning the other day. She also realized they had been together for a little over six months. Harry had himself tested, for ease of mind and full transparency. She’d done the same. Granted, she figured Harry was clean, but she was little worried still of all other factors from her past relationship. She preferred to be safer than fully necessary, and Harry was extremely supportive and kind about it.

“Um what?” He asked, immediately alert to her hesitation. His eyebrows pinching together. “Are we out?” He frowned. “If we are, you’re gonna have t’let me go down on you, Buttercup. S’no way m’letting y’out of this room without coming.” His selflessness was almost enough to make her come without him even touching her.

She smiled, blushed, and shook her head. “Um... no, but it’s...it’s just it’s... it’s been a while, yeah? And I feel like it’s... well, we... we don’t need a condom if you’re okay with it because we got all the tests and if you would like to do it witho—”

He shook his head quickly. “Don’t even finish that sentence, kitten. M’gonna come all over you, embarrassingly.”

“Well, that could be kind of fun too,” she admitted, looking away from him.

“Jesus,” he moaned softly and took a moment to breathe. Gently he turned her chin to face him again. “Are you sure, Buttercup?” He asked. His eyes held a look of seriousness, but they were soft and comforting too. There was no lust in his look, but one of pure adoration. “M’more than comfortable with—”

“I’m sure,” she nodded confidently. “I can beg if you want,” she shrugged.

He chuckled and the wicked glint in his eye reappeared as he dipped forward and kissed her sweetly. “Another time,” he offered. “I love you. Very much, Buttercup,” he whispered.

“Because I’m letting you do it without a condom?”

“It’s so much more than that, Buttercup baby, and you know it,” he shook his head at her joke. “I don’t want t’be mushy right now because m’only going t’last long enough t’make y’come all over me and I don’t like making y’emotional because s’harder t’make y’come... but you know. You know why I love you and you know it has nothing to do with your pretty pussy about to be wrapped around me with nothing in the way.” She swallowed believing every word he said wondering how he could be so sinful and sweet in the same breath. That should be studied. By whom, she wasn’t sure because she wasn’t going to allow anyone close to Harry like this ever again to witness it firsthand. “You’re sure, you’re sure?” He repeated lightly rubbing the tip of his dick against her clit and making her moan. He responded with a gasp and groan of his own.

“Yes,” she nodded confidently.

Harry sank into her. She made a noise she never heard herself make before. She wanted to feel embarrassed but God it felt too good for her to really care. “Oh fuck, yes,” he held one hand on the outside of her hip and the other onto the headboard for leverage. “That’s so good,” he groaned. She felt herself clawing at the sheets beneath her, trying to find purchase to cling to her sanity but it was long gone. Harry slowly slid in and out at a tantalizing pace. His eyes closed and his brows pinched together in concentration.

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“Oh God, don’t say m’name like that, kitten,” he begged.

“But—”

“No, no, baby, please jus’ a minute. Jus’ one minute t’get m’bearings,” he pleaded. “Please, please, please,” he groaned. “Y’feel so good, so, so good, I’m not gonna make it if y’say m’name like that,” he admitted. Harry made it feel like sex with him lasted for only twenty seconds and also thirty hours in the best possible way. It was some weird time dilation that she only witnessed in movies about space.

And apparently when Harry had his dick in her so deep, she thought she would seriously split in two. He tilted his head back and gazed at the ceiling for an answer to a question he didn’t know he was asking. “Can I talk yet?” She asked quietly.

“Yes, baby, of course,” he turned his attention back to her and his eyes found hers instantly. “M’sorry, s’it to much? Do y’want t’stop?” He slowly slid backwards his gaze unmoving from hers, and he was so ready to just stop it made her heart flip over in her chest.

“No, never, ever,” she shook her head and grabbed at his hip to pull him back toward her. “I just, want to say your name,” she said sheepishly. “That’s all I really meant.”

He smiled, a breath of laughter escaping him. “God you’re perfect,” he moaned and slowly pumped himself back into her.

“Back at you, Harry Styles.”

He groaned and his fingertips dug into her hip and he dropped his head lower as he leaned against the headboard on the wall for support. “Go easy on me, Buttercup baby. M’seconds from coming, I promise,” he warned. “Y’feel so good. M’starting from scratch on m’stamina and y’heavenly mouth didn’t do me any favors today in savoring this,” his hips continued a delicious push and pull of stretching her without anything between their skin. He alternated between small pumps where he barely exited her body and just pressed the same perfect spot inside her over and over again making her head spin. Then he followed it with long torturous strokes, snapping his hips so all but the tip of him was inside her followed by a deliriously hard and fast pressure built in the pit of her stomach.

“So good, kitten. So, so good,” he mumbled as he thrusted and pumped into her like it was his job. God she wished it could have been.

“Harry,” she whimpered and began meeting his thrusts with her own, her feet digging into the comforter for more stability while she clawed at his hip and the bedsheet. “Baby,” she croaked. “I’m so close,” she pressed hard against him.

“I know, Buttercup, I know. Can,” he choked off speaking as her walls fluttered around him in warning that she was about to tip over the edge. “Can feel you so good,” he mumbled doing everything in his weakened, pleasured state to maintain the pressure and everything she needed to come. “Can I touch you, baby?” he asked.

“Anything, please, anything you want,” she whimpered and Harry moved the hand on her hip to settle between them so his thumb pressed small circles onto her clit gently but perfectly. “Oh yes, yes, yes,” she cried and felt the euphoria snap through her in waves she was certain she briefly went blind and deaf. Harry groaned, thrusting in and out of her faster than he had before while she clamped around him.

“Baby, I’m gonna—” he moaned and pulled from her afraid to come inside her while she wasn’t full coherent and they hadn’t discussed it. She sat forward and wrapped her lips around the tip of him without much warning and he groaned again as his own orgasm wracked his body. She swirled her tongue around the tip of his dick licking every last drop of him from his skin. He twitched for what felt like hours while she sucked him again, her lips wrapping perfectly around him. She slowly pulled away swallowing and looking up at him with the sweetest smile that contradicted everything they just did. “Y’didn’t have to do that,” he cupped her face and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

She shrugged. “Well... You said suck it up buttercup.”

He chuckled. “Naughty,” he murmured and kissed her softly on the lips. “That was really lovely, baby.”

She nodded eagerly in agreement. “I thought so too,” she blushed as she looked at him.

“I’ve never done that with a girlfriend before,” his voice was gentle as he looked over her face with so much... adoration. It made her stomach flip.

Her heart sparked with hope that there was something she encountered with him first. Something good and would always be theirs. “No?” She questioned quietly.

“Nope,” he brushed his thumb on her cheek. “I’ve never trusted someone this much.”

She felt her chest swell. Like her heart was going to burst. He was too sweet. Just like her favorite candy. “That’s very sweet, Harry,” she grabbed the hand holding her face and brushed a kiss into his palm.

“I know,” he shrugged with an impish smile. She shoved his hand away with an eye roll but couldn’t help but smile at him all the same. “I love you, Buttercup.”

“Thank you,” she giggled. He snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Say it,” he ordered dropping his face to her neck and kissing her what felt like a hundred times over in a matter of seconds.

“I love you,” she responded.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.

He dropped to her side, pulling her close to his chest and she traced the outline of his face. “Hey Harry,” she mumbled.

“Yes, baby?” He answered instantly sensing the slightest amount of insecurity in her tone. He frowned as she refused to make eye contact with her.

“I think maybe now it’s your turn to ‘suck it up buttercup,’” she glanced at his eyes quickly and then darted her gaze to across the room. Harry groaned and began his path of kisses south along her body.

“Anything for you, Buttercup.”

--

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[the-witty-pen-name]

ok cole here to fuel your obsession i guess

perhapssssssss… reader going down on ghost?

alright bye

Thank you for enabling my obsession 🙏

Simon “Ghost” Riley x PlusSize!F!Reader

Word Count: 633

Warnings: 18+ MDNI oral (m receiving); dirty talk; cursing

God if you weren’t the prettiest thing he’d ever seen. Simon always said you were a sight for sore eyes whenever he got home from a long mission. The second he would step across the threshold, his only priority would be getting you in his arms.

His entire body is practically shaking with anticipation. Still in most of his tactical gear, he seats on the edge of your bed. You’re sinking down to your knees in front of him, cooing about how good you want to make him feel. He relaxes into your every touch as your more delicate hands feel better than his ever could.

“Missed you so much,” you say, looking up at him from under your lashes. The sight of you in front of him, the words you’re saying… it’s all almost too much. And you haven’t even touched him yet.

He missed everything. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you as you sunk down in front of him- your face, your soft skin, your plush curves and your thighs… fuck, next thing will be his head between those gorgeous thighs, he decides.

He helps you to undo his pants just enough so you can tug them down to pull his cock out. He’s aching so badly and he’s desperate for you to do anything. He’s missed you too much, he’s gone far too long without your touch and your slow teasing is driving him crazy.

With doe eyes, you smile up at him before wrapping your lips around his cock, kissing the tip- the intimacy of the gesture making him groan more than anything else. He’s so guarded, always has been- so any moment like this, he finds it overwhelming. The slow pace you set twirling your tongue around his cock makes him practically whimper, and you hum happily at his response. His moans and mumbled curses that fall from his lips just encourage you to take him deeper.

You reach out and find his hand, guiding it to your head without slowing your pace as you bob your head up and down. You look up at him, your pretty eyes finding his and it’s enough to make him feel like he’s way too close to falling apart. He throws his head back because of how good you feel, and he closes his eyes because looking at you right now is far too much.

“Perfect, baby, God, you’re such a good girl,” he praises, gently testing the waters letting his hips thrust softly, fucking your face. “So fucking pretty, baby…”

He doesn’t expect it, and it almost breaks him, but you reach over and hold his hand as you keep your lips wrapped around his cock. No one has done that before- your fingers intertwined with his as you keep your pace. Fuck, fuck, fuck- the gesture is too much. Your tongue is licking up his length and he’s more preoccupied with the feeling of your hand in his. You lower down in his cock again and he knows he’s close. He squeezes your hand, groaning as he finishes fucking your mouth. His eyes are blown wide as he struggles to catch his breath.

Breathing heavily, he leans down cupping your face in his hand and he gently squeezes your cheeks so your lips part for him. You stick out your tongue, showing him how you took it all in your mouth before you swallow. He’s speechless, all he can think to do is press your lips to his and pull you up into his lap. His hands roam across your thighs as he positions you to straddle his waist.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he mumbles, laying down and pulling you on top of him, encouraging you to settle your legs on either side of his head. “Your turn.”

[whowrotethenote]

𝐀 𝐁𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐕𝐢𝐞𝐰

A/N // A short set in the universe of Biggest Fan. This takes place four months after the Prom Night short.

Warnings // Angst // Profanity // Fluff...I think lol

Word count // 3.8k

Disclaimer // Part Three // Biggest Fan Masterlist // Roman Reigns Masterlist // Join My Taglist // Main Masterlist

September 27, 2024

Well—he’s doing it again. 

I haven’t heard from him or Paul in over a month. Counted the days as they passed me by in a blur. The color in my life glitching. Just like it was the months leading up to that first time in the Hamptons. 

I don’t know who or what has captured his attention this time around. It’s irrelevant. My life has to keep moving or else I’ll fall into the deepest pit of misery, trying to fill the void he leaves every time.  

The trip to Belize was everything to me. It unlocked an entire new universe of feelings toward him. Deeper than anything romantic. I felt bound to him in a way that I do with people I’ve known for years. The way I can recognize the weight Demi’s footsteps in the dark. The way I can immediately acknowledge Chanel 9 and picture my mother’s face because it's been her signature scent since I knew what smell was. The kind of binding and familiarity only associated with one thing. That forbidden four letter word. 

I thought that week meant something to him. I was terribly wrong like I always am when it comes to him. Summer is over. No longer in paradise. The leaves are starting to turn. Nights getting unbearably colder. 

In a desperate-adjacent attempt to ignite some type of spark or color back into my life, is how I find myself fresh off a first-class plane ride to Green Bay and seated in one of the most upscale restaurants I’ve ever been in. Under the comforting ambient lighting, seated across from me, smelling of that overpowering and alluring Creed scent—is a man that promises so much more than what I’ve been given—and he hasn’t even said it outright. 

It’s wedged in the lines of how he had everything already planned, to the point where I haven’t lifted a finger or dug into my pockets once. The way he felt the need to emphasize that this is in fact a date. The way he spoke of the future and included me in it. 

I’ve said it before. There’s no guess work with him. I know what it is at all times. It’s healthy. It’s loud. It’s rejuvenating. I can breathe around him. I don’t feel so overwhelmed with emotions that I’m suffocating. I don’t have to hide, duck and dodge. I’m not in an underhanded competition with anyone or anything else. If I am, he does a damn good job at concealing it. 

I hate to compare the two. There’s nothing to be compared. Two different ends of the spectrum. Spiraled into my life at two different paces under completely different circumstances. Serving two different purposes. Receiving two different Lana’s.

Maybe I’m being spiteful being here with him. I don’t know entirely. I don’t know what to feel or even how to feel. The lines between right and wrong have been skewed since he inserted himself in my life. Only thing I was certain of, is that I needed a change of scenery and different company. Anything really that doesn’t remind me of him. The sad truth is he’s become a parasite. He’s attached hisself to all the best parts of me and most memorable factions of my life now. Making it nearly impossible to evade him. He’s everywhere. Everything reminds me of him. Even the man in front of me right now. 

Jaire Alexander. I already knew the basics about him from previous late night car conversation or the occasional FaceTime. But tonight he’s dissected himself in a broader manner. Summing up twenty-seven years of life into a nearing hour conversation. 

He and I have closer roots than I imagined. He was born in Southwest Philly. Only an hour away from where I grew up in New Jersey. His family packed it up and moved to the midwest just before he hit middle school. He’s the only boy, with two older sisters—which explains the unadulterated softness he displays despite being outline in secure masculinity. You can always tell which men have actually known and been around women before. They just move a little differently. 

He was a beast in high school—at least that’s the picture all the articles he showed me painted. Everybody just knew he was going places. The NFL was written in his story before he even received his diploma. That is until injury after injury sat him down earlier than he ever intended. 

“It was as if the devil had his hands on my shoulders, pushing all his weight down on me,” he describes. 

This all happened after the pillar of his family—his grandmother passed and his father went shortly after. His father wasn’t dead���but he might as well had been. Just left one day and never came back. So the injuries and clipped ball dreams hit him harder than he’d ever knocked any quarterback on the field. 

Offers reneged, benched for half the season of his senior year, and all hope disintegrating—he almost gave up on all of it. 

“But I’m resilient. And I knew if I wasn’t gonna do it for myself—the least I could do, was do it for my grandma. My mother and my sisters.”

And he did. He pushed through. Molding a way when there wasn’t one to begin with.

He tells me tales of his college years. Says he felt untouchable. The way he glided through the four years like a stingray in the ocean. Earning privileges his peers couldn’t fathom. More girls  than he could count, dropping to his feet—literally and figuratively. Willingly finishing his homework and him, for nothing in return but just the opportunity to say they did so.

“If I could spend a day and go back in time to any portion of my life—I’d go back to undergrad. They treated us like gods on campus, man,” he told me. A glint in his eye projecting the past. 

“And when I got drafted, it was like undergrad times ten. Only it was more on the line. Money just didn’t stop rolling in. Sponsorships—parties with people I had only seen on TV before—people breaking their neck to make me comfortable.”

He said he got a taste of that world and went a little too off the deep end. He was fresh meat. He had a target on his back and the vultures didn’t waste any time. 

“I almost got drowned out—almost lost myself, but God threw me a lifeline. I’m good now.” 

All in all, Jaire is a man. Filling in the gaps his dad left behind, he made something out of nothing. And after hearing him break down all his fears and the hurdles he hopped to get to where he is now—he’s earned a newfound respect from me. 

My phone lights up on the table next to my half empty plate. Wiseman. My heart skips a beat. Reality of the situation hitting me immediately after. Instead of racing to unveil the contents of the text message, I flip the phone face down. Cupping the back of my neck trying not to let these thoughts infect my brain and mood, but they double down. 

Who the fuck does he think he is? Who the fuck does he think I am?

I can’t even believe I let it get to this point. Spending nearly my entire summer in Miami in that condo where the ghost of him lingers every time he leaves. His scent burned into the sheets and the pillow. Steamy and woody smell of his body soap lingering after we shower and he leaves for the day. His shirts—wrinkled and thrown everywhere, leaving a footmark and telling the story of where we started and ended up upon his arrival. Background noise of Love Island playing, as we opt for the entertainment of each other instead. 

I’ll forever remember the summer after I graduated college as his summer. Actual days, lost in one another—following the endless trails, walking the different path’s of each other’s brains—mixed with long humid and lustful nights, turned to morning all over again. First time flying out of the country—exploring the world and seeing how other people live—and it was with him.

“You need to get that?” His voice thrusts me back to the present after sinking into a pit of nostalgia. Sinking so deep I didn’t even feel the consistent vibrating of my phone against the wooden table.

Flipping the phone back over, my lips tighten reading Wiseman again. I push hard on the lock button to reject the call before tossing it deep into the contents of the Dior bag hanging on my chair. 

“Nope.” 

“Hot commodity, I see.” He laughs.

“Not really.” I rest my chin in the palm of my hand. “What?” A smirk tugs at my lips as our eyes tip toe over each other’s faces. I can’t suppress the giddiness around him. Even in the wake of all the bullshit he’s ignorant to. 

He shakes his head. His tongue resting over his perfect top row of teeth for a second. “Still in shock I got you here.” A sting of guilt in my chest forces me to break our trance. Would I even be here if he wasn’t on his shit? “Am I overstepping by asking what all the apprehension was for?” He asks.

I blow out a breath searching for the right words. I don’t even have a rational answer for him. Playing house with a married man all summer had me taking the biggest step back from him. Calls unanswered. Texts responded to only when I got a second to duck off and coach Demi on what to say. No more parked car conversations. And all for what? For somebody that left me in the same state I left Jaire in? Ghosted, without any communication as to why, leaving my head to make up all the worst scenarios. 

“I think I have an idea.” He speaks again.

“Let me hear it,” I encourage. 

He pauses for a minute. “The normal. I was tryna sit in a seat already reserved for somebody else.”

If only he knew. I call myself forging a seat that is already full. The seat merely exists in my dreams. He never fails to wake up to this harsh and cold reality—that everything about us is temporary and none of it is for real. That he occupies way more space in my life than I ever could his. 

I adjust the diamond studded bracelet, now overflowing with different charms he’s added. 

“It's complicated,” I finally say.

“We all got complicated,” he counters. I stop for a second, really digesting him and his words. I’ve been so wrapped up in the telenovela that is my life, I think I’ve abandoned the fact that Jaire is still his own person. Selfishly, I’ve reduced him to just a character in my saga when he has own life, his own goals, and challenges—just as I. Women on his line probably in the same predicament I am with him. 

I need an anecdote for this hole inside of me. And no—not another person. The anecdote has to work with just me. Just Lana. People are going to come and go as they already have. They’re going to keep coming and keep going because that’s just the natural order of things. The toughest lesson I had to learn as a teenage girl—tossing and turning in the wee hours of the night, thinking every time the phone rang, it was the hospital calling to tell us the cancer had won. While the rest of my peers got to live in fantasy and fairytales—life was teaching me the darkest lesson that everything has to go eventually. Life, people, money—all of it.

I have to figure out how to be okay without anybody else. I have to be able to go on after he goes. Cause he clearly will go. 

His head flicks to the right in a slight nod. “Come on—I wanna show you something.” He stands, reaching into his pocket counting off bills. I’m stunned and mostly confused as fuck. Too many Benjamins for me to count land on the dinner table and he holds a big hand out inching to my side of the table.

So, I take it. Willing to go anywhere with him if it means not sitting here to wallow in self pity as the phone rings all night.

He leads us out the maze to exit the restaurant, stopping twice to sign his autograph and take a few pictures. I clutch the fox fur coat tighter to me upon meeting the brisk air of Wisconsin. The consistent fever of Miami had me spoiled. I almost forgot what cold really felt like.  

We’re not even all the way out the glass-door entrance of the building and onto the street before we’re being jumped. White and yellow lights at every turn from the faceless men shouting things I can barely make sense of.

He’s so chill and down to earth, I forget he is in fact famous. I use one hand to cover my eyes. The other rests comfortably in his while he leads me to the passenger side after retrieving the keys from valet. He moves with such confidence and ease, as if there isn’t a herd of photographers in his personal space—snapping pictures of a moment as intimate as a first date.

“You’re okay with that?” I study him while blinking at the blinding lights of cameras. 

He hooks his seatbelt before resting one tatted hand on the steering wheel. “Yeah, why? You got somebody you need to be ducking?”

It's so far off from cheating but this rush of excitement and anxiety is very reminiscent of cheating. “I can pay them to get rid of them.” He informs after I pause. 

Without thinking too deeply into it I shake my head. “No, we’re good.”

The phone buzzes in my hand again and I ignore the fuck out of it like the previous ten times. 

In Jaire’s territory, I couldn’t tell you where we are. We flew on the highway for a while, exiting onto a back-way of some sorts, until he led us to a dirt road with land that stretched for miles it seemed, with no signs of human life. I probably should’ve been scared. In this secluded space with a man I didn’t know, in a state I never been. But his energy—familiar and comforting like a hug from an elder—has me suppressing any type of anxiety. The occasional swipe of his thumb on my hand where we connected atop the center console, paired with glances that read, “are you okay,” every other minute—was enough to settle me. 

The headlights of his car cascade along a fence with a clear DO NOT ENTER sign hanging from it. Despite the obvious, he hops out anyway. Somehow unhooking and unlocking the chains to open one side for entry. 

I use this time to finally open the thread, floored by the endless texts in grey. 

He’s asking for you You left Miami? Is everything okay? I’m concerned now Call me back when you get a chance WiseMan 13 Missed Calls

I let all the angst out in the air that puffs from my nose. The fucking nerve. It’s been nearly two months and now I am expected to jump for him? Draining. That’s what this whole thing has been. He’s lifted me up—taken me to heights I never even thought I’d see at this age. Just as quickly he’s popped the bubble and I’ve been free falling since I last saw him.

It might sound ungrateful. He’s done so much for me in such a small amount of time. Got me through my last year of school. Gifted me a G Wagon straight off the lot and filled it with my favorite flowers. I live comfortably in the heart of Manhattan. Blending in with general wealth and nepotism. 

My life looks the way it did in a young Lana’s dreams, who snuck to binge Sex and The City and took day trips uptown just to gawk at all the designer through the window. This newfound peace of mind means nothing if it can be taken away just as easy. It’s stupid. I should take what I’m given, be grateful for the adventures and opportunity, and just leave with my memories at best. But that’s the thing. I’m past that now. It can never be just memories anymore. And it puts a chill in my bones to think it's just memories to him—if that. 

So when Jaire cuts the engine before rounding the car to open my door—I leave the phone and him behind. 

“You gon’ be okay walking?” He eyes my Shark Boots. “It's further up.”

“Uh…” I peak down, assessing the two thousand dollar, leather boots. 

“Just jump.”

“Huh?” I look back up. My confusions stumped, seeing his back to me.

I hop on and he carries me the whole way effortlessly. No huffing and puffing—not even breaking a sweat. 

Letting me down gently, I scope the scenery. I figured from the walk up—with all its twists and turns that we’d end up on a cliff like we are now—but the sight before me exceeds any imagery I thought I’d find at the top.

The whole entire city of Green Bay from a single vantage point. I felt like a god having access to this much of the world in one sitting.

He’s quiet and I’m grateful for it. The day turning to night. A pink glow on top of the skyline. Nothing but the whistle of wind surrounding us. Everything up here is just…quiet and still. So easy for your mind to go blank. 

“Surrounded by noise all the time. Big family. Always apart of a team. Games packed out with thousands of people screaming.” His hands rest in the pockets of his black jeans. “I come up here to drown all that out. Get a break from all the noise. Always so deep in everybody else—in the crowd—I forget about Jaire. Standing up here I remember. I can remember I’m still somebody too.” He steps down sauntering back to me. Sage eyes putting a spell on me. “You just seemed like you needed a second to remember Lana is somebody too. I don’t care who come and go—what’s easy or complicated.” I giggle as he bows his head making wide eyes. “Don’t let nobody drown you out,” he continues. “Not me. Not Mr. Complicated. Nobody.”

I never felt more seen by a man in such close proximity to the first time meeting him. It usually takes moving mountains to get a man to come to his senses and hone in. Not with him though. He’s almost too good to be true. 

I nod. Tears threatening to spill, but I suck them up. No more sad girl. I’m better than that. It’s a shame it took a man that barely knows me to tell me so. 

“Promise?” He holds out a long pinky adorned with a ring that winks at me. I hook mine onto his.

“I promise.” 

He steps back allowing me a path to the spot he left. In these less than comfortable Givency boots, I step carefully over and around the scattered rocks, over the sand and patchy grass until I’m on top of the same flat plated rock he came off of. 

The view is unreal. I can see everything up here, but it’s still nothing but echoes of silence. No noise. No world. No expectations. No worries. Just me separated from them. Separated from him.

“I got a game in two days,” he informs me. “I’d really like if I knew you was out there in the stands—watching me.” 

I turn still on top of the rock so his voice isn’t hitting my back anymore. “And you better not lose.”

He snickers. “With my good luck charm there? Never. I’ll have to give them motherfuckers the greatest pep talk of their life in that locker room.” 

My smile grows. The battle of my heart he didn’t even know he was affiliated with before today, lingering. Yeah, he lost a couple rounds in the beginning. He had all the right materials and couldn’t do anything with them because my attention had been abducted by someone who didn’t even deserve it. 

The better man might just win this time. 

Finally back in the five-star hotel room, I stare at the name on the screen calling again. I let it ring two more times before swiping.

“Paul?” But I can tell it's not him. I don’t know how I know—I just know.

“You left Miami?” His voice is authoritative—making the question sound more like a statement. “I don’t see your suitcase here.”

“I did,” I confirm after a moment. Heart skipping a few beats. From guilt? Excitement that I resent from hearing his voice after months? I don’t even know. 

“Where’d you go?”

“Back home,” I lie. Eyes shut tight. I’ve never done that with him. I never had to. 

He doesn’t say anything for a while. Every second that passes feels longer than the one before. And for a split second, I feel like he knows the truth or at least knows what I’ve told him isn’t the truth. Like he has his own eyes on me at the moment.

“I’d really appreciate if you came back, Lana.” 

Theres almost an underlying desperateness in his voice. Like his wellbeing depends on my presence—when he’s just demonstrated to me that it doesn’t. I remove the phone from my ear. Eyes opening at an agonizingly slow pace to face myself in the mirror. Why do I always feel so weak for him? So helpless like I don’t have any say over my own actions—my own body.

Staring back at the girl in the mirror I shake my head at her. Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare fall for it…fall for him.

This game he’s been playing—it's unfair. It’s cruel. He’s set it up so he’s the only winner.

The overwhelming feeling he brings to me—congesting my mind and making me forgo all the contempt and smoke I previously had in the chamber for him. Then, the promise I just made to Jaire not even an hour before, forces itself to the forefront of my mind. He won’t drown me or my intuition out this time. 

I stick the phone back to the side of my face. “I can’t,” I tell him. Voice so delicate and pliant—not even hiding the fact that I can be easily persuaded. So, to eliminate any chance of it—I press that red button. He won’t win this round.

A/N // it’s been so long friends. so much has happened since my last update…still in shock btw. so let’s disassociate and be delu together in this au😂

1. what the helly is going on with Joe? why has he gone ghost again?

2. do you think Lana genuinely likes Jaire or is she just trying to fill the space?

3. this girl spent her whole summer in Miami—what do you think happened between them? (don’t worry a good portion of the rest of the shorts take place during this time)

4. he took this girl out the country😂 any thoughts?

5. do we think him going ghost again paired with Jaire’s new presence is enough to make her split from Joe?

As always, so grateful for everyone reading especially in light of recent events. Feedback is always welcomed💗

Next update will be another short about Wrestle-mania 40. It will be up every soon. If not tonight, tomorrow night.

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banner credit — @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[zorrasucia]

spring cleaning

Reader x Carmy Berzatto (The Bear FX)

Rating: Explicit (1.8k)

Tags: Plus Size Reader, Smut, Porn with a little plot, TW Weight Talk, Body Worshipping, Oral Sex (F Receiving), P in V Sex, Use of "Good Girl" and "Good Boy", Both Carmy and Reader have a Praise Kink

You were standing in front of the mirror, eyebrows furrowed, turning this way and that, the skirt of your dress swishing around you.

You heard the lock click and the low thud of Carmy's shoes as he left them by the door.

"Hey."

"In the bedroom," you called back, still frowning.

He walked inside and let himself fall on the bed.

"Long day?" you asked.

"Mhmm," he shifted so that he was able to see you while lying on his side. He noticed the piles of clothes at your feet. "You've been busy too."

"Spring cleaning," you explained with a smile. "That's keep, sell, donate, and throw away," you pointed at the piles. You exchanged a glance with him in the reflection. "What do we think?"

"You look nice," he said, his eyes tracing your figure. "Never seen you wear it before."

"It was in the back of the closet, I forgot it existed," you admitted. "Okay, we're keeping you."

You took the dress off and put it on top of the keep pile, then grabbed a black turtleneck you hadn't touched since mid-December. You put it on and winced, pulling a little on the hem to cover your belly and not quite succeeding.

"We're throwing you away," you said decisively.

"No..."

It was a quiet, pitiful sound and it made you turn towards Carmy with a confused face.

"You look good in it," he explained.

"I think you were looking at my ass and can't be trusted," you teased.

"I wasn't!" he said, then his eyes darted to the edge of your panties, snug against your ass. "Okay, I was. But you still look good in it."

You hummed in disbelief.

It was a sensitive subject. You had put on a little weight and any tight piece of clothing was just a sore reminder of it.

"I'll just get a new one," you deflected, not wanting to get into it now that Carmy was paying you compliments. He didn't even know you were insecure about this but he had probably, almost definitely, noticed you had put on weight. "It's practically see-through now."

That bit wasn't a lie. The knit fabric stretched out over your chest and under bright lights it showed very clearly whatever bra you were wearing underneath.

"You look good in it," Carmy insisted.

"Carm..." you sighed.

He got up from the bed and stood behind you, his arms rounding your waist.

"You look good in it," he repeated, his eyes intense, his breath tickling your cheek. You shivered. His hands went under the hem of the sweater, touching your belly, ghosting under your bra... "So beautiful," he buried his nose in your hair, exhaling hard, squeezing your breasts, bringing you close. You felt his cock, hard against your ass, searching for some friction.

"Fuck..." you sighed, carding your fingers through his curls.

Before you knew what was happening he was carrying you to bed with ease, making you giggle as he lowered you on the pillows a little clumsily.

He knelt between your legs, leaving kisses on the inside of your thighs, the outside of your hips,  right underneath your bellybutton where the elastic of your panties had left a faint imprint - all places you were insecure about. All the while, his fingers were tracing gentle lines up your torso, underneath the turtleneck, pressing over your skin with want. He was worshipping your body, careful not to leave a single inch untouched. You bit your lip, overwhelmed, his touch left you electrified.

"Carmy," you called, caressing the side of his face, he looked half consumed with hunger for you and something else - something soft and sad. "Everything okay?"

He nodded. "I just- I don't know how to show you so you'll believe me. But I like you and I want you and you drive me crazy and- I don't know..." Carmy buried his face in the crook of your thigh, his exhale tickling you. "I think that, uh, that you're not feeling great about it right now but I love your body. So much. So fucking much. All of it."

His thumbs traced your sides, drawing pictures over your stretch lines, sending shivers up and down your body. You kept caressing his face. You wanted to cry and you wanted to fuck him and you wanted to kiss him sweetly...

"Thank you," you whispered.

He moved slowly to kiss you - passionate, thorough. "Want me to make you feel good?"

"Please," you smiled. "Turtleneck stays on?" you asked. You hadn't seen him become so unhinged over a piece of clothing since the red bow bra incident of Valentine's Day.

"Mmm," he hesitated, studying your body as he went downwards. He kissed the swell of your breasts over the stretched out fabric, breathing heavily, and moving down, down, down... "Just for a bit."

He started mouthing over your underwear, his breath hot on you, patches of arousal and saliva wet on your panties.

"Fuck," you moaned, massaging his scalp, writhing with pleasure.

"Mhmm?" he arched his eyebrows. 'Is it good?' he seemed to ask.

"Yeah," you whined and tugged at the elastic of your underwear, urging him to get it off. He dragged it down your legs, barely breaking contact, the kisses to your pussy felt heightened now that there was no fabric between you two. "Fuck. Carm."

He took your legs and hitched them up his shoulders, opening you wide for him to devour. His tongue traced wide, long lines on your pussy. When he finally started sucking your clit, you were already on the precipice, back arching off the bed.

"Oh, my God!" you moaned, tugging hard on his curls.

"So fucking hot," he mumbled on your skin, calloused hands caressing your thighs as they clenched against the sides of his face.

You giggled, flushed with arousal.

"Let me ride you?" you offered. You hadn't dared to in a while but you knew he liked it. A lot.

"Fuck, baby..." was all Carmy could say before flipping you over so that you were hovering above him. He removed his shirt as you rushed to unbutton his jeans, hands trembling a little from your orgasm. Carmy stopped you before you could drag his jeans all the way down to his thighs, reaching down to retrieve a condom from his pocket.

"D'you have one inside every single pair of jeans or-?" you teased, mouth watering slightly at the sight of Carmy pumping his cock and putting the condom on.

"Fuck off," he replied lightly, urging you to get closer and straddle his hips. "Like to be prepared."

"I do like that about you," you said sweetly. You leaned over, kissing him as you guided his cock inside you.

"Jesus," Carmy swore under his breath, a low growl trapped in the back of his throat as you lowered yourself on him.

You sat on his hips, hesitant at first, but then he pressed on the flesh of your thighs, urging you to put your full weight on him.

"That's it," he hummed in approval. "Good girl."

You beamed at his praise and bounced on his cock once, getting a groan from him.

"You've been very good to me tonight. Made me feel so loved, so beautiful..." you said in turn, enjoying the bashful look on his face.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you went up and down again and noticed Carmy's eyes following the movement of your breasts. He had said that he wanted you already but there was something truly thrilling about feeling it - feel his cock twitch inside you as you got rid of the sweater and let your bra slide down your shoulders.

"Holy shit," Carmy stared at you open-mouthed.

His hands grabbed at your ass, your hips, greedily, the tendons of his hands flexing. It was a vicious cycle - the way he looked at you in awe, the sweet nothings that fell from his lips and made you ride him harder...

"Always so good to me," you slurred. "Such a good boyf-"

The last syllable of 'boyfriend' was drowned with a gasp, the upward stroke of his cock leaving you breathless. You looked down and found Carmy flushed down to his chest, eyes wide.

"Oh... You like that?" you asked gently.

"I think I do..." he huffed out a laugh, incredulous.

"We can have fun with that," you smiled wide, rolling your hips. He knew your weaknesses and you loved finding out his. "You've used 'good girl' against me."

"Shit," he squeezed his eyes shut, probably counting the times he had teased you to the edge of your orgasm and back with those two words. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

He nodded. "Yeah," he looked at you with dark eyes. "Take whatever you need. Wreck me."

You built a rhythm, low moans leaving Carmy's lips as you rode him.

"Good boy," you said it softly, like you were trying it on and seeing what effect it had on him.

"Fuck!" he growled, thrusting up, breaking your rhythm, making you see stars.

"Mhmm," you felt a warm pool inside your belly.

"'m so fucking close, baby. Help me a little," he managed, guiding your right hand to your pussy, wordlessly asking you to touch yourself.

You did, traced swirls on your clit as you saw him almost lose control - because of you. He was panting and sweating, leaving handprints on your thighs because he wanted you that much. The realization made you shiver and pulse around him.

"Carm..." you called softly, so close to your release it hurt. You caressed his chest, the lines of ink on it. "So perfect inside me, my good boy..."

"Pleeease," he whimpered.

And you fell apart, moaning and shivering, the sight of you coming on his cock was enough to break him. He dragged you down and kissed you with desperation.

"Baby, baby, baby," he sighed. His hands roamed and squeezed all over your body.

"You okay?" you asked, moving strands of sweaty hair out of his face.

He nodded but you weren't completely convinced.

"If you didn't like me calling you that we don't need to do it again," you reassured him. "Thought it would be fun but-"

"No. Don't-" he struggled with his words. "I liked it. Fuck, I loved it. I just feel a little guilty that- Well, I was trying to make you forget that you were upset and- I feel like it became about me at some point?"

"Hey," you cupped his face. "It's okay. Haven't felt this good about myself in months," you said honestly.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You felt like you were glowing, beautiful and satisfied. It wasn't a permanent fix but seeing Carmy lose control like that for you had been a calming balm to a wound you had ignored for a long time.

"Thank you," you said against his lips and then kissed him slow and deep.

You fell asleep at some point, warm, entangled, and perfectly content.

[gojosleftfoot]

jujutsu kaisen men and their dick size

part 1

pairings: kento nanami x reader, choso kamo x reader, toji fushiguro x reader, atsuya kusakabe x reader

MDNI

warnings: nsfw (18+), soft sex, size kink (mild), praise, gentle dominance, lots of emotional intimacy, slightly emotional tone, rough sex, soft dom vibes, slight angst (choso worrying about hurting you), comfort, messy sex, breeding kink, light degradation (toji being cocky/dirty talking), manhandling, possessive behaviour, balanced sex (not too rough or soft), reader asks for rougher pace, controlled pace, light overstimulation

KENTO NANAMI - (10.16 inches)

nanami’s hands trembled slightly as he brushed your hair away from your face, his hazel eyes dark with a mix of love and worry. even now, when you were laid out beneath him, your body warm and inviting, he hesitated.

“am i… too much for you?” he asked, voice low and rough, a rare crack of vulnerability slipping through his normally steady tone. his hips hovered just shy of yours, his length heavy against your thigh — all ten and a fraction inches of him. he knew his size was… intimidating. and the last thing he ever wanted was to hurt you.

you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, feeling tightness in his jaw, the barely-restrained tension in his body. “kento,” you whispered, smiling up at him. “i’m yours. i can take it. i want to.”

a breath shuddered out of him, and the tension in his shoulders eased. he leaned down, kissing you tenderly, his lips moving over yours with a devotion that made your heart ache. when he finally pushed into you, it was slow, careful, his forehead pressing against yours as he whispered soothing words in your ear — sweet praises, murmured promises.

you gasped, your hands gripping his strong back, the stretch overwhelming but delicious. he was big, yes — so big — but he filled you perfectly, like you were made for each other.

“you’re doing so well for me,” he praised, voice thick with emotion. “so beautiful. so good.”

and when he began to move, every roll of his hips was slow, deliberate, worshipful — as if he wasn’t just making love to you, but cherishing you, memorizing the way your body welcomed him so perfectly, so bravely.

in his arms, you were never just another thing to endure.

you were everything.

CHOSO KAMO - (7.34 inches)

choso kissed along your neck, a quiet rumble of affection in his chest as he pressed you deeper into the mattress. his hands, big and warm, fand down your sides like he was trying to memorize you — but even in his tenderness, his touch was clumsy, a little too eager.

when he pushed into you, slow but heavy, you gasped, feeling the sweet stretch. he wasn’t overwhelming in size, but the way he moved — strong, instinctive — made you feel every inch of him. and sometimes, like now, he lost control without meaning to.

his hips snapped a little harder than he intended, pulling a soft cry from you. instantly, choso froze, guilt flashing across his usually blank features.

“shit— sorry,” he breathed, cupping your face with shaking hands. “are you okay? i didn’t mean to—“

you smiled up at him, stroking your fingers through his messy dark hair. “i’m fine, choso. i promise. i like it.”

he still looked torn, his body tense as he hovered over you, trying to hold himself back. even now, buried so deep inside you, he hesitated, terrified of hurting you even by accident.

you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “it’s okay,” you whispered. “you’re okay. just… stay with me.”

the relief in his eyes made your heart twist. he kissed you fiercely then — messy, a little desperate — and when he started moving again, he tried so hard to be careful. he didn’t always succeed — another sharp thrust would slip through, making you whimper — but each time he whispered a shaky “sorry,” each time you kissed him back harder, letting him know he never needed to be so afraid with you.

because with choso, even his mistakes were made out of love.

TOJI FUSHIGURO - (9.03 inches)

toji had you folded under him, your legs pushed high as he drove into you with heavy, punishing thrusts. his cock stretched you open, thick snd overwhelming, every snap of his hips forcing broken little moans from your throat. he liked hearing you like this — squirming, whining, sobbing his name like it was the only thing you knew.

“fuck, listen to you,” he growled, a wicked smirk curling at his lips. “can’t even take it properly, huh? ‘s too big for you, but you still beg for more.”

your nails dug into his arms, but you didn’t tell him to stop — you didn’t want him to. the roughness, the weight of him, the way he used his strength so carelessly — it made your head spin, your body ache in the best ways. every thrust forced more slickness from you, loud and messy between your bodies.

toji’s hands gripped your hips tighter, almost bruising, dragging you back onto his cock like he couldn’t get deep enough. his pace only got rougher when you whimpered his name again, voice high and broken.

“yeah? that’s it, baby. take it,” he grunted, low and ragged. “gonna fill you up. gonna make sure it sticks.”

the filth in his voice made you clench around him, and he hissed, fucking into you even harder. toji wasn’t the type to ask permission — he chased his need to the end, and right now, that meant stuffing you so full of him you wouldn’t be able to think about anything else.

when you finally broke, crying out under him, your body spasming around his cock, toji groaned, a rough, desperate sound, and slammed deep one last time — spilling inside you, just like he wanted.

he stayed there, breathing hard against your neck, feeling you flutter and milk him for every last drop.

“that’s it,” he murmured, half-possessive, half-proud. “gonna keep you full of me.”

ATSUYA KUSAKABE - (7.88 inches)

kusakabe moved over you with steady, relentless rhythm, his hips snapping into yours with practiced precision. he wasn’t rough, but he wasn’t soft either. every thrust was measured, calculated to make you feel everything without overwhelming you.

he grunted low in his throat, sweat slicking his forehead, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you in place as he worked you open. his cock filled you just right — not too big, not too small — but it was the way he moved, the way he used you, that made your head spin.

you moaned, clinging to him, nails scratching lightly at his back. “atsuya… please,” you whimpered, voice breaking a little. “go all out… i can take it.”

“you sure about that?” he muttered, voice roughened with need. “you’re already trembling.”

still, he wasn’t the type to deny you. kusakabe shifted, adjusting his grip, and when he started moving again, the pace was different — harder, deeper, his thrusts punching little gasps from your lungs. the bed creaked under the force of it, and your hands scrambled to hold onto him as he properly let go, chasing his own pleasure without holding back.

“that’s it,” he growled against your ear, breath hot. “take it. you wanted it, didn’t you?”

you nodded frantically, tears pricking your eyes from the force of it — but god, you loved it.

loved the way kusakabe’s usual restraint cracked when you asked for more. loved how perfectly, he filled you and pushed you right to the edge without losing control.

he wasn’t rough by nature — but when he finally let himself be, it was everything you ever wanted.

a/n: not my idea! credits to the og, ty for reading and have a nice day or night <3

[theloverfiles]

Drenched in need

The second Luigi dragged her under the pounding stream of the shower, it was over. He wasn’t even pretending to be patient anymore, not with the way he slammed the door shut behind them and grabbed her face with both hands, crashing their mouths together in a kiss so rough it knocked the air from her lungs. Water spilled over their tangled bodies, sliding down their bare skin, making everything slick and frantic and messy. His hands roamed everywhere, greedy, possessive palming her breasts, squeezing her ass, fingers digging into her hips like he needed to leave marks, to brand her as his. He pulled her against him, chest to chest, his cock already hard and heavy, grinding into her soaked thigh as he groaned into her mouth.

“Couldn’t fucking wait,” he muttered, breath hot against her lips despite the steam. “Needed you all fucking day.” Without giving her a chance to answer, he spun her around and shoved her up against the cold tile, the contrast making her gasp. His hands roamed down her back, over the curve of her ass, gripping so tight it bordered on painful, but she pushed back into him anyway, desperate for more. Luigi slid one hand between her thighs, fingers slipping easily over her soaked folds. He teased her with slow, lazy strokes, dragging the tips of his fingers up and down until she whimpered, hips twitching toward him, chasing his touch. “So fuckin’ needy,” he rasped, smirking against the shell of her ear as he spread her open with two fingers, slipping inside just enough to make her knees buckle. She barely had time to steady herself before he lined himself up behind her, the thick head of his cock pressing against her entrance. He pushed inside with one long, slow thrust, stretching her wide, filling her so deep it stole the sound from her throat. Luigi bit down on her shoulder, low and animalistic, hips grinding against her ass as he bottomed out with a broken groan. “Shit, baby,” he gasped, fingers bruising her hips as he pulled almost all the way out before slamming back in, hard enough to make the glass shudder. The sound of their bodies colliding, wet, frantic, filthy, filled the bathroom, mixing with the roar of the water and the breathless moans she couldn’t hold back. He set a brutal rhythm, fucking her with rough, punishing thrusts, each one shoving her harder against the tile. His hand wrapped around the front of her throat, not squeezing, just holding, grounding them both in the madness of it all.

“You hear that?” he growled against her ear, thrusting harder so the obscene sounds of their bodies filled the air. “That’s how fuckin’ good you take me.” Every word sent another rush of heat spiraling through her. Her hands scrambled against the tile, searching for something, anything to hold onto as he pounded into her with raw, relentless need. Luigi slid his free hand between her legs, his rough fingers rubbing tight, desperate circles against her clit. The sensation made her cry out, her whole body jerking, thighs trembling uncontrollably.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, voice raw and wrecked. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.” She was close, too close, the pleasure building sharp and fast under his ruthless pace, under the dirty words spilling out of his mouth between broken groans. Her orgasm hit like a punch to the gut, violent, overwhelming, her whole body clenching around him so hard he almost lost control.

“Fuck, fuck just like that,” Luigi cursed, hips slamming into her so deep she swore she could feel him in her ribs. He chased his own release with rough, frantic thrusts, his grip bruising on her hips, his mouth moving helplessly against her shoulder, broken promises, desperate confessions he couldn’t even string into full sentences. He came with a low, guttural growl, slamming deep inside her one last time as he spilled himself into her, grinding his hips through it, dragging out every last second until they were both shaking, bodies wrung out and trembling. But he didn’t stop. He didn’t pull out. He stayed buried inside her, rocking gently, dragging her through every aftershock, overstimulating them both until she was sobbing quietly into the tile, and he was whispering filthy, reverent things against her skin.

“So fuckin’ perfect.”

“Made for me.”

“Mine.”

Finally, Luigi pulled out, the loss making them whimper under their breath. His arms slipped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly against his chest, her legs instinctively wrapping around him. He carried her out of the shower without a word, dripping wet, leaving a trail of steam and water across the bathroom floor. And when he reached the bed, he dropped her onto the sheets with a look that promised one thing:

He was nowhere near done with her yet.

Lmk if I should do a tag list <3

Hope y’all enjoy !

[gkattdoesstuff]

You're a beauty, a luminary in my face

Alexis Ness x Fem!Reader. Originally written for an OC of mine, edited for all of you to enjoy. Not proofread. Probably the only fic I'll ever post, lmao. Enjoy! CW: UHH HURT COMFORT!!!! obscure metaphors (cannibalism - toxic love) etc., mentions of blood?

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Alexis Ness was a doormat. A damaged good. Trampled on by everyone since his first breath.

And yet, he loved. Religiously so. It wasn't a choice or a gift — it was an instinct. Something raw, intense, something so primal and so overwhelming. Soul crushing and desperate. He poured himself out like water into a cracked chalice, hoping that one day somebody—no, anybody—would find him worthy of filling. But the hands that reached for him were always empty, or worse, they took what little he had until he stood bare and hollow. He gave himself up, expecting nothing in return.

Love was not for him to receive, only to give.

He wanted to believe that he and Kaiser were equal, but instead of an equal partnership, he's found himself in a cage. If he was a lamb, then Kaiser was not his shepherd; he was a wolf. He became a vessel for his master's needs. His needs—anger, cruelty — Ness took it all, even as it stripped him raw. Michael was a beast — violent and hungry — but as long as he stayed, he could devour Alexis whole. Nibble on his flesh as it starts to rot, until all that's left for him are bones.

Time was no longer measured in hours or minutes but in the spaces between one bite and the next. He wasn't happy, but he was content. Content with making himself smaller, folding himself into corners, mold himself to the shape of his sovereign's expectations. Attempting to break free would've been futile. Even if he wanted to push back, to be acknowledged, every cell in his body knew that resistance wasn't survival. As long as he could fool himself into feeling needed, he'd take it all.

Oh, but there's only so much one can take before all your value is lost.

Alexis Ness was a damaged good. And damaged goods get thrown away and replaced.

He felt hollow yet unbearably heavy, like his body had become a cage too small to contain the weight of his failure. Imprisoned in his own mind, two sentences played out over and over, like a broken record. “You're not enough,” they said, “and you'll never be.” He wanted to break free, yet yearned to come back. To crawl on all fours, hoping his bone marrow would be enough to feed him for just a little more. He was no longer needed, though. It was the truth, and he knew it.

Y/N L/N was everything Alexis Ness wasn't. Loud and confident, she, in a way, reminded him of Kaiser. But there was something that made the two different. Y/N was warm and, oh, so, so sweet. Sweet in a way that comforted and terrified him at the same time.

She was beautiful, a luminary. Shining light on all the feelings he's buried under layers of shame. Where others pressed him into the dirt, she reached out a hand. Where others drained him dry, she poured herself into him. While others saw a burden, she saw an injured lamb — and despite being his shepherd, she never made him feel like he was beneath her.

He hated it. He hated her for it.

Y/N never demanded, never consumed, and never took anything from him. All she did in his eyes was give, give, give, and he had no idea what to do with it. Her care exposed the parts in him that he thought were beyond repair.

How could she not see what he was? No, how could she stand there with open arms despite KNOWING what he was? How could she willingly and foolishly invite this much damage into the comfort of her own home? As much as he hated what she did to him, he needed her in a way. Like a starved, desperate dog, he accepted her kindness, even though it felt like watching someone drink from a broken glass.

It hurt to be seen, loved so clearly, to feel the weight of her effort as she worked to untangle him from the chains he had grown accustomed to. If to be loved was to be known, then love sure was a bitch.

Y/N wasn't immune to pain. She wasn't an invincible force, untouched and unaffected by the toll of saving him. He noticed that her makeup got simpler or that her hair wasn't done most days. He saw how tired and tense her body was. “You lose nothing by lighting another candle,” they say, but Alexis feared that the candle she had become would burn itself out trying to make him shine. He watched the wax of her heart melt, drop by drop, as she slowly but surely, with bloodied hands, broke each chain.

And oh God, just please let go of me — he thought — stop wasting your energy on a man who doesn't know how to be whole. He wanted to tell her to go away, tell her he wasn't worthy of her sacrifice. And yet, those words never came. Each fragment of chain she shattered felt like a betrayal of everything he truly believed in — that he was irredeemable. She forced him to see the world outside his cage and made him imagine a life where he was free. It was painfully terrifying and all he had ever needed.

L/N's love wasn't the kind he had known. It wasn't sharp-edged or conditional. It was soft, gentle, and warm; it was the kind of love that didn't need to be earned. Alexis didn't believe he could ever be whole. But she never asked him to. All she asked for was for him to go keep going, to let her stay by his side, to let her hands work at the chains until they gave way. She held his fractured pieces in her hands, gently treating them like treasure instead of wreckage. Showing that maybe there's something worth repairing.

Because to her, he was worth all of that work. She didn't see him as a mess to be cleaned up. He was simply Alexis. That's it.

The dog no longer bit the hand that fed him, and the orphaned lamb was no longer afraid to follow its shepherd's lead.

For the first time, he felt something he had never allowed himself to feel: possibility. The possibility of things getting better somehow. His black-and-white world has been colored by the blood of all of her hard work. Slowly, the red mixed with white, and his world became filled with various pinks—it was just like her lipstick. Although his wax melted, and his light nearly died out, someone loved him enough to ignite him anew.

He was so smitten, and oh so grateful.

════════════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════════════ @gkattdoesstuff

[am0ralexis]

His Shy Girlfriend (fluff/smut) 🩷❤️‍🔥

Alex notices right away.

The way your hands tremble a little when you touch him.

The way your cheeks burn when you try to meet his eyes.

The way you tuck your face against his neck when he slides your shirt off, shy and overwhelmed and so fucking sweet it makes his chest ache.

He slows down immediately.

Lets you move at your own pace.

Lets you touch him first — small, tentative hands against his chest, his shoulders — like you’re learning him one careful inch at a time.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs, voice low and warm, stroking your hair as you climb into his lap, straddling him shyly.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby.”

You whimper — barely more than a breath — and he smiles, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“No rush,” he promises, hands trailing soft lines up your sides.

“No pressure. Just you and me.”

——————

You gasp softly when he slides his hands under your shirt —

fingertips tracing your ribs, your hips, slow and worshipful.

You clutch his hoodie tighter — bury your face against his throat — and he laughs, low and wrecked.

“Shy little thing,” he teases, nosing into your hair.

“You’re killing me, hermosa.”

You mumble something against his skin — too quiet to catch — and he just wraps his arms around you tighter.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs.

“Don’t gotta be nervous, pretty girl. I’m right here.”

He lifts you carefully — easing you down onto the bed, pulling his hoodie off you in slow, lazy movements — until you’re bare and trembling under him.

You look up at him — wide eyes, biting your lip — and it damn near ruins him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says hoarsely, brushing his thumb over your flushed cheek.

“Don’t hide from me, baby. Let me see you.”

——————

He’s slow when he touches you —

trailing kisses down your neck, your chest, your stomach —

hands steady and gentle even when you arch into him, overwhelmed.

Every time you whimper — shy and embarrassed —

he just smiles against your skin and praises you.

“So good for me.”

“Taking it so well.”

“My perfect girl.”

When he finally slides inside you — slow, careful, endless —

you gasp, clutching at his shoulders, overwhelmed by how deep he is, how much it feels.

He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your trembling mouth.

“You’re okay,” he whispers, rocking into you slow.

“You’re doing so good, preciosa.”

You cling to him — nails digging into his back — and he groans, thrusting a little deeper.

“You feel like heaven,” he pants.

“Like you were made for me.”

You hide your face again —

burning, trembling —

and he just laughs quietly, smoothing his hands down your back.

“I love you like this,” he whispers.

“All shy and sweet under me. Fuck, baby. I could stay here forever.”

——————

You cum hard —

soft little gasps, shaking in his arms —

and he holds you through it, kissing your temple, murmuring praises against your skin.

When he follows you over the edge —

groaning your name like a prayer —

he stays buried deep inside you, forehead pressed to yours, breathing hard.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers again, pulling the blankets up around you both.

“You’re everything.”

You blush harder —

hiding against his chest —

and he just smiles, holding you closer.

“Take your time, baby,” he murmurs, stroking your hair as you drift.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

And he means it.

Every word.

[jenosonlywife23]

Soft Jeno thoughts (request from anon) — imagine these are the things running through his mind when he’s with you:

💭 "How did I get so lucky?" Every time you smile at him — really smile — Jeno feels it hit him all over again. Like the first time. He’ll just stare at you, heart squeezing painfully in his chest, thinking he must have done something really, really good in a past life to deserve you.

💭 "I wanna take care of her forever." Whether it’s making sure you ate, that you have a warm jacket on, or that you're safe walking home — Jeno is the type to quietly, naturally, always look after you. Not because he thinks you need him to — but because he wants to. It’s how he shows love.

💭 "She’s my whole world." When you laugh too hard at something stupid, or you trip and catch yourself and then look around all embarrassed — those tiny, unfiltered moments? Jeno falls even deeper. You’re not just someone he loves — you are his definition of happiness.

💭 "I hope she always feels loved." He worries sometimes. Late at night, when you’re asleep curled up against him, he’ll brush your hair back and wonder if he’s showing it enough. Telling you enough. That you’re everything to him. So he holds you a little tighter, hoping you feel it even if he doesn’t have the words.

💭 "I want a future with her." Sometimes when you're talking about something random — a vacation you want to take, a dream you have — Jeno finds himself thinking about rings, about homes with light-filled kitchens, about a dog you pick out together. And it feels so natural, like there’s no if, just when.

💭 "No one else compares." Other people come and go, but you’re it for him. No one else makes him laugh the way you do, no one else makes the world feel so light. He’s not interested in looking around. His heart already chose you.

💭 "She’s the best part of my day." Even on the busiest, most exhausting days — even when he feels like collapsing — knowing he gets to come home to you, hear your voice, hug you, kiss you... that's what pulls him through everything. You’re his safe place. His soft landing. His favorite feeling.

💌

: Soft Jeno thoughts when he misses you— like he’s apart from you for a while (work, tour, schedules), and he’s just full of aching love for you.

💭 "I wonder if she's eaten today." It’s the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up in a different city. Even before checking his own schedule, he’s texting you — "Good morning, baby. Did you eat yet?" He just wants to know you’re taking care of yourself, even when he can’t be there to nag you in person.

💭 "She probably looks so pretty right now." It hits him at random. Walking down a hotel hallway, sitting in the back of a van, brushing his teeth. He’ll stop whatever he’s doing and smile to himself, picturing you — messy bun, comfy clothes, maybe your nose a little scrunched up in concentration. God, he misses seeing you just exist.

💭 "I wish I could hug her." Jeno loves hugs — but only your hugs. When he's tired, overwhelmed, or just existing, he craves the feeling of you pressing your face into his chest, your arms wrapped around him. That kind of comfort no one else could ever give.

💭 "I hope she knows I’m thinking about her." Even if he’s too busy to call or text properly, he finds little ways to show it — sending you pictures of things that remind him of you, a quick selfie with a peace sign captioned "for you :)," a voice note saying "miss you, love you, be back soon." Small things, but so full of heart.

💭 "I can't wait to come home to her." He doesn’t care if it’s just sitting in silence together, if it’s eating takeout on the floor, if it’s falling asleep on the couch mid-conversation — home isn’t a place to Jeno. It’s you.

💭 "She makes everything better." Bad day? He imagines your hand in his. Your voice telling him it’s okay. Your laugh pulling him out of his own head. You're the background music in his mind, the person who turns noise into something beautiful.

💭 "Maybe I should buy her something." He’s strolling through an airport shop when he sees a stuffed animal, or a cute keychain, or a hoodie that looks just like something you’d love. He immediately grabs it. Not because it’s expensive or big — but because he wants you to have little pieces of him while he’s away.

💭 "She’s gonna tease me for being soft, huh." He can already hear your teasing voice when he sends you a text that says something like "I miss you so bad it’s not even funny." But he doesn't care. He wants you to know he’s soft for you. Always will be.

💭 "When I see her, I’m not letting go." When his flight finally lands and he sees you standing there — sleepy, maybe, or bundled up in a jacket — he doesn’t even bother trying to play it cool. He drops everything and wraps you up in his arms, heart pounding against yours like it never skipped a beat. "I missed you so much, baby. So much."

[squidsquidsquidsquidsquidgame]

NAMGYU X CHUBBY READER SMUT PLS PLSPLS

Yours to touch

Character: Nam-gyu x Chubby Fem!Reader Rating: 🔥 Explicit (18+) Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Smut, Dom!Nam-gyu x Soft Sub!Reader Word Count: ~2,000 words

Summary: Nam-gyu’s body still remembers every wrong touch, every time someone hurt him when he said no. But you? He wants you. Tonight, he gives you what he’s never trusted anyone else with — himself, all of him — and he needs to own you while doing it.

⚠️ Main Warnings:

Explicit Sexual Content (18+ only)

Mentions of Past Sexual Assault (non-graphic)

Vulnerability and Emotional Wounds

Dominant Nam-gyu (but emotional, tender under the roughness)

Body Worship (Chubby Reader)

Praise Kink

Power Exchange (Emotional Trust-Based D/S)

Breeding Talk

Crying (Happy, Overwhelmed)

Unprotected Sex (Fantasy Setting)

Nam-gyu’s hands shook as he touched you. Not from fear of you — but from fear of himself.

He had wanted this for so long — wanted you — the soft curve of your waist, the plush give of your thighs, the way your body made his chest ache with want — but wanting didn’t erase the memories.

The cold hands. The feeling of being taken, not given. The shame.

But tonight was different. You were different.

You lay back against the sheets, looking at him like he hung the goddamn stars. Not pushing. Not demanding. Just waiting.

"Baby," you whispered, reaching out, fingertips brushing his wrist. "You’re safe. You’re always safe with me."

Nam-gyu swallowed hard — throat burning, heart pounding.

And then — he moved.

He crushed your mouth with his — kissing you with all the desperate, messy hunger he’d held back for too long. He tore your clothes off with shaking hands, spreading you out for him — gasping when he saw you bare, beautiful, soft under him.

"Fuck," he groaned, dragging his hands over your curves, squeezing your hips, your thighs, your belly. "You’re... You’re perfect."

You whimpered, body trembling under the rough reverence of his touch.

He kissed down your chest, your stomach, biting at the softest parts, leaving his marks on you like he needed to stake his claim. He needed you to know — you were wanted. You were his.

"You think I care about anyone else?" he rasped, voice shaking. "You think anyone else could fucking handle how perfect you are?"

You shook your head frantically, tears burning your eyes. "I’m yours," you gasped. "Only yours."

Something inside him broke.

Nam-gyu shoved your thighs apart — groaning at the wetness already dripping from you — and lined himself up, not teasing, not waiting. He needed to be inside you. Now.

When he pushed in — thick and hard, splitting you open — you both moaned, bodies shuddering together.

"Fucking tight," he gasped against your throat. "So good. So good for me."

He set a brutal pace — fucking you deep and rough — but still cradling you close, forehead pressed to yours, every thrust punctuated by filthy praise:

"Taking me so good." "Made for me." "Mine. All fucking mine."

You wrapped your arms around him, legs around his waist, anchoring him to you as he lost himself inside you.

Nam-gyu grunted, fucking you harder, faster — the sound of your bodies slapping together obscene in the dark. But when he felt you clench around him, when he heard your breath hitch — he slowed.

He cupped your face with rough, trembling hands and whispered:

"You’re safe. Come for me, baby. I’ve got you."

That was all it took.

You came with a sob, shaking apart around him — and Nam-gyu buried himself as deep as he could go, coming inside you with a raw, broken moan, tears stinging his eyes as he let himself feel everything.

After, he didn’t pull away. He stayed inside you — trembling, panting, kissing your face over and over — whispering,

"Mine. Mine. Thank you. Thank you, baby. I love you."

And when you held him, when you kissed the scars he never showed anyone else — Nam-gyu finally believed it.

He wasn’t broken. He wasn’t ruined.

He was yours.

And that made him whole.

[willowser]

i do often like to think about how late 20's bakugou would tell you he's a virgin i think about it a lot

[sukumna]

┌─ .✦ HIS FAVORITE TYPE OF SEX

꒰ haikyuu version ꒱

✦ — Gojo Satoru, playful but overwhelming sex. He’s the type to tease you until you’re crying, to push you to your limit just to see how much you can take. The type to fuck you slow, deep, with that smug grin on his face, cooing, “Aww, what’s wrong? Too much for you?” He loves overstimulation and making you beg for him to stop—only to pout and say, “But you were just saying you wanted more.”He’ll make you come again and again, just to prove that he can.

✦ — Geto Suguru, worshipful, ruin-you sex. He’s the type to make you feel like a goddess, like you were made for him. The type to press slow kisses down your body while whispering, “You’re perfect, you know that?” before he completely wrecks you. He loves control, but he loves devotion even more—loves hearing you beg, whimper, tell him how good he makes you feel. He fucks you like he’s honoring something sacred, like he’s offering himself to you just as much as you’re offering yourself to him.

✦ — Ryomen Sukuna, degrading, make you cry and ‘prove yourself’ sex. He’s the type to ruin you with a smirk, to mock the way you beg, call you pathetic for writhing under him. The type to grip your chin, make you look him in the eyes, chuckling, “Crying already? Tch, weak thing.” He loves making you take more than you can handle, pushing you to the brink just to prove he owns you. But when you cling to him after, breath hitching, dazed and fucked-out? His grip tightens, his smirk softens, and he lets you bury your face in his chest like you’re something worth keeping.

✦ — Toji Fushiguro, rough, ‘take it like a good girl’ sex. He’s the type to pin you down, fuck you until you’re sobbing, grunting a “Shh, you can take it.” The type to treat you like a personal plaything, tossing you onto the bed and manhandling you like you weigh nothing. He’s mean in the way that makes you crave it—grabbing your jaw, forcing you to look at him, smirking as he says, “Already crying? Thought you wanted this.” But when you’re spent, barely able to keep your eyes open, he’s the one pulling you into his chest, rubbing lazy circles into your skin like he wasn’t just breaking you apart.

✦ — Nanami Kento, ‘I need this’ sex. He’s the type to fuck you with purpose, making every thrust count, watching your every reaction. The type to grab your waist, murmuring, “Look at me,” as he drives into you, slow and deliberate. He’s so composed, so controlled—until you beg. Until you whisper, “Please, Kento,” in that sweet, breathy voice, and his grip tightens, his rhythm stutters, and suddenly, he’s fucking you with everything he’s got, desperate to hear you say it again.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Good enough

Tags: Caleb x fem!Reader, smut, unprotected angry sex, Caleb’s back and he’s jealous, breeding kink, mdni, not proofread sorry, this shit is NASTY i fear.

An: This one is for a dear friend of mine 🙂‍↕️ Thanks for making me pull out of my writer’s block. LOOK i’m so sorry if this is bad but i had to write SOMETHING to pull me out of this funk… i hope you all enjoy

How did you end up trapped underneath your half-cyborg best friend who was legally deceased while taking the meanest deep strokes of your life? Well, there’s a simple answer. Caleb knew Xavier was home.

Actually, he knew everything: the dates, the tender moments, the secret times, the nightly rendezvous. Pissed was an understatement.

Had you forgotten? Had you forgotten all the promises you two made each other when you were younger? Had you forgotten that you were fucking made for him? You had to have. That’s why you were stringing along 4 different guys. You were trying to fill a hole that only he could fill.

That had to be why.

Regardless, Caleb knew Xavier was the type to listen to you through the floorboards of his upstairs apartment. He was a lot alike Caleb in that sort of manner. They were both possessive freaks who couldn’t stand the thought of you being with somebody else.

That’s why Caleb was fucking you so hard — pounding your pretty pussy so deeply into the mattress that you were seeing stars with each mean thrust.

He used his size to his advantage. It was fitting. He’d always loved how much bigger he was than you. That’s how you received your adorned nickname: pipsqueak.

He planned on his first time with you being a lot more gentle than this. He planned on being sweet and loving. He planned on cherishing your body the way you deserve, but you just had to go and give yourself to 4 other guys before him.

“Stop crying.” His voice rumbled as his piercing gaze found yours — so much different than the sweet childhood friend you had. His hand covered your mouth as he hunched over your figure, still ramming his cock head into you ruthlessly. “I know you can take it. I’ve watched you take it before.”

Your eyes blinked back tears as you looked up at him. He was being so mean. You couldn’t believe this was the same doting Caleb that you grew up with, and you didn’t even want to think about the face he had been watching you…

“Fucking pussy’s made for me, and you’ve been letting other men try to make her feel good.” He growled as he used his less-than-human arm reach down and gently rub against your small button of nerves.

“Caleb-!” You choked out as your body writhed beneath him. You could feel every ridge and vein of his thick cock splitting you apart, making you wholly his and his alone.

“That’s right… Say my name, baby. Tell me who’s making you feel so good.” He prompted with a confident smirk before he hauled your legs up above his shoulders, sinking even deeper into your dripping cunt.

Clawing at the bed, your back arched as you tried to cope with the intrusion. He’s so fucking deep it feels like you’re going to choke on him. “Caleb-“ You sob as your cunt pitifully clenches around him.

Feeling you wrapped around him so sweetly, crying out his name as you’re so overwhelmed with pleasure has Caleb revitalized with a new vigor. His hips work in tight circles, pumping his fat cock in and out of you as your cunt makes the most obscene squelching noises he’s ever heard.

“Such a fucking noisy girl. I should’ve know you were going to be a crybaby.” He teased before placing open mouth kisses along your neck snd shoulder.

“W-wait Caleb- calebcalebcaleb. I’m gonna..” You pant out nervously as his metal fingers were still rubbing languid circled around your cunt, and his tip was smooshing globs of precum against your cervix.

His fingers suddenly pinch down on your clit, making you cry out from the sensation. Your body went taut as you were being dangled on the edge of pleasure. His robotic arm wasn’t quite letting you get there.

You thought his arm was literally malfunctioning until you heard him chuckle from your suffering.

“You’re going to cum when I saw you can, okay baby?” He asked in that same condescending tone he always used when you two were younger.

His hips continued to roll after he was sure that you weren’t going to fall off the deep end, and he let out deep guttural groans, feeling your pretty pussy soak him. It was like you were practically trying to suck him in. He couldn’t believe he had waited this long to sink into your cunt like this.

and the best part about it was he knew your stupid upstairs neighbor was listening! Xavier knew you were down here getting railed, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

Hell, if he even tried, Caleb would use his evol and force him kneel beside the bed as he drilled you even harder.

Fuck, the thought of slutting you out in front of every single one of your little boyfriends had his stomach tightening. His hips snapped forward into you with a pace that could only be described as feral.

You were a complete babbling mess at this point — utterly cock drunk as Caleb had you folded in half, filling you up to the brim with his length.

“Ohhh, that’s my girl.” He purred as he saw your glossed over look. “It’s coming, baby. I’m going to give you want you need.” He promised as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead that completely contradicted the ruthless way his hips were rutting into you.

“C-caleb- Caleb no, wait.. Don’t cum inside-“ You stuttered out in a panic. You hadn’t been by the pharmacy yet to pick up birth control, so technically, this was all unprotected.

“Why?” He growled as his back curled over. He was fucking mounting you while holding your thighs in the prettiest mating press he’d ever seen. “You fucking let them fill you up. Am I not good enough to breed this pussy?”

His hips slammed into you. It felt like he was trying to push his way straight into your womb. It was mind-numbing pleasure, making black orbs and stars dance across your vision.

“Look at me, baby.” He ordered, dragging your face to look back up at him. You could barely see straight. It was all too much. “You’re going to let your best friend breed you, and you’re gonna fucking love it. You’re going to cum all over this fat cock until you can’t breathe. Understand?”

You dumbly nodded your head, halfway hearing his words. Your pussy was aching to cum. Your swollen puffy folds were greedily accepting him in with every thrust. You wanted this. Birth control be damned. Everyone else be damned.

Caleb gritted his teeth together as he gave you a few more good harsh thrusts for good measure. He then crushed his body against yours, burying himself all the way to your womb before his cock started to jerk and pulse inside of you, shooting rope after rope of his thick potent cum. The only thing on his mind was the need to see you, his childhood best friend, round with his baby.

He needed to see the look on each other of those pricks’ faces when they realized you were spoken for.

The cherry on top was when he felt your walls clenching around him, happily milking his cock for everything he had while you sobbed and hiccuped his name. It seemed like his childhood best friend was maybe just as twisted as he was. He’d have to give her an extra good reward for being such a good girl.

As the room went still and quiet — only filled with shared breaths and pants for air, the sound of someone stabbing a sword through the ceiling was heard, and Caleb chuckled deeply. He had definitely pissed Xavier off.

[kurooh]

when choso first learns about what facesitting really is, he brings it up after a make out session that’s left you both hot and heavy. he’s tugging on your hand, practically begging you to take a seat.

“i-i’m not sure,” you stutter, unsure. “what if you suffocate or something? i don’t wanna hurt you..”

the look he gives you is one of pure need and longing. “i don’t care, just sit baby. please.”

for good measure, choso gives you a little pout, breaking into giggles and a smile once you slip your panties and shorts off. your thighs tremble as you hover above his face, eyes squeezing shut at the heat of his breath against your sticky cunt.

“mmm, that’s no good,” he remarks, large hands rising to your hips and settling lightly. “i told you, sit down.” choso’s strong, yanking you down hard onto his face; you feel and hear his muffled moan when your pussy’s all over his whole face.

“choso!”

“so, so fucking good,” choso gasps against you, holding your squirming body in place as his tongue laps and laps at your sticky cunt.

beneath you, his body’s sweltering with heat, racing through every nerve like electricity while tight pressure builds in his cock. with a glance over your shoulder, you notice his hips rutting into the air as he searches for friction.

“cho,” you sob, so overwhelmed you actually feel tears building in your eyes, “i-i wanna suck you off, ‘s not fair—”

he easily lifts you and peers up at you from between your thighs, face flushed and shining with your slick. with a shaky finger, you nudge some of his hair away from his forehead.

“don’t want you to,” it’s painful to say, because he really does, but that’s simply a distraction for the both of you. “baby,” he murmurs gently, “i want you to focus on cumming for me, ‘s all, okay?”

you nod quietly, and the gesture is met with a mild slap to your ass. “okay, cho,” the moment the words leave your bitten lips, he’s pulling you back down and greedily drinking all of you in, taking whatever he can get.

choso’s ministrations encourage you to roll your hips against his face; a light bump of his nose to your clit has you crying out and grinding all over him. that’s right, he thinks, stars in his closed eyes. he wishes he could tell you to use him to get off, but he’d have to lift you up and he doesn’t want to even breathe.

unconsciously, he matches your pace, his hips rising into the air in synchrony with your own. one of your hands slips into his silky hair and tugs; he’s your anchor, keeping you somewhat steady although he’s the reason you can’t stop shaking.

“choso,” you wail loudly, angling your hips to let him take your clit between his lips and suck, “oh, i’m so close, ‘m gonna cum soon—”

from between your thighs, choso sees everything: the parting of your lips, the way your face crumbles in absolute pleasure, the brief moment of stillness as you fully fall over the edge.

it’s too much and not enough, but he cums too.

“c-cumming, choso,” is all you can muster, riding out your orgasm on his face and tongue while his hips buck wildly into the air.

the muffled moan you feel deep in your cunt makes you gasp, pulling away at the feeling of overstimulation, but he’s holding you tight. a look over your shoulder at the right moment, and you watch as his clothed cock explodes, gushing cum and soaking his boxers.

after all your squirming and pulling away, choso finally lets you go with crescent moon indents in your plush skin and a loud huff.

“i wasn’t done,” he heaves, skin smeared with your cum. it’s glossy and messy, but he won’t think about washing it off until you’ve cum at least three more times.

“but you came and everything, i—”

choso silences you by sealing his lips against yours, and you can briefly taste yourself— sweet, just like he’s always said.

“a few more times, please?”

[kaijutegu]

Alligator Body Language and You, or: How To Know When An Alligator On Social Media is Being Stressed for Views

Alligators are wild animals. Despite the idiotic claims of animal abusers like Jay Brewer, they cannot be domesticated, which means they are always going to react on the same natural instincts they've had for millions of years. Habituated, yes. Tamed, yes. Trained, definitely. Crocodilians can form bonds with people- they're social and quite intelligent. They can solve problems, use tools, and they're actually quite playful. Alligators are also really good at communicating how they're feeling, but to somebody who doesn't spend much time around them, their body language can be a bit mystifying. And it doesn't help when social media influencers are saying shit like this:

That is not what a happy gator looks like.

That's a terrified, furious gator who isn't attacking because the ogre handling her has her in a chokehold. She's doing everything she can to express her displeasure, and he's lying about it because he knows his audience doesn't even know how to think critically about what he's doing. He knows that because his audience doesn't know anything about these animals, he can get away with it. This I think is why I hate him so much- he deliberately miseducates his audience. He knows what he's doing is factually inaccurate, he just doesn't care because attention means more to him than anything else in the world.

Let's change that! Here are two really important lessons for understanding alligator body language on social media.

Lesson 1: Alligators Don't Smile (in fact, most animals don't)

So what's going on in this video? Jay Brewer is aggressively choking his white alligator Coconut while scrubbing algae off of her with a toothbrush. And make no mistake, he is digging into the creature's throat while she is visibly distressed. He claims she's happy- but she's not. He is willfully misrepresenting what this animal is feeling. That's a problem, because people... well, we actually kind of suck at reading other species' body language. The reason for this is that we tend to overlay our own responses on their physical cues, and that's a problem. For example, let's look at an animal with a really similar face to ours, the chimpanzee. Check out Ama's toothy grin!

Wait, no. That's not a happy smile. That's a threat display. When a chimpanzee "smiles," it's either terrified and doing a fear grimace, or it's showing you its teeth because it intends on using them in your face.

How about a dog? Look at my smiling, happy puppy!

Oh wait no, this is a picture of Ryder when he was super overwhelmed by noise and people during a holiday party. He'd hopped up in my sister's lap to get away from stuff that was happening on the floor and was panting quite heavily. See the tension in the corners of his mouth and his eyes? A lot of the time when a dog "smiles," the smile isn't happy. It's stress! Why Animals Do The Thing has a nice writeup about that, but the point is, our body language is not the same as other species. And for reptiles, body language is wildly different.

For instance, look at these two alligators. Pretty cute, right? Look at 'em, they're posing for a Christmas card or something! How do you think they're feeling?

Well, I'll tell you how the normal one is feeling. He's annoyed! Why is he annoyed? Because the albino just rolled up, pushed another gator off the platform, and is trying to push this guy, too. I know this because I actually saw it happen. It was pretty funny, not gonna lie. He's not gaping all the way, but he was hissing- you can actually see him getting annoyed in the sequence I took right before this shot. Look at him in this first shot here- he's just relaxing, and you can see he isn't gaping even a little bit.

By the end, he's expressing displeasure, but not enough to actually do anything about it. He's annoyed, but he's comfy and that's where one of the best basking areas is, so he'll put up with it.

Reptiles open their mouths wide for a lot of reasons, but never because they are actively enjoying a sensation. Unless they're eating. No reptile smiles- they can't. They don't even have moveable lips. If a reptile is gaping, it's doing so because:

It is doing a threat display.

It is making certain vocalizations, all of which are threats. Alligators are one of the rare reptiles that do regularly vocalize, but most of their calls aren't made with a wide open mouth.

It is about to bite something delicious or somebody stupid. Check out this video- virtually all of the gaping here is anticipatory because these trained gators know darn well that the bowl is full of delicious snacks. (I have some issues with Florida's Wildest, but the man knows how to train a gator AND he is honest about explaining what they're doing and why, and all of his animals are healthy and well-cared for, and he doesn't put the public or his staff at risk- just himself.)

It's too hot and it has opened its mouth to vent some of that heat and thermoregulate. This is the main reason why alligators will often have their mouths part of the way open, but sometimes they'll open all the way for thermoregulation. This is what a thermoregulatory gape looks like- usually it's not all the way open, kinda more like < rather than V, but you can't say that 100% of the time. Additionally, a thermoregulatory gape... typically happens when it's hot out. If they're inside, maybe they've been under their basking light for too long. Heat's the dominant factor, is what I'm getting at.

There is another reason that a captive crocodilian might be gaping, and that's because it's doing so on command. Some places have their gators trained to gape on cue, like St. Augustine Alligator Farm and other good zoos. They have the animals do this in presentations that are genuinely educational. They ask the animals to open their mouths so that they can show off their teeth and demonstrate how their tongues seal off the back of their mouth. They'll also do it as part of routine healthcare, because looking at their teeth is important.

In this case, the animals aren't gaping because they're stressed, they're gaping because they know they're gonna get a piece of chicken or fish if they do it. And what's more, they're doing it on cue. They have a specific command or signal that tells them to open wide. It's not an instinctive response to a situation. It's trained. If the animal provides the behavior after a cue, the situation is much less likely to be negatively impactful.

It's also important to remember that there's a difference between a partially open mouth and a gape! As discussed above, alligators will often have their mouths a little bit open just to maintain temperature homeostasis. It helps them stay comfy, temperature-wise. These guys are all doing thermoregulatory open-mouthed behavior- that slight open and relaxed body posture is a dead giveaway. (That and it's the hottest spot in the enclosure.)

Lesson 2: A Happy Gator Is A Chill Gator

So if alligators don't smile or have facial expressions other than the :V that typically signifies distress, how else can you tell how they're feeling? One way is stillness. See, alligators subscribe to the philosophy of if it sucks... hit da bricks.

Basically, if they hate it, they'll leave. Unless, y'know, somebody has their meaty claws digging into their throat or is otherwise restraining them. (Restraint isn't always bad, btw. Sometimes the animal is going through a medical thing or needs to be restrained for their safety- which a responsible educator will explain.)

Let's look at a very similar scenario, in which a captive alligator is getting his back scrubbed.

As you can see, it's quite different. First, he's not being restrained at all. Second, look at how relaxed he is! He's just chilling there vibing! He could simply get up and leave if he wanted to, because he's not being held. Towards the end of the video, as he lifts his head, you can see that his respiratory rate is very even as his throat flutters a bit. I'm not sure what this facility is, so I can't comment on care/general ethics, but like. In this specific case, this is an alligator enjoying being scrubbed! And you can tell because he's not doing anything. A happy gator is content to be doing what they're doing.

Why Should I Listen To You?

Now, you should ask yourself, why should you listen to me? Why should you trust me, who does not own an alligator, versus Jay Brewer, who owns several?

Well, first off, there's no profit for me in telling you that what you're seeing on social media is in fact not what you're being told you're seeing. I'm not getting paid to do this. That's the thing with people who make social media content. The big names aren't doing it just for fun. They're doing it for money. Whether that's profit through partnerships or sponsorships, or getting more people to visit their facilities, or ad revenue, you can't ignore the factor of money. And this is NOT a bad thing, because it allows educators to do what they're passionate about! People deserve to be paid for the work that they do!

But the problem starts when you chase the algorithm instead of actually educating. A "smiling" alligator gets the views, and if people don't know enough to know better, it keeps getting the views. People love unconventional animal stories and they want those animals to be happy- but the inability to even know where to start with critically evaluating these posts really hinders the ability to spread real information. Like, this post will probably get a couple hundred notes, but that video of Coconut being scrubbed had almost 400,000 likes when I took that screenshot. Think about how many eyeballs that's reached by now. What I'm saying here is that it's just... really important to think critically about who you're getting your information from. What do dissenters say in the comments? What do other professionals say? You won't find a single herpetologist that has anything good to say about Prehistoric Pets, I can tell you that right now.

Another reason you can trust me is that my sources are not "just trust me bro," or "years of experience pretending my pet shop where animals come to die is a real zoo." Instead, here are my primary sources for my information on alligator behavior:

Dragon Songs: Love and Adventure among Crocodiles, Alligators, and Other Dinosaur Relations- Vladimir Dinets

The Secret Social Lives of Reptiles- J. Sean Doody, Vladimir Dinets, Gordon M. Burghardt

Social Behavior Deficiencies in Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Z Walsh, H Olson, M Clendening, A Rycyk

Social Displays of the American Alligator (Alligator mississippiensis)- Kent Vliet

Social Signals and Behaviors of Adult Alligators and Crocodiles- Leslie Garrick, Jeffery Lang

Never smile at a crocodile: Gaping behaviour in the Nile crocodile at Ndumo Game Reserve, South Africa- Cormac Price, Mohamed Ezat, Céline Hanzen, Colleen Downs (this one's Nile crocs, not American alligators, but it's really useful for modeling an understanding of gape behaviors and proximity)

Thermoregulatory Behavior of Captive American Alligators (Alligator mississippiensis)- Cheryl S. Asa, Gary D. London, Ronald R. Goellner, Norman Haskell, Glenn Roberts, Crispen Wilson

Unprovoked Mouth Gaping Behavior in Extant Crocodylia- Noah J. Carl, Heather A. Stewart, Jenny S. Paul

Thank you for reading! Here's a very happy wild alligator from Sanibel for your trouble.