#sleeping faces are much harder to draw

[reignpage]

❀ In which injured!reader begs Nanami to fuck her

“No, sweetheart, please stop asking.”

Your husband may give in to you all the time because you’re his precious wife, who he loves to spoil, but apparently fucking whilst your ribs are bruised is where he draws the line. Damn him. 

“But, Ken,” you draw out, “we can just go slow. I’ll even be on top, y’know, so I can set the pace or whatever.”

Scribbling something on a risk assessment form, he sits at his desk in his office where he thought he’d be safe from your desperate hands and equally desperate pleadings. How wrong he was. When you wrap your arms around him from behind his chair, breasts pressing in on his shoulders, he sighs and sets his pen down. 

Gentle hands try to pry you off. “I know you, sweetheart. At first, it’ll be slow, and soon, you’ll be begging to go faster, harder, and then you’ll be crying because your ribs hurt. I really don’t want to have to make a visit to our doctor and explain what’s happened.”

Collapsing onto the floor, you rest your head on his knee, nuzzling in a last-ditch effort to get your way.

He pets your hair and coos, “I’m so deeply sorry, darling. You know if I could take your pain, I would. In a heartbeat.”

Irritated beyond reason, you grouch, “If you were the injured one, we still wouldn’t be able to fuck.”

“I’m not so certain that’s true, my love.” With expert touches, he’s manoeuvring you onto his lap, careful not to aggravate your wound. Face tucked into the crook of his neck, you play with a loose thread on his sweater just as he pats your thigh absentmindedly, picking up that pen again with his spare hand. “If it were only my pain on the line, I’d gladly sacrifice some discomfort for your pleasure. Would you want me to?”

“No,” you admit, thoroughly unhappy at how he’s backed you into a corner. 

“How kind." Kento chuckles. "Now, stop pouting and keep your poor husband company. Once I’ve finished this set of papers, I’ll prepare dinner, is that alrig— Ah! Sweetheart!”

Your naughty hand is being snatched off his covered cock before you can lay a second squeeze. Having felt the embodiment of his love for you, you groan. “Kento, you’re harder than a rock. Stop being such a gentleman, and let me suck you off. I’ll play with your balls the way you like and everything!”

He throws his head back, pushing his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Then, with a barely restrained patience, he reasserts for the hundredth time since you’ve gotten hurt, “I’m fine, dear. You don’t need to exert any kind of effort to take care of me. I’m a grown man. Listen, I know this is hard for you, but please consider that this is hard for me, too. Yes, I miss your body; I miss being inside you, the comfort, the warmth, the connection. But I can wait. In fact, I’d much rather wait.”

Silenced by the sincerity in his voice, you can do nothing but pout and listen, all while he holds your hand against his chest.

“If I see my wife wince or tear up because I’ve pushed too hard and gone too fast, I’ll never forgive myself. It’ll haunt me, just like the sight of you all weak and shivering on the concrete haunts me now. Not a day will go by where I’ll ever feel at ease knowing I wasn’t there to protect you. So, no, sweetheart, I will not contribute to your pain, and that is final.”

He's not mad; he's not frustrated or irritated. No, not Kento. Not at his darling wife. Never at you. And that's what drives you even more insane. You so badly want to show your appreciation, to thank him for all his hard work, to ease the guilt in his heart, show him you're fine and soon so he can actually sleep at night instead of sitting up, awake, anticipating a grimace in your sleep so he can bring you water or painkillers. 

Pecking his lips in surrender, you acquiesce. “Fine, but as soon as I’m cleared to go, you’re never leaving our room until I’m positively stuffed full of your cum, and you’re completely drained.”

Kento smiles, eyes crinkling in the corner. 

“It wouldn't be the first time.”

[blueicequeen19]

Crash Out

Warnings: unprotected sex, fingering, angry JJ, orgasm denial, edging

“You can’t be here!” You hiss, pushing at his chest and urging him toward the door but JJ doesn’t budge. He’s slick with sweat while panting to catch his breath. That’s when you notice the bat hanging at his side and the sound of sirens drawing closer.

“What did you do?” You demand, eyes hard as you stare back at him. The fire in his eyes seems to morph into something else as he takes in your sleep attire.

“Fair is fair.” JJ rasps, his voice gruff like he’s been yelling.

“What does that mean?”

“They took what’s ours.” JJ’s jaw clenches as he takes a step forward, the bat still in his hand.

“Who did?” You step back as he advances. Your back meets the wall in the hallway and his chest brushes against yours. Your nipples harden against his chest and his eyes are glued down your cami.

“You and your Kooks.” JJ growls, causing you to flinch when he suddenly drops the bat, making it clatter on the hardwood floor.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Your daddy is the mayor. You had to know what they’ve been planning. Another fucking club? Don’t you people have enough? Why do you have to take from us too?” JJ’s hands slam against the wall on either side of you, caging you in as he presses harder against you. He was hard. So hard that you could feel every ridge through his jeans against your stomach.

“JJ—.”

“Turn around.” JJ snarls, not giving you a moment before he spins you around. Your cheek meets the wall, your body buzzing as he presses his erection against your ass. You knew what this was, what he needed. So you pressed back, grinding your ass against him in a silent plea.

“Don’t make this more than it is.” JJ rasps, yanking your sleep shorts and panties down in one go. The cold air hits between your legs, making you shudder against the wall. His warm, callused hands find your ass, caressing the flesh before landing a sharp smack. You gasp, attempting to pull away but he yanks you back, slapping your ass again.

“JJ—.”

“Shut up.” You attempt to turn around but he holds you in place, dipping a hand between your legs and stroking your slit. “I don’t want to see your face.” A thick finger enters you forcing you up on your toes with a loud groan.

“So fucking wet so me. I wonder what your daddy would think.” You open your mouth to argue but he adds another finger, making you lose the ability to think or speak. JJ fingers you hard, the sloppy sound of your wetness echoing in the dark hallway. Just when you’re close, he stops, quickly replacing his fingers with something much thicker.

“JJ..”

“This is for me, not you.” JJ growls in your ear, yanking back on your hair as he sinks in balls deep in one go. You whimper loudly, his cock so deep that it hurt. He shoves your legs farther apart before he starts to fuck you. It’s hard and it’s fast. Your moans echo down the hall as JJ pants in your ear. His cock was so deep and hard that you could feel him wherever while you tried to meet every thrust.

Suddenly, he was pulling out and shoving you onto your hands and knees on the rug. You look back over your shoulder, savoring the way his eyes start to roll back as he enters you again from behind. You notice he’s ditched his jacket and t-shirt at some point, leaving him in just his low hanging jeans. Then he’s quickly shoving your face down against the rug as he starts to move.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out, his movements so rough and hard, the new position even deeper than before. Your knees scrape against the rug and his hands leave a bruising grip on your body. It’s too much. Your hand flies back to push at his thigh for some sort of break but he simply uses the opportunity to pin your arms behind your back. Your nails scrape against his abs, making him hiss as he fucks you harder.

“JJ.. I’m gonna cum.” Your body tightens, legs shaking uncontrollably as you near your peak.

“Don’t you dare.” His punishing pace slows, causing you to cry out in frustration as you claw at his abdonmen and move your hips back against him, desperate for friction. His hands release yours to grip your hips to halt your movements as a mocking laugh leaves him.

“I bet your daddy would lose his mind over his pretty little daughter desperate and wet for Pogue dick.” You angrily move to sit up but he shoves you back down, thrusting in hard, just once. Your body trembles and your pussy pulses, seeking the pleasure he’s denying.

“Fuck me or get out, Pogue.” You bite out, reaching between your legs to stroke your clit. Your walls clench around his dick, making him groan, deep and sexy.

“You’re not in charge, slut. So shut up and take what I give you.” JJ’s strokes turn punishing, so hard and fast that you can’t catch your breath and tears fill your eyes from the intensity of it. You were on the verge of something explosive. The two of you didn’t go beyond sex but something about you craved his darkness and the way he took it out on your body. He never failed to leave you spent in a puddle of your mixed releases before letting the door slam shut behind him.

“JJ—I—I—.” Your words trail off, toes starting to curl as your eyes begin to roll back in your head. But the promise of pleasure is ripped away when he stops abruptly to shove you on your back. You’re too caught off guard to do anything but watch and blink up at him as he strokes his cock almost angrily, grunting with each rough tug until he erupts, painting your chest and part of your face in his cum. Your tongue darts out, tasting what landed on your lips as he releases one last, panty dropping groan and the last drop of cum falls from the swollen tip. JJ’s eyes lock on yours as he tucks himself away and stands, leaving you in a mess on the floor. You sit up, watching him tug his shirt on and wiping the sweat from his brow on the nearby curtains.

“I didn’t know about any of it.” You finally say, feeling his warm cum start to slide down your chest. JJ shakes his head as he throws the back door open without another backwards glance.

“I don’t fucking believe you.”

Then the door slams shut behind him.

[steddiealltheway]

1984 is not Steve Harrington’s year.

Not only does he find out that his girlfriend doesn’t actually love him, but somehow the creepy monster thing that united his now ex-girlfriend and her new boyfriend, came back in the form of some type of monster dog.

The highlight of his year might actually be befriending a nerdy middle schooler who introduced him to said monster dog - which he named Dart of all things... something to do with a candy bar.

He groans at the thought as the music from downstairs carries into his room. For some reason, Tommy Hagan decided to temporarily ignore the fact that he ditched Steve for the new keg king, Billy Hargrove, who managed to give Steve something else to worry about while literal Hell crawled its way into Hawkins, in favor of throwing a New Year's Eve party in the Harrington residence.

Typical for the year Steve's having. Why not end it horribly too?

He glances at the clock, relieved that it's already somewhat close to midnight. If it weren't for the noise, he would consider trying to sleep through this one. Instead, he lays back on his bed and hopes that no one tries to disturb him.

As if the universe can hear his thoughts, and then curse them, the door to his bedroom swings open.

Steve sits up with a huff and frowns at the person.

A guy with medium length curly hair and doe eyes stares back at him with a big smile that screams chaos.

"Sorry, dude," Steve says, "Bedroom is off limits. Go hookup, smoke, or whatever somewhere else."

Instead of leaving, the guy closes the door behind him and locks it.

Steve scoots back on the bed, hand reaching back to wrap around the nail bat he leaves behind his nightstand.

The dude raises his hands in mock surrender, silver rings glinting in the light streaming in from Steve's window - blinds open enough so he can make sure no one does anything weird in his pool. "Listen, man, I'm not here to hurt you or anything. Although you might hurt me when you hear why I'm here."

There's something about his voice that sounds familiar to Steve when it suddenly hits him - all the yelling and stomping around on tabletops. "You're Eddie Munson."

Eddie smiles and bows dramatically. "Guilty as charged."

Steve's frown deepens, and for a fleeting moment he thinks Dustin would really like the guy. "So, why would I hurt you if I hear you out?"

"Because, Steve," Eddie draws out his name as if it has a deeper meaning, "I was downstairs thinking about what a wonderful year I've had, and I decided that I might as well start the year with a little chaos."

Steve's grip tightens around the bat in case he's some sort of satanic serial killer or something, although his gut tells him that he shouldn't be scared of the man. "What do you mean by chaos?"

There's a strange glint in Eddie's eye when he shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on the feet as if he wants to move closer to Steve but has decided to plant himself by his door. "I mean... I came to this party to sell my supply and after my whole lunchbox was cleaned out, I started thinking about who I should kiss at midnight. Or more precisely, who would be the worse option, or rather, the option that would bring the most-"

"Chaos. Yeah, I got that part," Steve cuts him off.

Eddie's smile changes to something genuine for a moment as he comments, "Wow, Steve Harrington is actually listening to me."

Steve rolls his eyes, grip loosening on the bat. "I'd rather you not stand on my desk to get my attention." To Steve's surprise, Eddie actually laughs in response and pulls a strand of hair in front of his face to hide his smile. And to Steve's much greater surprise, his heart starts beating a little faster and he finds it harder to not smile back at him. "So, chaos?" Steve prompts.

"Right," Eddie says, rocking on his feet again, "Chaos." He ducks his head for a moment as if hyping himself up for the next thing he's going to say, which is when Steve entirely releases his grip on the bat, realizing that Eddie is more scared of him. "So, I thought, to start the year off with the most chaos, I would choose someone to kiss that would bring the most chaos. And I thought, why not the host of this party?"

Steve frowns. "Tommy's downstairs."

Eddie mirrors his frown. "You're not hosting?"

"Why would I be in my room if I'm hosting?"

"Why would the party be in your house if you're not hosting?"

It suddenly hits Steve. "Wait, you want to kiss me?"

Eddie takes a step back, hovering even closer to the door than he was before. "Consensually, of course."

It takes a moment for Steve to fully process what is being asked. "You think I'm the worst option to kiss?"

"That's what you're asking?" Eddie asks, trailing off to mutter something like, "The fragile ego of athletes, I swear."

"I got dumped this year. Of course my ego is low."

Eddie smiles bashfully. "Sorry, my uncle always tells me I'm not as quiet as I think I am." And there's something about Eddie's cheeks that are slightly flushed, the strand of hair he starts tugging at again, and the way he can't stop bouncing as if he's buzzing with energy and nerves that makes him so...

"Yes," Steve blurts out suddenly. For a moment, he wonders if the mindf- mind fly? mind... whatever evil thing from a few weeks ago has possessed him.

"Yes what?" Eddie asks sounding genuinely confused. As Steve stands up to look out his blinds and shut them, Eddie rambles, "Yes, I'm not as quiet as I think I am? Or yes, you're about to punch me, and I'm going to finally figure out how it felt when you got your face bashed in a few weeks ago?"

Steve rolls his eyes before holding up both of his hands, mimicking Eddie's pose when he first came into the room. "Yes, I'll kiss you."

It's as if Eddie has forgotten he's asked the question the way his jaw drops, and he stares at Steve like he's said the most confusing thing he's ever heard. Which... to be fair... is highly likely.

"You want to kiss me?"

Steve takes a small step closer to Eddie. "I want to give you your chaos."' When Eddie doesn't look convinced, Steve takes a step closer to him, hand running through his hair as he continues, "Who knows, maybe it'll give me good luck or something for next year by cancelling out the chaos from this year."

Eddie nods. "Okay. You're giving me your chaos. Yeah. That makes sense."

"And you're taking my chaos away," Steve agrees, trying to tell himself that this is a rational decision. "This makes sense."

"You're not going to beat me up?" Eddie asks, risking a small step away from the door.

Steve shakes his head. "Seems like a bad way to start the year, don't you think?"

Eddie nods as Steve steps closer to him, slowly, as if not to startle him away. "You know, I thought just asking you would be chaotic enough as is and then I could run away and pretend you hallucinated or something when you tried to beat me up."

"Should've asked Hargrove then," Steve says, cocking his head to the side. "Does that mean you don't actually want to kiss me?"

Eddie swallows and shakes his head. "I didn't say that."

Just as Steve gets in front of Eddie, he hears people downstairs counting down from ten. "Good," Steve says, "Because there isn't enough time to find someone else."

Eddie scoffs, the countdown now at eight, "That's not true for you."

"Maybe, but I'm not really looking to find anyone else right now. Are you?" Five.

Eddie smiles and takes a step forward. "No." Three.

Steve reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind Eddie's ear. "Good." One.

Steve's not really sure who moves first or if they move together, but the yells of, "Happy New Year" are drowned out as Eddie's lips meet his in a kiss that feels more desperate than Steve expected. He's not sure why they're kissing as if the countdown was for the end of the world, but he really doesn't care.

It's only when Steve's gets a little carried away, Eddie's back slams against Steve's door with a thud that's loud enough to alert anyone that something's happening in Steve's room, that Steve breaks away with a gasp, seeking the air Eddie's stolen from him. He wonders if - hopes - it's the chaos he's taken.

"Happy New Year," Steve whispers, hands cupping Eddie's face while Eddie's are tangled in the mess he's made of Steve's hair. He's not sure when either of those things happened.

"Happy fucking New Year, Steve," Eddie mutters, hands slowly dropping from his hair.

Steve's hands hold onto Eddie's face a little tighter for a moment, and he sees the moment a bit of fear sparks in Eddie's eyes. Steve quickly shakes his head. "No, I'm not about to beat you up. It's just... I kind of slammed you against the door a little hard there, and if someone else is up here and they see you..."

"Chaos," Eddie fills in with a nod, "And not the good kind."

"Yeah," Steve sighs, "Not the good kind." He glances to his window where the blinds are firmly shut - thank you Jonathan for teaching him that lesson - and down at the locked doorknob before looking back at Eddie. He glances at his lips momentarily before blurting out, "Stay with me."

Eddie's jaw drops, mouth opening slightly in shock.

Steve steps back, hands reluctantly leaving Eddie's face. "Stay until everyone clears out at least. No ulterior motive."

Eddie shoves his hands into his pockets and moves back into Steve's space. "What if I want there to be an ulterior motive?" He tilts his head down and gives Steve a case of lethal puppy dog eyes. "Fully take your chaos away, remember?"

Steve is absolutely sure that this in no way will take away the chaos of his previous year and will likely only invite questions, confusion, and further chaos into 1985.

"Yeah, I remember," Steve says, pulling Eddie into another desperate kiss.

Maybe Eddie was onto something about starting the year with a little chaos. And maybe 1985 will be his year.

(i accidentally wrote a tiny epilogue later in the tags that i really like)

[deebris]

Weight of Care

Simon Riley x little sister Reader (platonic!)

Synopsis: Simon, your older brother, has been your guardian since you were a baby. Amid the collapse of your family, he made the courageous choice to take you out of the house, raising you as if you were his own. However, despite being happy, your relationship is complicated. While you see Simon as a paternal figure, he struggles with the pain of being mistaken for one. His heart tightens every time you call him "daddy," and he thought you had managed to move past that—until you do it again one night.

Warnings: Just a little angst with a happy ending; reader is 6 years old.

Word count: 1.2k

“Did you brush your teeth?” Simon asked upon hearing your muffled laughter. He opened the bedroom door, its walls now marked by your numerous drawings. Toys scattered across the floor shifted as he entered, and with the first step he took inside, something cracked underfoot, breaking.

“How many times have I told you that you need to put your toys away after playing?” he said firmly, shooting you a stern look. Simon hated messiness, but with you around, it seemed impossible to keep everything in order.

“I was going to put them away,” you murmured, embarrassed by the scolding. But your guilty expression quickly turned into a tearful grimace as your eyes fell your sheep, now shattered on the floor. “You broke it!” Your childish scream echoed through the room, and you hurried to gather the pieces with trembling hands.

“If you had put it away, this wouldn’t have happened,” he accused you, hoping it would serve as a lesson. Maybe then you would finally start to be more responsible with your things. And even knowing he was right, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness at seeing your broken sheep.

Watching you wipe your tears with the sleeve of the pajamas and hearing sniffles made his heart soften. It was frustrating how he simply couldn’t stay mad at you. The last thing Simon wanted was for you to become a spoiled child, but in that moment, it was hard to maintain his sternness.

He already felt guilty for not being able to take care of you completely due to work, and knowing that Mrs. Trelawney, your babysitter, was much more lenient than he was only made everything harder. Every time Simon came home, you seemed more stubborn and whiny.  

“Come on, it’s time to sleep.” He lifted you by your armpits and placed you in bed, pulling up the yellow blanket that you loved so much. You had already taken a bath and were wearing clean lilac pajamas covered with stars. “I’ll buy you another one, you don’t need to cry.”  

“But it’s not the same,” you murmured as he collected the toy pieces from your hand, placing them on the dresser to throw away tomorrow. Some parts were sharp, so he checked your delicate hands, worried about possible cuts.  

“It’s the same,” he insisted, sighing tiredly as he tucked your feet under the blanket. Surprisingly, you didn’t argue, remaining strangely silent. “What’s wrong?”  

“Sorry,” you whispered, feeling bad for upsetting him. “I promise I’ll put it away.”

Your promise made him cast a quick glance at the bedroom floor, where pink, blue, and all other colored toys were scattered. Even your dolls were out of place, thrown in various corners. He still felt frustrated because you always said you would tidy up and never did, but this time it seemed different, so he decided to put a bit of faith in your word.  

“Tomorrow. Now you need to sleep.” He stood up to leave, but suddenly remembered something:  

“Teeth.” Simon said, and you blew near his face, letting him feel the freshness of mint on your breath. “Show me your tongue.” He spoke in a suspicious tone, knowing that you sometimes didn’t clean your mouth well. “Good.” He praised, satisfied to see you sticking your tongue out, then making a face, which made him laugh inside.  

He turned off the bedside lamp, watching you settle into the pillow, and began to move toward the door. But hearing your naive voice, he stopped in his tracks, his heart tightening:  

“Daddy, can I go to the museum with my class tomorrow?”  

“What?” Simon asked, stunned, still turned away from you, his hand frozen on the doorknob. Surprise echoed in his voice, mixed with a thread of worry. He slowly turned around, trying to decipher the expectation in your gaze.  

It had been so long since you last called him that. Simon thought he had finally managed to correct you after so many attempts, but he realized that wasn’t working. He had lost count of how many times he repeated that he was just your older brother, but deep down, he knew he was guilty. In trying to erase any trace of your father in your life, he had created a space where that confusion was natural. It was understandable that you saw him this way.  

“Miss Sarah is taking us to the museum tomorrow. Can I go?” You repeated the question, oblivious to the tension in his shoulders.  

“Why didn’t you ask earlier?” Simon swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.  

“I forgot,” you explained, sitting up in bed to grab a piece of paper from your backpack. It was a permission slip for guardians to sign, allowing the trip. “Please?” You pouted, holding the paper in one hand and one of your decorated pencils in the other, as if that could increase your chances.  

“To the museum?” He asked, his voice tinged with melancholy. Simon sat on the edge of the bed, already starting to sign his name on the line, but his mind wandered to a distant place, filled with his conflicting memories and feelings.  

The situation between you two was complicated. You were the only family Simon had left, a little girl. He still remembers when he found out that his mother was pregnant and, even more, the first time he saw you. He had been away from home for several years, and coming back always felt torturous. But the idea of having something so small and innocent waiting for him was what truly saved him. 

Simon took you from home long before your parents died, unable to bear the thought of you growing up in that environment. After his brother died, he projected all the fears and regrets an older brother could carry onto you. It was as if you were his only way to redeem himself for Tommy. You were so young that you barely remembered the rest of the family; for you, the world revolved around Simon.  

He didn’t even realize he was wandering until he felt you gently pull the paper from his hands. Your big eyes locked onto his for a moment, filled with concern, until you broke eye contact, standing to put the paper away and lie back down, pulling the blanket over yourself.  

“Are you okay?” You asked, noticing he was still standing there, lost in thought. The nervousness in your voice snapped Simon back to reality, bringing him to the stillness of the room, where silence hung between you.  

Simon thought of several things to say, like, “You know I’m your brother, right?” or “We’ve talked about this,” but it felt like a never-ending cycle. It was as if nothing could stop you from continuing to call him that. He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. He knew that, in practice, he played the role of a father in your life, something he chose for himself. Even so, every time he heard, a strange sensation coursed through his body.  

“Good night.” He simply said in his deep, familiar voice, but now, something different was in the air. For the first time, he didn’t try to correct or resist, finally allowing himself to accept the way you called him ‘daddy.’  

You hesitated for a moment, sensing something strange about him before responding softly: “Good night, Si.” And a faint smile formed on his lips, something rare, as if, at last, something had clicked into place.

Taglist: @aenishas

[lis-likes-fics]

Strange Obsession

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Reader Word Count: 1.8k words Prompt: Somnophilia Warnings: NSFW, smut, somnophilia (so dub/noncon themes), touching, no penetration, masturbation, panty stealing, Edward's a pervert but we knew that already... A/N: Yeah... Okay.

You look so peaceful.

Moonlight streams in through your curtains as Edward stands in the corner of your room. Your blankets, rustled by your rest, no longer cover your chest and sit, instead, around your waist. Your shirt is so thin, he could see the outline of your nipples through it.

And he can smell your sticky arousal from where he stands.

It's a little unnerving. He’s been coming here for weeks, watching you sleep, listening to your dreams. And when you haven't quite fallen asleep yet, he can still hear your thoughts from the safety of the night outside.

Sometimes he even gets to hear your really intimate ones. He can see through your eyes, clouded in pleasure as you try to stifle your little sounds. He can see the images flashing behind your eyes as you plunge your fingers inside of yourself.

Sometimes even he makes an appearance in these thoughts—a flash of his face or his hands behind your eyes. It's enough to make him keep coming.

He knows he shouldn't be doing this—it's weird and perverted. He should turn around and leave—at least in this new girl's apparent lack of thoughts, he had a valid obsession for coming back. It's a much more potent intrigue.

But there's something about you that draws him, something darker than whatever it is he's found in his heart for Bella Swan.

Your blood is not nearly as maddening. He can hear and see your thoughts clear as day. Your beauty is not so ordinary as Bella’s, and more plainly seen. He's spent time talking to you, and you're not especially remarkable. And yet…

When you begin to stir, he almost runs. But you don't wake.

The slightest sound slips from your lips, a sigh—almost a whimper, even. He watches as you turn onto your belly, your blankets slipping from your body and allowing him to feast on the sight of you.

You're bare beneath the oversized shirt you wear. The shirt has ridden up your back during your adjustment and he can see the bare curve of your ass in the gentle moonlight through the window. One of your legs is bent, meaning his view is only elevated to something even more scandalous.

Images of bare bodies, sweaty skin, grinding and gripping arise within your mind. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, a silent groan in his throat at the sounds of moans and whimpers fill every recess of your thoughts.

Edward doesn't necessarily intend to move forward, but he does. His feet take slow, impossibly silent steps toward you. He reaches out his hand at his side, his fingers flexing and unflexing as he longs to press his fingers to your skin. His fingertips are careful in their venture, brushing delicate flesh and feeling the warmth of your skin radiating off of you.

His eyes catch something peeking out from beneath your blanket and he sees a sliver of pink. Wordlessly, he reaches for it and wraps pale fingers around soft, pink panties. They're damp with what he has come to recognize as your arousal. He smells it in the halls of the school, he smells it when he stands outside of your window at night. It is uniquely you, and it's maddening.

He shuts his eyes and watches the movie in your mind, sensual images of pleasure making it harder for him to resist tangling his fingers in your underwear and bringing them to his nose.

He inhales the scent like honeyed roses, sighing longingly as he presses them closer. It smells sweet, this saccharine scent that fills his mind with nothing but you—makes him grateful for the fact that no one else can hear the thoughts rushing through his head as an arousal he's not used to grows and grows in the pit of his stomach.

When you whimper again, he opens his eyes to see as you grind your hips shallowly into your mattress. Your thoughts are the same, if not more desperate. Your breaths are uneven, interrupted by tiny mewls. He watches as your growing need for pleasure rises within you until he thinks he won't be able to hold himself back any longer.

Edward almost doesn't realize it when his hand drops to his jeans, pulling down the zipper to relieve the hardness of his cock being restricted by the fabric. He stifles a groan when he glances down at himself, too stiff to be ignored as he finally, slowly, shamefully brings his hand to his cock and wraps it tightly around himself.

He's too far gone now. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, knows that it's wrong, that it's perverted. He should never have showed up in the first place.

But you're so peaceful now, even with the way you keen into your mattress and whine at the sinful thoughts in your head. He doesn't know why it's affecting him so deeply, why hearing your thoughts throughout the day, seeing you walk the halls, smelling you in the recesses of his mind makes him so adamant on being here. Even if it were all strictly innocent, he would still be here, watching you sleep watching you dream of pleasure.

He just wants to know what it's like…to be here, with you, in you. His mind is riddled with it, dirtied with it. He wants so badly to have you.

He fists his cock with an unsympathetic hand, stroking and gripping, trying so hard to be done with such a sinful deed. He wishes you didn't exist. He wishes you were never born so that he wasn't standing here, fisting his cock over your half-naked body as he held your panties to his nose.

You continue to grind into your bed to no avail, your whines only deepening when you cannot tame your need.

He's only helping. At least, that's what he'll tell himself when this is all over.

He bends over you, moving closer as his fingertips trail your back again. A tiny hum tickles his ears as they travel farther down, over the dip of your back, over the curve of your bottom. Your hips become a little more eager.

He lets his hand fall between your thighs, and he cups your arousal with a frigid palm. Your hips jerk slightly, but you don't wake.

He pulls his hand away, staring at his palm now slick with your wetness. He brings it close, inhales deeply, lets out a shaky sigh as he lets the scent of you invade his senses.

Edward lays the back of his hand against the bed, securely beneath you as he presses a finger to your clit. He keeps it there, does nothing else. He's steady and still as a statue as he watches you grind against his hand, losing breath in your sleep as a new pressure to your clit adds the pleasure you were needing.

Your tiny sounds grow as you aid yourself in finding a release. He purses his lips to keep quiet as he wraps your panties around his cock and strokes.

Between your breathy whines and his sinful arousal, all thoughts of fleeing have left his mind. He focuses on the thoughts flashing through your head, the way you grind your hips into his hand as you rub your clit over his still finger. Your fingers grip the sheets, your mind reels.

Edward grips himself almost uncomfortably, fucking his fist to your thoughts and your scent and your squirming hips. He can hear the sounds in your head fuzzing, he can see the image becoming brighter as it almost renders itself white noise.

You breathe a moan, a legitimate moan that has him opening his eyes to see your face, half pressed into your pillow. Your eyes flick rapidly behind your eyelids, your brows furrowing in a distant concentration. Sweat is beginning to prick along your spine.

He's not going to be able to hold out much longer—which is good. Being here, doing this, it's a line he knows he should not have crossed. The sooner he can relieve himself of his perverted act, the sooner he can leave you be. Maybe this will be the last time he comes to you. Maybe after this, he will be satisfied enough not to feel the need to come back.

The softness of your panties around his cock is intoxicating. His hips buck into his hand, and he nearly forgets to stay quiet when a sigh falls out of him. He watches your face, enamored by you and your pleasure as you continue to use his hand to find what you so desperately crave.

Your sounds become a little louder, loud enough to mask any puffs of breath he might let escape as the pleasure swells in him.

When he cums, it's a shameful feeling that overcomes him as he continues to fuck his cock into your panties. He stains them with his release, grunting as he loses himself in the pleasure, in your thoughts, in the mewls of your budding ecstasy. It shocks his system and settles once more as a heavy sinking in the pit of his stomach.

He's catching his breath, a deeply subconscious action that he does not realize is taking place until he can hear his breaths in his own ears again. He holds it immediately, steadying his thoughts to try and steer away from the continued filth of yours.

His eyes are glued to you when you find your release. Your jaw drops to let out a surprised moan as you grind harder, slower into his hand. Your arms flex as you grip the sheets, pulling yourself up. The sight is something he will never forget. It will stay with him forever.

And that is how he knows this will not be the last time.

His thoughts are cut short when the white noise of your thoughts are abruptly stolen into something he recognizes as consciousness. In hardly a second, he's tucked back into his jeans and fled from your bedroom window. It's closed so swiftly and so silently that you have no time to even realize it was open to begin with.

You catch your breath, opening your eyes and glancing around you as you try to figure out what this light, airy feeling in your body is coming from. You glance down between your thighs, slick with an arousal you had not fallen asleep with. As you tap your clit experimentally, you're surprised to find its sensitivity.

How did you cum in your sleep?

You glance around once more, as if looking for clues before ultimately coming short. You clammer out of bed to clean yourself up, looking to go back to sleep as quickly as possible.

Edward stands outside of your window, your panties still gripped in his hand, still stained with your arousal and his cum. He shoves them into his pocket and lets out a silent breath.

He will be back.

Twihards taglist: @activebliss  @thelastpyle @babypink224221 @lovelyy-moonlight @dangerouslittlefairy @athena-roy @Fanreader @alexxavicry @allofmaris @katsukis1wife @dumb-fawkin-bitch @letitiawrightsbabymama @papichulo120627 @kmc1989 @thegr8estpuff @xxhanililoxx @chloelmao67 @krngrangerblack @patchesofwork @hc-geralt-23 @stevendenkiswhore  @sadbitchfangirl Tag yourself here...

[yeagerprincess]

Casual (Onyankopon x Black Reader)

"Baby, wai-"

"Boy, fuck you!" You scream, slamming the door behind you in your boyfriend's face. Tears stream down your honey colored cheeks as you throw yourself into your bed, sobbing loudly into your heart shaped pillow.

The sound of Onyankopon's knuckles on your bedroom door only piss you off even more. "I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT," you wail like a banshee. Your anger contrasts your outfit: a soft pink skirt with a matching tube top and white converse with frilly white ankle socks.

"You gone quit yellin' at me, girl," his voice rumbles through the door, making you sob even harder. He respects your wishes though, and storms out the front door without another word.

Nearly an hour had gone by before you finally calmed down, staring blankly at the wall as you recounted the day's events. You were all dolled up and ready to spend the night out with Onyankopon, just the two of you, when you happened to peek over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of his messages.

It was all downhill from there. Whatever bitch he was texting could have him.

At least, you wished you really felt that way.

Your mind is swimming as you drag yourself out of bed and into the bathroom. After lazily cleaning off your makeup, you find yourself staring into the bathroom mirror. Your eyes are all puffy and red from crying, your once perfect edges were in total disarray now, your ponytail askew and the ribbon loosely draped around your scrunchie.

You're a mess. One final tear cascades down your cheek before you finally begin to draw yourself a bath. You dim the lights, get a few candles going, light some incense, then turn on your shower playlist. You douse your bath water with lavender oil and vanilla bath salts, then slowly ease your way into the steaming water, letting out a deep sigh of relief as the water warms you to your bones.

Your phone buzzes on the sink and you just know it's him. Who the fuck else would it be? Ignore.

it's only when the water starts to freeze that you finally rise from the tub and check your phone. It's Onyankopon, asking if you're okay asking if you're ready to talk. But you don't answer. You'd rather pout and let him figure it out.

You throw on a tank top and some shorts, then head to the kitchen in search of your favorite comfort snacks: wine, cookies n cream ice cream, a blunt, and some popcorn, only to be stopped dead in your tracks by the sight of Onyankopon sitting on your sofa in the dark.

"I thought you left," you ask, voice barely a whisper. He only shakes his head. You can tell he's been crying too. His nose is red and he usually gets quieter when he's upset, the complete opposite of you. "You really want me to leave?"

"I really want you to tell me why you talkin' to them bitches when you got a girlfriend."

"I thought we was just casual."

"Casual? Why don't you casually get the fuck up off my couch and ask that other bitch if you can casually sleep on hers."

"You know, you got a smart fuckin' mouth, girl" Onyankopon growls, rising from the sofa and making his way towards you until he's right in front of you, peering down at you with those piercing, dark eyes. "I like that about you," he continues, lifting his hand to caress his thumb over your pouty lips.

As much as you hate him right now, he's so fucking sexy in the dim light like this, his gold grillz shining in the dark, features softened by the darkness of the room. "Stop playin' with me," you sigh, gazing up at him through hazy, half lidded eyes.

"Ain't nobody playin' witchu, girl," his deep voice rumbles through his chest, making you squirm underneath his gaze. "I really ain't know you felt like that. That we was supposed to be official. I'm sorry." He punctuates his apology with a kiss, plump brown lips gently pressing against yours.

As if on queue, the waterworks start right up again. Against your own better judgment, you give into him, albeit reluctantly. "I-I hate you," you whimper into his lips, snaking your arms around his broad, hulking shoulders as he lifts you into his arms and carries you off to the sofa. "You'ont hate me, baby," he answers, shushing your verbal protests with another sweet kiss.

You want to argue so badly, but the way that big sexy mocha man effortlessly manhandles you has you reconsidering everything you though you felt about him. You allow him to undress you, instinctively lifting your hips as he rolls your pajama shorts down your thighs. He bites his lip as he takes in the display before him. You're already wet.

His clothes come off soon after, his big veiny dick just as ready as your pussy, your both shameless in your desire for each other. He sinks down into your aching pussy, watching as your face contorts with pleasure. Every inch has you thanking your stars that he didn't actually leave earlier.

"Onyyyyy," you whine as he begins to rock his hips, stroking your pussy slow and deep. You suck in a breath through your teeth, the slow pace making your eyes flutter shut. He carefully pulls one of your thighs up over his shoulder, gripping tightly onto the other as he rolls his devilishly skilled hips down into yours.

"You gone be nice to me?" he teases, watching you slowly fall apart for him, a deep chuckle escaping his lips when he sees you shaking your head 'no.'

"You cute," he answers before repositioning his hips, now drilling down straight into your sweet spot, making your eyes shoot open to lock with his. "Oh, fuck, oooouuh, Ony!" His pace his still pretty lax, but he's stroking you so deep and intensely that you can't keep up. Your faces are so close that your noses bump. You stick out your tongue to flick across his lips, making him groan desperately for you.

Your pretty, manicured nails dig into his bulbous biceps as he fucks you thoroughly, his fat dick filling you perfectly. "I'm sorry for making you cry," he moans against your lips before kissing them, only to pull away and apologize once more. The wet sounds of his dick stirring up your pussy fill the air alongside the lewd, smacking noises of your tongues and lips, making your eyes roll back from all the sensations. You make the mistake of peeking downwards where the two of you collide, only to be met with the scene of Onyankopon's unforgiving dick bullying away at your deliciously creamy pussy.

Long, drawn out whines and whimpers fall from your mouth as you watch Onyankopon's two huge plums slapping against your jiggly cheeks with every thrust. No one fucks you as good as him. No one's dick is as good as his. Nobody does this to your pussy except him.

"I'm finna cum, Ony!"

"You gone talk to me nice?"

"Oh, FUCK! Yes, Ony, yes Imma be nice! Imma be nice, daddy!"

"Get this dick, baby," he responds, prompting you to cream yourself all over his thick dick. You writhe and thrash beneath him, squealing blissfully into his pierced ear as he fucks all the girl juice out of you, watching intently as you fall apart on his dick. "Uuughh, fuck, Imma cum, baby, I'm finna cum all in that pussy," he groans as loses himself inside you, picking up the pace and ramming into you as he floods you with his precious cum.

It takes a minute for you both to regain your composure, just laying there in each other's arms and bathing in the afterglow. "We still casual?" you ask, playfully smacking him on the shoulder when you hear him laughing on top of you.

[nevvae]

Ambessa sex tent backshots!

ERM, hey fazgang have u ever wanted backshots with ambessa?? Me too! Enjoy!

Basically ambessa, um yk backshots in sex tent, choking in this (in headlock form) 😝

Smut under, minor no 😖!

‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿

You grip her arm, nails digging into her bicep, hips bucking back to push the toy deeper into you. She flexes her arm, tightening it around your throat, a wolfish grin on her face as you grasp at her arm, gasping. "Be still." A command you can't help but try to fight, even as your mind screams for oxygen, the room spinning. It's only a moment before you're forced to be still, to let her hold you in place.

Her free hand slides down your stomach, between your thighs, the tips of her fingers stroking over the length of the toy, making you gasp again as she trails up to stroke your clit, pinching it in-between her fingers.

Her thrusts become harder, her hips snapping against you . She grins, panting softly. "You always take me so well," her voice a husky whisper, breath hot in your ear. You whine, biting your lip as you feel her thrust harder, the head of the toy brushing against that sensitive spot deep inside you, sending shivers down your spine, legs quivering as you release a soft, pleasure-filled moan.

Her arms bulge with effort as she holds you in place, choking out a grunt as you scratch at her arm. The muscles in her shoulders, neck, and back flex with every motion as her biceps clench. You can't break her grip. Ambessa's fucking you with powerful, relentless thrusts. The toy slides in and out of you with a lewd, wet sound.

"You like that?" She grunts against your neck, her powerful arms keeping you pinned. "You like being overpowered and used like a little toy?" You groan, scrambling for air, body burning with pleasure and aching with desire.

Her thrusts increase in speed and force, her breath hot against your neck, and you feel the head of the toy ram against your sweet spot.

You're close, so close. You try to cry out, but you're too breathless, body writhing, hips bucking. You feel yourself teetering on the edge, her strong arms enveloping you, her sultry voice caressing your ear, the toy filling you completely. It's too much.

Your mind blanks as a powerful orgasm rips through you, back arching, hips jerking, a strangled scream escaping your lips. She continues fucking you, drawing out the intense pleasure, until she, too, can't hold back any longer.

She comes with a grunt, hips rocking erratically against the base of the toy, her voice strained. "Fuck... " She groans, her breath hot and ragged, as her powerful frame shakes. She releases her grip, letting you fall to the carpeted floor, boneless and dazed, chest heaving.

She kneels over you, her breath ragged but content, a gentle smile gracing her face as she tenderly strokes your cheek, gazing down at you with affection. "You did well," she says, eyes half lidded. "As I expected."

Her face softens, and she leans forward, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Sleep well, little one." She stands, a mix of satisfaction swirling in her chest, as walks towards her desk.

You close your eyes, trying to catch your breath, mind still reeling. It's a while before you're able to move, but once you do, you stagger to your feet and get dressed, still sore but satisfied.

^ this is the aftercare btw 😝

[glamorizethechaos]

Labor of Love | Jack Abbot x Reader

Summary: Getting pregnant with Dr. Abbots baby was never in your cards. From a sloppy one night stand to a passionate relationship, Jack becomes the protective boyfriend you always wanted. Going into labor a month early, Jack ends up delivering your baby himself.

A/N: I have literally never written smut a day in my life so this is strange for me but IM TRYING, OKAY? Catholic guilt goes crazy.

TW: 18+, accidental pregnancy, implied age gap, childbirth, preterm labor, probable medical inaccuracies (what know about childbirth is based on my own experience giving birth myself. shit sucks btw.), fluff, poorly written smut

Word Count: 3.3k

Not Beta Read

You had always hoped your child would be conceived after a night of romance. Something out of a movie. Perhaps a candle lit dinner followed by passionate love making? Growing up in the age of Nicholas Sparks novels certainly skewed your romantic view of the world. You certainly never expected it to be with your stone cold attending Jack Abbot, in a night of well...alcohol fueled fucking. Jack putting you in positions you didnt know were humanly possible, and having you making noises you didnt even know you could make.

"Thats it baby, give me more." he growled into the crook of your neck as he fucked you through your second orgasm. Slowly stroking in and out of your squelching cunt as your body arched and contorted beneath him. Your moans echoing through his loft apartment. His rough hands anchoring you as he stretched you out, his cock fitting almost perfectly inside of you. He loved watching you lose control, your eyes rolling back with each deep thrust, your toes curling as he hit that spongey spot that made you come undone.

And he wasn't finished. You see, Jack was a gentleman, chivalrous as some would say. He took his time. He didnt dare let himself reach his climax until he was pleased with his work. Until he felt your pussy squeezing and throbbing against him, gasping for breath and beginning for his cum. He fucked slow and deliberate, stretching you out- filling up every single inch. Only when until you demanded he fuck you faster…harder, did he really lose himself in you. Your legs resting in his broad shoulders, him holding onto your thighs, fingers digging into your soft flesh.

The sweat dripped down his forehead as he fought to stay in control. You were so tight, twitching around him with each thrust, it felt euphoric. Just when you thought you had nothing left, his hand traveled down to your swollen clit, drawing circles with his thumb, rendering you breathless.

"Fuck, Jack..." you whimpered. Your breathing was erratic- mouth dry, longing for his tongue to explore yours once again. He knew you were close again, it didnt take him long to discover what made you tick, and what made you lose all control.

"That's it, good girl. Let go." and thats all it took for you to erupt. He fucked you ferociously through your orgasm, the bed crashing against the wall with each thrust until he collapsed on top of you. You both struggled to catch your breath.

No wonder the condom broke.

When you stood the bathroom of the Pitt looking at the two blaring pink lines it felt like you had the wind knocked out of you. You saw your entire residency crumble beneath you. You contemplating not telling him, writing a script for mifepristone and misoprostol yourself. But after work that night, you found yourself at his apartment. Your hand hovered over the door before you heard a voice behind you.

"Y/n?" Jack stood with his backpacked slung over his shoulder, wondering what the hell you were doing at his place. After sleeping together weeks prior not much changed between you. You never spoke of it and carried on like work colleagues. Maybe he stood up a little straighter when you walked by, maybe your cheeks felt flushed whenever he brushed up against you during a trauma.

By the look on your face, Jack knew something was wrong. He fumbled with his keys as you stepped aside enough for him to unlock the door. He pushed it opened and ushered you in first.

"I'm sorry, I know that was a rough shift b-"

"Whats going on? You alright?" he cut you off, kicking off his work sneakers and setting his stuff down by the door. He watched as you fumbled in your bag, searching for the positive pregnancy test that seemed to be buried under your empty snack wrappers and old receipts. You hesitated before pulling it out of your bag.

His hand hovered before reluctantly taking it from you, looking at you beneath his furrowed brow. He had been to war, he had been surrounded by complete destruction, he had seen the worst of humanity, and yet he had never been more scared than in this moment. He inspected it, flipping it over, holding it up to the light, but the two lined were as clear as day. Dark. Blaring. Indisputable.

“I’m sorry. I-“ you couldn’t find the words. Your mouth opened and closed liked a fish out of water as your thoughts faltered.

“Why are you apologizing?” Jack asked, confused, dry and deadpan.

“I don’t know."

"It’s not your fault. I mean I was there too.” He said, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

Your eyes burned as the tears began to well up, blinking ferociously to stop them from falling. However soon one fell, and then another, and another. Before you knew it you were sobbing in Jacks arms. The two of you stood there for what felt like an eternity as he traced circles along your back. It felt strangely comfortable, his arms holding you against him, the smell of sweat and antiseptic on his scrubs filling your nose.

"What do we do?”

“We figure it out. If you want to keep the baby or if you don't, we figure this out. You aren't in this alone. ”

And you did. As your bump grew, so did your closeness and love for each another. You almost missed the first time he told you he loved you. You were cooking him dinner, something you loved to do despite your multitude of food aversions. Hips swaying side to side to a spotify playlist as you glided around his kitchen. He was trying to watch the Steelers game but kept finding his eyes on you.

“I love you.” He called out quietly. You felt your heart jolt.

“Huh? Did you say something?” You asked in disbelief, turning down your music to make sure you heard him right. Jack hesitated, trying to gauge your face and reaction before repeating himself.

“I said, I love you.” And he took you right there on the living room floor, fucking you senselessly as the pasta boiled over on the stove. You ordered takeout that night instead.

However, aside from in the bedroom, Jack wasn’t especially affectionate, especially not in public; and while he tried to make more of an effort, he didn’t say “I love you” often. But it certainly wasn’t lost on him.

You found him reading books about obstetrics in his free time, he instinctively put his hand on your belly when a patient was being especially combative, he signed the both of you up for a childbirth class where he took notes, or he would text you “you craving anything?” on his way home from the hospital on your nights off. All the subtle things he did made you realize he was completely and utterly head over heels in love with you.

The first time Jack felt the baby flutter, you don't think you had ever seen him so happy.

On mornings after a particularly rough shift, and Jack couldn't sleep from the adrenaline, the two of you would watch the morning news until one of you eventually folded, usually you. His hand rested on your swollen bump that you could no longer pass as bloating to your nosey coworkers. Of course Dana was the first the sniff it out. Jack rubbed circles on your belly, it helped calm him, ground him, and have at least something to help keep his head above water. Suddenly he felt a little kick, jumping up so quickly he almost tripped, running his fingers through his hair with the dumbest smile on his face.

"Did you feel that? Was that my baby girl?" he started to pace, unsure of how to process this other worldly experience.

"Girl?" you chuckled, raising your brow, "How are you so sure its a girl?" the two of you decided you wanted to be surprised. You were certain it was a boy, but he shot down all the baby boy name suggestions because, "it didnt matter anyway." He liked the name Grace.

"Yes, my girls are both right here. Hi Gracie girl." he knelt down next to the bed, rubbing and kissing your belly as you rolled your eyes.

But the comfortable bliss of the second trimester was short lived as you entered your third. Growing more and more uncomfortable as the weeks pass and your bump grows. You don’t want to be touched, your back hurts, waking up nearly every night from heartburn, and those damn Braxton Hicks contractions making your abdomen tighten like a vice grip.

After every shift, Jack meets you on the couch to rub your swollen feet, not before checking your blood pressure of course.

“Jack, I don’t have pre eclampsia.” You’d protest and the cuff tightened around your arm.

“You know just as well as I that it can sneak up on you quick… 118/72…”

“See? I told you I was fine. I’m swollen because I was on my feet for the past 12 hours.” You elevated your legs on his lap, kicking his thigh with your foot before he started to rub them.

“Are you sure you’re okay working? You can always go out on maternity leave early.” Jack was particularly protective of you right now, no matter how many times you protested you didn’t need light cases loads at work. He’d make you take frequent breaks, and show up at the nurses station with a water bottle and crackers. You spent more time in the bathroom from all the water he made you drink rather than tending to patients.

“So I can sit at home and go stir crazy? No way. I’m only 36 weeks. I have a month left of this hell.” You threw your head back as he massaged a particularly tender spot. You took a long bath and changed into one of Jacks Army t shirts and a pair of his sweatpants, his clothes were the only things that fit you comfortably at this point. The shirt was ratty and nearly falling apart at the seams, but it was your favorite to wear. His smell embedded into the fabric no matter how many times it’s been washed. The sleeves stretched from his biceps that you loved to bite and nibble on when you two laid together.

You crawl into bed next to Jack who has already pulled down the blackout curtains and turned on your white noise machine you can’t sleep without. He looped his arm around you, nuzzling his head into your damp hair that now smelled of lavender and lemon verbena. It wasn’t long before you felt his breathing slow and his arm grow heavy over your bump.

You tossed and turned, feeling incredibly restless. Unable to settle, you flipped on the bedside lamp and started reading one of Jacks medical journals, hoping your eyes would eventually become too heavy to fight it. That feeling never came. It felt as if though you just ran a trauma, adrenaline coursing through your veins. You decided to go for a walk, your back aching, stopping ever so often to breathe through those damn Braxton Hicks. God you were so over this.

You spent the rest of the day cleaning whatever you thought was necessary. The baseboards, the inside of the freezer, and the top of the fans that you made him dust only last week. Had Jack known you were on top of a ladder, he’d have had a conniption. Soon you heard Jacks alarm go off and him shuffle out into the kitchen, his eyes tired and heavy.

“You get any sleep baby?” He asked, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

“Not really. Just too restless.” You shrugged as he poured himself a cup of coffee. You watched at he changed into his black scrubs and threw some extra things into his backpack. Today was your night off.

There was a gnawing feeling in the pit of your stomach, sometime inside screaming for Jack not to leave. You shook it off. Maybe it was just the indigestion. He grabbed an apple off the counter to eat on the way in. He held it in his mouth as he zipped his sweatshirt before taking a bite.

“You need anything before I head out?” He asked, grabbing the keys to his pickup. You watched the clock behind him, timing the minutes between the pains in your lower abdomen.

It’s just Braxton Hicks. It’s too early. You’re probably tired. Dehydrated. No, no, it’s just too early.

“Baby?” Jack called out again.

“Oh no I’m fine. Have a good night, my love.” You walked over, lacing your hands around his waist and planting a tender kiss on his lips, tasting the apple he’d just eaten. Then another twinge in your stomach. How long had it been?

8 minutes.

20 minutes.

5 minutes.

15 minutes.

3 minutes.

Something was happening. These felt different than the Braxton Hicks contractions that plagued you for weeks. Water. You had the primal urge to be in water. You ran another bath, submerging your belly, holding onto the sides of the tub as the surges continued to come, and then a low groan. You were vocalizing now. You had to be in active labor. You sat there for 2 hours, adding more hot water to the tub whenever you caught a chill.

Before you knew it, it was 6 am. You wanted to call Jack. You needed him. But he’d be home soon, God willing.

You no longer could concentrate, low, guttural moans escaping your mouth during peaks of your contractions. You didn’t even have a hospital bag packed. You started throwing stuff into a bag, none of it made sense. A tooth brush, a t shirt, a scarf. What? Why would you need a scarf? The pain was too intense. Why was this all going so fast? This was your first baby. You’d heard horror stories your entire pregnancy of women laboring for 24 or even 48 hours.

When you heard the jingle of his keys and the knob turning, you were hit with the strongest contraction yet.

“Ba-,” As Jack opened the door his eyes widened. He immediately threw his stuff down and rushed to you, who was leaning over the kitchen counter, rocking your hips and moaning. “Baby how long have you been like this? How far apart are your contractions?” The birthing classes immediately kicked in, bracing himself behind you and giving you hip squeezes until the contraction passed. It felt like heaven.

“They started before you left for work… and uh… 3 minutes now.” His face fell.

“Why didn’t you call me?” He asked, your face in his now shaking hands. Before you could answer you were hit by another contraction that now sent you on your hands and knees. He grabbed a cool rag and placed it on the back of your neck as you roared. The counter pressure he applied to your back no longer offered any relief. He coached you through the contraction that felt like it would never end, and all you wanted was for him to shut the fuck up. Suddenly the lights were too bright. His voice was too loud and your shirt was too tight.

“Off.” Is all you could say and you tried to take your shirt off yourself. Jack helped pull it over your head, the fabric peeling away from your damp sweaty skin.

“Baby, I wanna check you.” He asked, putting on gloves he grabbed from his bag. After giving him a nod, he rested one hand on your back before checking your cervix. He cursed under his breath. “You’re 9cm and 100% effaced. We have to go. Now.”

“But I’m only 36 weeks” you began to cry as you were hit with another contraction. Getting to his truck felt like ages. Stopping what seemed like every 30 seconds to double over through another surge. The second you sat down in the passenger seat you felt a pop and a gush between your legs. Your water broke.

“Thank god I laid those towels down first, huh?” Jack tried to joke through shaky breath as he barreled out of the driveway. You didn’t find it funny.

The hospital was a 15 minute drive, 30 with traffic. Unfortunately for you both, it was morning rush hour. You couldn’t sit, undoing the seatbelt you braced yourself against the headrest. Jack trying to rub your back with his free hand.

“Want your birthing playlist?”

“Fuck you!” Is all you could muster.

And then the urge. The incredible and uncontrollable urge to bear down.

“Jack… I have to push.” And his face went white. He quickly pulled to the side of the road and jumped out, grabbing his go-bag from the back seat before sprinting to open the passenger side door. He could see the baby start to crown and immediately pulled out some gloves, a fresh towel and his stethoscope from his bag. You always teased him about this go-bag. He couldn’t wait to tease you about this later.

“Okay my love, I see baby’s head. She’s almost here. She’s got a head of hair!” He was STILL so set on this baby being a girl. His voice cracked from fear and emotion that he was about to deliver his own baby.

You felt the ring of fire, your legs shook as you tried to push past the burning pain.

“I can’t do this! I can’t fucking do this!” You protested, still on your knees, now leaning over the center console.

“Yes you can baby, listen to your body. You’re doing so good. The hardest part is almost over. We’re gonna have a birthday today.” And you screamed again, pushing as hard as you could, the veins popping out of the side of your neck, your face growing redder and redder. You roared your baby out. Then relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

Jack caught your baby in his hands, his eyes clouded with tears that immediately began to fall. He helped your turn back over and brought your sweet baby to your chest.

“It’s a girl!” Jack sniffled. He was right. He was always fucking right.

“Why isn’t she crying, Jack?”

“Just give her a minute. Rub her back.” he pulled your shirt down again to do skin to skin. He’d by lying if he wasn’t panicking too. “Come on baby girl, let’s hear those strong Abbot lungs.” And then you both heard it. The most beautiful shrieking cry from your little girl. You threw your head back in relief and he rested his forehead against your temple, crying. You’d never seen him cry before.

“I just had a baby in the car, Jack.” You looked at him, in a daze. High on adrenaline and oxytocin.

“And you were a rockstar.” He kissed you before checking you and the baby before continuing to the hospital. You delivered your own placenta as you stared in awe at your little girl. She had his nose, his eyes, his chin… the more the looked the more you realized she was a spitting image of her father. Of course YOU do all the hard work for her to look nothing like you.

Jack pulled into the ER ambulance bay to find Dana already outside smoking a cigarette. He jumped out and screamed for a wheelchair. Snuffing the cigarette out with her foot she rushed over,

“What’s going on, Jack?” She had already paged Robby at the sight of him, looking dazed.

“It’s y/n, she just had the baby in the car. Page the NICU, baby seems fine but she’s only 36 weeks. Placenta delivered and intact.” He gave her the rundown before opened the passenger door to you latching your baby to the breast for the first time. You could not take your eyes off of her. Robby came out once he heard the page to find everyone huddled around the truck, helping me into the wheelchair.

“What’s this?” He asked, a goofy smile on his face.

“This is your niece, Grace Michaela Abbot. Michaela after her Uncle Mikey.” You smile up at him, absolutely beaming.

[koyagifs]

𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞

pairing: mingi x reader au: 9th member | idol genre: smut word count:2.6 k synopsis: unbeknownst to you, wooyoung had declared war with the others, mingi making the first move. warning(s):MDNI dom!mingi, oral (f. receiving), PUSSY MUNCHER Mingi, oral (m.receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, doggy, MDNI part one here

You wandered into the kitchen, Wooyoung’s shirt hanging off your frame, soft and oversized as it clung to your body in all the right places. Without much thought, you started the coffee maker, fingers moving on autopilot. The front door creaked open, and you barely looked up, mumbling a distracted, “Hey,” to whoever had come in, your eyes still glued to your phone as you doom-scrolled.

Mingi’s eyes lingered on your neck the moment he stepped into the kitchen, the faint marks there making his jaw tense. Jealousy hit him like a wave—sharp and sudden—as irritation bubbled just beneath the surface. He could practically hear Wooyoung’s smug voice in his head, teasing him without even being in the room.

And then, like clockwork, he imagined Hongjoong’s exasperated sigh, the inevitable scolding that would be aimed at both you and Wooyoung for being “irresponsible.” The thought brought a smirk to Mingi’s face despite himself.

Setting his drink on the counter, he made his way toward you, ignoring the buzz of his phone—undoubtedly Yunho blowing it up with a string of dramatic texts. But Mingi had more important things to do.

Without a word, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you into his warmth as he nestled his face against your neck. You giggled at the sudden affection, your fingers instinctively finding his hand and lacing through it.

“Hi, baby,” you teased, your voice still laced with sleep and the remnants of laughter.

Mingi hummed against your skin, his lips brushing just beneath one of the marks Wooyoung had left. “Wooyoung really did a number on you,” he muttered, the hint of a pout in his voice making you smile.

“You jealous?” you asked, tilting your head slightly to give him better access.

He didn’t answer right away—just pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your neck. “Maybe,” he whispered.

"Maybe?" you echoed, a smile playing on your lips. You turned in his arms, facing him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Just maybe?" you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mingi met your gaze, his eyes darkening with a slow burn of lust and something deeper—possessiveness, devotion. The kind that always simmered just beneath his calm exterior.

"You know I am," he murmured, voice low and gravelly. "You know how I get."

You nodded, your fingers drawing lazy circles on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I do," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. He leaned into your touch without hesitation.

"But you know what else I know?" you said, voice playful now, eyes gleaming as you looked up at him.

He raised an eyebrow, that signature smirk starting to tug at the corner of his lips. "What’s that?"

"You know how to make me feel just as good," you said softly, before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips.

He responded instantly, like he’d been holding himself back just for this—arms wrapping around you, pulling you flush against him. The kiss started slow, lingering, full of heat that simmered just beneath the surface. But then something shifted.

Mingi kissed you harder, like the dam had finally broken—like he was starving and you were the only thing that could satisfy him. His hands gripped your waist with more urgency, your body molded perfectly to his as he deepened the kiss, tilting his head to chase more of you.

You let out a soft gasp against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, grounding yourself in him. Mingi didn’t waste a second—his hand slid from your waist to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze as he pushed you gently toward the counter.

You gasped again when your back hit the edge, and before you could catch your breath, Mingi lifted you with ease, setting you onto the cool surface. His body slotted between your legs, hands firm on your thighs as he leaned in again.

“Mingi—” you breathed, but the rest of your thought was swallowed in another kiss, hotter now, fueled by the possessiveness he’d been holding back since the moment he walked in.

His fingers gripped your hips, keeping you steady as he kissed you like he wanted to memorize the shape of your mouth. Like nothing else existed but you in his hands.

Then his lips moved—feverish and determined—from yours to the delicate skin of your neck. He trailed down until he found the marks Wooyoung had left, and without hesitation, began replacing them. His mouth latched onto the spots, sucking harder, slower, leaving behind bruises that were darker, deeper—undeniably his.

Your breath hitched, hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you tried to stay quiet. Every drag of his lips against your skin made it harder. You bit your lip, swallowing the moans bubbling in your throat, remembering your other lovers still asleep down the hall. You didn’t want to wake them—not yet.

“Mingi,” you whispered, a plea, a warning, your voice trembling.

You whined softly, the sound slipping out before you could catch it, and Mingi’s low chuckle rumbled against your skin in response. He looked impossibly smug, loving the way you were already falling apart for him.

“Guess I’ll have to keep you quiet myself,” he whispered.

Without warning, he wrapped his arms around you and lifted you effortlessly off the counter. You instinctively clung to him, your legs wrapping around his waist as he started toward your room, his lips never straying far from your skin. Each step was accompanied by a playful nip or kiss, making it impossible for you to calm the fluttering in your chest.

The house was still quiet, the others clearly still asleep—or pretending to be. And while a part of you worried about getting caught again, the bigger part of you didn’t care, not when Mingi was looking at you like that.

He kicked your door shut behind him, eyes locked on yours like you were the only thing that mattered.

“Now,” he said, laying you down gently on the bed, “where were we?”

He didn’t wait for a reply, his mouth crashing back down onto yours, his tongue demanding entry. You gasped as he found your tongue, and he took full advantage, exploring your mouth with a hunger that made you whimper. Mingi was quick to take Wooyoung shirt off you, tossing it somewhere in your room. He broke the kiss just long enough to nip at your chin, then trailed his lips down your neck. You arched into him, your breath hitching as he sucked gently at the base of your throat.

His hands were everywhere, sliding over your ribs, cupping your breasts, teasing your nipples into hard peaks. You moaned softly, your hips grinding against him, seeking more friction. He chuckled against your skin, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through your body.

" don't worry pretty, i'm going to take my time with you," he mumbled against your skin.

Mingi's lips left a trail of dark, heated marks down your stomach, each one a branding of his desire. The faint, distant sounds of Hongjoong and your stylist faded into oblivion, drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the raspy intakes of your breath. His lips finally reached your thighs, and he groaned, the vibration sending shivers through your body.

He pushed your legs wider, his strong hands gripping your thighs firmly. His eyes, dark and hungry, feasted on the sight before him. You could feel your pussy clench, eager and ready, the wetness coating your inner thighs. Mingi's breath hitched, a low groan escaping his lips as he took in the sight.

"Fuck," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting them slightly, exposing you more to his hungry gaze.

He leaned in, his breath hot on your slick folds. You could feel his tongue, wet and warm, tracing the edge of your thigh, inching closer to your center. His tongue flicked out, tasting you lightly, a tease that made you arch off the bed. He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin.

"So fucking sweet," he murmured, his voice muffled against you.

His tongue delved deeper, parting your folds, tasting your desire. Your hands fisted in the sheets, your back arching as he sucked gently on your clit, his tongue swirling around the sensitive nub. His hands gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he feasted on you, his hunger insatiable.

Mingi was already rock hard, the moans that left your lip made were music to his ears and he can he hear it all day long. He let out a small hiss when you pulled on his hair, but that didn't deter him from inserting his fingers inside your pussy. A sharp gasp left you and you could feel the smirk form on his lip.

Your body was a live wire, coiled tight and ready to snap. The pleasure built with each expert flick of his tongue, each suckle that sent jolts of ecstasy straight to your core. As you crested the wave, your body tensing and convulsing, Mingi hummed his delight, the vibration sending a chill down your spine. He released your clit with a pop, leaving you gasping and sensitive. His hands gripped your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his fierce, hungry kiss. He swallowed your moans, his tongue dominating yours, claiming your mouth as he claimed your body.

He broke the kiss abruptly, his hands moving to your hips. With a swift, powerful tug, he pulled you up and onto your knees, positioning you in front of him. He sat back on his haunches, his eyes never leaving yours as you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats. You tugged them down, his cock springing free, hard and ready. Your breath hitched at the sight, your mouth watering with anticipation. His hands fisted in your hair, guiding your head down, his voice a low growl.

"Take me in your mouth. Now."

You wrap your fingers around the base of his shaft, looking up at him as you take him deep, your lips stretching around him. You can feel him hitting the back of your throat, and you relax, taking him even deeper. He groans, his hands fisting in your hair, holding you gently but firmly in place. You can feel his cock twitching in your mouth, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You start to move, your head bobbing up and down, your lips and tongue working his shaft, your hand twisting at the base.

You pull off with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock and you smile up at him, your eyes watering slightly. "Fuck, you taste good," you purr, licking your lips.

He growls, his hips jerking forward, his cock sliding back into your mouth. You take him eagerly, your head bobbing faster, your hand pumping in time with your mouth. You can feel his cock swelling, his body tensing, and you know he's close. His grip on your hair tightens, his hips moving faster, his cock fucking your mouth with wild abandon. You moan around him, the vibration sending him over the edge.

Just as he about to cum, he pulled your head up, his hand moving to guide you to the bed. Pushing your head down on the mattress as his other hand moved to guide his cock into your pussy, both of you moaning as he bottomed out. Mingi didn't waste a minute before he began to pound into you, your fingers curling onto your bed sheets as his hands held onto your hips tightly.

Just as he begins to thrust into you, his grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your soft flesh. His cock hits you deep, the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy filling the room. You can feel every inch of him, his cock pulsing inside you, his body slamming against yours.

Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, his pace relentless, his cock driving you wild. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his lips finding the shell of your ear. "You feel so fucking good," he groans, his voice a low growl. His words send shivers down your spine, your body arching against his, your pussy clenching around him.

Your head lolls forward, thick strands of hair framing your face as you gasp for breath. Mingi's cock drives into you, relentless and deep, each thrust shattering your control. His hand snakes around, fingers deftly finding your clit, rubbing it with slow, deliberate pressure. Your body tenses, your muscles clenching around him as waves of pleasure rip through you.

Mingi's grip on your hips is tight, bruising almost, as he fucks you with a savage intensity. He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back, his breath hot on your ear. He reaches up and roughly grabs your hair, pulling your head back and exposing your neck.

“Say my name,” he commands.

Your lips part, but only a choked gasp escapes. Your brain is mush, fogged over by the raw, carnal pleasure coursing through your veins. Your fingers claw at the bedsheets, knuckles white, as you struggle to form words.

Mingi's pace doesn't slow, his hips slapping against yours, the wet sound of his cock fucking you filling the room. His fingers work your clit faster, the sensation almost too much to bear. You're on the edge, teetering on the brink of oblivion.

“I know you can hear me,” Mingi growls, his voice a low rumble in your ear. “Say it. Say my fucking name.”

You gulp. Your vision blurs, stars dancing at the edges. You push down the overwhelming pleasure, scrambling to get hold of yourself.

“ Mingi,” you gasp, your voice barely recognizing it.

“Yes?” He grins, his voice taunting.

“mingi” you repeat, bewildered.

Mingi laughs darkly, his fingers circling your clit faster, his cock pounding into you harder. You’re gone. Lost in the pleasure, lost in him. Your body convulses, your orgasm ripping through you with the force of a tornado. Mingi follows soon after, his grip tightening as he thrusts deep, his cock pulsing as he fills you.

Your body trembled as it settled against the sheets, muscles spent and chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Mingi’s hands were still on you—gentle now, grounding—as if making sure you didn’t drift too far from him. He leaned in, brushing a kiss to your temple before finally pulling away.

“Good girl,” he whispered, his voice low and affectionate, laced with pride and tenderness. He slipped away to the bathroom, the sound of running water replacing the quiet panting that had filled the room only moments ago.

When he returned, a warm cloth in hand, his expression had softened. He moved carefully, wiping you down with gentle precision, his gaze flicking up every so often to make sure you were okay. The care in his touch, the way he took his time—it said everything he didn’t need to voice.

“You good, baby?” he asked quietly, thumb stroking your thigh.

You gave him a tired, blissful nod. “More than good.”

He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before crawling into bed beside you, pulling the blanket over your bodies. You melted into his arms, your leg thrown over his, fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

[chrisbesitos]

chris x fem¡younger reader ( like 1-2 years younger) he just babies her the whole time, and is very protective of her.

SWEET RELIEF.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀chris sturniolo × fem!reader.

warnings: fluff, nsfw, cursing, sickness, angst (a lit bit).

synopsis: Chris dates a girl who's two years younger than he. Chris is 21 and the reader is 19.

— Chris and Y/N relationship are public, but they keep private.

Chris never hide his relationship with Y/N, but they never made any hard launch in the social medias, because Chris didn't want his fans to being mean with her. Y/N is only 19, Chris knows how evil people on internet can be and he doesn't want his girlfriend to suffer with this.

But sometimes he can't stop this, but he can make her feel better with his love.

"Hey, gorgeous." Chris said, he found his girlfriend on their bed. He was out with his brothers, recording a video and Y/N stay home waiting for Chris, so they could sleep together.

"Hi, I couldn't sleep without you." She replied, Y/N looks a upset, Chris could notice. Y/N gave him a sad smile, he frow his eyebrows and sit in the corner of the bed. Chris extends his hand to Y/N, holding hers.

"What happened, baby?" He asked, Y/N low her eyes and let go Chris' hand. She rubbed her own arms, Y/N knows she couldn't hide from her boyfriend. "Tell me what's wrong."

"Why you with me?" Y/N looked at Chris, the boy frowned his eyebrows doesn't understanding why she were asking this.

While she was waiting for Chris, she spent time scrolling her 'for you' page on TikTok and saw some comments about her. People were saying she wasn't right for Chris, because he needs to stay with a woman of his age, calling her childish and annoying. Then, she couldn't stop thinking about this, maybe Chris really needs someone who's not two years younger.

"Why are you asking this, baby?" Chris asked, he sat by her side and pulled her to his lap. He let kisses all over her face, making her giggle because of his beard. "I'm with you, because I love you so much."

"And I love you too, but–" Chris cuts her off.

"Why are you asking this? You didn't answer me." Chris hugged her shoulders, Y/N lay her head on the crook of Chris' neck. She started to draw invisible circles on Chris' chest with her finger. "Y/N."

"I saw comments on TikTok saying that you should date a woman of your age." Y/N said sadly, Chris hugged her harder and kissed her forehead. "They said I'm childish and annoying and–"

"I don't want to hear these lies about you." Chris held Y/N's chin to make her look at him. "None of these people knows you as much as me and I don't fucking care about what they think about our relationship. You're my girlfriend, I want you and only you." He kissed her lips.

"I love you so much, you know this, right?" She smiled, Chris nods his head smiling too. "I just. . . I don't want to care about it, but sometimes I can't help it."

"I know, It's hard, baby, but these people are trolls who want to make you feel bad for being you." Chris pulled her to his chest, Y/N embrace his waist, laying her head on his chest. "Don't worry about it, I'm gonna make sure they'll know I'm not gonna tolerate these comments."

And he did. After Y/N fall asleep on Chris lap, he posted a note on his Instagram story. He wrote he would not tolerate mean comments about his girlfriend, because it's anyone business who he dates. He protects his girlfriend all coast, you can say he babies her all the time and protects from everything, but he didn't care and so Y/N.

— Y/N's mad at Chris, because he wants to protect her from everything.

"Stop babying me all the time!" Y/N said angry. She was getting ready to hang out with her friends, friends who Chris doesn't like, because he thinks they are a bad influence to Y/N.

"Well, you didn't seem to care until now." Chris rolled his eyes, he sat on his bed and crossed his arms on his chest. He was trying to stop Y/N from going to a party with them, but she was being stubborn. "Come on, baby."

"No! I want to go out tonight, they're my friends, Chris." She groans, hitting the sink with her hands. Even though she didn't care when Chris babies her, now he's acting like she's a kid. "It's just a party, Chris."

"Oh, these friends? You mean the guy who got arrested? You told me, don't remember?"

"Jeez, Chris. It was a misunderstanding." She got out of the bathroom. Y/N was wearing a tiny dress, make up and hair ready, Chris thinks she looked gorgeous, but he didn't trust in other guys. Chris got up and held Y/N's shoulders.

"You want to go out? We can go, but I don't trust these people."

"Chris, why don't you trust me? I can take care of myself, damn."

"Did I say that I do not trust you?" Y/N rolled her eyes. "Fine, I gave up. Go hang out with them, but don't call me when you get in trouble because of them."

Y/N groans angry, she got her purse and phone and stormed out of the room. Chris followed her until the door, he watched her walk to her friend car, he knows she will end up calling him, but if she wants to know by her own, he will let her do.

"Oh, how would you get into a party? You're not twenty-one yet, they would not let you in." He said sassy.

"Fuck you, Chris!"

He was right, he always is. Chris waits for Y/N call, because he knew she would call at some point. It was almost nine in when Y/N call, only an hour after she leaves. Chris answered quickly, even though he was mad with her, he still worried.

"I told you, didn't I?" Chris said.

"They left me here." She cried. "They got in the club without me after the security said I couldn't get in, they just said sorry and left me."

"I tried to warn you, Y/N. I told you they wouldn't let you in." Chris sighed, he got off the couch and catch the car keys. "Send me your location, I'll get you."

"I'm sorry, Chris." She sobs.

"I know, baby. Now, send me your location, okay? I'm gonna bring you home."

Y/N send Chris her location and he drive until her. She was sitting on the highway with tears on her face, Chris parked and opened the window, Y/N get in the car in silence. She sniffed, Y/N cleaned her tears and the mascara of her face, Chris tugged his hoodie off and gave to his girlfriend.

"Now you understand why I didn't want you to go out with them? They left like you were nothing."

"I know." She whispered, putting on his hoodie. "I'm sorry, I should've listened to you."

"Baby, when I do these things it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I don't trust them." Chris said, he started to drive back home. "I'm sorry if you don't like when I baby you, but it's because I love you."

"It's not this, I just feel like you were treating me like I'm a kid."

"I'm sorry, you know I didn't mean." He stopped at the red lights, Chris rubbed Y/N's tight. She held his hand and kissed the back. "I'm gonna try to not baby you too much."

"No, I like when you baby me." She crossed her arms on her chest, Chris giggled. "Just don't treat me like I'm a kid."

"I will not, not anymore." Chris smiled and gave a peck on her lips. "In 'n Out?"

"Please, I'm starving!"

— "You don't have to carry me everywhere, Chris!"

Chris loves to carry Y/N everywhere. They arrived home? Chris has to carry his girlfriend inside. Arrived in a hotel in the middle of the night during the tour? Chris carried Y/N until their room while she sleep. Bathroom in the middle of the night? Here he goes, carrying his girl to the bathroom and waiting for her, so he could carry her back to bed.

Y/N loves too, but she can walk, but Chris insists in carry her.

"No, no, no." Chris stopped Y/N, they were watching a movie in the living room. "Where are you going?"

"I didn't sleep too much last night, gonna have a nap."

"Then, let's have a nap." Chris turns off the TV, he gets up the couch and holds his girlfriend in a bridal style.

"You don't have to carry me everywhere, Chris!" Y/N giggled, holding Chris' neck. He gave her a kiss on the cheek, rubbing her nose there.

"But I can, so why not?"

Chris carried Y/N to their room, he lay her in the bed and covered with the blanket. Chris turns the lights off and lays by her side, Y/N hugged Chris' neck with her arm and embrace his waist with her leg.

"Just lay on me." He chuckled. Y/N yawn and climb Chris' body, he holds her and let her sleep on he.

— If he babies Y/N all the time, when she got sick it's even worse.

"100.4° F (38° C), damn." Chris said looking at the thermometer visor. Y/N was acting weird the whole day, Chris thought she was getting sick, but she insisted she were okay.

Until now. They got home after the day shopping, Y/N passed out in the bed for two hours until Chris comes to check on her. He knows she was sick, but for some stupid reason she was acting like not.

"It's not that bad." She complained.

"Oh, yeah. A higher fever is not that bad, Y/N." He said being sarcastic, she sighed. Chris helped her to sit, he tugged her hair from her face. "Open your mouth." Chris said holding a pill.

"I don't need this." She frowned her nose, but the look Chris gave to her made her open her mouth. Chris put the pill on her tongue and gave her water to swallow. "Thanks, baby."

"Rest and I'll make you a soup, okay?" He kissed her forehead.

"You don't know how to cook." She giggled laying down.

"I'll figure it out."

She was right, Chris doesn't know how to cook, so he had to ask Nick to do it. After the soup is ready, Chris put in a bowl to Y/N and goes to his room. She wasn't sleeping anymore, Y/N was watching TV with her body all covered by the blankets. Chris smiled at her while he closed the door.

"You cold?"

"A bit, probably because of the fever, but I'll feel better if you lay here with me."

"I bring you soup." He put the bowl in the nightstand and sat in the bed, Y/N sat too with Chris help.

"Who made it?" She jokes. Chris rolled his eyes getting the bowl back, Y/N tried to hold, but Chris didn't let her. "Why? You gonna feed me?"

"Of course I will." Chris said and Y/N didn't complain. The boy gave her a few spoons of the soup until she felt filled.

She fell asleep again on Chris' shoulder, feeling too tired to stay awake. Chris held her the hold night and the whole day after until she felt better.

— Always gentle with her while they are having sex.

"Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?" He said looking at his girlfriend laying down in bed, he was on top of her, ready to be inside of her. Y/N nodded. "Words, baby. I need words."

"Yes, I'll use our safe word." Y/N said breathing hard, she was needing Chris so hard. "Please, Chris. I need you."

"I'll be gentle with you."

"You always are."

Then, Y/N was moaning Chris' name loudly while he push his cook in Y/N's pussy. His slow movements, catching every reaction of his girlfriend. He keeps kissing her face and saying lovely words to her. Chris let her come as soon as she needed, because he didn't want his girlfriend to suffer. Her loud moan was music to his ears, he didn't take too much to come inside her.

— Aftercare always, everything to his girlfriend.

"Sure you okay? Did I take it too rough with you?" Chris asked, rubbing her tights with his nose, his beard tickling her sensitive skin.

"You're always gentle with me, baby." She smiled lazily, Chris nodded. He tugged his T-shirt from the floor and used it to clean her tights, giving pecks in her skin. She yawn.

"I'm gonna run us a bath, so we can sleep, okay?" He kissed her lips and then the forehead, she nodded.

Chris filled the bathtub and put all of Y/N bath products, he carried her until the bathroom and get in the water with her. Chris washed her hair and her body, giving kisses on her pretty skin, giving all the pleasure that she deserves.

Then, he carried Y/N back to the bed, Chris lay lazy by her side. She smiled at him, slowly closing her eyes. Chris held her waist and laid his head on her tits, slowly getting asleep too.

hope you like it <3

Tags: @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy

join my taglist!

[sweetshuga]

「 𝑪𝒖𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑨𝒈𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒐𝒏 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 」

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒚 @/enchanthings

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝑭𝑳𝑼𝑭𝑭! ⋆ bf!chris ⋆ soft kisses ⋆ cuddling ⋆ biting? ⋆ pet names & that’s about it—just something fluffy.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 𝟕𝟔𝟖

𝑨𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆: I don’t usually write fluff but this was a request so here you go nonnie, hope you somewhat like it<3

𝑲𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅: English is not my first language!

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: An insight of a normal night for you and your boyfriend.

Cuddling was something you two always did but never got tired of. Take today as an example: your head laid comfortably on Chris’ bare chest as his fingers toyed with your hair, your breathing slow and steady as you both enjoyed the feeling of simply being in each other’s arms.

Chris watched with soft eyes as you shifted on top of him to make yourself more comfortable, his hand idly massaging your scalp before running his fingers through your hair—and repeating it all over again.

You lifted your head slightly to look at him, a small smile etched on your lips as your eyes traced every feature on his face. "Now, what are you staring at me for?" Chris chuckled, cupping your face with one hand, his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

Chris always looked good, but today he looked a little too good; he looked a little too cute to be exact, and you could feel yourself having increasing difficulty fighting off the urge to bite him or kiss him senseless and just shower him with an overwhelming amount of affection.

The more you looked at him, the harder it was to control yourself and when he let out that soft yawn—you couldn’t help yourself anymore and turned your head to the side and gently bit his hand that cupped your face, making Chris yelp in surprise. His eyes widened before he let out a loud bark of laughter, his eyes crinkling at the corners in amusement.

"Woah, what was that for?" Chris giggled, throwing his head back as he blinked—a habit of his that you found so damn endearing.

"I dunno-" you shrugged, your lips curling up with a soft smile as you watched him laugh before continuing in a softer tone, "-maybe ’cause you’re too cute tonight and I think I’m getting cuteness aggression like I just wanna gobble you up right now." You buried your face in the place where his neck met his shoulder, gently nipping at the skin there and making him giggle more.

"Baby, you’re the cute one." Chris teased, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist to keep you basically half-laid on top of him again.

"Corny." You commented despite how much you enjoyed his words. You buried your face more into his neck as you inhaled his scent deeply. He always smelled good, comforting. The cologne he always puts on had faded, only a faint scent of it lingering on his skin along with the smell of him—the smell that’s uniquely his.

"And you still love it when I say that, don’t you baby?" You groaned at his words before a giggle escaped you involuntarily when he ran his hands down your sides, purposely tickling you before sliding them down to pat your bottom repeatedly in a random rhythm.

He snaked his arms around your waist again, just holding you there as a soft sigh escaped his lips, all content and happy with you close to him. Your body melted against his at the sound of his contentment, one hand playing with his hair as the other entwined with his. Your face was still buried in the side of his neck, eyes closed and breath steady.

"Chris?" You mumbled lazily, your hand leaving his head to draw small patterns on his bare shoulder. "Mhm, yeah?" He murmured, eyelids growing heavier as he felt himself slowly drifting off to sleep. "I love you." You whispered against his skin, smiling when he kissed your temple. "I love you too gorgeous." He whispered back, leaning his head forward to pepper kisses on your neck before laying back down again.

"Good night baby." You tilted your head to show your face, a soft smile on your lips as you leaned forward and pecked his lips, smiling wider when you saw him smile.

"Good night ma, love you sooo much." He smirked as his hands slid down and squeezed your ass playfully, earning a small giggle from you. "Love you too." You mumbled, letting out a small yawn at the end which made Chris’ smirk soften into a gentle smile.

His eyes fluttered closed before he let out a soft sigh with a small hitch in it due to how nice this was; how natural—how comfortable it was to hold you close. You in his arms could erase any bad tension, you’re his girl and his everything.

Nothing could ever compare to this—not even sex.

Was the last thing on his mind before he drifted off to sleep, his arms wrapped securely around your sleeping figure.

It really couldn’t get any better than this.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒔𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒂

[xo-adeline]

Just wanted to say amazing work on Ruggie's fic! I can see the time and effort you put in and it's wonderful!

I wonder how Leona would court? 🤔

"You'd think I was in love..."

⋆°• ☁︎ - Courting Rituals

Feat. Leona Kingscholar

AN: Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you enjoy!

When you had first come across Leona sleeping in the botanical gardens it was a sight to behold. It wasn’t like this was a very often occurrence for you, back in your world there hadn’t been any beastmen. Getting closer to him you could see the way his tail flicked around and the way his ears twitched slightly due to the cool breeze coming in from the windows. It wasn’t until a few times that you had come to that same spot that he eventually noticed and grew a small interest in the random person who happened to be so interested in whatever he was doing. It started as a simple peek here and there whenever you came over before he started to fully wake himself up at the normal time you would show up. With a sly smirk on his face, and trying to coax you into having a conversation. After a few days of him talking to you, there was this weird urge that he had to follow you around, and so that’s what he did. For the first few weeks of this, it seemed a little strange, the way he would walk you to class, even if his normal napping spot was on the whole other side of the campus. The way he would take you back to your dorm, even if Ruggie was on the verge of murdering him because his students were in another fight. But lo and behold, he didn’t care. He had this weird draw towards you he couldn’t explain, whatever, must’ve just been the warmer weather getting to him.

This was when Ruggie started to notice something that much different with his housewarden. The fact he was trying.

It wasn’t super obvious to the naked eye, but there was a small hint of… effort… that Leona was showing. The way he would actually show up to class, the way he tried a little harder when it came to spelldrive practice, and even the way he started to do his work?? It was a shock for the (un)official vice housewarden. Over the next few weeks, it only got worse, the way he was all over you, and even the way he started to stand as a more authoritative figure behind you, scaring most of the other Savanaclaw members away. Maybe that has something to do with the female lion normally picking the strongest among the pack, but maybe it’s also because he likes it when you compliment him on his skills, but who's to say? Once the compliments finally start to get to him, and you openly like him being around you, he starts to develop more of a touchy side. Constantly having you be his pillow when he wasn’t in at least attempting in class, nuzzling into your neck whenever you were sitting up slightly, and constantly having an arm on you in some way.

It seemed normal to you in some ways, almost like he was just being kinda nice! Until some of the guys had called out for Leona before seeing you and then were shocked to find just you, instead of the dorm head they had smelled. It wasn’t until a few days later you ran into Ruggie instead of Leona at the entrance of their dorm.

“Ah, (Name), Ya’ here to see Leona?”

You nodded as the hyena led you into the entrance and towards Leona’s room, where he was already dozing off in bed, the sun from the balcony of his room shining in. The second that you walked in he slightly opened his eyes and lifted an arm towards you, which you came over as Ruggie let out his signature laugh and headed out of the room, door closing behind him. Within a few seconds, he had you in his arms and he was nuzzling into your head.

“…Ya’ not so bad for a herbivore…”

You knew that there was no way in seven’s hell that he would actually ever say he liked you, but this was close enough, so from that point on you two had stuck together like everything was normal, even if he had never outright confessed to you<3

[peachyscenes]

bed chem | ateez x gn!reader

how i think ateez are in bed. yes i listened to bed chem on my way home from work lol.

hongjoong

i think hongjoong is the type to be quick about things. as much as he'd love to really explore your body, kiss, and tease you, he's a little impatient. not to say he wouldn't do foreplay, he's actually very careful with that, i just think he'd get too excited about the main course of your rendezvous night. he just wants feel you on his cock, he wants to fuck the soul out of you, he wants to reduce you into a deranged, yearning version of yourself, and he thinks he can do that without the extra steps. though if you asked or if he's feeling really sappy, he'd definitely take the time to love you more slowly. aftercare with hongjoong is him drawing you both a bath. he's very cuddly afterwards, so he'd gladly hold you in the warm water while you both talk. he'd probably accidentally fall asleep in the tub, so definitely wake him up lightly (and try not to tease him if you think you can't go another round).

seonghwa

i think seonghwa is the type to really like simmering into sex before turning up the notch. he'd love all the extra steps. his ideal night would be some wine and fruits that you both enjoy together, which then leads to kissing and heavy petting, which then leads to grinding and you both slowly stripping each other (gosh he's so in love with you). kisses on exposed skin as clothes come off one by one, the heat of the fireplace illuminating your body and face just right. his heart picks up and he's scared that you'll hear it, but even if you can, you hold it gently with your own hands. aftercare with seonghwa consists of him holding you close to him, ghosting his fingers down your spine as he calms down with you. words of affirmations leaving from his lips as he kisses your face.

yunho

i think yunho is serious when it comes to sex. sure, there'd be some giggles here and there, but on nights where he wants to show you how much you mean to him, he's very sensual. he'll tease you a little to have you wanting more. he'll have you chasing the ghost of his touch on your legs. he'll have you squirming at his barely there kisses on your skin, begging him to really kiss you. he'll strip you down naked first and you don't feel embarrassed because yunho has always been transparent. he wants you, and bad. yunho has a little possessiveness to him, he loves leaving marks in areas only you can see. it gets him excited knowing where they are, like a little secret between you two. aftercare with yunho is quiet. it's not uncomfortable, it's more of a basking in each other's presence as he helps wipe you down and you kiss the scratches you left on him.

yeosang

i think yeosang is assertive in bed. he's often seen being taken care of, choosing to follow the crowd and staying quiet to better understand the instructions. however, with you, he'll tell you exactly what he wants. he's very vocal about what he wants to do, what he wants you to do. yeosang does not hesitate, feeling very sure of whatever he says. roles aren't really established between you two . whenever you both have sex, it's about what feels right in the moment, though if asked, he'll admit that he's taken the lead more than a couple of times. yeosang is not shy about sharing his thoughts in bed. he'll moan into a shared kiss about how good you feel on his cock, how hot he feels, how beautiful you look underneath him. another one to secretly mark your body, but not out of possession, more so to remember the night. aftercare with yeosang is a bit clumsy. he'll be sure that you both drink water and are settled and ready to sleep when he remembers that you both need to use the bathroom.

san

i think san is the type to be romantic about sex. he loves the intimacy, the trust, the love that comes with it. tell him you love him and he'll plunge into you even harder. hold him close as you're both in missionary while he confesses everything he loves about you. definitely the type to hold hands in the act. and to kiss your hands when they're on him. he will always make love to you, it's never a fuck for him. he definitely likes the softness of morning sex as well. when the sun is just coming out, and the rays of the sunrise hit your body so prettily as you ride him. he's down to do it anytime you want, but anniversary sex, birthday sex, really any important date is very special to him, because he can show you just how much you mean to him. aftercare with san consists of him peppering kisses everywhere on your body as he praises you for doing so well.

mingi

i think mingi would be sweet in bed. he's very tall, and gives off sexy, "freak in the sheets" vibes, but people forget just how soft he is. mingi's a little shy too. he'll blush when he undresses you, he'll blush when you undress him. please, kiss his thighs. mark them up, scratch them a little, just give them attention because he LOVES that. another vocal man. he'll tell you how pretty you look when you go down on him before feeling flustered at his own actions. mingi doesn't mind taking the lead, but he likes it better if you do instead. he likes being dotted on, cared for. talk to him sweetly too, he hates degradation and feels that it throws the atmosphere off if anything "mean" is being said. aftercare with mingi is giving each other massages. he'll then kiss you all over your face and the biggest smile plastered on his own.

wooyoung

i think wooyoung is unpredictable in bed. he's constantly looking up trends between couples online, therefore when something peaks his interest, he'll want to try it with you immediately. his favorite trend that he "discovered" is outercourse aka non-penetrative sex aka dry humping. he especially likes dry humping if you're wearing one of his button up shirts. wooyoung is a tease as well. he's going to coo at you if you wear something special for him. "oh? what's this?", he'll ask with the biggest grin on his face as he circles around you, his fingers grazing the material, getting up close and personal to "inspect" the fabric. the type to pin you down on the nearest surface as his breath ghosts over your neck. aftercare with wooyoung consists of him cleaning you up, dressing you in his clothes, and making you a soup to eat with him.

jongho

i think jongho is the type to be a little silly in bed. it's not always, but he's very giddy about having sex with you. his heart is thumping through his ears as he undresses you, and out of shyness and happiness and all positive thoughts, he'll let out a giggle as he undresses himself. BODY WORSHIP!! he loooves your body and so positions where he can admire you are perfect for him. ride him, get on top of him, he's in heaven. definitely uses his strength to his advantage and will tease you with it. you will absolutely wake up with love bites on your chest and he is not sorry for it lol. the type to put on r&b and light some candles to set the mood even further. aftercare with jongho consists of you getting a full body massage from him and then afterwards you both do facials while watching a shared tv show.

[melodyofyou]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ i look to you to see the truth

nat scatorccio x fem reader

↣ some headcanons about antler queen!nat in a relationship cus she's going through soso much this season i can't help but want to comfort her :(

*+:｡.｡ warnings / season three spoilers, slight travis diss sorry, angst

𝄞 fade into you - mazzy star

+ asking you for reassurance after a meeting, knowing you'll always tell her the truth because she trusts your words and choices over her own.

+ nat wanting you to keep the relationship a secret, worried about how the girls would react. she doesn't want anyone turning against you or treating you differently because you're with their queen.

+ noticing nat staring at you while you do your chores. you make sure to look back and study her expression just in case she needs you for something.

+ sneaking into her hut late at night when you can't sleep, quietly laying down beside her (she doesn't fall asleep until she feels you holding her).

+ nat sneaking into your hut while you and everyone else are busy doing their chores, feeling the most comfortable in a place that reminds her of you.

+ defending her when the girls gang up on her, always re-stating that she's trying her best as antler queen and shutting down any negative conversations about her if you hear them.

+ she loves forehead kisses. she never directly told you she loves them, but every time you kiss her forehead she can't help but smile at you.

+ noticing travis giving you the occasional weird look, wondering if he knows something. you shrug it off, knowing nat wouldn't want you worrying about it.

+ you rarely saw nat cry but after she became the antler queen, it became more frequent. she'd come to your hut with tears in her eyes, sitting down beside you as she rests her head on your shoulder. the only noise you'd hear was a quiet sniffle or a gentle sob.

+ the first time you kissed, you were lying beside her after you snuck into her hut, this time facing her. you studied nat's face, wondering what she was thinking. you felt her breath on your face, watching her eyes close as you slowly leaned in. you hesitated until you felt her lips press a little harder against yours, a gentle hand finding its way to your waist.

+ on the days where you had little to no chores, you would both sneak away and walk around the woods for a little while. getting even a slight bit of privacy was rare but you cherished it nonetheless.

+ never outwardly saying 'i love you' to one another, preferring to show each other through little things like linking pinkies, giving her berries you find when scavenging, holding her during the night, listening to her ramble about how much she hates being the antler queen.

+ any time nat is upset you distract her by talking about all the things you could do once you get rescued, easing her mind almost immediately.

+ being the only one, other than nat, who knew where coach ben was. she trusted you enough to tell you the truth and you swore to take it to the grave.

+ often times the other girls will notice you sharing clothes with nat. they don't think much of it because, after all, everyone shares a few items of clothing anyway.

+ letting her draw little patterns on your hands with her fingers, knowing it soothes her after a particularly hard day.

+ loves slow, gentle kisses, especially the ones where you're both smiling against eachothers lips. it reminds her how truly loved she is by you.

[bueckets]

thank you for taking the time to read my works. below you'll find a collection of my series and standalone stories organized for easy browsing. i hope you find something that gets you onto santas naughty list.

Series

The Prophecy | Finished

Description: They call her The Prophecy—basketball’s impossible phenomenon, rewriting what it means to be perfect on the court. With a near-flawless shooting record and a mind just as sharp in aerospace engineering as it is in breaking down defenses, her name sparks awe, envy, and relentless scrutiny. But perfection has its cost.

But even legends have weak spots. When a high-stakes matchup against LSU draws the attention of Paige Bueckers—the golden face of college basketball—The Prophecy’s flawless world starts to crack. On the court, they’re rivals, locked in a battle for supremacy. Off the court, late-night texts and shared moments blur the lines between competition and something much harder to define.

Word Count: 30K

Part: Start Here

The Hit List | In Progress

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

Word Count: 34k

Part: Start Here

One Shots

Thin Walls

Description: When a sleep-deprived biomed student moves in with UConn’s most notorious heartbreaker, you expect late-night film study, protein shake graveyards, and an apartment perpetually scented like sweat and victory. What you don’t expect? Thin walls. And Paige Bueckers making absolutely no effort to keep her extracurricular activities quiet.

What starts as a battle for basic human decency turns into something far messier—petty revenge plots, mind games laced with innuendo, and an unspoken tension that neither of you is willing to name. Paige plays like she owns the court, like she owns the world, and maybe—just maybe—like she wants to own you, too.

They say pressure makes diamonds, but when it comes to Paige Bueckers, it just might make a disaster.

WC: 8.4k

Read Me

Competitive Stamina

Tags: fuck buddies with unresolved issues, unbearable sexual tension, dom!Paige, strap, degradation, slapping, edging, post-game aggression sex, possessive paige, rough sex that solves nothing, idk just porn w minimal plot (I KNOOOOOW)

WC: 6.3k-ish

Read Me

Going UP?

Description: From missed alarms to broken elevators, your Tuesday couldn’t get worse, well, until it gets better. When a late-running grad student’s desperate dash to save her thesis turns into an unexpected elevator encounter with UConn basketball sensation Paige Bueckers, she learns that sometimes the best assists come from broken machinery.

Armed with nothing but coffee-fueled anxiety and an encyclopedic knowledge of basketball analytics, you find yourself trading quips with college basketball’s golden girl in a stalled elevator. What starts as a disaster turns into something else entirely when basketball theory meets practice, terrible jokes meet dangerous grins, and hot chocolate meets, well, everywhere except the mug.

They say love is a game of chances. But when you’re trapped between floors with a girl who can bend physics on the court and make your heart run suicides off it, maybe it’s worth taking the shot.

Sometimes cupid doesn’t use arrows. Sometimes he just breaks the elevator.

Word Count: 8.1K

Part: Start Here

[polakina]

how they fuck you

red dead redemption headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

on my third playthrough of rdr2 and i cannot bring myself to play low honour. why do i put myself through this?

also this is ridiculously long, got a little carried away but i shall not apologise

rating: explicit

-

is always gentle with you at first

delicate touches, lingering kisses, gazing eyes at your every movement or ministration

"what do you want, mi amor? tell me"

loves to hear you beg for him, want him

it just turns him on even more

dirty talk through the ROOF

this man knows how to talk you through it

"fuck you feel amazing, hermosa. yeah, just like that, huh? anything for you"

will eat you out for days if he could

never really tried it before, even when he lived in Mexico, he never really gave it a go

but with you, he wanted to try everything. whatever you wanted, he was up for it

so when you first asked him, he was nervous as hell, but willing to try

he found out he loved it and does it every single fucking time he had you all to himself

buries himself between your thighs like a man starved, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep you still

his tongue worked fucking wonders on your pussy, knowing exactly where to focus his attention, loving how you always moaned a little softer when his tongue dipped inside your cunt

fucks you slow, savouring the moment when he can

loves to have you riding him. seeing you on top spurs something inside him

his hands grip your waist fiercely, guiding your hips to grind against him, pulling sweet, elicit moans from your throat

loves to cut your clothes from your body with his knife

it's so much more satisfying than just taking them off with his hands

kinda likes quickies. prefers taking his time but there's something about pulling you away for a few minutes to have his way with you behind the protection of a tree or something that he loves

usually happens out on missions, so there's risk of the gang seeing you guys, but what's life without a little risk?

you could be on watch beside your tent while everyone sleeps, and javier will come over to keep you company

but it doesn't take long for his hand to slip into your pants as he whispers all sorts of things in your ear as he sits behind you while you try and continue your watch duty

was terrible at aftercare before, never really understood the in's and out's of it

but learned eventually with you, when you explained it to him

now he's at your beck and call whenever you need it

wear this man's hat around camp and that's all he needs to pull you to a secluded tent

but wear it while you fuck him? arthur would die happy in that exact moment

likes to call you 'cowgirl' when you ride him. you always roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it doesn't stop him

the two of you don't have all the time in the world. being one of dutch's most trusted members, he's needed away from camp a lot more than anyone else

so you've both learned the art of being fast

and it doesn't take long for him to make you cum

never asks for them, but loves blowjobs

he likes to draw in his tent when he's got time to himself, so when he sees you come in and sink to your knees in between his lap, he can't think of a better sight

the absolute king of praises (have you heard how he talks to his horse?? imagine him talking to a woman oml)

not a fan of degrading, he never saw the appeal, but uses other methods to 'punish' you

"what do you want, darlin?" he'd say as he's fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillow to stifle your moans, your ass in the air held up by his hands on your hips. "oh babygirl, you wanna cum, huh? then you can beg me for it, can't you?"

will edge you for days

especially when he knows he's going to be away for a few days afterwards

definitely grabs the headboard

mainly for his own stability to be able to thrust into you harder as you moan his name into the room

has his hands on you at all times

holding your hands above your head by your wrists, holding your face against the mattress with his hand on the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and gently yanking your head back when he pounds into you

when you do get a night away from camp, he wants to make it last the whole night

takes his time with you to the point where he's practically teasing you for hours

takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your body, touching every part of you until his fingerprints were practically imprinted into your skin

give this man some guidance or it's like walking through a maze blindfolded

learned a lot with you

figured out really quick what you liked and what you didn't like, what places he could touch you that would send your head spinning

this eventually led him to learn how to be very sneaky in public

he could touch you in such simple places, in such an innocent way that no one else would think anything of it

but you'd know, and you wouldn't stop it

you like the way he touched your neck? he was all over that shit, cupping your cheek, his fingers tickling your neck

you liked his hands in your hair? his fingers tangled at the base of your neck, pulling your hair slightly to tease you

his hand would rest on your thighs, fingers slowly creeping up your thigh while you were all sat around the campfire

you'd always give him a little glare, which he would ignore, a goofy smirk on his face

and the way he fucked you was no different

he had mastered the art of teasing your body and your limits, and put that knowledge in every time he had you alone

"come on, marston. stop teasin' me like this"

he'd always smirk, working his way down your body in a painfully slowly manner

"i'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart. you just lay back and relax. lemme take care of you"

loved to make you feel good before he even thought about himself

but when he was too pent up, he came a lot quicker than he wanted

but he made up for it when tending to you afterwards until you were practically pushing him away, too sensitive for his expert fingers

not the best at going down on you, but makes up with experience

but what he's really good with is his hands

his fingers

they know exactly what they're doing when he pushes them inside your soaked pussy

curling at that devastating spot inside you that makes you crumble to your knees

loves to be on top of you, seeing your face contort when he pushes inside you slowly, deeply

he's basic, a lover of missionary, but seeing your face and watching your body writhe under his grip is really what turns him on