#screaming and crying and biting my knuckles

[kurtbrussels]

[greghatecrimes]

He is so gentle with her. I'm going to put my head through drywall

[writers-potion]

Let's Talk About Pacing Our Fight Scenes.

For Fast-Paced Parts:

Short words with single syllables. Immediately > at once/ endeavour > try/ indicate > point at/ investigate > check out.

Short sentences, the shorter the better.

Partial sentences to blaze through multiple senses and actions within a few lines.

Short paragraphs

Lots of verbs.

Few adjectives and adverbs.

Cut down on -ing form of verbs, as it can make words longer

Use simple past tense

Avoid conjunctions and link words.

Avoid internal thought - your characters are irrational, ruthless and in the flow of pure action.

For Slow-Paced Parts:

Use medium/long sentences

the paragraphs are longer: three lines minimum

Include longer words with more syllables

Use adjectives and maybe a couple of adverbs.

Insert the thoughts of the PoV character.

Words for Action Scenes

act, alter, attack, avert, back, block, bang, bash, battle, beat, beg, belt, bend, best, bite, blacken, bleed, blind, blister, blow, blunt, boil, bolt, boot, bore, bow, box, brace, brag, brash, brawl, break, breathe, brush, buck, bulgde, burn, burst, cackle, call, can, carry, cart, carve, catch, check, chop, chuck, clack, clank, clap, clash, claw, clear, cleave, click, cliff, cling, clip, close, club, cock, coil, cold, collar, come, con, connect, corner, cost, count, counter, cover, cower, crack, crackle, cram, crash, crawl, creep, crinkle, cross, crouch, rush, cry, cuff, cull, cup, curl, curse, curve, cusp, cut, dart, dash, deepen, dig, deep, dip, ditch, drive, drop, duck, dump, ede, effect, erect, escape, exert, expect, feint, fight, fire fist, fit, flag, flare, flash, flick, fling, flip, flock, force, gash, gasp, get, gore, grab, grasp, grip, grope, group, hack, harden, heat, help, hit, hop, hurl, hurry, impale, jab, jar, jerk, join, jolt, jump, keep, kick, kill, knee, knock, knot, knuckle, leak, leap, let, lever, lick, lift, lock, loop, lop, plunge, mask, nick, nip, open, oppose, pace, pack, pain, pair, pale, palm, pan, pant, parry, part, pass, paste, pat, peak, peck, pelt, pick, pierce, pile, ping, piss, pit, pivot, plot, pluck, plug, plunge, ply, point, pool, pop, pose, pot, pound, pour, powder, pray, preen, prepare, prey, prick, prickle, print, probe, pry, pull, pulp, pulse, pump, punch, pursue, push, quarry, quarter, quest, race, raise, rake, ram, rap, rasp, rear, retreat, rip, riposte, rivert, roar, rock, roll, rope, round, rouse, run, rush, sap, scale, scalp, scan, score,scream, seek, seep, shake, shape, sharpen, shock, shoot, shop, slap, slap, slash, slice, slick, slip, slit, smash, snap, snare, snatch, snipe, sock, space, spar, spark, speed, spike, spill, spin, spit, splash, spoil, spring, spur, spurt, spy, squirm, stand, steert, step, stick, strap, strike, stuff, suck, support, swat, sweat, sweep, swingm tack, tag, take, target, taste, team, tear, tent, test, thrash, throw, thrust, thud, tick, tide, tilt, time, tire, top, toss, tower, toy, trap, trick, trigger, trip, triumph, trouble, trump, try, tuck, tug, twril, twitch, weaken, wet, whip, whirl, whirr, whoop, whoosh, whop, work, zap, zip.

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[starniolosposts]

impulsive

pairing: chris sturniolo x reader

summary: chris impulsively texts you, and it end up with him between your thighs.

warnings: smut, face sitting, short oneshot

notes: hope you like it, don’t read if you don’t like sexual content! ill make more fluff in the future! btw pink is texts

chris: hi, can you sit on my face??

you: dont know where this is coming from but yes i can

chris: really? like actually? you’re serious?

you: how about you come over and i can show you how serious i am?

chris: omw

“fuck fuck fuck.” you whined, head falling foward to stare down at your best friend between your thighs.

you let out a cry as his lips sucked roughly around your clit, your knuckles turning white as you clutched onto your headboard.

chris’ eyes rolled to the back of his head, getting drunk off the taste of you. he couldn’t get enough of your pussy, veined hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you in place. he forced you to ride his face until you screamed from his tongue and mouth, shaking and convulsing. he still didn’t stop though, but its not like you wanted him to.

your glazed over eyes found his lovestruck ones peering up at you as he slowly flicked his tongue into your dripping pussy, making your legs tremble at the sight. this was something you had fantasized about but never thought would come true, considering chris was your best friend and never indicated he had wanted anything more.

“o-oh my god, i’m cumming again.” you squealed, muscles tensing weakly as you orgasmed once again. he groaned into your cunt at the taste of your cum dribbling down into his mouth, your hips jerked in over-sensitivity as he continued his tongue movements with vigor.

“c-chris! i cant!” you whimpered, trying to pull off of him but his hands pulled your pussy back down towards his panting mouth, making you sob in overstimulation.

“stop moving. you’ll cum as many times as i say, alright?” he murmured, softly kissing your clit and making you flinch from the burning pleasure. it was borderline painful, but that just made you moan more and louder.

“h-hurts! oh fuck, feels so f-fucking good.” you cry out, your hips now subconsciously rocking against chris’ mouth, seeking out the scorching pain and pleasure he gives you over and over and over.

“you like sitting on my face, baby? my tongue in your pussy?” he lewdly asks while catching his breath, hands massaging your thick thighs that tighten around his head. jesus, he would happily live and die here on this bed, with you sitting on his face.

you mindlessly nod, small tears building in your waterline. your definitely disheveled, your hair is a mess, eyes half lidded, and mouth slightly parted.

he smacks his hand down on your thigh when you don’t answer, making you gasp. he could feel your cunt clench.

“answer me, y/n. or did i fuck you too stupid to speak?”

chris’ words only make you whine and move your hips, trying to get him to just continue even if you knew it would hurt to orgasm again. you wanted it.

he doesn’t comply. he starts to tease you, kissing and biting your inner thighs but not going to where you want him.

you groan in frustration, body trembling with need as your chest heaves with heavy breaths. your pussy clenches around nothing, and you know he can tell his teasing is affecting you by the smirk on his glistening lips.

“what is it, y/n? did i really fuck you stupid? use your words.”

you glare down at him as your pleasure fades away, but the constant throb of need is there. “chris.” you grumble, sighing as he kisses your thigh.

“there ya go, atta girl. now tell me what you want.” his voice is low and causing goosebumps to rise on your hot skin.

“i want you.” you whisper honestly, and you lock half lidded eyes with him. you both know you mean that in more ways than one, not just sexually.

chris’ adams apple bobs as he swallows and then smiles with relief and infatuation. “good. i want you too.”

“then hurry up, chris.” you whine, bringing your hips down in a desperate motion, “please fuck me.”

(not proofread or edited)

[hottestvirgin]

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒: 𝐍𝐀 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍 ⊹ ࣪ ˖

warnings. dom!jaemin, sub!reader, smut, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dirty talk, passing out, overstimulation, squirting, creampie

it hasn’t even been an hour into this picnic and your boyfriend’s already horny. his excuse? your sundress.

you couldn’t blame him. you looked so pretty in this new dress and you knew it. jaemin loved how much the white piece of cloth set off your glowing skin.. but especially your curves.

“i wanna fuck you so bad.” jaemin tells you in that tone where it’s both playful and serious but it weirdly sends a shiver down your spine.

tsking at his words, you take a strawberry between your plush lips, taking a bite. jaemin licks his lips slowly, still holding your gaze. “you gon’ let me?”

taking a few seconds to scope the scenery, surrounded by tall, pretty trees, you nod at his words. “let’s be quick.”

so that’s how you found yourself bent over the picnic blanket with your dress bunched up around your waist. the center of your soaking panties pulled to the side so jaemin can bully his thick cock into your dripping cunt.

he’s gripping onto the amassed dress, knuckles turning white. he uses the cloth to hold and pull you back onto his cock to meet his thrusts, creating a creamy ring on his shaft.

you were choking on your own saliva from how often you were forgetting to swallow. your mouth’s just agape and it makes each thrust of his rough hips punch a moan out of your poor lungs.

“gimme your hands.” jaemin grunts and he wraps his own hands around your forearms, leaning slightly back and using your arms to balance his weight and pound into you.

the sweet, lewd sounds of your ass clapping back onto his skin fills nature’s silence.

you didn’t know what to do with yourself. jaemin never slows his hips, abusing that sweet, soft gushy spot inside of you. “s—shiiit. juzz.. just like that. pleeeze.”

“yeah? feels good huh?” jaemin grins at your slurred words and straightens his posture, pushing you down onto your stomach to sit on the back of your thighs, burying his cock further into you.

he holds your head down, slamming his hips into you and fuck. you were seeing fucking stars. not even stars anymore. suddenly, just black. and jaemin keeps rutting into your unconscious body, reaching over to cup and squeeze your plush cheeks together.

“you still with me, baby?” jaemin’s hand snakes down to your waist, squeezing there and you gain consciousness, squirting around him with a scream.

he holds down your squirming body, finding amusement in how you’re trying to pull away from his hold.

“so cute.. tryna’ run from it?” jaemin coos and lands a hard blow on your ass, earning a squeal from you.

“i can’t! i can’t take it.. gonna cum..” you whine, thighs starting to quiver uncontrollably.

“you can take it, pretty. doin’ so good for me, shit.” jaemin grunts, feeling his own orgasm approaching, “making such a mess on me, is my dick that good?”

you nod rapidly at his question, drooling against your arm. “love your cock soooo much.”

he hums at your words. “mhm.. i hear you. i’m in so fuckin’ deep, you feel that?” jaemin still his hips, pushing his cock in to the hilt while he lays on top of your back. and fuck. fuckfuckfuck. this had you over the edge on whatever you were clinging onto.

“oh my god.. baby, m’ gonna cum— i’m coming..” you cry into your arms, biting onto your skin to suppress the screams that tries to escape your lungs.

and jaemin rocks his hips against you. so slow and devoted, and you’re clenching hard around him, coming so fucking hard that your whole body shakes.

“f-fuck. i’m coming..” jaemin chants as he rides out his orgasm, panting your fluttering walls with his fluids. he lays his forehead onto your back, panting heavily.

“Y/N?” he calls out, shaking your shoulder. fuck, you had passed out again.

[inklore]

code breaker

premise: there’s always been something there, between the two of you. unspoken and filling in the cracks of those moments where joel is helping you out of a tough situation and your offering up a thank you and sweet smile. if only it didn’t take bloody knuckles and some band-aids to finally crack the code of that something.

pairing: joel miller x (f)reader

word count: 6.2k

warnings: eighteen+ content, unprotected p in v, smut with feelings really, fem receiving oral, friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, mentions of violence and blood, alcohol mention, toxic exes and relationships discussed, dirty talk, biting and love marks mention, lots of banter, au (preoutbreak).

note: i meant for this to be darker but it turned out wayyy more fluffy and i’m actually really happy about it. i hella edited this but it still feels choppy so if it is i’m sorry ya girl has bad eyes lmao. gif made by me so don’t be an ass and steal it tysm <3

There’s words you should be saying right now. Expressing. Spilling from your mouth in a heap of thank you, I appreciate you, what would I do without you always being there for me…

But they just can’t seem to come out. The speech part of your brain—and your heart—aching and prompting you to speak. To show courtesy, your vocal cords refuse to let you get out. Like your mouth has forgotten its purpose, your throat hoarse from screaming Joel’s name in the chaos of thrown fists, people shouting, men trying and failing to haul Joel’s weight off of the bloodied body below it.

The blood on his knuckles pulls your eyes in like a neon sign: caked, dark, and drying the longer the air gets to it. If it hurts Joel doesn’t state it—show it as he grips the steering wheel. You’ve never thrown a punch before, have never seen something like this up close and personal. You excelled at resolving conflicts before they arose. Never let arguments get past the phase of unfair yelling. But you would assume his knuckles must be aching, even if only a dull pounding.

You know for certain your ex's face is.

Good. 

You hadn’t expected him to show up at the bar, your job. Hadn’t expected him to start in on the possessive act—coincidently the local patrons were less than surprised at the all-too-cliché behavior. The town having labeled him as bad news ages ago. Something you had to learn the hard way, when you finally took off those rose colored glasses. 

Joel had been staring at you for the duration of the exchange. Even after your ex left to hang out with a group of his buddies in the corner, his gaze lingered on you.

"You alright?" He asked as he slid his glass towards you, his forearm leaning against the bar. A wordless nod letting you know he wanted another. 

"Yeah, he’s not the first creep I've had to deal with. It's in our DNA as women to deal with the lesser species of the male population."

"Can’t tell if that makes me feel better or worse as a father."

"Oh," you send him a sweet smile. Setting his refilled whiskey in front of him, "no creep dare mess with Sarah. I’ve seen her make jocks cry."

"That’s my girl, taught her well." The grin he wraps around the rim of the glass makes something girlish—and foolish—spark in your stomach. 

Maybe if you had a man like Joel in your life, you would be less likely to keep making the same mistakes with no-good assholes who are good for a week and bad for the rest of the 358 days. 

A girl can dream. 

And she has. Embarrassingly. 

The two of you had continued to talk, your hip pressed against the bar as you cleaned a glass; perhaps you had been smiling and laughing too hard at what Joel was saying because your ex was back and grabbing you from across the bar in an instant.

An action that quickly landed him passed out and bloodied on the bar floor, and your boss trying to make sure Joel hadn’t taught him too good of a lesson to have him see God. 

And while the adrenaline of shock had been bruising your heart against your rib cage, your lungs devoid of air—when Joel had put his non-bloody hand against your arm, calling your name (the white noise of the commotion in the bar creating an impenetrable barrier to your ear drums), a warm thumb under your chin pulling your attention away from the limp body on the floor and up into his eyes—that adrenaline melted and turned into serendipity. 

Gratefulness. 

Those girlish sparks turning into an entire flame that quickly engulfed you as he asked if you were okay. As he comforted you with a barely there touch on your arm and chin, concern in his dark eyes. Concern for what? Frightening you? 

When your gaze is drawn to his knuckles, his body language responds with a grimace. When you see the gashes only bone against bone brings. 

He’s worried he’s upset you. As if he's done something wrong.

When he insists on driving you home you don’t argue. Wouldn’t dream of it even if the circumstances were different. It wouldn't be the first time he drove you home because your beat-up car wouldn't start or because the weather was bad and your anxiety was high.

That’s the thing about Joel. 

He was always there. 

If you needed help, he always seemed to find time. 

Because of this, and the aforementioned beating your toxic ex to a pulp, you shouldn't be allowing the silence to spread between the two of you like strangers. Like something in the air was making everything awkward, like you hadn’t sat in his truck a dozen times before. Like he hasn’t gotten you out of a pinch (minus the blood) before. 

And after he’s pulled into your driveway, engine turned off, the cicadas and crickets filling the silence, it’s Joel who finally speaks. 

Who cracks that barrier you have mentally been trying so hard to climb over. 

"I’m sorry if I," he clears his throat, flexes his fingers against the steering wheel. "If I overstepped." 

And the ridiculousness of him even apologizing has your mouth finally moving into action. "Joel, no, oh my gosh, no." Your palm presses against your chest as you look at him apologetically; you should be the only one saying sorry, thanking him, worshiping at his feet for this. "I should be the one saying that. I should have handled it myself or-"

"Or what?" He looks almost angry, shocked at your words. "He had a hold of you, and no disrespect, but I ain’t ever seen you kill a fly, let alone throw a punch at someone." 

"Hey! I could punch someone." 

"Could and would are two different things." 

"You sayin I couldn’t?" 

"I’m sayin' you wouldn’t." 

"Not tough enough?" 

"Your heart's too big." 

"If you knew how hard I was holding back the urge to prove you wrong by bruising that bicep of yours, Joel Miller, you’d think differently." Your scowl and threat only seem to amuse him because he’s grinning at you. "You’re lucky you’re injured." 

"I’m shaking in my boots." 

"As you should be." The laugh the two of you share makes your cheeks burn.  On the outside, many could and have labeled Joel as a complicated man. A man who takes a lot of nudging and persistence to get to know past that surface-level workaholic grump he sometimes displays. But he’s a man who would lend a hand at the drop of a hat. A man with honor embedded in his very DNA.

There’s a list you’ve kept in the back of your mind that has every bullet point filled out and doodled hearts around the edges of all the reasons Joel is a good man. A man you trust. A man you adore.

"Thank you, Joel." He starts to shake his head, but you stop him with your palm resting on his forearm, "thank you. "You're right, I don't think I even know how to make a proper fist, let alone connect it." Your soft laugh makes the corners of his lips tick up. "You didn’t hesitate to help me. You never do. It means a lot to me, I hope you know that."

He nods, his eyes only on your face. Listening. Taking in every word you’re saying, even if you know he hates the fact that you’re thanking him for this. But he deserves to know how much you appreciate him.

Your hand moves to his wrist, gently yanking it away from his vice-like grip on the wheel. Your index finger runs along a vein at the top of his hand—the one spot the blood didn’t cake on to. "Does it hurt?" 

"No. Between the callouses and the whiskey, it’s nothing more than a cat scratch." 

"You should still get it looked at."

"You’re looking at it, aren’t ya?" 

Your eyes roll. "I’m not a doctor, Joel." 

"All a doctors gonna tell me is to be more careful, hand me a band-aid, and charge me three hundred dollars."

"Well, in that case," you drop his hand and grab for the door. The dry summer air ineffective to your already burning skin from the man whose raising his brows at you, "I got band aids in the house, and I didn’t get to finish my shift, which means you owe me three hundred in tips alone sooo."

"There's barely three hundred people in this town, and you’re tellin me you make that in tips?" 

"Joel, just get in the damn house." You order, slamming the door of his truck and walking up the path to your front door. Smiling when you hear him huff and grumble under his breath as he gets out. 

A hiss—and a scowl so deadly it could scare away even the biggest and badest of grown men—has Joel’s hand twitching in your hold as you run a wet cloth along the tops of his knuckles. The fabric pulling up the caked on flecks of dried blood, the surface of the cuts along the bone already starting the healing process from being clotted with red. 

"I thought you said it didn’t hurt?" You smirk playfully. 

"Whiskey’s wearin' off," he grunts. 

"Or," you dab the cloth in the small cap of saline solution you’ve pulled from your first aid kit under the sink. Bringing it back to his skin to press gently across his cuts, his body tensing. "You’re human after all," his eyes roll. 

"Don’t alert the press." 

"Oh, they’ve already been informed." 

His hand rests on your thigh as you ball up some tissues to dry the area around his knuckles. Enough to keep the band-aids—the only thing he would allow you to use because gauze would just get in the way at work, he informed you when you insisted—from falling off. The heat from his palm burns through your jeans, and it's a blessing in and of itself that you're ignoring how it makes your insides feel; how your body's warmth is no match for how hot he feels. His legs are spread, body slouched against your couch, his knee against yours. A closeness he’s never been before. A casual touch and directness between friends that shouldn’t be making you feel feverish and cheeky. 

When he flexes his fingers a couple times and his fingertips run along the top of your thigh, you find yourself wishing you’d worn a dress to work. A skirt. Anything to have been able to feel him do that against your bare skin. A thought you chide yourself for. A thought you hope isn’t written all over your face when you look over at Joel and he’s staring at you. Eyes darker, expression unreadable and stoic, in that way you can never tell what emotion he’s feeling at that exact moment. He gives nothing away but still sends your stomach plummeting. 

After the band-aids have been stuck and you’ve cleaned up the mess on your coffee table you offer him a drink. 

"Unless you have to get back to Sarah, then I understand."

"She’s with a friend tonight." 

"You gonna tell her how you saved the day, all knight and shining armor style?" You tease as you walk back to the living room with two beers in hand, putting one in Joel’s outstretched one and the other to your lips. Taking a sip as you take your place beside him once again, this time a leg pulled under you as you face him. 

He snorts, "don’t know about all that."

"I’m sure word has already gotten around. Her friends are probably gabbing about how heroic Mr. Miller is, a real prince charming." You laugh when you see his grin. 

"Or," he says, swallowing the sip he's just taken. "She’ll give me that death glare that all teenagers possess after puberty, you know the one?"

"Oh, I know the one. Mine was so fierce my mother banned it from our house."

"It’s deadly."

"Truly."

"I’m sure prince charming will be the last thing connected to my actions. Rage and jackass sound more on the money." 

You frown. Watch as he stares down at the result of the rage he thinks will now be accompanied with his name. Tarnishing it that now people will forget the kindness that was once there, the man whose hardworking now turned into something vile all because of an act of heroism some might find obscene; with how much blood and possible damage it has caused to one mans face, you could understand why such an act would be. 

But to you—and those who knew how horrible your ex had been, how he had deserved every bone crunching punch, every spit of blood and teeth choked on—you knew that what Joel did was right. And maybe, somewhere deep down in those morals against violence everyone gets handed out to them at birth, you knew that Joel could be sitting in a jail cell instead of on your couch if those punches had been any worse. If it had been pure untamed rage like some will say. 

"You’re a good man, Joel. So you potentially hospitalized an asshole, who hasn’t?" Your heart leaps in your chest when he laughs, and you thank God that your joke landed. Thank him that this man with his disheveled hair that's begging to have a hand run through it, work shirt and jeans looking like they’ve seen better days—is in your life. Not every girl has someone willing to bruise another man's face while destroying the hand that's needed to do their job properly.

No one had acted as quick as Joel had. 

Joel Miller was a good man. 

"What did you see in him anyway?" Joel asks, taking another sip of his beer. His gaze is drawn to you from the hole he was burning into his hand. 

And if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know. 

Couldn’t answer that question with the full truth because you didn’t know why you always went for the assholes. The guys who liked to scream instead of talk it out. Who liked to steal money from your wallet for booze or a habit they couldn’t kick. The ones who never remembered your birthday but made sure didn't forget theirs.

Your father had been a great man. Your mother an amazing woman. You couldn’t take the easy way out and blame it on family trauma. 

So you answered with the only viable reason that came to mind. 

"Loneliness makes you ignore all the bad stuff." You take a sip, swallow it down (washing away the pinpricks of potential embarrassment for being so brutally honest with Joel). "It makes you talk yourself out of throwing all their stuff to the curb or burning it in your backyard, because it’s not always bad. Some days are good. Some of them wait to be assholes before the novelty wears off; others wait until you're two years in and they’ve already slept with half the town behind your back. And some will bring you flowers every time they mess up, until one day you look around and realize you don't have any room to put this new vase and there's dried flower petals all over your floors. But hey, at least you’re not lonely, and your house smells really good." 

The smile on your lips fades when you see the look on Joel’s face. See that he’s finding no humor in this story. And the gulp that swallows down the beer in your hands burns your throat the entire way down. Your cheeks are burning, and you have to look away from him. Distract yourself by picking at the label on the bottle. 

"Or maybe it’s as cliché as saying I haven’t found the right one yet." You try to save, nervously chuckling under your breath. In hopes that he forgets everything you’ve just said and clings to this one shitty joke. 

"Look at me."

You do, and you wish you hadn’t. The roughness of his voice makes your stomach swoop and fall like a rollercoaster of emotions you did not prepare yourself for. Hadn’t imagined this being in your future when you’d walked into work. But you’re looking at him. Meeting his eyes. Seeing the stern glower in them before he speaks. 

There’s a million things you imagine him saying. Telling you how much better you are than that, than all of those meaningless assholes. How you deserve better, and you’ll find it someday. Hell, you expect him to scold you with how low his brows are.

What you don’t expect is to feel his lips on yours. His fingers digging into the skin at the back of your neck, his chest inches from your now-heaving one. And it renders you speechless. Still. Your brain not computing with the signals your nerves are giving off right now. 

When he pulls away and looks at you, it takes you several blinks to meet his gaze. The air in your lungs weighing your chest down. You shouldn’t speak. Should allow yourself to get your bearings in order. To catch your breath and sort through everything you’re feeling right now. "Was that a pity kiss?" 

"A what—pity kiss?" 

"Cause of the," you swallow, lick your lips, "of the aforementioned assholes?" 

Joel’s breath fans across your face when he chuckles, "anyone who’d pity kiss you deserves to be added to that list of assholes. And I might be on many asshole lists, but hopefully not on yours." The fingers on your neck skate forward to your cheek, thumb pressed gently along your jawline. His features grow serious again. "I didn’t just knock that asshole out because he had it comin'. And if you haven't noticed, I’m either working or at home with Sarah. Both keepin' me more than busy."

"Too busy to be making house calls for leaky faucets and tarnishing your good name with your fists?" 

"Exactly." 

There's a long pause between you two, as if you're both waiting for the other to say something, anything, to put these unspoken mutual feelings out there.

"Joel, are you saying you coming over to fix my faucet and staying for the occasional beer was you…flirting?" The grin he gives you makes you laugh, "who taught you how to flirt? And please don’t say Tommy."

"No. If I had listened to him we’d be–" he doesn’t finish. Just shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. 

And maybe affirmative action with your hands wasn’t your forte, maybe you couldn’t do what needed to be done when it came in the form of actions. But when it came to words, to saying what you wanted, needed, craved when it was right here in front of you being hinted and teased at, you didn’t hesitate. 

"Maybe you should have listened to Tommy." Your hand mirrors his own, resting on his cheek. You already knew he ran hot from his palm alone. But his cheek feels just as warm as you do, burning right through to your bones. His gaze falls to your parted lips, and a decision is made in the seconds it takes him to return his gaze to yours.

An agreement. 

"C'mere." His lips collide with yours in a heated kiss of nicks of teeth and tongue that taste like whiskey and beer and something that your brain will forever recognize as Joel. A taste you know you’ll be wanting to swallow down again and again. To feel the burn of his beard against your chin until your skin is raw and blotchy from how hard his mouth is devouring yours. An arm wrapped around your waist pulls you into his lap, and your forgotten beers spill and stain the cushions of your couch. "Shit, sorry, let me," Joel starts, but you stop him with your hands on his cheeks. 

"Leave it, just come here." You insist, lips returning to his. 

"Yes, ma’am." His smirk molds to your mouth, wipes away as his tongue runs along your bottom lip to press against yours. A hand on your ass squeezes and presses you forward so you’re grinding against his lap. The seam of your jeans rubs up against the wet patch that's quickly forming on the fabric of your underwear, becoming sticky and clinging to your pussy. Joel's other hand runs down the column of your neck, gripping and pulling you away from his mouth so that his lips can latch onto your sensitive skin. A gasp leaving your lungs, teeth and tongue making you shudder and cling to his shoulders. 

Shoulders you don't let go of until your back hits the mattress and you're both pulling your shirts above your heads, your fingers quickly working the clip of your bra, joining the discarded pile of shirts and shoes on your bedroom floor.

Your heart feels as if it’s beating a hole through your chest, like it’ll fall into Joel’s hands as he leans over your body, knees between your open legs, as his palms run down your chest, between your breasts. Over the globes of them, calloused thumb circling around your nipple. Your breath caught in your throat as you press yourself up into his touch. He’s taking you in, letting his eyes trail every dip, possible mole, scar, and marking on your skin. How your chest heaves in response to his hand. How your breasts fit in his palm. How you gasp and cry into the air when he leans down and swirls his tongue around one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth, teeth lightly scraping against the sensitive flesh when he pulls off and does the same to the other one. 

His mouth finding its way back to yours again. His hips canting against yours; you can feel his cock digging into your thigh. And when you let your hand skate between the two of you to give him more friction. A dizzying desire to feel more of his heat and need for you burning through your skin and to your core, where you truly crave him. 

The deep grunt that falls from his mouth and onto your waiting tongue sends a shockwave of arousal through your entire body. Being. You want to hear it again, want to pull every noise from this man with your body and mouth until you are both drained and cursing yourselves for not doing this sooner. And you know he wants to do the same. Wants to catalog every pressure point and sensitive bit of your flesh so he can draw this out, can rile you up with a simple touch, scrape of teeth, run of his tongue along your jugular. Until you tell him how badly you can’t stand not having him inside of you. 

He's leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach, his fingers digging into the skin above your jeans, holding your hips still. Preventing you from moving them the way you want to from each press and prickle from his mouth and beard—scalding the nerves of your skin and making your insides whirl. 

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart." Joel murmurs into your skin as his fingers curl into the waistband of your jeans. Your body feels barren and cool away from his heat as he sits back on his knees, your hips lifting as he frees your legs from their confines. His thumb runs along the lace of your underwear, dipping lower and lower until it’s pressing into that wet spot. A silent, smug praise tugs at the corner of his lopsided smile as his eyes look up to yours.

If your mind was working coherently and not filled with Joel Joel Joel (the way he smells woodsy and rugged, the way something deep and gruff reverberates in his chest when your teeth sink into the skin of his neck, and how he keeps looking at you like a fine art piece hung in the Louvre. Movements quick and gentle as he pulls your underwear down your thighs, making quick work to push your legs apart, fingers digging into the back of your thigh as he lets himself take his time adorning you fully on display for him) there'd be a sassy remark aimed at him.

The callus of his thumb nicks your swollen clit, eliciting a whimper from your lips, your hips following the descent of his finger as it spreads you apart. Trailing a line from your clit to dip into your entrance, gathering your arousal on the pad of his finger, his eyes on yours as he presses it against his tongue. A burning hunger in his eyes as he sucks your wetness from his fingers. 

You're a panting mess by the time Joel positions his head between your legs, arms wrapped behind your thighs, lips, teeth, and tongue trailing up your inner thigh. Your fingers clench the blanket in anticipation, need, and want. The closer his mouth gets to your center, the more you can feel his hot breath moving in, the potential love bites and marks he’s leaving on your inner thigh—all a certain type of torture you don’t think you’re strong enough to put up with right now. 

You lift your head to start begging, to plead with your torturer, but he’s speaking before you can. 

"Wanna take my time, sweetheart." His tongue swirls at the joint of your inner thigh. And just as earlier, the words you mean to get out, to speak from the storm cloud of lust in your head, die in the back of your throat when Joel runs the flat of his tongue up the seam of your pussy. The torturous muscle wraps you around his tongue, following the slowest path to your clit, until the tip of his tongue flicks, making a pattern of strokes and licks, until his lips wrap around the swollen nerve, making you feel delirious. Keeps pulling gasps, moans, and pants of pleasure and ecstasy from your parted mouth; head thrown back on pillows; legs trembling around his head from the blazing fire that grows and grows the more he consumes you.

The more his nose nicks your clit when he fucks you with his tongue, the more his fingers dig into your quivering legs to keep you anchored to the bed and his mouth. 

It feels like hours with how slowly he goes. Keeps you dangling from the ledge with every stroke and suck. Every soothing indent his fingers are leaving in your thigh. Your skin slicked with sweat, knuckles cramped from its grip in the blanket. When your moans go up in pitch he goes slower in that motion, that spot that has you seeing stars. Then he lets your breath come back to you with slow strokes of his tongue at your entrance, giving attention to the other parts of you that you didn’t think could elicit such erotic noises from your lungs. 

Your fingers find their way into those disheveled strands you’ve been waiting a lifetime to thread through. To pull and keep yourself from the feeling of floating away from the intensity of the pleasure. From your orgasm coming closer and closer until you’re panting his name, "Joel, Joel, Joel–fuck," your body shaking, the cries pulled out from this man burning your throat as you finally fall from the ledge and into him; his tongue coated in you, his chin wet with your essence. 

Your body sensitive and heavy as you come down, a sweaty heat making you feel sticky. Joel’s fingers seem to bypass every sensitive part though, as his palm caresses the tops of your thighs, your hips, your curves, the side of your breast. Until he’s reached your burning cheeks, mouth pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips. The kiss was slow and gentle. Your arousal coats your taste buds when his tongue meets yours.

The kiss feeling more intimate than before, more heady. Knocking you right back on that loop you just got off of. That ache and throb he just sedated starting again in your belly, moving to where your thighs are soaked. 

"You’re overdressed," you murmur against his lips. Joel kisses you again, your open mouths exchanging a breathy chuckle.

"Do you wanna change that?" 

The question holds more than just the surface level of a joke and an answer of "yeah, obviously."  There’s a seriousness to it that makes you pull back from his lips and stare up at him. His thumb traces a soothing pattern into the bottom of your chin, his eyes holding an unspoken reassurance that he’s fine with it ending right here. With him just pleasing you, getting to take you apart and reassemble you with tender touches and a torturous mouth.

It can be all about you.

It is all about you.

You deserve nothing less.

His eyes and soft grin speak unspoken. 

Your nod is slow and reassuring. Your fingertips copy the motions of his thumb against the patches of skin in his damp beard. "Unless you’d rather help me get the stain out of my couch that you caused."

"I caused?" His brows shoot up. 

"It's to be expected when you can't keep your hands off of me," you say before shrieking as he pinches your side. His lips kissing your scowl away—a problem you foresee in the near future.

The kiss lasts for minutes (centuries you wish). Your fingertips never lift from the other's face, moving along jawlines, chins, and cheek bones. His chest comfortably against yours, giving you that heat you missed so dearly. His cock still stiff and hot in his jeans, grinding slowly against your pelvis. 

Is this how it’s supposed to feel? When feelings haven't even been discussed yet, but you just know? Already know what each touch, kiss, and caress holds behind it. Telling a wordless story in the way he had wanted to give you pleasure first—to taste—and take his time making you feel everything his mouth could do. Everything he wanted to do to you.

He wasn’t thinking about himself after the fact. Wasn’t rushing to put you in a position that made it all about his pleasure. Giving you little to no space to cool down, regain your bearings, and have that fire slowly relight and become more tantalizing, as he is right now.

You really did date assholes. 

Your fingers move to his chest, splaying your palm along his body until you’ve reached where he’s hard and pressing against you. Your fingers curl around the outline of him. Stroking, massaging. 

"I want you, Joel." You breathe into his mouth. 

He growls against your lips in something akin to frustration and agony. It makes something inside of you sink, overthink that maybe he doesn’t actually want to push it past the points you’ve already reached. Maybe it’s too much, all too soon, for this new territory of your friendship—even if it already seemed a little too late with the couch confessions and his saliva still coating your center. 

He must see the thoughts volleying in your head because he’s scolding himself under his breath and shaking his head. A soothing touch placed on your skin. "I feel like I’m some horny teenager again, with how bad I want you." His chuckle soothes your heart, "I don’t have-"

And you can't help but laugh at his waving hand towards his pockets and the sentence he's about to finish.

"Jesus, Joel. Bless anyone who's ever thought you were the ungentlemanly type." Here you were worrying about whether or not he wanted you, the proof being clearer than just his dick against your fingers. While the only thing on his mind was protection. 

"Glad I’m amusin’ to you." 

Cupping his cheeks, you pull him back to your lips. "All a girl wants is a decent man to make her laugh, not break her heart, and be able to make her come. And so far you’ve done all three." You let your tongue slip between your mouths and run along his bottom lip, "I’m good if you are." 

I’m clean.

I take a little pill every day because life is chaotic enough and I don’t want any surprises. 

We’re protected.

Now take me already.

The drag of your tongue, the roll of your hips against him, the little whimper you let out when he bites your lip—speaks for you.

It’s all either of you needs to rid Joel of his jeans: hands tangled in belt loops, tugs, pulls, pushing until he’s completely bare in front of you. Your breath hitches when you feel the underside of his cock spreading you and running along your clit slowly and languidly. The heat of him feels nothing compared to your own, the throb and ache of requisite in every roll and drag. 

And when neither of you can stand it anymore, when he’s grunting and you’re begging, he leans up on an elbow, hand wrapped around his cock, lining himself up to your entrance. Your breath leaves your lungs, stomach falling falling down to where he’s pushing into you. Stretching you, filling you until there’s no telling where either of you ends or begins. Attached by that intangible string of pleasure and bliss of only being able to feel each other.

"Fuck," Joel groans. Mouth finding your shoulder, breath hot and heavy. His thrusts start leisurely, taking his time in that way you’re learning he loves to do. Loves to compartmentalize up what you need—more, faster, harder. Going off of the moans panted into his neck, nails digging into his back. 

There's a hand gripped in the pillow beside your head, another at your breast, his mouth connected to your neck, your jaw, your chin, your lips. His hips slamming against your open thighs, thrusts deep, sharp. His cock hitting places that make your back arch, his name strung together with pleas for more. The slapping of skin and wet squelching of bodily fluids between the two of you making a symphony of lewd delight. 

When the hand at your breast hikes up one of your legs, the cry you let out is swallowed by his mouth. The deeper he fucks into you, the more your body shakes, the more you feel him completely consuming you. turning you into someone who will never get enough of this. Of him. Of how good he's making you feel. 

"Sound s’pretty," his tongue brushes against the underside of your chin, teeth nipping at the bone. A trail of him brought down to the shell of your ear. Where his heavy breaths and grunts fill you just as his cock does. Fills you to the brink of pain turned satisfying pleasure, as each stroke brings you closer to a precipice he’s already pushed you from. "Can’t believe I held myself back from you."

"Joel."

"I should knock out every asshole who thought to hurt you, t’not love you the way you deserve. Put you first," he slips his hand between your slick bodies, palm hot against your pelvis as his thumb rubs fast tight circles around your clit. His words getting filthier, ragged. Becoming heaving breaths against your ear as he fucks you faster. As his thumb matches the pace, as you grow closer and closer. Led by his words and pushed over by his cock. 

"That’s it, sweetheart." He’s encourages as you come. As he fucks you through it, as that white-hot heat makes your body contort against his. Cling and squeeze around him. The string of groans and curses, your name mixed with something incoherent but soft and deep, makes your chest swish—bit into your skin as Joel comes not long after. 

And after the two of you have cleaned up enough to call it satisfactory, two new beers condensing on your night stand. Your cheek pressed into his chest as your bodies lay pressed together under your sheet. His chin resting atop your forehead, a soft brush of fingertips at your spine—there’s cheesy grins on your faces, "Tommy’s going to have a heyday."

"He owes me fifty bucks."

There’s faux shock on your face when you turn and lean on your elbow to look at him, "excuse me?"

"He didn't think I'd ever tell ya," Joel shrugs as his hand caresses your shoulder. A fondness in his eyes, "I never do anything for myself." You press a kiss to his thumb, "I think we both deserve something good for once though." 

"I guess I solved the mystery of how to get Joel Miller to be soft," you joke. Nip at the skin of his thumb playfully. 

"I ain’t soft." He grumbles.

"Postcoitous Joel disagrees with that statement," you say. The dramatic roll his eyes do makes you laugh. Your teeth nipping his thumb harder, a bite this time, you shift so you’re on top of him. Sitting up on your knees. "Since this bet is half at my expense.."

"Expense, huh?" His palm grabs a handful of your ass and squeezes, causing you to rock in his lap. His cock already twitching to life again.

"I think we should get you your money's worth," you smirk.

"That's the smartest thing you've said all night," his fingers tangled in your back hair, pulling your mouth down to his in a hard kiss, before you get the chance to at least pretend to be offended.

[mother-honour]

Actions have consequences. Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN Civilian! Spouse! Reader) Part 2

( A very quick authors note before the fic- HOLY GODAMN CHRIST. I did not expect part 1 to reach so many likes- Ya'll are absolutely amazing ^^) @v1x3n

Summary: You still haven't woken up after that fateful day, and it's tearing him apart.

CW: Simon being an absolute wreck, Price giving hugs, swearing, emotional hurt, heavy angst, hospital visits, in-accurate military stuff, character death (?)

These past three weeks have been nothing but pure torture for Simon.

You still haven't woken up after all this time, and it was tearing him apart. Whenever he couldn't be by your side, he sat at home, silently crying to himself as guilt crushed him on the inside. He didn't eat, he didn't sleep, and he couldn't pretend that everything was normal while you were fighting for your life.

Because of him, he kept reminding himself.

The longer it took, the worse Simon got. He started to make mistakes on the field. Ghost, a well-respected man in his field, was acting like a rookie who just got out of basic training. His head wasn't with the 141; it was always stuck on you. The team had begun to notice as well. Price was the first, of course, knowing Simon as well as he did.

The captain had noticed it the first day he had come back to base. There was something unknown lingering in the lieutenant's eyes, and it was coming to bite him in the ass. After Simon made a mistake that could've caused multiple casualties, Price had enough. "Ghost. My office, now." He spoke sternly after the four of them got back. The lieutenant obeyed automatically, following the price mindlessly. Once the office door clicked behind them, Price turned around to face him.

"Now, you are going to tell me what the hell has been going through that bloody brain of yours." The captain crossed his arms, his form burning with authority as he stared at his lieutenant with hard eyes. "Every since 3 weeks ago, you have been making mistakes left and right." The captain huffed as he ran a hand over his face. His eyes had somewhat softened as he placed a hand on Simon's shoulder.

"Simon, whatever is bothering you, I need you to tell me. As your captain, it is my responsibility that you can do your job properly and keep you safe, no matter if it is physical or mental." It was then that Simon finally broke. He dropped to his knees with an agonizing cry, hot tears streaming down his face as he pounded his fist into the floor. "ITS ALL MY FAULT!" He yelled between harsh sobs.

"ITS ALL MY FUCKING FAULT PRICE! IF I HADN'T SAID ANYTHING-" Strong arms wrapped around Simon as he reached his breaking point, pulling him close as the comforting voice of Price filled his ears. "I got you, son. I got you." Simon's breath hitched as he let himself cry into his captain's shoulder. He didn't care about being professional right now; he just needed comfort.

And right now, Price was the one to give him that.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After letting his heart out to Price, he allowed Simon to take the week off. 'You need it more than ever, Simon.' Price had said as he escorted him outside of the base. 'Just make sure to screw your head back on before you get back?' Simon couldn't help but let out a forced chuckle at his captain's last statement, leaving to go back to you shortly after. He had the steering wheel in an iron grip, his knuckles turning white as he drove down the road.

The same road leads to your shared house.

The same road you drove on before-

The booming horn of a truck came from Simon's left, snapping him out of his thoughts as he swung just in time to avoid the crash. His eyes were wide, and his palms were sweating as he looked back at the truck that was speeding off into the distance. Simon shook his head firmly as he focused back on the road, the agonizing voice in his head screaming at him that, in an alternate scenario, you would've been able to come back home safe.

Simon pressed the gas, surely going over the speed limit as he came closer and closer to his destination. He bolted out of the car and towards the front desk as soon as the tired came to a stop, scaring the shit out of the elder lady who was just enjoying a cup of tea. Her wide eyes softened once she recognized the man who had come here every day to visit you.

She didn't even need to say anything as she nodded toward the left, allowing him to proceed further without writing anything down. Gratitude flashed in Simon's eyes as he ran down the halls, up the stairs, to the 4th floor.

He almost stumbled over his own feet as he reached your room, swiftly opening the door as the beeping of a heart monitor met his ears. There you were, still lying in bed with an oxygen mask over your face. Most of your wounds have healed up; only parts of your body are being bandaged up now. Simon's feet guided him towards the bed, tears welling up in his eyes as he once again sat down on the chair next to your bedside.

"Hey, love." He spoke softly while taking your hand in his. "Sorry for taking so long this time." Simon swallowed thickly. "The captain has given me some time off, which means I get to spend more time with you." His body began to shake as his bottom lip trembled.

"I'd love to treat you to lunch. We could go to your favorite place. With the silly black cat, you love so much." Simon's voice began to crack, hot tears streaming down his face as he held onto your hand. "I miss you so much, baby. Please… come back to me." He pleaded between sobs. You, however, remained unresponsive, the soft sounds of your breathing being the only thing to answer him.

Simon stayed by your bedside for the next 5 hours, talking to you and even telling some of his awful jokes to keep the one-sided conversation going. A part of him hoped that somehow you'd be able to hear him. Around 7 p.m., the same elderly nurse who had greeted and helped Simon whenever he came to visit you came into the room.

"It's time to go home, Mr. Riley." She spoke softly. Simon swallowed as he nodded. He stood up from the chair as he bent down to press a kiss on your forehead. "I'll be here again tomorrow, love." Simon moved himself away from the bed, passing the elderly nurse as he made his way towards the door.

"…Simon?"

Simon froze.

His hand hovered over the doorknob as his eyes widened. He heard the elderly nurse gasp, accompanied by a pair of quick footsteps going towards the bed. Your bed. Simon turned around agonizingly slowly, his own eyes filled with shock, as he was met with the sight that he had longed for ever since you ended up here.

You were looking at him, those big eyes he came to love filling with tears as you reached out to him.

It was then that Simon's heart started to beat again.

[lightwing-s]

nightwing teasing y/n with his Escrima sticks (erotic electrostimulation) before he slides himself in... please and thank you

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

rating: 18+ (MDNI)

Dick had you tied up on his bed. Spread wide open. Wrists and ankles hooked to different ends of the furniture, forbidding you from moving even an inch. Of touching anything that wasn’t him or his dick through the walls of every single hole you owned. He’d been in all of them tonight. 

You were a bliss of sweat and overstimulation. A pool of your mixed juices already soaking the bed sheet underneath you. But your boyfriend had a vigilante’s stamina, and even though he’d made you cum more than four times tonight, and he himself must have had just as many orgasms as you, he wasn’t even close to finishing off with you. Ooh, he could last the whole night.

Feeling his cold hands sliding through the valley of your tits, you squirmed once he grabbed at one of them tightly. His nails dig on the sensitive skin, leaving red crescent moons as another piece of decoration on your chest, joining the purple and red stains and the bite marks he had left earlier to create a beautiful and sinful body of art. 

Your eyes pooled with water, and you extended your neck to catch a sight of his tall frame on top of yours. His hard-on slammed on your cheek, right beside your mouth, and you just had to turn your head, the only part of your body you still could move, to catch it between your lips. You sucked on the tip, the taste of his precum and your highs, all together, hitting your tongue. Abruptly, he thrusted his hip, sinking his cock deep in your throat, and you left out a muffled cry. A tear falling down your face.

Dick let out a chuckle. Dark and pretentious. “Can’t leave a hole unattended for too long. Right, my little slut?” he said, wiping your tears with his thumb. His cock still filling your mouth, making your jaw hurt from being open wide for too long. 

The sweet gesture of his thumb caressing your cheek had you fooled. Thinking he was done being rough. But, he just diverted your attention away from the long stick he had in his hand. You only realized what he was doing when a strong jolt of electricity swept through your entire body from your core, making your back arch up from the sudden sensation. You almost let out a scream, if it wasn’t for your full mouth.

“Quiet. Quiet, little one,” he cooed, stroking your cheeks with his knuckles.

You felt the stick resting on top of your clit again, just the pressure Dick was putting in making you water. Your heart beat faster in anticipation of the sensation about to come, but your boyfriend liked to play. He knew you were expecting it at any minute now, so he wouldn’t give it to you then, instead, pulling it in and out of you with swift moves. 

You cried out in pleasure, your moans stimulating Dick’s cock and making him cum inside your mouth. His seed spilling out of the corners of your lips. When he finally slipped his cock out of your sweet little mouth, another strong burst of energy hit your clit and this time you let out a loud scream. Dick laughed at you again, enjoying every single one of your squirms, cries and pleas for him to stop. He wasn’t going to stop, not yet.

Suddenly, you felt his presence leave your side, and instead of finding time to pull yourself together, you worried about what he was about to do to you. The room was silent, and you had your eyes slammed shut, too weak to even open it. You felt your last orgasm sliding out of your folds, pooling under your ass. Without any warning, his cock ripped you apart, following along with one and another jolt of energy from his escrima stick.

With his free hand, he pressed his fingers on your waist, trying to keep your hips down. “Quiet,” he devilishly laughed. But your body jumped with each thrust and each jolt he continued to send through your body. Soon, he had you cumming once and twice, to the point your body was so weak it wasn’t responding anymore to the sensations he had been giving you.

Unresponsive, you laid in bed trying to catch your breath, while your boyfriend reached his high once more within your walls with a loud grunt.

“You’re so good to me, my little slut,” he complimented, leaving a trail of kisses from your oversensitive clit, all the way up to your lips. “So. Fucking. Good.” He gave you a kiss, tongue sliding in as you felt the ropes getting loose. He had you untrapped, and immediately your arms and legs wrapped up around his neck and waist. He laughed again, the vibrations reverberating through your body. Pulling away from the kiss, exhausted and sore, you felt his lips on your cheeks, your tear soaked eyes, and your sweaty forehead.

Your breathing started to steady, as his lips now lingered just below your ears. Eyes still closed, you were ready to fall asleep, tangled on his body for warmth, and he continued his caresses all over your skin.

“No, no, no, baby,” he whispered sensually in your ear. “We’re not done yet.” You groaned, and felt his smile speaking against your neck. “We still have a long night ahead.”

[bamboozledbird]

Don’t Go Where I Can’t Follow // Stiles Stilinski Imagine Characters: Stiles Stilinski, You Pairing: Stiles x Reader, Stiles x You (no use of y/n) Word Count: 1k Tags: blatant use of han solo's iconic 'i know' moment, overuse of the em dash as always Warnings: Angst. Angst. Angst. Descriptions of a panic attack.

A/N: A little baby revamp of an old work to get me inspired for these beautiful requests in my inbox.

The jeep is quiet. It was the first thing you noticed when you climbed into the passenger seat, legs shaking, knees wobbling—shoving Stiles’s hands away when he tried to help you. Now, you’re gripping the faded upholstery as the blood slowly drains from your knuckles. It’s a funny thing to notice, silence, but it’s hard not to when the quiet is so heavy you can feel it weighing down your chest, pushing the anger and hurt from your lungs to the pit of your stomach.  

Stiles is wearing his blue sweatshirt you love so much. The one that’s gone through the wash so many times you can rub your cheek against it and feel like you’re curled up in bed under cottony sheets, safe and warm. He knows that. You hate that he knows that.  

Stiles’s lithe fingers wrap around the steering wheel, despite the jeep being safely parked against the curb of some random road halfway between your house and his. He squeezes the wheel until the veins in his wrist bulge and his knuckles turn white. “I’m not sorry,” he says in a low voice, like he can feel the silence too, like he’s scared of snapping the cord holding a hundred-ton weight over your heads. 

The weight falls, and a wet, choked-off gasp is ripped from your raw throat. It hurts, from all the crying while he was gone, from the look on his face when he came back. “I fucking hate you,” you whisper. Your voice is raspy, barely there between your shallow exhales. After he locked you in that godforsaken closet, you'd screamed at him through the door, spewing every hateful, awful thing you could think of, until there was nothing left. Every part of you still aches—knuckles bruised from trying to beat the door down, fingernails bloodied from biting them down to the quick. You'd torn yourself apart while you sat against the wall, alone in the dark, waiting for him to come back. If he came back. 

“No you don’t,” Stiles says, but he winces anyway.

You shake your head violently and clench your jaw to stifle the angry sobs budding in your chest. You’re done with the crying; you already cried all night waiting for him to come back alive. “You had no right.” Your voice quivers, thick with mucus, and it fractures right through the marrow, “You had no fucking right to leave me there like that.”

Stiles tugs his hand through his hair. It’s already a mess, sticking up in random tufts from previous passes. Under normal circumstances, you’d try to fix it and then immediately get distracted by the softness and his soft content whines—but nothing feels normal now. You’ve never felt this frantic, this desperate, this much. It’s too much. You want to shed your skin and set something on fire—maybe yourself, at least until the ringing in your ears stops. 

He licks his lips, swollen from ripping them apart with his teeth, and stares out the window, “You could’ve died. I don’t care if you hate me or if you stay pissed at me forever—you’re alive. That’s all I care about.”

Your voice cracks when you try to scream again, “It wasn’t your choice to make!”

His teeth grind together for a moment. He won’t look at you. Maybe he can’t. “I would do it again,” he finally says in a quiet voice, like a confession, like he’s seeking atonement from god—or, more importantly, from you. Neither of you speak, the sound of your shallow breathing fills the jeep until his arm surges forward. You flinch when he slams his hand against the steering wheel; the horn is shrill and almost as loud as the tension left in its wake. “God, don’t you get it?” The muscles in his neck strain with the clench of his jaw, “None of it matters if you’re gone. I don’t give a fuck, okay? I just don't. I don't fucking care about stopping the villain of the month, or saving the entire goddamn town again, or keeping the world from imploding if you’re not in it, so don’t fuckin’ yell at me.”

You shake your head again because everything else feels like it’s shaking too, partly from the fury burning brightly in your eyes, but mostly because you love this stupid, arrogant boy so much it hurts. “I had to sit there, alone, and—and just hope that you came back—that you’d all come back. Ally died, Stiles. Boyd, Erica, Aidan—they’re all dead. It’s just a matter of time before someone else—before it happens again.” Your voice hitches, and you can't breathe, “You’re not allowed to do that to me, okay? You’re not allowed to—to fucking—to leave me behind like that. I can’t do it again—I can’t fucking—”

Even though he’s angry too, Stiles takes your hand and taps his heartbeat onto the inside of your wrist with his forefinger until your chest rises and falls in an even rhythm. Stiles looks down at your hands, layered on top of each other and trembling, before he speaks again. His voice is strained, his face stricken, “I can’t lose you.”

You stare at him, cheeks red and splotchy, mascara flaking underneath your eyes. Wrecked. And then you realize that he’s crying. His rounded eyes are wet and glossy, his chin trembles, and then that’s it. You can’t fight it anymore. You hiccup in-between your sobs and wipe your snot off on your sleeve, “And I can’t lose you.”

The car is silent again, and you can feel your heartbeat in your ears. “Don’t leave me again,” you whisper.

The words linger in the air, and Stiles cups your face, thumbs the tears and smeared makeup off of the apple of your cheeks—he's especially gentle with the fragile skin just under your eyes. He pulls you as close as he can manage with the gearshift in the way, moving your hair off of your forehead and pressing a tender kiss to each of your temples. He trails his lips to the corners of your fluttering eyelids, to the tip of your nose, one cheek and then the other. His final destination is your mouth. His tongue darts out, briefly tasting the salt of your tears, and then he kisses you. Three chaste brushes of his lips before he settles in for a real one, a reassurance that you’re both here. Breathing. Alive. The fact that he doesn’t respond to your demand isn’t lost on either of you.

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips. It’s not an answer, but it’s enough for tonight. 

You sigh into his mouth and hold onto his wrist, fingers resting against his pulse, “I know.”

[redhead1180]

Just a little drabble I dreamed about JJ last night. Not proofread.

"JJ" I whimper out. "Please need a break," I beg him holding his wrist and leaning my head back on his shoulder. My back is pressed against his chest, legs spread out and locked in place by his legs bent up underneath them, so I can't put them down or squeeze them. My swollen pussy completely open for him to use.

"Nah, princess" JJ growled in my ear. "You wanna be a brat and mouth off to me, you forget who is in charge here. I'll give you hint...it isn't you" He continues to aggressively rub circles on my puffy clit. He has already me cum 4 times from just his magic fingers. Tears and mascara were running down my cheeks from the overstimulation.

"I- I'm so-" I try to say, but I could feel another orgasm building and I had to squeeze my eyes shut and grit my teeth.

"I'm sorry princess, I didn't catch that." He says mockingly "Are you so fucked dumb you can't speak, hmm?"

I don't say anything as I try to concentrate on the feeling in my core. SMACK! JJ slaps my cheek and grabs my chin.

"I asked you a question, babygirl." He growls in my ear. "S'not nice to ignore me. Answer me!" He demands as he shoves three fingers in my already soaked and swollen pussy, pumping them in and out at an ungodly pace.

I scream out, "Yes, daddy I am!"

"You're gonna cum all over my fingers one more time, princess, and then I am going flip you on your stomach and shove my cock in this beautiful pussy" he whispers in my ear. "understand?"

"Ye-Yes" I stutter out, not wanting any more punishment.

"Good girl" JJ rasps in my ear, speeding up his fingers. I feel the band in stomach stretched taunt, my legs shake, I try to close them from the overstimulation. JJ slaps my thigh hard, making me whimper. The only sounds coming from are whiny gasps as I tumble over the edge. I clench around his fingers, my juices gushing all over his fingers. I scream and squeeze his wrist, reaching my fifth orgasm.

Before I can comprehend what is happening, I feel JJ roughly flip me over, shoving my thighs under me and putting me in a chokehold. He shoves his hard and leaking cock in me without any gentleness. He doesn't give me any time for adjustment and starts slamming into me immediately.

"Fuck baby this pussy feels so good" JJ moans. "You gonna think twice before you decide to mouth off to me again?"

I try to answer, but I am so fucked out and still reeling from my orgasm, all that comes out are whimpers.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! JJ slaps my thighs harder each time making me cry out. Tears are running down my face and I grab the headboard with both hands.

"You better answer, princess, before I make this thigh raw" he grunts in my ear.

"YES!" I scream out, "M'sorry"

"Mhmm I thought so" JJ chuckles in my ear as he pounds into me, kissing my cervix each time. "Come on baby, one more, cum with me baby."

"I- I can't" I whine out.

"Mmmm I don't like that answer" he mutters in my ear. " Maybe your just need a little more stimulation" he offers as he reaches under me and starts rubbing my already raw and swollen nub. I bite his arm as I scream out, the bundle of nerves complaining from overstimulation, but also sending waves of pleasure through my veins. My walls involuntarily flutter around JJ's shaft, letting him know I am close.

"See, baby, daddy knew what you needed" he chuckles as he slams into me so hard, he shoves me forward with each thrust.

I hear him start to moan and grunt in my ear, telling me he is close. I feel his hips start stuttering as I clench and unclench around his cock. My release so close I am a whining mess underneath him.

"C'mon baby, cum -fuck- cum with me" he grunts in my ear.

Those words were all it took. My orgasm hits me like a freight train making me scream out, one hand white knuckling the headboard and my fingernails on the other digging into his bicep from the arm still wrapped around my neck. I squirt all over his cock, thighs, and bed.

"Fuck baby" JJ moans as he slams into me one last time. Holding himself deep in me, I can feel his legs shudder as his orgasm takes over his body, squeezing my neck tighter, head buried between my shoulder blades. I feel his seed shoot out and coat my walls, as he lets out a loud, pornographic moan. He slowly begins thrusting again, shoving his cum deeper in me, letting us ride out both our highs.

He gently pulls out, but from oversensitivity I whimper. He gently rolls me over and covers my face in kisses, pushing my hair out of my face, wiping the tears off my face.

"Did we learn our lesson baby?" He gently asks still leaving kisses all over me.

"Yes daddy" I whine.

"You did so good for me baby, I love you. Now let's get you in the bath and cleaned up" he says as he carries me to the bathroom.

I sigh contently in his arms as he takes care of me the rest of the night.

Some moots I tagged

@princessmaybank @haven247 @babygorewhore @drewstarkeyslut @drudyslut @rubiehart @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @maybankskiss @echo-at-the-pond @rafescokewhore @rafescurtainbangz @rafesc0kewh0re @blueicequeen19

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[elllisaaa]

skz as the weeknd songs

-> pairing : skz x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.2k words

-> genre : smut, angst, toxic relationships, friends with benefits, exes-to-lovers

-> warnings : use of 'slut', 'babygirl', 'whore', 'good girl', 'kitten' and 'pretty boy', dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, phone sex, daddy kink, creampie, swearing, spanking, fingering, unprotected sex, jealousy, possessivness, begging, pussy slap, semi-public, sex, rough sex, body worship, praise, oral (f. receiving), foot fetish, degradation

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | 1k event masterlist

BANGCHAN - OFTEN

"baby, I can make that pussy rain, often"

→ The moment his phone rang, Chan knew what you were up to, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he picked up your call. You only called him at such a time for two things : when you were drunk and needed a ride home or when you were horny. Sometimes, it was both. But every and each time, he couldn’t say no.

“- Hi babygirl, how you doing ?”

A moan answered him, and Chan's smile widened, relaxing in his desk chair even more. He could listen to your noises for hours.

“- Please Channie… Please, I need you so bad, can’t cum alone…

- Poor thing, it doesn’t feel as good as my cock, huh ? 

- Shit- No… It’s not enough, need you please, daddy.”

As the last word left your mouth, Chan was already rock hard, putting on his shoes and grabbing his keys, gaze way more dark than a few minutes before.

“- Daddy’s gonna make you scream babygirl.”

And he did, that’s for sure.

"but I see your eyes, you wanna go again, girl I’ll go again." 

→ Chan let out a deep moan as he felt your cunt clenching hard around his cock, your whimpers and call of his name overpowering his own voice. Soon enough, he emptied inside of you, holding your hips in the hair as he thrusted sloppily in your pussy, riding his orgasm for as long as he could before laying on the bed beside you. 

“- You good babygirl ?”

You turned your head to look at him, cheeks stained with dried tears and eyes still full of lust, still laying on your stomach, you could feel his cum sliding down your inner thighs contrasting with the way he was softly caressing your sweaty back. 

“- Good… 

- I think you’re not telling me the truth here.

- I-I need more, please…”

A harsh slap landed on your ass, making you cry out his name once again. But soon enough, he was back between your legs, sliding his cock into your tight cunt one more time. Both of you moaned, still so sensitive it hurt, but it was what felt so good. 

“- You’re not going to walk tomorrow babygirl, I’m going to ruin you.”

And that, he did too. 

LEE MINHO - CALL OUT MY NAME

"I said I didn’t feel nothing baby, but I lied."

→ Minho knew from the second that your eyes crossed that you wanted him. It was obvious from the way you eyed him up and down, the way you were watching him dance with another girl while biting your lips. And as soon as he noticed your stare, that girl in his arms felt like nothing but a burden. But still, he didn’t show any sign that could make you understand that he was as attracted to you as you were to him, maybe even more. Even when he was fucking into you latter, it was as if he was bored. But when you got a text from him, asking to come to him almost a week later, you knew that he lied. 

“- You love playing so hard to get don’t you ?”

A smirk displayed on his lips as he plunged two of his fingers to the knuckle inside of your pretty pussy, loving to see you already struggling to talk properly. Unlike some girls, you didn’t annoy him, let him come back to you instead, and he loved the feeling of chasing you, of always needing to prove that he was the only one to fuck you like that, even if he knew he was. 

“- Fuck kitten, you looked so stunning tonight, just for me right ?”

You were already too fucked up to form any coherent words, let alone sentences, with your dress pushed past your waist and Minho keeping you pinned against the wall of the bathroom as he rammed into you. 

“- Answer or I’ll stop.”

And he did exactly that, waiting for you to stop whining and respond instead.

“- Yes, yes Min, it’s only for you, I’m only yours.

- Good girl, knows who you belong to.”

Possessiveness came along with being Minho’s favorite girl, but you weren’t complaining.

"so call out my name, when I kiss you so gently, I want you to stay."

→ It has to be one of his favorite things ever, to hear you moan his name. Everytime you cried it out, a smirk widened on his face and he became even more cocky, even more sure about the effect he had on you. And how could you deny it ? Everytime he looked at you, you felt on fire, as if lava was running down your veins. You weren’t the type to fold so easily, but with him, it was different. He made you weak in the knees, made you do things you never thought about doing before meeting him. 

“- Minho ! Minho, please !

- Come on kitten, I know you can do way better than that.”

His harsh slap on your pussy pushed another whimper past your lips, your hand gripping the sheets to stop you from unraveling completely under his heavenly thrusts. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do what he asked, too embarrassed about the boys hearing you, hiding your face in one of your arms as Minho cooed at you.

“- You’re getting shy now ? But kitten, do you think they don’t already know how much of a slut you are for me ? Be a good girl and say my name.”

A particularly rough trust had you screaming, unable to hold back your noises anymore. 

“- Min, Min, oh my god ! So good, so good… So big…”

Your mumbles were incoherent, your words were slurred and your mind went totally blank as your orgasm washed over you, Minho emptying inside of you soon after. You were both breathless, trying to regain some consciousness back. And even if you told yourself everytime that you should leave and not spend the night at his place, you always found yourself waking up in his embrace, and maybe that staying a little longer also came with being Minho’s favorite girl. 

SEO CHANGBIN - THE HILLS

"I only call you when it’s half-past five, the only time I’ll ever call you mine"

→ There had been a time where Changbin was the only person you could think about day and night. And then, everything got too complicated. You never really understood why, and neither did he : one day, he was so sure about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you, and the next, you were fighting like you didn’t love each other anymore. All he knew was that things ended up messily. But he couldn’t help and call you every time he thought about you, everytime he needed you. 

“- Fucking slut, coming right back everytime I call.”

The muffled moans you let out in response made Changbin smirk. He kept your head pressed in the pillow, pounding inside of you and not caring about making you feel good anymore, simply chasing his high. He didn’t want to hear you say his name. It was too intimate, it felt too close to his heart

“- No one else fucks you like this, only me.”

Another moan escaped your mouth, and your cunt squeezed around his cock, making him groan loudly. It was a shame that you were so annoying, because he could spend the rest of his life buried in your pussy. It was a shame, really. 

“- Please, please Binnie…”

He tried to ignore how his heart melted at hearing you say his nickname and pushed your head in his pillow again, getting even more rough with you, hiding how much effect you still had on him. And it was a shame that he wanted you back every time he had you in his arms for the night. 

"keep on tryna hide it but your friends know"

→ “- It’s him again ?”

You turned to look at your friend sipping her cocktail and shook your head, trying to deny the evidence. Everytime he left, you were back to crying in your bestie’s arms, and everytime he came back for a week or two, it was as if he didn’t ever did anything bad to you, or never broke you heart one or two or many times already. 

“- And what if it was ? It’s none of your business.”

Maybe that’s why you leave the club early, because you’re mad at her, or maybe it’s because Changbin asked you to come see him. Maybe that’s why you end up tangled in his sheets like every other time, riding him like you know he loves to. 

“- Bet everyone was looking at you, that dress is so stunning on you princess.”

You closed your eyes, unable to watch his flushed face anymore as he was complimenting you. So you did the only thing that seemed to work for the both of you : you fucked him harder, hoping that it would help you forget everything else that happened. And it was kind of working as he took one of your breasts in his hand, playing with your nipple and making you forget everything once again. 

“- Want you to come inside, want you to fill me up…”

And he did, emptying his load in your fluttering pussy, making you cry his name as you collapsed on top of him. You could feel his hot breath against your neck, and his fingers grazing your scalp. Just like before. Just like when everything was alright. 

“- Stay tonight ?”

You simply nobbed, but Changbin knew that it meant way more than that, and you knew it too, and your best friend probably knew it too, but you hoped that you would not cry in her arms about your ex anymore if he did become your boyfriend again. 

HWANG HYUNJIN - AFTER HOURS

"I know I made you fall then said you were wrong for me."

→ If Hyunjin had to name the thing that scared him the most, it would be love. Yes, he was a hopeless romantic. Yes, he wanted to find his soulmate more than anything. But how could he be so sure that this girl was the one and that he wasn’t missing out on his true love ? How could he be so sure that you were the love of his life ? So even if he was madly obsessed with you, even if you were his muse, he had to let you go. 

“- Jinnie… Oh fuck ! Please don’t stop !”

Your moans only encouraged the man between your thighs to suck on your clit harder, holding your legs open for him to dive even deeper in your pussy. He wanted to make you feel good one last time, wanted to taste you one last time. 

“- Come on angel, want you to cream all over my face…”

You didn’t need more than that to reach your climax, tugging on his hair when it felt too much. As you tried to control your breath, you were waiting for Hyunjin to smile down at you and kiss you, like he did everytime. But nothing came. You opened your eyes again, seeing the door of the bathroom open, and him inside, washing his face. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you understood. It was his way of saying that it was over. You knew it was coming : Hyunjin jad grown more and more distant these days, you should have seen it before. 

“- You’re an asshole.”

The door slammed behind you, and Hyunjin could only agree with you : he was an asshole.

"oh baby, where are you now when I need you most ?"

→ “- Oh ! So, now, you’re asking me to come back after leaving like I was worth nothing ? You’ll have to beg me a little more than that Hyunjin.”

He didn’t know if it was a sick little game or if you were serious, but he got down on his knees anyway. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t already. He looked up at you, waiting for your next command. Because in the end, he was entirely yours, everything he had was yours, everything he was was yours. 

“- I’m so sorry Y/N, I really am… All I wanted was to make you happy, and I felt like I wasn't doing a good job, but I was wrong, and I miss you so much. Fuck, I need you, I need you, please…”

One of the benefits of being with Hyunjin was that he had never been ashamed of what he liked. So the moment you pressed your high heels against the bulge in his pants, you knew that you'd get a reaction, the one you wanted. And accordingly, he moaned loudly, his fingers wrapped around your ankle in hopes it would urge you to move and grant him the friction he desperately needed to get off. 

“- Please, please angel… I swear, I’m so sorry… Please, I need you…”

You knew that you were going to cave in, but it felt so good to be back in his arms, you couldn’t help it.

“- Just apologizing to get in my pants, as usual. Beg some more.”

And Hyunjin obeyed, aware that it was partially true, but that there were some more feelings that would have to wait for after you made him cum in his pants.

HAN JISUNG - EARNED IT

"so I love when you call unexpected, ‘cause I hate when the moment’s expected."

→ It all started on an impulse, looking into each other's eyes and then you were suddenly making out like it was the last time you’ll get the chance to kiss anyone. And then, it was crossing paths at a party and ending up grinding against each other in a hallway. And then, it was him coming up to your apartment and fucking against the wall just because he wanted to. Everything was passionate, intense, unanticipated, and it felt too good to stop. 

“- And he kept on interrupting me ! I can’t stand that jerk anymore ! I’m gonna ki-”

Jisung lips on yours straddled you, but quickly, you caved in and let him come on top of you, his tongue playing with yours. 

“- Sorry baby, you’re so sexy when you’re mad…”

You shook your head and tugged on his hair to guide him back to your mouth instead. Jisung had never hidden anything from you, telling you everything he was thinking of at the moment, and that included the many fantasies he had. 

“- Now that’s new… You like it when I’m mad ? Like it when it’s you I’m mad at ?”

He nobbed immediately, ready to do everything in his power to convince you of trying out that.

“- Words little slut. Or are you too dumb to talk ?

- No, no ! I want it, I want you to be mad at me, please…”

The smirk on your face widened, sensing that you would enjoy this new discovery just as much as him.

"‘cause girl you’re perfect, you’re always worth it, and you deserve it."

→ Usually, Jisung loved it when you took complete control of him, loved to give you everything you wanted, loved it when you were rough with him. But tonight, you were too tired to do that, only needing to be taken care of for once. And ask Jisung and you shall receive it in seconds. He pushed you on the bed, undressing your body and getting his lips and hands everywhere at once, worshiping you and mumbling about how pretty you were.

“- Tell me what you want me to do, I just want to make you feel good, it’s all about you tonight.”

So when you answered nothing and pushed his head down between your thighs instead, he simply complied, eating you out nice and slow, making you tremble under him two times before he came up to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. And when Jisung fucked you that night, it was almost too slow, but felt too good to stop, making you orgasm as many times as you wanted.

“- Come on baby, give me another one, you deserve it, you’re so good to me all the time…”

You unraveled once again under his words, exhausted but satisfied and with your needs fulfilled. 

"I always want you when I’m coming down."

LEE FELIX - COMING DOWN

→ Whenever Felix was on stage, he had such a rush of adrenaline that didn’t go away immediately after. He always had energy to spare, and his favorite way to do that was to meet up with you. He was always ditching the after parties under the excuse that he was too tired and preferred to go back to the dorms now. The truth was that he needed you, wanted to ruin you. You were always waiting for him in your bed, a new lingerie set complimenting your body every time. 

“- I choose one to match with your outfit.”

Your supposedly innocent smile made him lose his mind everytime, not bothering to undress you fully before he slid his cock into your already wet pussy, keeping your wrists together in one hand, the other maintaining your hips pinned to the mattress as he rutted into you at a fast pace. His deep moans were echoing in your silent room, except for the squelching noises of your cunt everytime he thrusted into you. 

“- You’re always so good to me angel, letting me use your pretty pussy whenever I want… 

- Love it Lixie !

- Is that so ?”

His little smirk was so hot, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you creamed all over his cock, begging him to shoot his load deep inside you. You were definitely the best way to drown the adrenaline. 

"pick up your phone, I’m all alone." 

→ Being on tour was always both a blessing and a torture for Felix. Of course, he loved to be on stage so much, loved to interact with stays and everything that it included. But at the same time, that meant being away from you. Firstly, he missed you because you were the love of his life, and secondly, it was a struggle to cum without you touching him. 

“- Angel… I need you, please…”

When you picked up his call at two in the morning, you didn’t expect Felix to be moaning loudly for you to help him out. But you couldn’t lie to yourself : it was hot. How could you have said no to him ? That’s why you ended up getting off in the middle of the night, ordering your boyfriend on how to jerk himself. 

“- Feels good Lixie ?

- S-So good, but it’s better when it’s your hands. 

- Imagine it’s me, touch yourself just like I do.”

Another moan of your name escaped him and he felt himself cumming when you told him you were close too. As soon as the call ended, Felix sent you a picture of his abs covered in a huge load of cum, making you salivate and be even more impatient for him to be back home. 

KIM SEUNGMIN - WICKED GAMES

"just tell me you love me even though you don’t love me."

→ There was certainly something wrong with Seungmin for enjoying fucking the girl he hated with his whole heart so much. From the first glance, he knew that he wasn’t going to get along with you. Even if you were one of Jeongin’s closest friends, he couldn’t help himself but disagree with everything you were saying and doing. After all, it was not his fault if you were always wrong and he was always right. 

“- Fucking slut, so dumb you can’t even answer huh ?”

You wanted to, you really wanted to say something back to him, but his cock gliding deliciously against your walls felt too good, felt so good a whimper left your lips instead of words. 

“- That’s what I thought.”

Seungmin pushed your head into his pillow, muffling your cries and holding your hips up against his, buried deep inside of your tight pussy. 

“- You love to put on an attitude with me but all it takes is for you to see my cock to shut the fuck up.”

You wanted to deny it, wanted to remind him that he was always the first one to initiate anything that happened between the two of you. But all you could do was clench around him everytime he degraded you, and the worst part of it was that you knew he kinda meant it, and that it made you even more wet. 

“- That’s it, take it like the whore you are.”

He was so deep inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix and you didn’t need anything more than that to reach your climax, tears streaming down your face. But you knew that he wasn’t done with you, and you loved it as much as you hated it - how weak you were for him. 

"these fucking eyes I’m staring at, let me see that ass."

→ You were doing it on purpose, there was no other way. Of course you had to chose this fucking dress for Jeongin’s birthday party, and of course, you had not spared him a glance except for when you arrived, hours before. It was slowly driving Seungmin crazy, how you were flirting with Minho shamelessly. And why was he so mad anyway ? It was not like you were his girlfriend or anything. But that dress, you perfectly knew it was his favorite one even if he never said it. 

“- You’ll never learn your lesson, huh ? Do I have to remind you again ?”

Before you knew it, Seungmin had shoved you away from Minho and face first into the wall of an empty hallway, pressing his clothed hard-on against your ass that was hugged just right by the material of your dress. And suddenly, he couldn’t resist the urge of slapping your cheeks one, two or three times, not caring about someone hearing your whimpers of his name. 

“- That’s it, let Minho hear who you belong to.”

Soon enough, he pushed your panties aside and slipped in your soaked cunt, both of you not able to keep your noises down anymore. You couldn't believe he had the nerves to be mad about you for flirting with another man, but it was also stroking your ego. 

“- Only I can fuck you this good, understood ? Your pussy is mine baby.”

Seungmin knew that he shouldn’t do that, that he shouldn’t say that, but it felt too good to stop now. He will keep on claiming that he hates you though, but behind closed doors, both of you knew that he'll do anything for another taste of your cunt.  

YANG JEONGIN - LOST IN THE FIRE

"I wanna fuck you slow with the lights on." 

→ When Jeongin talked to you about not being able to see many girls because of his job, he never thought that you would offer your help, but was he complaining ? No. Not at all. You were all he could have dreamt of : you were pliant when he wanted you to, you were down to take control and make him cry when he needed you to. And you loved to experiment just as much as him. He had told you one time how much it aroused him to think about being woken up with sex, but he clearly didn’t expect you to actually do it one day.

“- F-Fuck ! This is the best morning of my life…”

Your chuckles were quickly knocked off your throat, a whine escaping you instead as you kept on riding Jeongin. His hands came to your waist, not doing anything other than feeling up your body. There was no rush, only a slow, slow pace that felt not enough but too much at the same time. 

“- You were so good to me last night, wanted to do something for you Innie.”

The boy threw his head back, moaning a little louder. He spent the said last night between your legs, pushing you over the edge as much time as you wanted to and satisfied with grinding against the sheets. And it was totally worth it if that was his reward. 

“- Oh my god ! Y/N… I’m gonna cum… 

- Go on, fill me up pretty boy.”

Yes, definitely worth it. 

"I can’t lose you babe."

→ Feeling someone slip through your fingers was really not fun, and Jeongin felt his heart sink down his throat as he witnessed you making out with Chan. He knew it was only for this stupid game of truth and dare, knew that it was only for shit and giggles. But what if it wasn’t ? What if you realized you needed more than him ? What if you noticed that he wasn’t good enough for you ? That night, even if the guys where all home, he fucked you rough, and made you cry his name so loudly that it was impossible for them not to hear you. 

“- My throat is so fucking sore…”

Jeongin felt guilty immediately after, cleaning you up really carefully and bringing you a hot cup of milk mixed up with some honey to ease your strained voice. During the whole process, he wouldn’t look too long into your eyes, afraid of what he’ll see in them. 

“- Why are you acting like that, Jeongin ?”

He shrugged his shoulders but kept you as close to him as possible that night. He wasn’t ready to lose you, not at all. But by the way you were always looking at him like had casted a spell on you, he should’ve guessed. He ignited a fire in you that only he could tame. But it was only a question of time before he’ll realize that the same flames were devouring his heart and yours.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my work.

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@rhjwjwhf

[theshinazugawaslut]

Yall, look at this Sanemi fanart I found — the way I would let this man fuck me raw into oblivion with no protection, no lubricant, no preparation, no warning, no shame, all the way on my mums bed to my dads bed, against the bathroom door to bent over my bath tub, on the toilet and against the cover, from the kitchen sink to the balcony, from my bed to his bed, against the fan and against the wardrobe, draped over the washing machine to hunched behind the fridge, between day and dawn to twilight and midnight, on a chair, on a train, on a bus, during class, on a video call, upside on a tree, in a sewer, on the battlefield, behind a bush, on his mother's gravestone, in a puddle of piss as I scream, cry, whimper, beg, moan his name, huffing and puffing entirely out of breath, I need him biblically as he gives me the most bone breaking, singularity causing, toe clenching, pussy wettening, ass slapping, cheek jiggling, back arching, toes curling, feet snapping, finger popping, hair pulling, writhing, orgasmic, fist clenching, tongue drooling, muscle exploding, eye watering, leg divorcing, knee breaking, shin sucking, nipple bursting, hip thrusting, anus clenching, clit vibrating, knuckle cracking, jaw dislocating, nose bleeding, skin peeling, bone acidifying, hip thrusting, sheet gripping, spinal cord shattering, eyelashes flying off my face, spectacle destroying, over stimulating, cervical mucus ovulating, hormones off the chart, pregnancy inducing, swollen bump causing, ribs expanding to keep inside all his salty cum, nail biting, gravity defying, volcano erupting, uterus popping, ovary exploding orgasm of my life.

[yarasdead]

dad!noah on tour.

cw. fem!reader, established relationship (married), children, fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, noah is a girl dad, baby's name is mallory, inaccurate talk of being a parent & touring

a/n. *cracks knuckles* making my writing return with a tear jerker :') i had a different thought with this one that involved less angst, but my mind just decided against it lolz!!! the ending is a little bad, but i hope everyone enjoys <3

dad!noah being away on tour from you and your nine month old baby girl, mallory, for a few weeks now. and you can't lie it's hard, you love seeing noah pursue his dreams, he comes alive on stage performing in front of hundreds, thousands of people. but, he also comes alive when he's with his baby girl, doing the most mundane things with her, from starting solids a few months ago, reading her stories, singing to her around the house, taking her to the park, he just shines as dad. and you feel guilty for wanting him to just be a dad, not also a performer who's selling out venues.

you try not to replay the chaos scene of noah leaving for tour in your head over and over again.

"daddy misses you very much, baby girl." noah coos over over the face time. you propped your phone up with the pillows in the bed so it would be leveled with mallory's eye line. smiling softly at the interaction as she bounces happily at the sound of his voice. a far too energetic for a baby in the morning.

"i miss mama, too. where is she mal, where's mama?"

"i'm right here." picking up the phone from the spot to bring it in front of you, your tired grin matching noah's.

"how was the show last night?" a question that's asked without a fail after each show, partially because you love to here noah beam about the shows and the fans, and the other because you simply just love to hear him talk.

"talking about the show can wait. i want to know how you are, mama?" noah diverts.

you start to formulate an answer in your head when you get a baby's fist to the gut, groaning as mallory climbs her way on top of you. adjusting her in your arms so the both of you are in frame. noah's attention flipping from you to mallory for a second, cooing and smiling at her, enticing a string of giggles from her.

you can't ruin this by telling him about the day you had yesterday, from the fussiness of mallory of her denying any bottle you give her so you had to breast feed her despite you wanting to completely ween her off, to the crying fits of her in her crib anytime you set her down for her nap times, the clutter fuck of your work and the spilling your coffee on important papers. you'd much rather lie. "i'm okay." giving your best small smile you can.

noah's eyes flicker up from mallory to you, shifting in his seat while his gaze stays on you.

"you don't look okay."

"ouch."

"you know that isn't what i meant, baby. your eyes are puffy."

shit. you know exactly what he's insinuating at.

"it's my allergies." another lie.

"bullshit."

fake gasping. "our daughter is right here, noah." you joke doing your best to cover her ears with just one hand, trying to worm your way out of noah's demand.

"the word bullshit from from out our daughters mouth is the least of my concerns. are you going to tell me what's up? please, baby?"

you bite down on your lip, gnawing at the plush skin as you look down at your daughter who looks up at you when you brush back her bed head. her big doe eyes looking up at you with nothing but wonder, while you look back with such adoration. motherhood never fails to amaze you at how some days make you want scream like you never have before while others fill you with such joy.

the both of you being up for barely an hour before noah called you. the time zone in the east being ahead than the west so noah already looks like he's put together for the day, while you contemplate even wanting to get ready for the day yourself after yesterday. caressing mallory's head as it falls into your chest from smoothing at her hair. looking back up at your phone you're met with noah's sweet gaze, it never fails to make your heart flutter. but you know you can't not tell him anything.

"it's hard." is all you say, but you see how those two words effect noah. a slight frown appearing on his face and his shoulders dropping.

"i know. and i'm sorry."

"don't be."

"but i am. i'm here across the country while you're at home with with mal. i should be home too."

"please, don't beat yourself up."

"how can i not when you say you're having a hard time?"

"i knew it was going to be hard regardless. but, i can't tell you to not do what you love, noah." you argue.

"if you told me not to do the tour i wouldn't have."

his words hit you like a truck, and they make you feel even worse for wanting to say them all those weeks ago. "that's selfish. not only to you, but the guys, and your fans."

"i don't care. i care about you and mallory. the guys would've understood, they were a little shocked that you were okay with it. and my love for the fans are immense, i'm grateful for them. but i'm forever grateful for you. i don't love anything more than i love you and mallory, and anyone who says shit about me wanting to be home with my girls can fuck off. don't ever feel selfish for wanting me."

you blink back the tears, wiping at a few that fell down your cheeks. a hand playing with the wisp of hair at the nape of mallory's neck, sitting on the new pile of confessions, not knowing what to say.

"next week we have two back to back shows at the same venue and then a day off, why don't you and mal fly out and it'll be a family day?"

you smile, a genuine one. "noah-" you start, a hand tiny hand clasping over your mouth, mallory making her presence known again between her parents as noah lets out a laugh from over the phone. taking her chubby hand in yours to raise it down from your mouth. "you'd love that too wouldn't you? you miss daddy just as much, huh?" your tone switching as you address mallory, bouncing her in your lap as she babbles out.

"i'd love family day."

[leonkennedynendoroid]

NSFW/GN READER. idk what this is sorry if it doesn’t make sense at any point(s) i just kept pressing keys until words appeared on the screen….i need to have es E. ex with leon :P

grrrrr i need my sweet little bf leon losing his mind the first couple of times he has sex. i’m talking about him biting his knuckles with every inch he slides in deeper, groaning low in his throat when he drops his head forward to watch the movement with wide eyes and— fuck, no more. that’s a lot. he needs to look away, somewhere- anywhere else if he wants to hold back.

his eyes travel up your body quickly, chewing on his bottom lip in desperate concentration as his gaze lands on your face. it feels as if he’s walked straight into a trap; your eyes on his, although unfocused, every open-mouthed breath, even the gentle rise and fall of your chest makes heat pool low in his stomach… he needs to cut himself short, again. he can’t catch a break, so caught up in you he’s nearly embarrassing himself. you deserve so much better, he thinks with a rough swallow. in an attempt to pull himself together, he opts to quickly shut his eyes. just for a second.

it’s always the first thrust- slow and controlled that makes him hiss through his teeth, knees going weak when he sinks back in. he has to fight to keep his eyes open now, repeating the movement with a long, shaky sigh. if you had the cognitive capability at this very moment in time, you’d be able to notice the prominent strain of his abdominals present each time he plunges into you. it’s still so new for him, yet addictive enough to have his body screaming more. a kind of pleasure that runs up his core and spreads down his thighs.

only momentarily is he aware of his grip tightening on the back of your thighs, sweaty palms and thick fingers digging into your skin acknowledged in but a passing thought. it’s getting harder, so much harder to keep his pace gentle and sweet like he believes you deserve, leaning forward and dropping a little more of his weight on top of you to plant a chaste kiss on your head in apology, eager hips meeting yours in a syrupy grind he could revel in for hours. it’s a rhythm he could get lost in and deliciously impatient with, his dick throbs at the idea. he’ll need to find another time to explore it.

knowing you’d probably kill him— maybe not kill, just a slap to his shoulder, calling out his name in a harsh complaint of embarrassment— if he confessed to taking it easy on you melts the guilt right out of his system as his body continues to perspire. the shift in angle has you crying out as he begins hitting even deeper now. seeing, hearing, and feeling you like this has an airy moan leaving his lips, shuddering against you hard in unison.

leon absolutely does not have it in him to stop now- the intensity of the ache in his pelvis growing impossibly difficult to ignore with every sloppy, wet thrust. seeing you arch underneath him with a whine, feeling your fingers encircling his wrists tightly as he pumps into you, is dizzying. he’s growling with it, the power behind his hips sending hot licks of pleasure right up your spine. god, he never wants this to end.

the state of you right now- and the sight too, he thinks, is the closest he’ll get to heaven. to feeling heaven. it makes his strong hips stutter, rhythm faltering as he begins to give in. it makes his whole body jostle above you, his eyes clenching shut with a long drawn-out whine, and it makes him cum. it makes him cum, over and over, and over again. how has he gone most of his life without this? without you? he thinks deliriously, collapsing against your thighs still lifted and folded at your chest as he ruts into you insistently a few more times, in hopes of prolonging his orgasm. greedy.

he did better this time, with holding off and all. leon’s sure of it. he definitely lasted longer than last time, right? he opens his eyes back up with a content sigh to scan your face, looking for reassurance and a confirmation on that thought. he’s immediately met with the sight of a stupid grin plastered on your face instead, lips trembling gently as if you’re biting back a hard laugh. ugh, was he that far off? he must’ve gotten ahead of himself. maybe next time.

who is he kidding? this is going to take a lot of practice.

[taylormarieee]

I want you under me, not the Christmas Tree-Day 11 Kuai Liang

Prompt: Kuai wants you under him feeling good...

Pairing: Kuai Liang x Fem!Wife!Reader

Word Count: 430

Warnings: PiV sex, Doggy style, Missionary(For like 7 seconds), Dom!Kuai, Sub!Reader, Established Relationship, Begging, ass smacking

"Fuck me then" were your last words before Kuai was ramming into you like a bull.

You hair pulled back as he sent stigining smacks to your ass. He groaned when he saw your ass jiggle, his thrusts picking up speed.

You were already on your fourth orgasm for the night and you felt like you couldn't take anymore of your husbands dick.

You whined and moaned trying to get far away from him as possible but he just kept pulling you back for more.

So he could get deeper inside of you. The faster he went the deeper he felt.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your orgasm approaching.

You felt it about to hit you, waves of pleasure so close to washing over you but Kuai pulls out and you whine out in frustration.

"Whyyy! I was so close babe!" You cry out. He grunts flipping you on your back.

"Hush my love and take this dick like a good girl." He orders. You shut your mouth real quick and watched with furrowed brows as he slid his cock back into your tight, aching hole.

You moaned out in pleasure and threw you head back. Your knuckles turning white at how hard you were gripping the sheets.

You bite your lip until the bottom is fully engulfed in your mouth. Your body shakes and convulses as the wave of pleasure from your orgasm rushes through you.

You shake and cry, tears falling from your eyes at the overwhelming sense of pleasure.

You grab onto your husbands shoulders leaving marks that he will surely see in the morning.

You husband groans as his hips stutter and he shakes as you feel his cock twitch unloading his seed inside you.

"Yea, oh fuck, I'm your little cumdumpster! Load my pussy with your cum please Kuai!" You cry out as he kisses your neck.

He thrusts into you slowly now to make sure his cum stays inside you. You absentmindedly close your legs at the feeling of Kuai pulling out.

You sigh a sigh of relief and Love. He smiles at you and kisses your forehead.

"Would you be mad if I said I wanna go again love?" he asks innocently his cock hardening at the thought of having you scream his name again.

You just smirk and throw your hands up in defeat. "Take me baby. I'm all yours." You say before he's all up on you again kissing your neck and needing your breasts.

Boy was this going to be a long night...

Taglist: @aerangi @itzdarling @crimsonbubble @yanderestarangel