#so like i will answer but it will be a little more spread out like. idk later tonight probably (forcing myself not to do it now is Hard)

[okwonyo]

DREAMER ， 𝗉𝗌𝗁

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐕 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖾𝗅𝗉 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗇 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗒𝗈𝗎

𝟏𝟎𝟏𝟑𝒾──── roommate!sunghoon 𝗑 f!rea ✿ comfort fluff 𓂋 kissing skinship ❞ 𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒖𝒆 ｡

reblog for ！ ✶ 𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 ◜ ᴗ ◝

sunghoon is going to marry you someday. he’s sure of it.

although, if he said this to anyone they would find it ridiculous — this guy isn’t even dating you. yet, he already has your entire future planned out in his head. a future where he is your husband.

for now, he’s nothing more than your roommate, a friend, even. but sunghoon wants more, so much more. he already started his three years long plan to get you to date him. there are times where he wants to skip every step and kiss you senseless.

like right now. when you are perched on the bathroom counter with your legs dangling.

“do you really want me to do this?” you ask, a white towel spread across your laps — in the utmost hope it will prevent you from making an absolute mess.

sunghoon’s stands between your knees. face freshly splashed with warm water, cheeks pink. he’s clean, hair wet and scent of his shampoo hanging in the air. he is still shirtless, a towel around his waist.

“i do,” he answers. already imagining how beautiful you’d look in your wedding dress. the music. the place. he has everything in mind already.

you smile, gentle and nervous as you reach for the shaving cream. you squirt a generous amount on your palms.

your hands approach his face carefully. you smooth the cream over his jaw with an impeccable focus and care. he closes his eyes. breathes as you touch him.

he thinks he is falling in love with you here. perhaps, he already was since the first time he saw you. it’s getting aggravating now — with how gentle you are. as if he was a doll you were scared to break.

even when you fumble, smearing foam on his lips, you gently wipe it with your sleeve, “sorry,” you quietly laugh.

“it’s fine,” he says, eyes still closed as he hums, melts into your touch, “take your time.”

he doesn’t want this moment to end. he wants to stay there, with the weight of your touch on his skin. with your face close. knees squeezing his hips.

he tilts his head obediently as your hand rests under his chin. the razor in your hand approaches his neck.

“i could kill you right now,” you giggle under your breath.

i’d still love you, he wants to say. he decides to not open his mouth. he can’t talk. not when you are so close, when he is at the urge of spilling his feelings for you — just because of your touch.

it’s surprising how good you are at this. you drag the razor down his cheek with the perfect pressure, as if you’ve done this all your life. you are so careful, in your own little world, your nose brushes his and your breath fans over his mouth. tempting.

sunghoon flinches. chasing the thoughts in his head.

“are you okay? did i hurt you?” you ask, obviously worried at the sound of your voice.

sunghoon opens his eyes. yours meet his immediately. your face is pretty — painted with worry. his stomach turns with affection. strong enough to feel like gravity.

“no—no… you’re doing good, you’re…” you furrow your eyebrows, confused. he continues, breathing out, “you’re perfect.”

your eyebrows flicker up in sheer surprise. he thinks he sees you blush, but he can’t trust his instincts at the moment. he just knows that you are pretty and is only sure of how much he wants to kiss you.

“close your eyes,” you mutter, focusing back on your job. and he does, without asking any questions.

when you are bossy like that, sunghoon wants to build you a house with his bare hands.

even more so, with how much care is filled in each one of your moves. it’s like you are a professional. not one nick on his skin, perfectly smooth and shiny— as if your fingertips were magical. just as sunghoon thinks you are.

he can’t stop staring at you, upon his eyes open. his eyes shoot pink hearts at you while you clean him up, warm towel on his face and your hands rubbing balm on his skin.

he doesn’t move. even when everything is done.

“i finished,” you giggle.

sunghoon blinks, eyes fluttering upen when he opens them after a millisecond. during that short period of time, he imagined himself getting on one knee, with a tiny box in his hand.

when you get married, he’ll ask you to help him shave all the time.

“i know,” he breathes out.

your voice is barely above an whisper, yet it sends chills down his spine, “you look cute, sunghoon.”

and he’s a strong man. a very strong individual with a great height and big muscles — but not that strong. not strong enough to not be moved by the sound of your voice complimenting him with that teasing grin.

is it him or you who leaned in first? he doesn’t know. but he’s glad someone finally did.

he feels it, your grin, when he gets a taste of your lips. he doesn’t regret skipping his elaborated plan when your warm hand touches his naked shoulder. or when you cup his smoothened jaw.

sunghoon holds onto the bathroom counter for dear life, your legs wrapping around his hips making his knees go weak. he’s too shy to reach out, to put his hands on your precious skin.

until you wrap your arms around his neck. only then he allows himself to press his palm against your back.

he has never dreamed of something better than this feeling right there. never craved anything more than finally kissing you.

“i did a great job,” you say between a kiss. shamelessly complimenting your work.

his lips are attached to yours, barely letting you pull away in the slightest to speak. even when he answers, “yeah, you did,” it’s against your mouth.

and god, not only you are perfect but the way you kiss drives him crazy. give him a few months. he’ll put the prettiest ring on your finger, he can promise that.

분지 ܃ for my tam and hana who i love so much 🎀

taglist open 。

[rulerofstars]

told you i’d come

oneshot: you send him one wet, towel-clad pic while he's away on a mission. next thing you know? you're waking up to his tongue in your pussy and his cock buried so deep you’ll be walking funny for days.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

tags: (18+). 3.2k words. SMUT. feral yearning. phone sex. video call tease. sex on phone. creampie. post-mission bucky who books a damn flight just to ruin you. fingering. oral sex f!receiving (waking-up edition). overstimulation. raw dogstyle & missionary bc he needs it that deep. listening to earned it by the weeknd will be the cherry on top of this filth. minors dni.

You shouldn't send it.

Oh, darling, you really shouldn't. This is a reckless, deliciously terrible idea—teetering on the edge of moral ambiguity and an international scandal wrapped in a single, impulsive click.

And yet.

Here you are, standing before your mirror, a vision of damp locks and wet skin, the towel clinging to your curves like a lover's desperate grasp. Droplets of water trail down your neck, catching the light. There's something wild in your eyes, something about your heavy lids and parted lips, like you've unlocked a secret angle of yourself that only a front-facing camera could capture.

And you? You're going to send it.

Because Bucky Barnes—your Bucky, with his storm-blue eyes and that vibranium arm that hums with quiet power is a thousand miles away.

Prague, maybe. Serbia, possibly. He's on a mission, one of those shadowy, leather-gloved affairs that probably involves scaling rooftops or disarming a bomb with seconds to spare. You don't know the details. But the ache in your chest? That's all the intel you need.

Ten days.

Ten days since you've felt the heat of his body pressed against yours, since you've tasted the soft, devastating edge of his mouth. Ten days since you've run your fingers through his dark hair, felt the shudder in his breath when you tug just a little too hard. You're unraveling, fraying at the edges, a woman starved for the man who's both her anchor and her storm.

So, naturally, you do what any rational, touch-starved, love-drunk soul would do. You grab your phone. You swipe open the camera. And you pose.

It's not graceful. You're not some sultry vixen trained in the art of seduction. You're just you—heart pounding, towel slipping just enough to tease, hips tilted in a way that feels like a dare. You stare into the lens and think, What would make Bucky lose his mind?

The answer is this: you, glistening from the shower, skin dewy and warm, the towel barely holding on, one hip cocked, your lips parted in a look that's half-innocent, half-come get me. It's a snapshot of longing, of I miss you laced with I dare you.

You snap the photo. Your thumb hovers over the send button for a heartbeat—two, three. Then you press it.

The wait is electric.

Your phone buzzes, and your pulse spikes.

Bucky Jesus, sweetheart.

Another buzz, and it's like his voice is in the room, low and rough, curling around you like smoke.

Bucky What are you doing to me?

I'm in a goddamn surveillance van with two other agents and a shared screen. Had to throw a blanket over my lap like some kid who can't control himself.

You bite your lip, a slow, wicked smile spreading across your face. The towel feels heavier now, like it's conspiring with your racing heart. You type back, fingers trembling with mischief.

oops! just wanted to say hi... all clean and wet. is that a crime now?

Bucky You're lucky I'm not there, doll. You wouldn't be standing.

Your breath catches, a soft laugh spilling from your lips. Heat pools low in your belly, and you can almost feel the ghost of his hands—calloused, warm, possessive and grazing your skin. You type again.

hmm, i'm all wet and lonely. you're out there being dangerous and armed... we're not playing fair, are we?

Bucky Say that one more time, and I'm on the next flight home. Mission be damned.

You laugh again, loud and unguarded, because you know he means it. He'd burn the world down to get to you if you asked. And that's the sweetest, most dangerous part of all—this love that's so big, so consuming, it's hard to breathe without pulling him into your orbit.

You sink onto the edge of your bed, still clutching the phone, the towel slipping just a fraction lower. Your skin hums with the memory of him, and you wonder how long it'll be before he's back, before you can trade these teasing texts for the real thing—his hands, his mouth, his everything.

Until then, you'll just have to keep torturing him. One sultry selfie at a time.You spend the next three hours doing completely ordinary, non-sinister things like brushing your hair and moisturizing your soul. Also, watching Mamma Mia! for the hundredth time and pretending you don't keep glancing at your phone every seven minutes.

You do. You absolutely do. And yes, you are tracking Bucky's location like the clingy menace you are.

And it turns out he's checked into his hotel.

Which means—oh.

He's alone.

And probably grumpy.

Which means Bucky Barnes, Sergeant of Chaos, is probably somewhere in Europe brooding shirtless in soft lamplight. All sharp jawline and stormy eyes, still simmering from the situation you personally orchestrated.

Your body hums. Full-body anticipation. Wicked little pulses of mine mine mine under your skin. So naturally, you do what any well-adjusted, emotionally stable girlfriend would do.

You hit the video call button.

He answers on the first ring.

His face fills your screen—all chiseled bone structure and dark stubble and mussed hair like he's been running his hands through it since your last message. His voice is a low growl, sleep-rough and laced with something entirely more dangerous.

"Baby,"

You sprawl across your bed, the towel you're still wearing—barely—slipping dangerously low, exposing the curve of your thigh, the dip of your collarbone. You tilt your phone just right, letting him catch the glint of your damp skin in the soft light. "Hi, Sergeant," you purr, your voice a velvet blade, sharp and sweet.

He groans, head tipping back against the headboard, the sound vibrating through you like a physical touch. "Don't start with that Sergeant shit," he warns, but his eyes are already darkening, pupils blown wide as they rake over you. "I'm barely holding it together."

"Why?" You tilt your head, letting a damp curl fall across your shoulder, your lips curving into a smirk that's pure sin. "I'm just being respectful. Honoring your rank." You shift, the towel riding up just enough to make his jaw clench.

"Fuck," he mutters, the word a prayer and a curse. You hear the creak of his hotel bed, the rustle of sheets as he adjusts himself, and it's enough to make your thighs press together. "That picture you sent? I've been hard since. Had to lock myself in this room just to breathe."

You laugh, low and sultry, stretching out on your bed, letting the towel slip another inch, teasing the edge of decency. "Poor baby," you coo, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. "All worked up because of little ol' me?"

"You know exactly what you're doing," he growls, his eyes narrowing as he leans closer to the screen, like he could reach through it and grab you. "You're a fucking menace."

"I miss you," you whisper, and it's not just teasing now—it's raw, aching truth. Ten days without him, without his hands, his mouth, his weight pinning you down. It's too long. Too empty.

His expression softens, just for a second, before the hunger takes over again. "Miss you so damn much, sweetheart," he says, his voice thick, almost reverent. "It's killing me. Ten days, and I'm dreaming about you, waking up hard, thinking about your taste, your smell, the way you fucking move."

Your breath hitches, heat pooling low in your belly. "Then show me," you challenge, your voice a husky whisper. You prop your phone against a pillow, angling it so he can see every inch of you—towel barely clinging to your hips, your skin flushed and glistening. "Show me how much you miss me."

His eyes go molten, and he shifts, the camera catching the flex of his vibranium arm as he adjusts himself. "You want to play dirty?" he murmurs, his voice dropping to that dangerous, filthy register that makes your toes curl. 

He shifts, grunts softly, and sets his phone down too—somewhere low, tilted up just enough to give you the full view. And oh. Oh, God.

He's shirtless. Hair a mess. His thighs spread wide and bare.

And his cock. Thick, flushed, already hard rests heavy against his stomach.

"Like that, baby?" he asks, a little breathless, a little too smug for someone stroking himself with a metal arm like he's trying to kill you with lust via satellite.

You whimper. That's it. That's your only response. A noise of full-body, feral yearning.

Because his vibranium fingers? Wrapped around the base of his cock like a fucking vice. The gold plating catches in the low light, gleaming wickedly as he strokes once—slow and deliberate, like he wants to ruin you before he even touches himself properly.

"I thought about you all day," he murmurs, lazy now, letting his thumb rub over the head, watching your mouth fall open. "Tried so fucking hard not to do this until I saw you. But then you called, lookin' like you wanted me to lose it... Take that towel off, baby. Let me see you."

You comply, agonizingly slow, peeling the fabric away until it pools beneath you, leaving you bare and breathless under his gaze. His groan is primal, a sound that vibrates through your core. "Fuck, look at you," he breathes, his hand disappearing below the frame, the motion unmistakable. "So fucking perfect. You know what I'd do if I was there? I'd bury my face between those thighs. Lick you so slow, so deep, you'd be begging me to let you come."

You whimper, your fingers trailing down your stomach, teasing yourself as his words burn through you. "Bucky," you gasp, your voice trembling with need. "Keep talking."

"Oh, I'm just getting started," he says, his voice a low, filthy promise. "I'd spread you open, taste every inch of that sweet pussy. Fuck, I can still taste you from last time, all wet and warm and mine. I'd suck that clit until you're screaming, until you're pulling my hair so hard it hurts. You'd be dripping for me, wouldn't you? Soaking the sheets, begging for my cock."

Your fingers move faster against your hot core, chasing the heat of his words, your hips bucking as you moan his name. "Yes," you pant, your body arching off the bed. "God, Bucky, I need you."

"You have no idea," he growls, his breath hitching as he matches your rhythm, his camera shaking slightly as he moves. "I'd fuck you so deep, baby. Pin you down, make you take every inch. You'd feel me for days. I'd fill you up, make you scream my name until your voice gives out."

"Fuck, Bucky—" Your hand trails down again, desperate, twitchy.

He smirks. "Go ahead. Touch yourself while you watch me." His jaw flexes, the vibranium grip stroking tighter. "Wanna see how wet you are for me."

And you do. With him watching. With him moaning. With the sound of slick metal pumping against his cock, slow and devastating.

"I'm gonna fuck you so deep when I get back," he growls, voice wrecked now, gaze locked on you like a threat. "You won't be able to walk straight, baby. Not after this. Not after seeing me fuck my fist thinking about that perfect pussy of yours."

You gasp, your rhythm matching his, your thighs trembling.

"I'm gonna come all over this hand," he grits out. "And the second I land, I'm putting my mouth where this hand's been. Gonna taste you, taste me on you. Make you take it."

The words push you over the edge, your body shuddering as you come, his name a broken cry on your lips. He's not far behind, his groans rough and ragged, the camera catching the tense line of his jaw, the way his eyes flutter shut as he chases his own release.

For a moment, there's just the sound of your heavy breathing, the shared silence of two people wrecked and sated. You're sweaty, flushed, your body still trembling, but you feel alive, tethered to him through the screen.

"Jesus Christ," he pants. "I'm booking the next fucking flight."

You collapse into sleep, hard and heavy, your body still humming from the filthy promises of Bucky's voice over the video call. The blankets cocoon you, your pulse a lazy flutter, your skin tingling with the ghost of his words. You're not even sure if you ended the call, too drunk on pleasure to care. One moment, you're sinking into the soft haze of afterglow. The next—

Oh. Fuck.

You wake to a sensation so sinful it rips you from sleep. A wet, searing heat between your thighs, deliberate and unrelenting. Your hips buck instinctively, a sharp, needy jolt as your eyes flutter open, vision blurry with confusion and want.

Another slow, possessive lick drags up your core, and your brain stutters, short-circuits, melts. Your breath catches, a broken gasp, as you blink down and see him—Bucky Barnes, all six-foot-something of him, nestled between your legs like he was made for it. His hair's a tousled mess, dark strands falling into his eyes, his beard scraping deliciously against your sensitive skin. Those broad shoulders, carved from years of violence and redemption, pin your thighs open against the sheets. And his tongue—fuck, his tongue—is inside you, lapping at you like you're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted.

"Bucky—what—?" Your voice cracks, half a moan, as you try to process the impossible. "How—?"

"Shh, pretty girl," he murmurs, his lips brushing your clit, the vibration of his voice sending a fresh wave of heat through you. "Heard you whimpering my name in your sleep. Fuck, you sounded so needy. Couldn't just lie there and listen."

"You're here?" you gasp, trying to sit up, but his vibranium arm curls over your hip, pinning you down with gentle, unyielding strength. "You—ohmygod—Bucky."

"Told you I'd be on the next flight," he growls, his voice rough with hunger, his eyes dark and feral as they meet yours. "Couldn't stay away. Not after that little show you put on." He dives back in, his tongue swirling deep, dragging a wrecked moan from your throat. "You taste better than I remember. So fucking sweet."

Your hands fist the sheets, your hips grinding up to meet his mouth as he devours you, slow and reverent, like he's worshiping every inch of you. His tongue flicks and curls, teasing your entrance before plunging inside, and you're already trembling, your body a live wire under his touch. "Bucky—please," you whimper, your thighs quaking as he hooks them over his shoulders, spreading you wider, claiming you completely.

"Love hearing you beg," he murmurs against your pussy, his beard scraping your inner thighs, the burn only amplifying the pleasure. "Missed this. Missed you. Been dreaming about this pretty cunt every fucking night." He sucks your clit hard, a deliberate pull that makes your vision blur, your body arching off the bed as you cry out. "Gonna make you come so hard you forget how to breathe."

You do. You come so fast, so violently, it's like a supernova bursting behind your eyes, your entire body seizing as you scream his name. He doesn't stop, lapping at you through the aftershocks, drawing out every shudder, every broken gasp, until you're a boneless mess beneath him.

But he's not done. Not even close.

Before you can catch your breath, he's up, his hands—flesh and metal—flipping you onto your stomach with effortless strength. "Ass up, sweetheart," he growls, his voice a dark, filthy promise that makes your core clench all over again. You scramble to obey, your knees sinking into the mattress, your back arching as you press your hips back toward him, desperate, aching, needy.

"Fuck, look at you," he groans, his hands gripping your hips, his thumbs spreading you open as he kneels behind you. "So wet for me. So fucking perfect." You hear the rustle of his clothes, the clink of his belt, and then he's there, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

Not yet.

Instead, he presses the hot, leaking head of his cock on your wet pussy and just… holds it there. Teasing. Taunting. Letting you feel the weight of him, the heat, the pressure, everything you want but not giving you an inch.

He grinds in slow, maddening circles, rubbing right where you're soaked and aching, coating his tip in your slick. The sensation is enough to make your knees shake.

You whimper. Push back against him. Beg with your body.

But he only chuckles, low and wrecked. "You want it that bad, sweetheart?" he rasps, dragging his tip up through your folds, nudging your clit before sliding back down and rubbing against your entrance again. "Fuck, look how wet you are for me. Just from my voice. Just from thinking about me."

You sob his name, fingers curling in the sheets, desperate for friction, for fullness, for him.

But Bucky stays exactly where he is. Letting the swollen tip of his cock press against your cunt without breaching it, just enough to make your whole body burn. Just enough to make you feel like you're going to snap.

He groans like he's punishing himself. Like this is torture for him, too. "Could slide in so easy," he murmurs, grinding slow and shallow against you, your slick coating both of you now. "You're begging for it, baby. This tight little cunt's fuckin' fluttering, pulling me in."

Your hips buck helplessly. "Bucky... please—"

"Please what?" he growls, jaw tight. "Please put it in? Please fuck you stupid? You want this cock, doll?"

"Yes—fuck—yes," you cry, nearly delirious. "Please, don't tease, just fuck me..."

"Oh, I'm gonna fuck you," he says, his tone dripping with dark, delicious intent. "Gonna fuck you so deep you'll feel me for days. Gonna ruin this pussy." He slides in slow, inch by agonizing inch, stretching you, filling you, until you're gasping, your hands clawing at the sheets. 

"You're mine, baby. This tight little cunt? Mine."

He starts moving, hard and deliberate, each thrust driving you into the mattress, his hips snapping against yours with a filthy rhythm that makes you sob with pleasure. His vibranium hand grips your hip, cool and unyielding, while his flesh hand slides under you, finding your breasts, cupping them possessively. His fingers pinch your nipples, rolling them just hard enough to make you gasp, your body arching further into him as he groans against your skin. "These fucking tits," he growls, squeezing them from beneath, his touch rough and reverent. "Been dreaming about these, too. So soft, so perfect in my hands."

"Yes—yes," you moan, your body shaking as he pounds into you, each thrust hitting that perfect spot that makes you see stars. "Love it. Love you. Bucky, harder."

He growls, low and feral, and gives you exactly what you want, his pace turning brutal, his cock slamming into you so deep you feel it in your bones. "Fuck, I want to taste you again," he rasps, leaning over you, his chest pressed to your back, his lips grazing your ear.

It's too much. It's everything. Your body is a live wire, oversensitive and overstimulated, but you can't stop, can't pull away from the way he's claiming you, body and soul. His filthy promises, his bites, the way he fills yoU, it's all-consuming. Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, white-hot and blinding, your walls clenching so tight around him you feel him falter. You scream his name, a broken, desperate sound, your body shaking as you come so hard your vision goes dark, your pussy gripping him like it's trying to keep him forever.

"Fuck—fuck," he chokes out, his thrusts stuttering as he buries himself deep, his cock pulsing as he spills inside you, hot and thick, wave after wave filling you up. His forehead presses against your spine, his breath ragged, his hands trembling as they lock onto your hips, anchoring himself to you like you're his only tether to the world.

But he's not done. Oh, God, he's not done.

He pulls out just enough to catch his breath, his cock still slick and half-hard, and then he flips you over with a strength that steals the air from your lungs. You land on your back with a startled gasp, your legs trembling as he nudges them apart with his knee, his vibranium hand curling around the back of your neck, possessive and grounding. His dark, wild, starving eyes—lock onto yours as he lines himself up again, pushing back inside with a slow, deliberate thrust that makes you whimper.

"Need to see you," he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked, his lips brushing your temple as he rocks into you, deep and unhurried, like he's savoring every second. "Need to come inside you while I watch those pretty eyes fall apart." His flesh hand slides down to your thigh, hooking it over his waist, opening you up so he can fuck you deeper, his cock hitting places that make your breath hitch.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, his forehead pressed to yours, his hips rolling with a rhythm that's both tender and devastating. "Feel how full you are? That's all me. Gonna fuck you so deep you'll feel me for weeks. Wanna mark you inside and out, make sure you're dripping with me." His vibranium hand slides up to your breast, squeezing hard, his thumb brushing your nipple until you're gasping, your body clenching around him again.

He bites your shoulder again, harder this time, his teeth sinking in as he growls against your skin, the sharp sting blending with the pleasure of his cock filling you. "Love these fucking tits," he murmurs, his hand kneading your breast, his fingers pinching just enough to make you moan. "Love how you shake for me, how you take every inch like you're made for my cock."

You're a mess, slick with sweat, your body trembling as another orgasm builds, unstoppable and overwhelming. "Bucky," you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders, his back, anything to hold onto as he drives you higher. "I love you. I love you so fucking much."

That's what breaks him. A shattered groan of your name spilling from his lips as he comes again, his cock pulsing deep inside you, filling you until you're dripping, claimed in every way. His thrusts slow but don't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you're shaking, your own release crashing through you, your moans mingling with his as you cling to him, utterly ruined.

He collapses over you, chest heaving, his body a warm, heavy weight pinning you to the mattress. He doesn't pull out, just stays there, softening inside you, his lips brushing soft, reverent kisses over the bite marks on your shoulder, soothing the sting he left behind. "Missed you so fucking much," he whispers, his voice raw, trembling with something deeper than lust. "Couldn't stay away from you. Never can."

You hum, too fucked-out to speak, your arms wrapping around his back, holding him close as your body thrums with the afterglow, the marks on your shoulder a delicious reminder of his claim.

"You okay?" he murmurs after a moment, nudging your nose with his, his voice a mix of concern and that smug, bastardly charm.

You manage a breathless laugh, your head still spinning. "I think I died. Twice."

He grins. Smug bastard.

"Good."

You roll your eyes. "You and your fucking audacity," you mumble, barely coherent.

He chuckles, still inside you, still hardening slowly. Still not done.

"I am so in love with you," he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. "'And I'm not going anywhere."

[ruffboijuliaburnsides]

Reblogging bc this is still pretty cool. That said, I agree with some commenters that this doesn't really facilitate understanding multiplication and it only really works for whole numbers, HOWEVER I definitely like it as someone with ADHD because you have no idea how many times I got the wrong answer because the addition step got twisted or I lost a digit somewhere. Spreading it out a little is helpful for helping me keep things straight, so if I was doing any significant amounts of large whole number multiplication by hand, I would probably do this a lot.

Also, I did notice - the numbers I got from multiplying the normal way? you can get them from this too, if you only add together the diagonals from one column.

So like. This is clearly functioning similarly, but it's broken up in a way that breaks things out to be more confusing to look at but easier to add together.

personally the lattice method of multiplication is the reason i hate math

[bullbous]

Part 2!! i have only read over this like twice so if there's a mistake please close your eyes i was just so excited to get this out

Here's part 1 | part 3

The Breaker Box was the fullest it’s been, and the quietest. Even Johnny felt no desire to grab the mic in front of the captive audience. 

Half of the house's occupants sat in little groups and talked quietly amongst themselves as Rainey played a slow number.  It had been four days (five maybe) since their human had packed up and left and the air was growing stale in their absence. 

Tense, too.

Gossip spread like wild fire so it took no time at all till every object knew the full(ish) dramatic tale. 

It was fair to say that you had a positive relationship with the majority of the household, most of whom questioned the validity of Skip’s outburst, but gossip spread nonetheless. Where a good chunk of your SPEC points had been earned with carefully chosen words and a plastic persona, you had forged some genuine friendships. 

As the Dateables sat in the miserable quiet, some of those friends stood to your defence.

“Well, I think it’s fair to say, dear,” Barry spoke gently, trying to keep the nerves out of his tone, “That you haven’t been the kindest to our human.” 

Cam stared at him with dead eyes. Barry was unsure he had even bothered to listen, as Cam tilted his head back to finish his drink. 

“Dear-” “They degraded me-” He was interrupted by a belch, “For days on end. D’ya want me to let them walk all over me?”

“No! But if-” “I’m not gonna let anyone speak to me like that, even if they are the human.” “If you’ve been interrupting them like that,” Mitchell Linn speaks firmly, fingers drumming over the table top, “It’s no wonder what they said could be misconstrued.”

“What do you mean?” Cam’s deadpan voice led to some curiosity.

“Why,” Mitchell Lin tossed his noodle hair behind his shoulder, clearing his throat, “I think the human should be afforded some wiggle room, so to say.”

“Wriggle room?” “This must be very strange for them.” Mitchell started and Barry brightened beside him, slamming a hand to the table with undue force.

“Exactly! Just imagine it - you’ve lived your entire life handling objects that mean little more than their intended purpose then poof!, suddenly there’s one hundred sentient things that you must make good favour with. That must be difficult!”

“Yeah?” Cam huffed and looked off to the side, “But they don’t have to talk to us. To me.”

“But they do.” Barry said softly, a gentle smile on his lips. It had seemed Barry’s slam had brought their neighbouring tables attention, a thoughtful silence lingered in their corner of the bar till Cam scraped back on his chair with a loud screech.

“Whatever,” He grabbed his empty cans from the table and shoved them into his pocket, “It’s that shadows fault they’re gone. Go bother him.” 

Barry knew what he had to do. Skip’s, or xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx as he’s formally known to the rest of the house, was not their most sociable resident. He carried baggage from a life outside his residence and it led him to be estranged. So far he had brushed off any attempt of conversation but their human had managed to humour him long enough to form a bond. They had spoken for a good few hours every night, for days on end, with laughter and games and vulnerable conversation but it was one mysterious fumble that set the domino for the ‘Big Fallout’ (as it was now referred to). 

Skips had since refused to talk to anybody.  Deep in the shadows, his new form would brood, melting away before anyone could get some proper answers from him. Scandalabra had tried a great many times! Maggie even more so.

Curiosity burned with no remorse, and while their human was gone and they had no way of contacting him - it was time to get digging. 

Barry needed a team.  Objects who could gently intimidate Skip’s into staying, while providing the gentleness he obviously required to tease out the answers. 

He asked Eddie to come with him first, seeing as he was quite scary himself and had a history of standing up to bullshit, plus he was closest. Then Dasha and Dunk, both of them tough with kindness filling their big muscles, and Dorian on the way out who initially refused to leave his post but promised a closer Dorian would definitely be at their disposable to help a friend. 

The team gathered at Gaia’s shadow, Back Dorian did not turn around but his impressive stature was useful enough, and Barry gently called to Skips with his proper handle.

“xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx?” 

Silence followed as they waited patiently.

“Mr. xxXShadowl0rd420Xxx?” “Who disturbs xxXOmegaShadowl0rd42069Xxx!?” Skip’s bursts forth, his shadows pooling like heavy smoke and tinging the air with a slight electrical current, his voice was high-pitched, scratching at Barry’s ears as he steeled his nerves. “Oh, for fucks sake.” Eddie starts, turning away from the looming shadow, ignoring Dasha nudging him with a sharp elbow.

“Ah,” Barry wants to regret this, but keeps steadfast for his friend, “Hello there!”

“I’ve no desire to talk to you daywalkers! Begone!” “You’re not going anywhere, mate.” Dorian’s voice, though mostly muffled, carries enough weight to give the shadow pause. 

“We want to get to the bottom of our human’s… departure. As I’m told, you were the last they had spoken to.”

“Do not think I am ignorant of your little whispers, Lipstick, you have your opinions of me and I shall not deign to change them.” The use of language threw Barry off for a beat, made him think of a period drama he had just researched and the special makeup techniques they had, but he shook his head to clear the thoughts as Dunk continued on his behalf.

“C’mon man,” He had an oddly serious expression but his voice was warm, “Whatever happened between you two has everyone else worried. Whatever happened got our buddy pretty worked up so we wanted to see what went wrong.”

“My Penumb- The human showed their true colours after I revealed my true form. That is all you must know!” “Did they insult you?” Eddie asked.

“No, I would not crumble to some childish insult.”

“Well, that’s me out of ideas.” Eddie sighed after his monumental effort, looking to the others for help wishing for nothing more than to be back at the bar with Volt.

“What did they do that was so bad?” Barry had a desperate edge to his voice that set Skip’s off. He doubled in size, looming over Barry.

“They left me! Like all the others!” Skips shouted, his great form bubbling in heatless flame. A moment passed, as the group reckoned with his words.

“...No, I do not think that is all. What truly happened, my friend?” Perhaps it was because Dasha sounded so genuine or that she looked so unaffected by his show of force that Skips stalled and bowed his bony head. 

“They refused,” He choked up, taking a deep and shuddering breath, “They refused to become shadow.”

There was a beat of pure confusion. Neurons firing and missing their mark before…

“What!?” “Is that it?” “Wait, can you actually do that?” “You must be jokin’...”

Skips turned away, a hand covering his face in a dramatic flair, “You would not understand.”

“You don’t understand.” It was Eddie’s calm voice that brought reason back to the situation. He had his arms crossed with picture perfect disappointment on his face, “What did you expect?” “What?” Skip’s tone lost his scary edge in his genuine confusion.

“Skips…” Barry said gently, “They had every right to refuse you. They're a human."

“That’s the argument you’re goin’ for?” Barry was distracted by Eddie’s deadpan so Dunk stepped forward. 

“We understand you’re upset and that's okay!” There were a few murmurs of disagreement, but Dunk carried on, his kind voice a small light in shadow, “It must have reminded you of whatever happened to you before but the truth is, man, you left them.”

“What…” Horror filled Skip’s voice. 

“Yes,” Dasha nodded, placing a heavy hand on Dunk’s shoulder, “Shuttlecock speaks true. You let your emotions run too high, shouted at them, frightened them I’m sure. You pruned a flowering friendship and did not allow our human a chance to repair.” “Not that they needed to repair anything in the first place.” Eddie interjected, “They had been a good friend to you so far, listened to your troubles, tolerated your dramatics, accepted whatever other form you’ve got going on, and you toss them out after one disagreement?”

“They came back to you hoping to repair your friendship and you kicked them out on their arse.” Dorian shook his head, it was impossible to discern his expression but it was likely one of disappointment. 

“I think you owe them an apology next time you see them.” Barry was gentle, confident his intervention had worked. “Will I see them again?” There was indignation in Skips tone, he felt cornered and ashamed.  They were all so haughty to accuse him of leaving first but you had been gone a week now! As he readied a dramatic speech of betrayal, before he could lash out any further, the front door rattled and swung open.

part 3 is already in the works I just didn't want this to be too long lmao

[sacred3ugene]

hands off, gabriela .ᐟ

SYNOPSIS ⋆ being famous means you'll have random people coming up to you and asking all sorts of things, some want pictures, some autographs— and some want to flirt. so when daniela spots you with a girl trying to flirt with you, she gets possessive.

CONTENT :: dom!daniela , fingering

You were expecting a tranquil day, but maybe going to a bar full of people with the group wasn't a good idea. You can hear people snapping photos, some with flashes. some not, people start gathering to ask you for autographs and so on.

Obviously, you don't really mind when fans come up to you, but sometimes it can be a bit overwhelming. And although you're glad your bodyguard is always pendent on you, some fans easily sneak behind him and get their way to you.

When everything calmed down, you approached the bar, distancing yourself a little from your companions and ordering a drink to relieve stress. The strong taste makes your throat burn, lips curling in slight disgust. How can people like it?

As you look around the place, you feel someone tapping on your shoulder, snatching your attention from your drink. Another fan, you thought, putting your best smile for them. But they weren't there to ask for a photo or autographs, they were being quite—flirty.

"Hey, gorgeous." She purred, keeping eye contact with you, something that made you shift in your seat uncomfortably. "Can I order something for you?" She offered, a bright smirk plastered on her face, her gaze wandering along your body.

"No, I'm fine." You say, dismissing her offer with your hand, gripping tightly the glass with your drink, trying to show her you already have one.

"Well then—" She sits in the stool next to you, man spreading as she takes a sip of her drink with a black straw.

"So," She starts. "you're famous?" Although she tried to make it sound oblivious, you can tell she already knows you.

"Yeah, I guess so." You smack yourself internally, I guess so? What kind of answer was that. Either way, you look around the place, trying to spot your friends who were a couple seats from you—you fail.

Now you have to deal with this girl trying to flirt with you, unaware you're in a relationship. That's something you hate, having to temporarily hide your relationship with Dani. You can't tell a soul, and that means people that try to hit on you.

"Mhm..." She pretends to think, as if trying to guess if she knows you from somewhere. "Ain't you the pretty one from that K-pop group?" She narrows her eyes, intensively looking through you.

"I—"

"Yeah, she is." A very known voice speaks from behind you, a hand wrapping tightly against your waist, squeezing the flesh. Dani looks expectantly, daring the girl to say something flirty again. You try not to laugh as the she backs up quickly, Dani's death stare scaring her off.

"Well, good to know." She lifts her hands in defeat, getting up from her seat, taking a last sip from her drink before disappearing into the crowd.

Her hand only gets tighter as she watches the girl leave, an inner proud smile blooming.

"Where were you?" Is the first thing that comes out of your mouth, you look at her, confused by not knowing how she appeared out of nowhere.

"We went to the bathroom but I saw you looking for me." She explains, pointing to the bathrooms with her thumb, also looking over her shoulder, spotting the group.

You nod, shifting in your seat once again.

"What's wrong?" Dani asked with worried eyes.

"Nothing just—" You trail. "You were kind of... possessive."

"And what about it?" Dani snorts, a soft smile creeping out. "I thought you liked it." She hits your arm with her elbow, that damn smirk on her face.

"I do!" You're quick to explain, turning around to face her more comfortably. "But what if she realized we're something?" You reveal you're main worry as you caress your elbows, trying to find comfort.

"She won't." She reassures you, a hand now placed on your shoulder, her thumb caressing the skin underneath. "And even if she does I couldn't care less."

"Of course you won't." You joke, giggles filling the air for a moment. You lean closer to her touch, resting your head on her waist.

Dani can sense how you're starting to destress slowly, but she has a better idea. "Come with me." She talks quietly, only loud enough for you to hear.

She leaves your side, you follow her with your eyes as she gets inside the bathroom, waiting for you inside. You get up from your seat, cleaning your clothes, then, you walk towards the bathroom, the cold knob against your skin when you open the door, closing it behind you.

She's retouching herself in the mirror, she applies some lipstick, a small 'pop' when she smacks her lips. "C'mere." She pats the sink.

You walk up to the sink, sitting above the marble, still unknowing Dani's true intentions. You try not to squeeze you thighs together when she gives you a very flirty stare—on the contrary, her gaze did turn you on.

There was a moment of silence, the background noise reigning in the scene. You feel her fingers drawing patterns on your knees, a ticklish sensation dancing around the area.

Her hand crawls up your thigh, stopping as soon as she feels the hem of your jeans on her fingertips, teasing you, making you crave for her touch, a possessive side of her blooming when she remembers someone was trying to flirt with you—someone was flirting with you.

"I think we should…" She swallows. "I think we should start telling people we're dating." It completely shocks you how casually she said it. "I'm tired of seeing people hit on you and not being able to do." The jealousy, possessiveness—however you wanna call it—started to take ahold of her.

She goes further, sliding her hand through your jeans, putting pressure on your clit. Your breath hitches, a quiet gasp slipping through your lips.

She doesn't move her hand, instead, she only adds more pressure, an electrifying feeling dancing around your body, your entrance clenching around nothing. You bite your knuckles as she slowly unbuttons your pants, your eyes not moving away from her. She takes the hem of your jeans and pulls it down, placing a finger on her lips, advising you to be quiet. She kneels, now being face to face with the wetness that's spreading across your panties.

The fabric is annoying Dani so she decides to take it off, leaving you naked from your hips down. A little yelp slides through your mouth, her eyes piercing through you, eyebrows raising.

"Quiet." She whispers with a firm tone.

She's not playing around, she goes straight to business, no foreplay. Her fingers slide through your lips, opening your folds as your wetness sticks to her fingers, spreading them open to she the stripe between her digits. She looks at you asking for permission, to which you nod eagerly, a soft giggle leaving her mouth. She slips one finger in and groans when you clench around her. She teases you a little, pushing it deeper inside you but making sure to leave you hanging, waiting for more. Then she inserts another finger, mouth opening in surprise at how tight you are around her.

"Fuck, you're tight—" Her voice breaks when she's knuckles deep inside you, you squeeze your lips shut trying not to make a sound.

Your mouth falls open, panting, head tilting back, your hands flying to Dani's hair, your muscles tense in a now pleasant way, your legs twitching slightly.

Dani starts to move her fingers slowly, letting you adjust to them, her thumb rubbing your clit at the same pace. It drives you crazy, and she knows it, she wants you to ask, beg for it, to moan her name when you tell her to go faster— because you really need her to go faster.

"Fast—" You mumble, a moan cutting you off.

"What?" She couldn't hear you well, you're a complete mess on her fingers.

"Faster."

"Faster?"

"Faster, Dani—please!" You correct yourself, words coming a little bit loud for her liking, but she couldn't care less, having you here being a complete mess for her, begging—it was worth it.

She smiles proudly. "As you wish, princess." With that being said, her fingers start to thrust roughly, sticky noises echoing though the bathroom walls, your hand gripping the sink so tightly until your knuckles turn white, your left hand pressing against your mouth, keeping you quiet.

Her smile only grows wider as she watches you fight for steadiness, your legs trembling forcefully, your clit twitching under her touch, your hair is starting to stick to your forehead due to the sweat dripping down. It's impossible not to make a sound when she's fucking you oh so we'll, she's reaching places that you were unaware of, rubbing your clit the right way, that electrifying feeling running down your body.

You clench around her digits, taking a groan out of her at the sudden tightness. Her hand slowly slides down into her own pants, the same motion she's giving you being replicated behind her clothes.

The mere sight of her masturbating as she fucks you is enough to drive you to the edge, your orgasm closer and closer, eyes rolling to the back of your head in response. It's too much to handle, both hands are now gripping the cold marble, your lip between your teeth, drawing blood from them.

"Geez—" You gasp. "M' gonna cum!" You hiss, your hips jolting, leaning closer to Dani's touch, addicted to the way she's making you feel. You look desperate—pathetic even, but it's all for her, all just for her eyesm

As you buckle against her touch, a rather loud groan escapes through your lips, body trembling fiercely, riding down your orgasm. "Oh my god..." You try to catch your breath, lifting your hips involuntarily, her lips giving your clit a little peck, to which your body responds by twitching forcefully—overstimulated.

"Good girl." Dani whispers, sending shivers down your core.

You hear her stand up, your eyes remain closed, taking a moment to process. The sound of the water rumbles, she starts to wash her hands, cleaning the rest of your wetness off her fingers, not wanting to raise suspicion with among her friends.

When you finally get over your orgasm, you look in her direction, she blows you a kiss. When she finishes washing her hands, she steals a little peck from your lips, to later give you a proper one, your hands placed on the back of her neck, pulling her closer.

"Come on, fix whatever you have to," She pats your the side of your thigh. "we gotta go back outside."

You whine at her words, wanting to stay more time alone with her, but the knocks on the bathroom door tell you maybe is a good idea.

You fix your hair, trying to make it look casual, as if nothing happened. Dani can only stare and admire you, and it makes her wet knowing her fingers were deep inside you seconds ago.

"Let's go." She extends her hand to you, guiding you out the bathroom, your head already scheming an excuse to tell the rest.

sdt :: @chrissv4mp

[jj-one]

FWB!CHAN ✶ HEADCANONS ! 💭

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: bang chan x f!reader, friends with benefits genre/tags: smut, angst (?), mentions of drinking, chan is lowkey toxic lol, jealousy/rough s*x, dom!chan, oral (m + f. receiving), marking, light degradation, mentions of choking, creampie, aftercare, honestly there’s probably more idk words: 1.4k

[ note. ] — this was inspired by an ask from this anon, i kinda got a little carried away w this lmaooo but hopefully these ain’t too bad :p

you met at some rooftop party you didn’t even want to attend. one of those late summer nights that felt too hot, too loud and hazy from all the alcohol and smell of cheap weed. he was sitting at the bar laughing with his friends, shirt undone at the top, neck glistening with sweat, a solo cup in one hand and a lazy, arrogant smirk that locked onto you like he knew something you didn’t.

you weren’t supposed to end up alone with him on the balcony, but tequila makes bad decisions taste like sugar, and one too many shots turned passing glances into grinding against the railing, breathy laughs into open-mouthed kisses, and before you know it your back’s hitting the inside of your car.

that night, you two fucked like strangers who hated the idea of never seeing each other again. fast, rough, and selfish. hands bruising, mouths everywhere, no sweet words exchanged; just the raw instinct to claim.

you left thinking it was a fluke, just a one time thing. then he started texting you— short, cocky messages at the weirdest hours, and you started showing up. there were no rules, no promises. you were both grown adults, both single, but you didn’t ask questions you didn’t wanna hear the answers to. so you never defined it, never tried to begin with. he became like a drug to you, always too addictive, satisfying, and way too easy to fall back into no matter how many times you “swore” you were done.

it’s no surprise to you he was seeing other girls. you tried not let it get to you, tried not to let it show when you’d come over after being hit with the usual 3 am, “u up?” text— but the way your chest tightened when you found unfamiliar lip gloss on his sheets or smelled another girl’s perfume on his clothes told you otherwise.

he never offered explanations and you didn’t expect them. though, the moment he suspected you were seeing someone else?? his touches got rougher, his grip would get tighter. he didn’t explicitly state his jealousy, but the bruises he’d left behind did.

fucking chan feels like being wrecked and worshipped all in the same breath. he fucks you like he owns you. he has god-tier dick, perfect curve, thick, veiny, knows exactly how to angle his hips to ruin you. his strokes are deep and punishing when he’s jealous, like he’s trying to fuck someone else’s name out of your memory. you could be laid flat on his bed, legs over his shoulders, hands trapped in his hold above your head as he drives into you with quiet, controlled violence. the mattress creaks and your body jolts with every thrust. he watches as your body unravels, obsessed with the way your lips fall open, the way your brows scrunch, the wet slap of skin against skin filling the room like it’s music to his ears.

sometimes he’ll slow down just to feel everything— your walls fluttering around him, the heat, the stretch. his hips grinding deeper and steadier, cock dragging across every sensitive spot like he wants to memorize you from the inside out.

backshots are his favorite. tgere’s something so primal about watching your ass ripple with every thrust, his hands spreading you wider, one thumb circling lazily at your rim just to watch you squirm >_<

chan could eat your pussy for hoursss, he just can’t help it, you taste so fucking good ;( he always starts real slow— mouth hovering just enough to tease you a little, feeling his breath fanning against you and watches your thighs twitch. then he devours. tongue working you open with maddening precision, sucking, lapping, groaning into you like it’s his last meal. he’ll overstimulate you just to prove a point, just because he can. grips your hips down when you try to close your legs and makes you ride his face until your voice goes hoarse, but he isn’t a monster! he always makes you finish on his tongue, again, and again until your thighs ache and you can’t tell if you’re crying or drooling from the high.

whenever you go down on him he leans back with his arms behind his head, head tilted slightly as he watches you from above. you can feel the tension in his abdomen long before he lets out a single sound. pre-cum leaks onto your tongue before you even get all the way down. he’s so responsive— hips bucking, muscles tensing, breath shallow. the way his cock twitches against your lips when you moan around it? he loses his composure. your mouth, your throat, your eyes looking up at him and it sends him spiraling. he finishes in your mouth often and makes sure you swallow every last drop, half-lidded, chest heaving. he never says thank you, just lifts your chin and kisses you like you didn’t just giving him the sloppiest head of your life.

he’s def into degradation, but only when you’re in the headspace for that, all soaked and pliant, practically begging for it.

slaps to your ass and light choking are regular staples. sometimes he spits in your mouth during missionary and tells you you’re his favorite fuck while looking right into your eyes. he’ll fuck you so hard your mascara’s runnny, hand pressed over your mouth while he keeps going, even as your legs start to shake. absolutely loves cumming on your tits or your face when he’s being a little mean. but when he’s in a mood? finishing inside is practically non-negotiable. “you want me to cum in this pussy, huh? you like getting filled like a good little slut.”

once fucked you on the cold floor just because you told him “we should stop doing this” and he took that shit personally.

always, always leaves marks!! sometimes in visible areas, sometimes not, but you feel them the next day, and he knows it.

he never says he wants you to himself, but the tension in his jaw when you laugh too hard at another guy’s joke says more than enough. ihe finds out someone else has touched you, it’s game over. he’ll call you over and fuck you so hard your voice breaks when you try to say his name.

you once wore a hickey someone else gave you and he didn’t say a word. just pulled your panties down, spread you on the counter, and fucked you raw until you couldn’t walk straight.

he’ll sometimes text you after being MIA for days, “you still fucking around or should i come ruin your night?” you remind him once again that he doesn’t own you and he’s just like, “no, but i know this pussy does.”

he’s not the type to do PDA— but if you show up to his place in a tight dress after being out? he’ll flip you over the couch and fuck you in it without saying anything just to remind you.

he hates knowing he’s not the only one in your life, even though he refuses to stop seeing other people. he won’t ask for exclusivity, but he punishes you for not giving it.

despite the chaos, chan’s aftercare is strangely tender. he wipes you down, helps you to the bathroom, throws you one of his hoodies and pulls you against his chest like he didn’t just rail your soul out. his fingers thread through your hair while you rest against him, body limp, mind blank. he’s quiet. still. sometimes hums softly into the space between your shoulder blades. there’s a kind of sadness to him in those moments. like he wants to say something, but doesn’t trust himself to say it out loud.

you fall asleep beside him more than you should, wrapped in his scent, his heartbeat steady against your cheek. you pretend it’s enough. you tell yourself you’re fine with it. that it’s just sex— though deep down, you know it’s not.

it’s the way he remembers what you like without you asking, pulls you closer during post-sex cuddles, how he sometimes kisses you like it truly means something.

sure you see other people, occasionally, but no one makes you feel like this, like you’re being broken and rebuilt in his hands everytime he touches you.

you want to be his only, but you’re not, and you won’t ask to be. because you’re scared of the answer. so instead, you stay. you let him fuck you, you let him ruin you and take care of you after. even if you let it hurt— because he’s the only one who’s ever made pain feel this good.

[jibitzlesscrocs]

Can you write a fix where reader is ovulating around Matt or Chris and she's absolutely feral (you can what else you wanna do with it too)

chris sturniolo x reader

warning : smut , breeding kink, p n v, praises

need you now

in which, you’re feral and ovulating

You didn’t even mean for it to happen. You weren’t planning on climbing into Chris’s lap like you needed him more than oxygen. You hadn’t meant to grind down on his thigh like it was the only thing keeping you sane. But the second he pulled you into his arms that night, hoodie, hands warm on your hips, voice low in your ear — something in you snapped.

You were aching. Deep, throbbing, and borderline out of control. Your whole body screamed for him. Chris noticed the second your nails dug into his shoulders.

“Woah, baby,” he chuckled, his tone teasing but warm. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

You couldn’t answer — not properly. Your lips crashed into his, desperate, messy, hands tugging at the waistband of his sweats like your life depended on it.

His eyes darkened. “You’re fuckin’ shaking.”

“I need you,” you whispered, breath hot against his neck. “Please, Chris. Something’s wrong with me, I—I just need you inside me. Now.”

That was when his teasing stopped.

He leaned back just enough to look at you — to see the wild need behind your eyes. You were flushed, pupils blown, grinding on him without shame.

“Oh,” he murmured. “It’s your fuckin’ hormones, isn’t it?” You nodded quickly, lips parting as you whimpered. “I’m ovulating. I can feel it. I need you to fuck it out of me, Chris. Please.”

Chris let out the quietest groan. “Jesus fuck.”

He cupped your face, kissing you softer this time — but deeper. “You should’ve told me you were in heat, baby,” he whispered, fingers already dipping into your waistband. “You smell like it. You feel like it. Fuckin’ dripping through your panties and I haven’t even touched you yet.”

⸻

By the time your clothes hit the floor, you were already trembling. Chris had you on your back, thighs spread wide, hair fanned out across the pillows. He was still half-dressed, stroking his cock slowly as he stared down at you.

“Look at you,” he muttered, smirking. “So needy. All wet and swollen just from my voice.” “Please—just fuck me already—” “Oh, no no.” He grabbed your thighs and pushed them wider. “Not yet. Gotta admire what’s mine first.”

His hands were everywhere, your hips, your belly, your thighs. Gripping, holding, claiming.

“This is my pussy,” he said, dragging his fingers through your slick folds. “You know that, right?”

“Yes—yes, it’s yours, always—”

“You want me to fill it up? Pump it full? Stuff you so full of cum you’ll feel me dripping out for hours?” You cried out, head falling back. “Yes, Chris—please. Need you to fuck a baby into me—”

He hissed at that.

“Fuck, you say it like that and I might not last long.”

He lined himself up and sank into you in one slow, filthy thrust. Your eyes rolled back as he bottomed out, deep and thick inside you.

“That’s it, baby. Nice and full.” He kissed the corner of your mouth. “Feel that stretch? That’s your body opening up for me.” He started to move — deep, rhythmic thrusts, slow enough to savor, rough enough to make your toes curl. His hips met yours perfectly, every inch of you alive with sensation.

“You were made for this,” he growled. “This pussy was made to take me.” You were moaning endlessly now, babbling nonsense, scratching at his back like you couldn’t take it.

“You’re gonna cum?” he murmured in your ear. “Good girl. Wanna milk my cock? Make me breed you nice and deep?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—do it, please—”

Chris held you down, his thrusts turning sharp, frantic. “Gonna fill you up, baby. Gonna give this desperate little pussy what it needs.” Your orgasm hit hard — blinding, breathless. You clenched around him, crying out as he slammed into you one last time, groaning low and filthy as he emptied inside you.

He didn’t pull out. Didn’t move.

He just stayed buried deep inside, hands sliding down your sides, kissing your sweat-slick cheek as you trembled underneath him.

“You’re mine,” he whispered. “All of you. And if your body wants me this bad? I’m not letting it go to waste.”He pulled back just enough to watch himself still twitching inside you. “Let’s keep it in for a bit, yeah? Make sure it takes.”

taglist : @courta13 , @sunkissedsturniolos , @ivysturnss , @imsoborediwannadie , @beabadoobeeluvr2 , @moth-feeet , @lezleeferguson-120 , @theowensturniolo , @leahfaith , @nickysturnss , @mattspillowprincess , @mqttsbunnyies , @passionfruitchris , @emely9274 , @riggysworld , @kenah-sturniolo , @hannahsturniolo , @tezzzzzzzz , @kenah-sturniolo , @sturniolo-szn2 , @stayingstromboli , @obsessedwiththesturniolos , @ph3ebssturniolo

MAI’S STORE

chris for the first time in forever

[sadboyeddie]

John Walker - Not During The Game, Honey.

Summary: John’s watching the game but you’re desperate for him

Warnings: (MDNI 18+) Fem!Reader, No Use Of Y/N, Grinding, Free Use

A/N: I don’t know sports, I’m also not American so this is definitely not gonna be sports accurate. Also the first team to come up when I searched Georgia NFL teams was the Atlanta Falcons (?) so for the sake of the fic John is a Falcons fan idk. Go sports! (Don’t worry there’s barely any sports talk)

WC: 2k

The sound coming from the next room over draws your attention away from your current task; refilling the bowl of chips. John lets out a loud cheer and you assume his team has scored a goal. 

You feel a smile crawl onto your lips as you grab a fresh beer from the fridge, weirdly gleeful about how domestic this all feels. 

Bucky and Ava are deep undercover in Serbia, Bob and Yelena went away for the weekend to a self-help spa and Alexei is honestly god knows where; but he's not in the Tower and that's all that matters. 

Normally you're not the type to wait on their boyfriends every need; fetching food and beer like a 50s housewife while your man watches the game but a deep part of you loves it.

There's a serene feeling that envelops you when John squeezes your thigh and says, "could you get me another beer, babe?"

You don't know why. You can't explain it really. But there's some primitive part of you that wants to serve John. Needs to serve John.

As you close the fridge door with your hip and pick up the bowl of chips you pass the calendar on the wall, eyes zeroing on the date; the 13th, Oh, you're ovulating. Well that explains why everything John does is getting to you. 

You want to climb that man like a tree. 

You make your way back to the common room, thighs rubbing together; the denim from your shorts adding a little pressure with each step, you bite back a groan at the feeling of your damp panties clinging to your skin. 

John sits in the middle of the couch, Falcons jersey resting heavily on his torso, his legs spread as he sits in his comfy grey sweats; that leave nothing to the imagination, his hair is still messy from sleep. You need him, now!

"Here ya go, baby," you pass the beer to John's outstretched hand, he doesn't even take his eyes off the large TV as he mumbles a "thanks, honey."

You lean down, partially in his view; ass practically in his face, as you place the bowl of chips on the coffee table. 

Instead of the playful smack to your behind that you were hoping for; one you're used to, John never misses a chance to spank you when he can, instead you receive a muffled groan from the disturbed super soldier, grumbling a protest until you move out of his way. 

You let out a small huff and look at him with a pout as you move to the side but John continues to pay you no mind, fully engrossed on the TV.

You roll your eyes and sit down beside him, bouncing slightly on the cushion with the force you came down with. John lets out a small noise but still doesn't look away from the screen. 

You move closer to him and he instinctively lifts his arm to accommodate you, even if his mind is entirely too focused on the game at least his body reacts to you.

You snuggle up beside him, resting one hand on his chest as you lay your head on his shoulder, smiling against the fabric as he thumb starts to rub circles on your arm. 

You wait for a few minutes, drawing patterns on his chest as he lazily sips his beer and occasionally shouts things at the TV, you nod every now and again when he slightly turns to you and asks rhetorical questions like, "can you believe the ref?" or "that should have been a penalty!"

You have no idea what he's saying and he's not actually looking for an answer so you just nod sympathetically and give a small hum in response. It seems to be enough. 

But you're growing increasingly more aroused the more you sit next to him, when his team has the ball and they're close to scoring he grabs your arm a little tighter, when he's upset his accent starts to slip out a bit; you really have to clench your thighs together for that, loving that southern drawl.

You wait as patiently as you can for him to settle down, it does take a while because John has a temper and is very passionate about his team sports. Such a guy. Such a big strong burly guy; with thick fingers and even thicker thighs. 

You know from experience that John really needs you to spell out your intentions, he knows your come ons but that doesn't stop the insecurity and doubts he feels, he normally jumps at the chance to drag you somewhere and fuck you good when he knows you want it, but just not during the game. 

You throw your leg over his lap, he looks down at it for a brief second, confusion flickering in his eyes before they snap back up to the TV. He places his fist on top of it, hand still wrapped around the half finished beer. You let out a small shiver at the condensation dripping from the bottle onto your shin. 

When you're sure John is engrossed in the game again you move with practiced ease, raising yourself up and straddling his thigh, John immediately starts to protest, a groan of frustration leaving his lips as he looks around your head to keep watching the game. 

You lean into his neck and start peppering kisses against the warm skin, John lets out a breath of frustration and you're not sure if it's sexual or just from annoyance but he doesn't push you off so you continue to lavish his neck. His hand comes up to grip you hip, his throat vibrating as he speaks. 

"Not during the game, honey," his voice is rough and you can tell he's trying to hold his emotions in check. 

"Please, Johnny!" Your whine is muffled by his neck but it doesn't undercut the desperation in your voice as you start to gyrate your hips against the thick muscle of his thigh. 

"Baby," he groans, the annoyance still there but he's starting to give in. "I don't want to miss anything."

"You wont!" You promise, your response quick. "Just need you, need to come."

"Fuck." The curse is low as it slips out but you hear it loud and clear. "Can't you wait for half time?"

You swallow down a small whimper as he clenches his thigh, giving you something harder to grind on. 

"Too long," your voice is urgent and needy and had you not been so unbelievably turned on you'd be thoroughly embarrassed by how desperate you're acting.

"Please, Captain, let me come."

After the title falls from your lips John's a goner. There's no way he can stop you now. 

"Fuck!" He curses as he lands a harsh slap down on your ass cheek, the pressure causing you to cry out and still your movements. "Make it quick, honey." His tone taking on an authoritative note.

"R-Really?" John can hear the hopeful lilt to your voice making him to playfully roll his eyes. 

"Yeah, baby, I can feel you dripping against my thigh," he bounces his leg lightly making you choke on a gasp, "can't have you straying cause I wont fuck you."

"Thank you, thank you, tha-thank you," you repeat the mantra quietly against his neck as you begin to grind against him, knowing you're not going to last long. 

"Shh!" John harshly shushes you as he grips your ass in a bruising hold. "Can't fuckin' hear the TV."

There's no real malice behind his words but the way he delivers them in such an angry manner has a wave of slick pooling in your panties. 

You continue to thrust your hips, soft whimpers falling involuntarily from your lips every time to the rough material of your underwear drags over you neglected clit, whenever you start to get too loud John squeezes your cheek in warning but when you're good for him he'll flex the muscle of his thigh; helping you slowly reach your climax. 

You bring your hands to wrap around his shoulders, one hand you rest on the nape of his neck; lightly rubbing soothing patterns on his skin. The other hand you tangle in his unruly hair, slightly longer then it was a few months ago; you had mentioned you wanted to see his hair longer so he's been growing it out a bit. 

You tug gently at first; scratching the scalp in soothing motions as you lazily grind your hips against him but soon when you feel your desperation grow you start to really pull on the strands.

If John wasn't enhanced his neck would be snapping back against the couch with each pull but his head barely moves as he allows you to use him for your pleasure. 

You bite your lip as heavier noises threaten to spill; John is kind enough to help you, you don't want to ruin his game. Judging by the comments and the yelling at the screen you're not. He takes a long swig from his beer and you hum against his neck as his throat bobs, eyes closing at how casual he's being as you hump against him like an animal in heat.

You start to snap your hips a little harder against him, panting hard against his shoulder as you feel how soaked his sweats are; the stained material clinging to your bare thighs that aren't covered by your shorts.

You let a loud moan slip through, unable to stop it when your knee nudges against his cock; hard and straining against his sweats, obviously not unaffected by you. 

You clench your thighs firm around him and grind down, your hands now gripping him impossibly tight as you chase your impending orgasm. Sounds of pleasure now spilling from your lips freely, and instead of punishing you; the hand on your ass has moved to your hip and is helping you glide against him.

"Almost there, baby." John's voice is rough yet soothing and it helps push you towards the edge. "Make a mess.. So desperate for me, such a slut, couldn't even wait 10 minutes for halftime, that turned on, honey?"

"Y-yes!" You sob against his shoulder as you bounce on his lap, "needed you, m'your slut, John."

"Fuckin' right you are," his grip is harder as he continues to talk you through it, "All mine, this pussy belongs to me." He emphasises his words by bouncing his leg.

"Ca-can I please come?" You're teetering on the edge just needing that little push over. 

"Come, baby," his permission is grunted into the side of your head as he flexes his thigh for you. 

The extra stimulation and John's word throw you off the cliff, you cry out as a pulse of warmth shoots through your lower body, your panties becoming even more drenched as John continues to grind your hips against him. 

"So good," his voice sounds far away as you ride out the blissful waves, heart beating loudly in your ears as you pant heavily against his neck. 

"No more," you whimper, sound almost muffled by how much you're pressed against him. "Too much."

"Oh, poor baby," he mocks, voice much clearer now you're starting to come down from your high, "does that hurt, honey?"

"Mhm," you hum and nod hoping for mercy but that's just not like John. 

"Too fuckin' bad," he lands a harsh slap to your ass cheek again, the shock and pain making you hiss and cry out weakly. "We still have another half to go, and you're not leaving my lap until I say."

His words are cruel but you can't help the jolt of pleasure that spikes through your sore clit. 

"Just remember later when you're completely fucked dumb that you wanted this," he manhandles you until you're facing away from him but are still balanced on his thigh. 

This is going to be a long day.

[saudianna]

i fell like osc would send innocent reader into subspace just for the fun of it yk?

literally!! osc would totally just fuck reader into oblivion, lying you down on your back, your tired body after such a long day, spreading your legs like the good girl you are. despite saying to him you’re just soo tired and don’t have the energy to fuck..

“shh it’s okay, just gonna take care of my pretty girl’s pussy okay?”

you whine as he runs his fingers up and down your wet slit, massaging the tense muscles and spitting directly on your folds.

“there you go.. there it is baby..”

he’s licking up and down your hole, suckling at the heat and nibbling at your core.

your legs shaking and body trembling, two fingers pumping in and out, curling them to hit your deepest spots and groaning himself at your blissed out state, grinding in between against the bed and your thigh just to get a bit of friction on his leaking cock

oscar who fucks you into the mattress, holding your legs apart and pushing your hips down against his, one hand around your throat— squeezing tightly and the other pressing on your little tummy bulge.

oscar who turns around, wrapping his arms around your legs from behind, thrusting up into you making you shriek at this new angle, bruising your walls like never before.

“fuck— fuck take it like a good girl— pussy’s so tight— fucking squeezing me-“

he carries on pounding into you, hips twitching and bucking at every vein that caresses your walls, mouth agasp and spilling out grunts into your ear, his teeth nibbling on it, trailing down to your neck.

“o-oh! oscarr- fuck! oh my god oh my god— ‘m gonna come—“

you’re whining so hard, cunt fluttering around him, coming hard.

“o-oscar!” you say, squirming under his touch, soo sensitive around him and yet he carries on, bottoming out after a few more thrusts, just to fill you up again.

“fuck- not good enough need to fuck you again—“

he starts moving again, your overstimulated hole spilling his cum, your body writhing under his, but it’s too much!

you’re so overworked and peaked that you’re clenching sooo hard around him-

“mmfhh.. squeezing me so goddamn tight..”

you’re sobbing, purely in euphoria and drowning in pleasure, subspaced and climbing towards your climax at a rapid pace, his hips driving into you, loud noises coming from in between your legs.

he slithers a hand around you, rubbing at your clit— other hand on your tummy, pushing lightly making you scream in pleasure— so much that he has to slide his hand up from where you needed him most, to your convulsing throat that’s shrieking out his name.

he thinks your whines and blissed out mewls are a blessing to his ears, pure heaven— like a song sung by angels. only for him.

“god- who’s making you feel this good baby?”

you moan out when he bites at your collarbone when you don’t react or respond.

“fucking answer me. who. is. fucking. you. so. good. baby?” he spills out breathlessly- punctuating each stern word with an equally as sharp thrust, pounding into you so hard you think your g spot is worn raw, cervix bruised and walls wrapped around him so hard the intensity of your grip around his cock is breathtaking.

he realises you’re on the verge of passing out— knowing you would’ve said your safe word if it was too much.. but still wanting to check.

“s-shit- just tap my thigh if you’re okay baby-“

relieved when you do, asking again to tap twice if he must stop. but you don’t.

“pussy sucking me up so nicely— gonna come f’me baby? wanna come around my cock?”

he’s spilling out so many dirty phrases like a verse- saying them with a prayer, knowing you can’t respond.

as you come again, knot building up and snapping so suddenly you mewl out and moan so loud he thinks his eardrums might bleed.

squirting so much with each thrust he honestly thinks you’re pissing for a second.

“fuck- squirting so hard around my cock you fucking slut.. still so wet for me—“

you take in a deep, sharp breath, inhaling the scent of sweaty oscar, sex, and the dusty smell of the garage- fuelling your need for him more.

he’s fucking you through it— rubbing quickly at your clit. he’s finally cumming in you again after another orgasm of your own, jumpstarted by the pure smell of him and how good he fills you up.

he drops you on him. turning you to the side as he pulls out, groaning at the loss and then growling at the leaking mess he left in between your thighs, evidence of his dirty sins.

hes not cleaning you up much.. just throwing you a towel and getting off slightly to the sight of your lazy body and twitchy thighs wiping his fluids and your liquids off yourself.. feeling all sticky and used.

“thank you baby. needed to fuck you so bad..”

you groan at the pain in between your thighs, his big arms coming to gift you another orgasm. pulling you in like a spoon, slowly circling your clit— certain to make you have another great climax before you doze off in his arms. <3

[shadowlord420sgf]

°❀⋆ Soft Spot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 mateo manta x reader ೀ

⌗ summary: you and mateo have been hanging out so often, it sparks something between you two. word count is 2.2k

⌗ warnings!: fluff & smut, female reader, fingering (reader receives), p in v, mutual pining, multiple orgasms, creampie, friends to lovers

⌗ author’s note: this one goes out to @xxxshadowl0rd420xx who loves this blanket as much as I do 🩷 I wrote him as a soft/service dom and I stand by my point!!! 😭 (u can also read this on my ao3!)

Everyone in the house knew Mateo was the sweetest guy alive. Always cleaning up after the inanimals, tucking them in for naps, making sure none of them missed a meal or bath—not on his watch! His kind efforts were honestly quite impressive, but a bit heart breaking to watch him do alone.

That’s why you started helping him out.

Not just because Davi had taken a particular liking to you, or because you always happened to be free when chores were piling up—but because every time you saw Mateo working himself to the bone with that tired smile on his face, something in your chest ached.

He never complained. Not once. And maybe that’s what made you care even more.

And, god, choosing to help Mateo so often was the best decision you’ve made. Not only did you get to hang out with cute inanimals, you grew closer to an even cuter blanket! It seemed that Mateo enjoyed your company as much as you did, judging by how he lit up and blushed when you walked into the room.

Sometimes, when you worked side-by-side, you’d catch him staring, cheeks tinted pink, before he’d quickly look away and pretend to be very interested in whatever he was occupied with.

You didn’t push it.

You didn’t have to.

Lately, you’d been spending more time with Mateo—“just to hang out,” you’d both say. Sometimes to cuddle, as friends of course, sometimes just to talk. The house could be chaotic, but being curled up with Mateo in a pile of soft blankets and even softer feelings made everything feel far away.

That’s where you were now: sprawled on your side, legs tangled under a heap of covers, Mateo’s arm draped around your waist without either of you saying a word about it.

You felt Mateo’s breath against your neck. You felt his fingers, just barely, tracing along your side.

“You’re always so nice to me,” he murmured suddenly, voice quiet and a little shy. “Like… I don’t know. It just means a lot.”

Your heart skipped.

“I mean, of course I am,” you replied, trying not to sound breathless. “You’re… you’re Mateo.”

He laughed softly into your hair. “That’s not really an answer.”

You turned to look at him. His face was so close. The blush on his cheeks seemed to match yours.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Then what if I said… I like being close to you?”

Mateo blinked and you heard him swallow. His hand gently tightened on your waist for just a moment before relaxing again.

“Good,” he muttered, barely audible. “Because I really, really like being close to you too.”

You both went still for a second—like you were in a shared dream. Then a smile that you loved spread across his face, and he leaned in just a little closer, his hand brushing your cheek like he was scared to push.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly, with a nervous voice. “I… really want to.”

The question nearly knocked the air from your lungs because you so badly wanted that too, more than anything. You nodded before you could even think. “Please.”

And then he kissed you.

So slow. So reverent. Mateo kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like he needed to memorize the shape of your mouth with his. His hand cupped the back of your head gently, thumb stroking along your jaw, while his lips moved against yours—soft, warm, and slightly trembling from how nervous he clearly was.

You felt him sigh against your lips like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. And then he kissed you deeper, just a tad bit firmer, his other hand tugging you against his plush chest by your waist.

Your fingers curled into the fabric on his shoulders, trying to get closer to him. You could feel the heat building between you—something sweeter than lust, something warmer than just desire. He kissed you like you were precious, like you were something to be held with care, and it made you want him impossibly more.

You two pulled away for a moment, just to breathe, before your lips met again—this time deeper, a little bolder.

“I like you,” he whispered between kisses, as if he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I think about you all the time. Even when I’m busy. Even when I’m trying not to.”

His confession caused your breath to catch in your throat. He kissed your cheek, then your jaw, then moved back to your lips like he missed them already.

“Mateo…” you breathed, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “I like you too. So much. I didn’t know how to say it.”

“You’re saying it now,” he murmured, brushing your lips again. His warm and careful hand rested on your chest, like he was trying to calm the frantic beat of your heart. “You don’t have to do anything else. I’m yours. If you want me.”

Your thumb brushed his cheek. “Of course I want you.” You looked at him with pleading eyes that made his own heart race. “We could… continue? I mean if you want, of course.” You said, your voice much softer than you expected.

And that’s all it took.

Mateo shifted you ever so gently into his lap, hands big and warm as they held your thighs. He looked up at you like you were sacred, already a little dazed. “Tell me what you want,” he murmured, voice sweet. “I wanna make you feel good. Just tell me what you need.”

You shivered. “I…I want your hands on me.”

He bit his lip at that, cheeks flushed, and leaned forward to press his lips to your neck. “Okay, baby. I’ve got you.” You melted at the nickname.

His fingers moved to the hem of your red shirt, pausing. “Can I?” he asked, already knowing your answer.

You nodded, and he pushed it up slowly, kissing the newly exposed skin like it deserved praise. “You’re so pretty,” he murmured, dragging his lips along your stomach, up to your chest, the feeling making you whine. Your head felt dizzy as his hands cupped your sides, steady and hot to the touch. His mouth moved back to yours, kissing you a little hungrier this time—but still slow and tender.

And he whispered against your skin, again and again, “Tell me if it’s too much. Tell me what feels good. Let me take care of you.”

You wanted to sigh at how utterly sweet he was. How he still put everything before himself, even during a time like this.

You didn’t remember how your pants came off, just that Mateo had asked—softly, gently, like every inch of you was a secret he wanted permission to discover—and you’d nodded before the question was even finished.

Now you were straddling him in your underwear, thighs spread over his thick lap, your bare chest against the soft cotton of his clothes, while his hands kneaded your hips like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He breathed your name like a prayer, like he needed you to know how hard he was trying not to lose it. “You’re so soft… so warm… you’re perfect.” The way he gazed at you, completely enchanted, made your skin tingle.

“Hah… you are, Mateo,” you whispered, rolling your hips a little, and the sound he made was gorgeous. Like he couldn’t decide if he should whimper or moan.

“I want you to feel everything,” he said gently, hands skimming down your sides. “You don’t have to do anything for me, okay? Just let me… let me take care of you.” He repeated to make sure you understood.

You shook your head and opened your mouth, to tell him that you wanted him to feel good too, but he brought a finger to your lips. The way he was looking at you was almost overwhelming—like he thought you were the one doing him a favor.

Then, he slipped one hand between your thighs, fingers gliding over the fabric covering you. You were already soaked, and Mateo swore under his breath.

He whispered your name, lips ghosting over your neck. “You’re so wet…”

You whimpered when his fingers pressed down just a little harder, rubbing slow circles through the damp fabric. He kissed your cheek. “That feel good?”

“So good Mateo. Please.” you breathed, already leaning into his touch.

He smiled against your skin, working you open with his fingers—so attentive, so gentle, pushing them against the spot that made you buck forward, praising you softly every time you gasped.

“You sound so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing under your jaw. You felt bad that you couldn’t answer him properly, not when your thoughts were all scrambled. And when he finally slid your panties to the side and eased a finger inside you, slow and careful, you swore you saw stars. He added another, curling them gently, using his thumb to stroke your clit in slow, teasing circles. You were falling apart already.

But Mateo was in no rush. He kissed you through every moan, every tremble, whispering praises and begging you to finish on his fingers, “I know you’re so close. Come for me, please, let me feel it.”

And you did—legs shaking, mouth open in a breathless cry—he caught you, held you, kissed your forehead and rocked you through it like you were something fragile.

“I’m right here,” he murmured, stroking your back as you came down. “You did so good for me.”

You barely managed to breathe, let alone respond, but you smiled into his chest.

And then you felt him shift beneath you, hard and throbbing, and realized he hadn’t even touched himself once.

Your thighs clenched again instinctively.

“Mateo…” you breathed, turning to look at him.

“Hm?” He looked down at you with that lovely dazed, blissed-out expression, cheeks flushed, lips kiss-swollen.

“You’re still…” You glanced down. Still hard. Painfully hard, probably.

“I know.” He smiled shyly. “I was trying to be good. I didn’t wanna rush you.”

You smiled as your hand slowly reached down, and wrapped your hand around his cock through his underwear—and Mateo shuddered. His eyes fluttered shut, hips bucking just slightly into your palm.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, breathless.

But Mateo shook his head, gently easing you onto your back. “Let me,” he said softly. “I’ve been dreaming about this for so long, I need to be the one to—” He caught his breath again, biting his lip. “Please?”

You nodded, obviously. Like you could ever say no to him. “Yeah… yes please, Mateo.”

Mateo stripped out of the rest of his clothes, and you swear your heart skipped a beat. Oh, he was perfect.

“You okay?” he asked, already climbing over you, gently spreading your thighs apart with careful hands.

“You’re just…so beautiful,” you whispered, completely awestruck.

He smiled, a little bashful. “So are you, my love… I'll go slow. I promise.”

And he took his time. Lined himself up, kissed your forehead, whispered, “I’ve got you,” and pushed in with the most tender, drawn-out stroke you’d ever felt.

Your breath caught. He stretched you so perfectly. Mateo whimpered into your neck, his hands gripping the backs of your thighs as he slowly bottomed out.

“Ah, you feel—” His voice broke. “—you feel so good. You’re letting me in so easy, baby. So warm…”

He didn’t move at first. Just held you there, buried inside, like he was overwhelmed. He nuzzled your cheek and kissed your lips again—slow and deep—and then pulled back just a little, hips rolling into you with the same careful control he’d shown all night.

Your mouth fell open. “Mateo—”

“I know, my love, I know,” he murmured, sounding desperate. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

It did. So good. Every thrust was full and deep and slow, like he wanted you to feel every possible thing, and you did. His hands held you like you were precious, his voice coaxed you through every flutter of your body, and his body moved against like it was the only place he wanted to be.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, “so good for me. Can I make you come again?”

You nodded frantically, eyes glassy, nails digging into the soft skin of his back.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, hips stuttering just a bit as he got closer. “I’m gonna come,” he warned gently, lips brushing your ear. “Wanna fill you up so good, baby. You okay with that?” He struggled to keep himself together, panting hard.

“Ah-” you gasped, back arching into him. “Please, ’Teo, please.”

That did it. He rocked into you a few more times, then stilled, groaning your name as he spilled deep inside you, warm and full and shaking with the force of it. He held you close, breathing hard, and kissed you like you were everything.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there afterward, tangled in the warmth from each other, your body still humming from everything. Mateo hadn’t let go of you once. Even as he softened inside you, he stayed close—his forehead pressed to yours, one arm locked securely around your waist.

“I love you,” you whispered, so unguarded, that for a second you both just stared at each other.

Then Mateo smiled—wide and wonderstruck—and let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. “I love you too,” he said, voice just as soft. “I really, really do.”

[iindiafterdark]

video games

summary: you were bored, but turns out being under ellie's gaming table is much more entertaining than sitting in bed.

pairing: gamer!ellie x f!reader

tags/warnings: 18+ mdni, modern!au, no use of y/n, swearing, oral(e!recieving), fingering(e!recieving), praise kink, top!reader, very whiny bottom!ellie in this

wc: 1.3k (always when i think it'll be a drabble)

an: very random thought i had made me write this, hope you enjoy! reblogs + likes are extremely appreciated

you weren't entirely sure how you ended up in this position. you were sitting on your bed, curled up in the many blankets ellie insisted to have on it. you were aimlessly scrolling on your phone, the boredom you felt growing larger.

your eyes shifted over to ellie, who was sat at her gaming setup, controller in hand. she was lazily leaning back against the chair, legs slightly spread as she played whatever shooting game she was into at the time.

she was talking to dina and jessie on the mic, mumbling small comments about where she was or what to do. you glanced over her face, seeing her toy with her bottom lip in between her teeth with concentration.

you let yourself stare at your girlfriend for a few moments longer, admiring how pretty she looked. you were about to attempt to focus on your phone again before a wonderful, yet evil, idea popped into your mind.

you rose from the bed slowly, walking up to chair without much notice from her. you pushed it back gently, before slipping into her lap. "hey dipsh- oh hey baby, what're you doin?" she stops her previous insults to greet you. she lets go of her controller to rest her hand on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze.

you wrap your arms around her neck, shoving your face into the crook of it. her scent, the smell of sandalwood and vetiver, filled your nose. she lets out a small chuckle, closing the small gap between your bodies. "ah, i see. you just needed some attention, huh?" she quips, making you nod sheepishly. and despite your rather mischevous idea, you did actually want some attention.

she laughs again, giving you a chaste kiss on your cheek before immersing herself back into her gameplay, her voice much quieter now that you were sitting on her lap.

you sat there for a bit, soaking up the quiet quality time of being in her presence. your hands begin to wander, trailing down ellie's waist. you felt her breath hitch before she masked it as a cough. you smirk at her reaction, she'd always been so responsive with your touch.

she moved her mic up, her mouth grazing the cusp of your ear. "what are you trying to do, hm?" she asks, her breath making you shiver. you don't answer for a second, letting your hands find the hem of her sweatpants.

you push her chair back a little more, sliding slowly onto the floor under her desk. your eyes flit to her face, seeing the pink tinge creep up on her face as she realizes your plans.

your smirk grows wider, hooking your nimble fingers around the stretchy material, pulling it down her hips. "'m just having a bit of fun baby, keep playing your game for me. you can do that, right?" you tease. she bites her lip, nodding slowly as she lifts up her hips so you can easily slip her sweats off. you slide her sweats across the floor, kissing her bare thigh tenderly.

"good girl.. turn your mic back on."

her eyes remain on you as she obliges to your command, pulling the mic back down. you can here the muffled sound of dina, asking where she went. "o-oh um..just had to go to the bathroom," she lies, hoping they'd take the bait. fortunately for her, they do.

you left her in her underwear, hoping to tease her some more as she attempts to focus on her game. you continue to kiss on her thighs, inching closer and closer to her clothed cunt. you see a damp spot on her underwear, making you let out a breathy huff of satisfaction. "god..haven't even touched you and you're ruining your panties," you whisper, letting your mouth ghost over it. you feel her thighs trembling, her voice stuttering as she tries to talk to her friends.

you slide your fingers against her throbbing clit, making her hips buck and cute squeak leave her lips. "s-shit! sorry, jus stubbed my toe," she excused, looked down to give you a small look, her brows furrowed as if she was begging you to stop being so cruel. the desperation on her face fueled your actions even more, so you waved her off, a mean grin on your face.

you make small, slow circles on the bundle of nerves. watching her facade of nonchalance crumble before you. her thighs shook even more, aching- begging- for you to give her more.

you teasingly pull off her panties, staring in awe at her soaked puffy cunt as more arousal began to pool on the chair. "such a pretty cunt, el. s' all for me, baby? making a mess in your chair f'me?" you croon, batting your lashes up at her.

despite her embarrassment, she nods fervently at your questions, her entire face now pink. she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, trying so desperately to hold back a needy whine from tumbling out. despite her embarrassment, she nods fervently at your questions.

you decide to finally aid her silent impatient pleas, latching onto her sopping cunt suddenly. she lets out a loud gasp, muffling it just before her friends could hear. you maneuver your tongue through her folds, soaking up the juices that were spilling out of her so eagerly.

you hike her thighs up, prying her open so you could properly lap up her sweet, pearlescent sap. ellie isn't even focused on the game at this point, her eyes threatening to whirl into the back of her skull each time your tongue envelops her aching clit. "g-guys? oh fuuck-i gotta go," she whines, throwing her headphones onto the bed.

her hands instantly find your hair, tangling through it as if she was trying to ground herself. your fingers find their way to her leaking slit, pushing inside slowly.

she lets out a loud keen, back arching from the chair. you pull away slightly, still pumping your fingers in slowly. "god, you're so whiny els, you needed this, huh?" you chuckle, watching her as she lets out another deprived whine.

she nods eagerly, grinding her hips into your hand, making the loud wet noises from her messy cunt grow even louder. "p-please-fuck! needed it-oh my god!" she mewls, her jaw going slack as you find her sweet spot. your pace is faster- meaner- now, plunging your fingers into that spot over and over.

your mouth finds her cunt again, your nose nudging her clit with every flick of your tongue. you match the rhythm of her grinding hips, flattening your tongue to catch the juices dripping down your hand.

her moans and pleas only get more desperate, her pants growing louder as she chases her orgasm. "c'mon pretty, use your words. ask me for what you want," you mutter into the wetness of her cunt, letting it drip down your chin as you speak.

she whimpers softly, her legs full on shaking now. she could almost taste her orgasm on her tongue, hymns of your name falling from her agape maw. "ngh- please! wanna cum-shit c-can i cum? please?" she pleads, helpless tears of pleasure falling from her eyes. you hum with satisfaction, fucking her deeper on your fingers.

you continue your torturous movements, eyes peering into her unwraveling frame before you. "'s okay, baby. be a good girl and cum for me," you coo. you latch your mouth onto her cunt, giving it a long drawn out suck. she lets out a broken sob, gripping your hair harder as her orgasm hits. her eyes roll back, thighs shaking uncontrollably.

you fuck her through it, struggling to pump your fingers as her sloppy cunt tightens and clenches around them. she gushes onto your face, the remnants of it dripping from the chair onto the floor.

you finally pull away, pushing the chair back a bit more so you could get from under the table. ellie is twitching and spent, the only sign of life from her being her heavy breathing. you kiss her inner thigh, making her weakly glare at you. "you're so fucking evil, you know that?" she spits. you let out a chuckle, giving her a small bite on her thigh.

"and you love it."

[strnilolover]

⌗ . . . SUCK HIM OFF

CW : SMUT. BLOW JOB. FACE FUCKING. HAIR PULLING. PRAISING. DEGRADING/DIRTY TALK. brief intro to sheriff!matt x plus-size!reader

you always had a tendency to join matt late at night when he got stuck in his office doing paperwork. sitting on the couch far in the corner watching the way he’d work—the way his jaw clenched as he focused on what was in front of him.

a lot of the time, you couldn’t help how wet it got you.

and tonight was no different. you were curled up in the corner of he couch he had in his office, your hands tucked into your lap as you watched the way his face contorted. his jaw clenching, the shadows along his face from the small lamp on his desk making his features stand out even more than they already did.

his uniform was slightly rumpled from the long day he had—dealing with simple complaints or bailing a certain someone out of trouble once again. his shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, forearms and shoulders flexing every time he moved. it was hot.

you kept watching at the way his jaw continued to tick when something didn’t add up, and the way his lips would purse while reviewing a report. he had noticed you staring a while ago out the corner of his eye.

the way your lips were parted slightly, your breathing heavy and legs pressing together. he was more in tune with you than you knew yourself.

so he looks up at you, your eyes connecting together. “y’know you don’t have to stay here with me sweetheart.” matt said, his voice was laced with exhaustion trying to tell you that you could leave at any time.

you shook your head. “i want to.” and you smiled, swirling the drink you had in your hand lazily. “besides , I like watching you work.” you added, your tone a little too excited and obvious. his mouth quirked into a subtle smirk, but he didn’t respond. just went right back to it. focused. god, he was so fucking hot.

and suddenly you couldn’t sit still anymore—your body buzzing now with the need to just suck him off. to feel him against your tongue as you swirled it around his tip.

so you stood and slowly padded over to him until you were by his desk. your shadow looming slightly over his figure, blocking the light to his paper. he looked up at you, brow lifted.

“y’need somethin’ baby?” and suddenly your face flushed at the feeling of his eyes bearing into yours. like he was reading your mind without you even saying anything.

but you don’t say anything, instead you started to crouch to the ground, your knees planting into the carpet beneath you. matt blinked down at you with a surprised look—like he wasn’t expecting you to do it even if you were thinking it, but only for a second. then he slowly pushed away from the desk, leaning back in the chair and letting you crawl between his spread legs like he already knew what you were about to do.

he hummed, watching you settle between his legs on your knees. your hands coming up to run along his thighs. “know you’ve been eye-fucking me since i sat down sweetheart.” his voice low and fond as he watched the way your hands ran up to reach for his belt.

you blinked up at him, smirking lightly. “can you blame me?” you giggled, hand undoing his belt and jeans with practiced ease. “you look good in the uniform just sitting here matt,” you said, your voice trailing off as you tugged his pants down, pulling his cock out. he was already big when your eyes landed on him. thick and heavy in your hand that gripped him lightly. “real good.” you whispered lastly—mouth watering slightly at the sight of him.

“you gonna be good an let me work? hm?” but you didn’t answer him. just leaned forward, your tongue poking out to swirl around the flushed tip of his cock before you wrapped your lips around the head, moaning when you tasted the salty bead of precum on your tongue. you started to suck gently, moving down and letting your hand fist around the base, pumping what you couldn’t fit as you worked your mouth over him.

matt groaned at the wet warmth of your mouth. his head falling back against his chair with a sigh—the pen in his hand dropping onto the desk. “ffuuck.” he hissed, tipping his head back forward to look down and the way you took him.

you didn’t stop thought, just kept going—the sound only encouraging you as you licked along the underside, taking more and more of until your throat fluttered around him. the stretch of him was always a lot, but you wanted it. and the way he groaned again when you gagged a little made your thighs clench.

matt let out a shaky breath as he leaned forward, picking up the pen and trying to return to the papers in front of him. one of hand his hands gripping the edge of the desk. but he barely made it through a paragraph before he dropping the pen again and reaching down—his fingers curling into your hair, beginning to guide you gently. encouraging the rhythm he liked.

“fuck that’s it, just like that.” he muttered, brows drawn in frustration—at the files, at the distraction, at how fucking good your mouth felt even though he shouldn’t be giving into you. “you’re not makin’ this easy, baby.” he leaned back again, tilting his head down to look at you once more.

you hummed around him, looking up at him through your lashes. there was drool glistening at the corners of your mouth, trailing down your chin and dripping onto your tits that we’re peaking out from above your shirt. his eyes transfixed themselves on the way each droplet made contact with your tits—sliding down between the valley of them.

the groan that left him was downright filthy.

“fuckin’ hell.” he rasped, and you felt the way his cock twitched against your tongue before he suddenly gripped your hair tighter and lifted his hips off the chair. he slowly started fucking into your mouth, holding you there as he pushed in deep, using your throat.

you moaned at his sudden control, gagging around his length as he hit the back repeatedly. your hands clutched at his thighs as he used you, tits bouncing softly with each motion. you were aching—panties sticking to your folds—but none of that mattered. not when he was groaning your name and muttering curses through gritted teeth.

“look at you,” he hissed, guiding your head up and down his cock a little faster. “so fuckin’ desperate to please me. couldn’t wait till done? had to have it now, hm?” you whimpered around him, trying to nod your head. but you couldn’t with how he was holding you in place. spit continued to dribble down your chin, your eyes watering. but you loved this—loved when he got like this. when he grabbed you and used you however you wanted.

it didn’t take long until his pace was fast and rough, fucking up into your throat until his abs tightened and the grip in your hair turning almost punishing. you could taste the pre-cum on your tongue and the way he twitched more in your mouth. you could tell he was close.

so you started to swirl your tongue the best you could—sucking just a little harder as he fucked your face. your eyes still peered up at him, watching as he bit his lip, eyes rolling back every time the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. how tight it got around him. “fuck, baby,” he moaned, his words a warning that he was close. “m’gonna cum down your throat yeah? leave ya nice n’ full.”

you moaned at the thought of that, moving one of your hands to reach down and tug at the front of your shirt. your tits spilled out and his eyes locked onto them immediately. that was all it took before he groaned deep as his hips jerked forward, his hand holding your head down as his cock pulsed against your tongue. thick ropes of cum spilled down your throat and you swallowed what you could—some spilling out and down your chin.

he let his hips rock forward, lazily fucking your mouth now to draw it out. after a minute or so he finally let you go—letting his cock slip free from your mouth with a soft pop. you sat there for a moment, catching your breath as you rested your head against his lap. breathing hard, face flushed, chest heaving.

matt smiled down at you softly—his own chest rising and falling as he tried to catch his breath. and gently the hand in your hair let go, switching to softly run his fingers through the messed up strands. trying to calm you down.

“y’did so good sweetheart.” he praised, patting your head lightly. you let out a breath, looking up wt him again with a smile. he smiled back at you, letting his hand slip from your hair to fix his pants.

once he was done, he reached down and grabbed you—pulling you up off the floor and onto his lap, fixing your shirt before he pressed his face against your neck, pressing a few small kisses there. “you do know that we’re not leavin’ this office ‘til I fuck you properly, understood?”

and you couldn’t help but giggle, pulling back to look at him. the grin spreading across your face mischievous. “yes, sheriff.”

a/n : hehe new au. one year tag list and regular tag list are bing used for this one, sorry if you get tagged twice!

[noiranamnesis]

Nadja, selecting mischief over mercy, gave the most unhelpful answer she could muster, “Sur le plateau.” Where else would she be? Her tone was dry, but her interest was piqued. As if a moth circling a flame, she turned on her heel and began to trail behind Tylio, not quite following yet close enough to observe. Was he looking for Marinette because of what she’d said? Or was it of his own volition? In either case, Nadja’s brows arched in quiet appraisal. It's a shame. He seemed nice. Uptight and overbearing- but not the worst. Better than the trash man, at least.

Elsewhere, Marinette was still standing with Jeremy, though her thoughts were miles away. “It was a bit…surprising,” she admitted, voice soft but careful. “But I think I learned a lot from it.” It was the most diplomatic thing she could offer in light of revelations flitting through her mind. By no means did she wish to speak ill of Evelyn- she truly didn’t. Evelyn had been kind, professional. Beautiful? Yes. Intimidatingly elegant? Quite. Yet none of those things warranted cruelty. Plus, voicing discomforts aloud gave them life, and if it spread, if it made its way back to her…Non. Ce serait horrible. Je ne veux pas être quelqu’un qui pleurniche. Still, despite the calm of her expression, her eyes betrayed her- clouded and quietly uncertain.

Then: Mari.

It wasn’t loud, yet it landed heavily nonetheless. Only a few used her nickname on set and even if the entire crew called her Mari, she’d know his voice without so much as a passing glance. Her words fell short, light hues flicking towards him in a silent question. He smiled- his real smile, the one which made her feel like the only one in the room. And while she smiled back, it was different now. Gentle? Yes. Warm even, yet not quite hers, not completely. It was the smile she wore with those she didn’t want to worry. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly, “I don’t, but…maybe later?” She offered a small nod before turning back to Jeremy. “Thank you. For telling me.” Then she leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Jeremy’s cheek before stepping away to speak with the director, her attention shifting to the scene ahead.

For the remainder of the afternoon, she didn’t return to her trailer unless someone from makeup or wardrobe was with her. She stayed in the open, surrounded by actors and crew, pouring all her energy into work. She listened carefully. Made adjustments. By the second take, her smile had begun to feel real again. By the third, the director praised her timing, and it lingered- an ember of pride warming her from within.

When an extra fumbled their mark for the third time, flustered and apologetic, Marinette approached gently. “Can you help me with something?” she asked, her voice low and friendly. “I need to feel a little more relaxed for this scene, and I think you can help.”

The extra blinked. “Me?”

“Oui.” Marinette nodded. “It’s a bit silly, but it works. Can you do like me?” She shook out her arms with exaggerated floppiness, pulled a few ridiculous faces, and let her posture crumple like overcooked angel hair. It took a minute, but slowly, the extra began to loosen and when they laughed, she laughed too. “Merci,” she smiled. “You helped me a lot.”

“But why that exercise?” the extra asked, still chuckling.

Marinette tapped her cheek thoughtfully. “Hm…because it’s the most strange thing I can do in front of everyone. After that, I don’t feel shy anymore. Everyone already thinks I’m weird, so…I can do anything now.”

...

Hours passed. The sun dipped lower in the sky. Call sheets were being folded, lights lowered, cables coiled. Marinette stretched, arms arching high above her head, a little groan escaping her throat.

Nadja, standing beside her, smirked. “Je te ramène,” she said simply. “T’as l’air morte.”

“Oui.” Marinette exhaled. “Je dois juste prévenir Tylio. »” It didn’t take long to find him, and despite a bit of wariness at approaching him when he was alone, she did so nonetheless. “Tylio,” she began, feeling a bit off center. “Nadja m’a proposé de me ramener ce soir, alors tu n’as pas besoin de t’en occuper.” She hesitated for a moment, then added, “Je ne voulais pas partir sans te le dire.”

After the meeting with Marinette, standing just outside the movie star's trailer, Evelyn took a moment to go down her list of questions one more time just to make sure she'd ticked off every box. It was a list she kept in her phone, because she knew that it was easy to get sidetracked in conversation with celebrities. She had a general talent for staying focused but even she could get distracted when the person she was speaking to was someone very famous. Because she would get interested in their life. She was fascinated by the ways in which different celebrities managed their hectic schedules. She had a feeling though, that Marinette wasn't doing a whole lot of managing. It seemed that task had been taken largely off her hands by Nadja. It was a bit of a surprise, because she had expected to meet Rochelle today. Rochelle was listed as Marinette's manager, she was at the top of the contact list but apparently, Nadja had known Marinette for much longer and now Evelyn was wondering whether she should email her instead about any scene changes, notes or changed lines. She decided that for now, she would put Nadja in the list of cc recipients. Now it was time to go meet the rest of the crew. That was her plan, she had already forgotten about the fact that she was supposed to meet up with Tylio until he approached her within two seconds of her walking back onto the set.

"Can we talk now?", he asked, and without answering she checked her watch.

14:30.

"Alright", she nodded. She would give him fifteen minutes. She still had a meeting with mr. Voisin after this and she would ideally like to meet and introduce herself to everyone on set today.

"Parfait. OK, come with me", Tylio told her, leading her down the hall, to one of the meeting rooms. He seemed oddly stressed to her, and she seemed oddly relaxed to him. She had barely sat down when he started talking, and he was still standing. "Do you remember getting a phone call a while ago from one of the people on the camera crew?"

Evelyn frowned a little bit, trying to think back, and then it came to her. "Oh, yes, I think I do remember that."

"That was me", he explained, even though she had more or less put that much together already.

"Do you want to sit down maybe?", she suggested, putting her bag down next to her on the table. Evelyn was not surprised he didn't waste any time with small talk. Normally she would have tried to catch up a little bit but today she had a tight schedule, so it worked out just fine. At first, she thought he was being a little weird about seeing her after such a long time. Now it was starting to make sense to her. Because the call was coming back. The guy on the phone who told her how filming sex scenes made him uncomfortable, was Tylio. He was probably worried about it.

"Sure, but I'm fine", Tylio assured her, taking a seat across from her, though to her it looked like he still held the posture of someone who could get up at any moment. "I was just a bit caught off guard because I didn't know you were going to be here."

"You didn't?" Evelyn's brows raised in surprise when she heard that. For a moment, she wondered whether she ought to have sent him a message beforehand but she quickly discarded that thought. Her name was on the call sheet. He must not have checked thoroughly. "In that case, I hope it's at least a nice surprise. I didn't know it was you on the phone, either. Did that phone call help, by the way? I can explain to you again what the plan is, if you like. I do it all the time. It's not unusual at all to be uncomfortable filming intimate scenes but if you know exactly what to expect, that can take away a lot of the stress."

"No, it's not about that. Or—it's not only about that." He hesitated when she stared at him, waiting for an explanation. She had kind of a piercing stare sometimes. Calm but focused. And on rare occasions, it felt like she was staring right through him. He never liked that feeling, the feeling of being transparent. Because too many times in the past, she didn't always like what she saw and she was not shy about telling him. That was in the past, though. They hadn't seen each other in years and she had always been a busy woman. He tried to take some solace in the fact that she probably had a million things on her plate right now, and this was just one small thing. "I'm involved with the actress", he told her after a short pause. A silence followed, during which he watched Evelyn's brows furrow into a delicate, confused frown.

"The leading lady?", she questioned, her mind immediately flashing back to the conversation she just had with the star. She almost felt like he had to be talking about someone else because Marinette was young. She couldn't be more than 25, probably younger.

"Yes."

Evelyn's frown deepened, skepticism etching itself across her refined features as she waited for the punchline. "Are you serious?"

"Yes", Tylio repeated himself with a lot more irritation in his voice this time. "Look, I'm just telling you because I have a problem with some of those scenes and I already discussed it with her that I was going to talk to you about it. Or...the intimacy coordinator, I didn't know it was you. But now you're here, so I think you should hear me out."

"I don't—", Evelyn started, a battle forming between her professionalism and the extremely personal layers this conversation was quickly taking on. She had opinions. And he knew she had opinions, that was why he was talking so fast. She needed to slow this conversation down somehow. "Okay, can we back up a little bit?", she asked in the most diplomatic voice she could muster at the moment.

Tylio could tell she was annoyed. It was only dawning on him now that he hadn't taken any time to catch up with her, like she was probably expecting. But he had been walking around with this for so long. He wanted to get this done, to find out what could be changed about these scenes, to maybe finally feel less nauseous every time he thought about having to film them. "I just want—"

"Involved how. Are you dating her, or...?", Evelyn asked, trying to figure out how seriously she should take this. Because she had no idea why Tylio would think that he had the right to any sort of input on how these scenes should be directed.

"We live together, yes", he answered, and Evelyn was still waiting for him to say he was joking. All she could picture was the demure young lady sitting beside her earlier, getting excited at the mention of cat pictures. It seemed like such a mismatch to her.

Even though she hadn't said much, they knew each other. Tylio knew what her face looked like when she was judging him. He didn't think he'd have to deal with it again. It irked him, not knowing exactly what was going on in her head but knowing that she was most likely drawing all sorts of conclusions. He was starting to feel paranoid a little bit, so he quickly continued: "Before you say anything, you should know that the person she is filming with is her ex and he is still trying to get back with her, so—"

"Oh my God", Evelyn chuckled as she cut him off. She was tempted to ask him when his life turned into a telenovela. "Okay, first of all, I thought you were joking. You're living with a 24 year old? Or however old she is." Her mask of professionalism was cracking. She couldn't help it, this was too absurd. "Oh, Tylio..." A small sigh left her and Tylio cringed, because he hated when she sighed like that. Like she pitied him. He couldn't stand it. He tried his best not to react this time, trying to keep his face neutral and let her talk, even though he already didn't really want to hear what she had to say. He just knew she was going to be here for a while, and if he wanted to get anything changed, she was the person to talk to. Evelyn continued: "I don't have a lot of time and frankly, I think you're having a midlife crisis so I'm going to keep this short. I just talked to the leading lady. She said she's fine with everything. I suggested a few small changes in the dialogue and she said she would take a look at it but other than that she said she has no problem filming these scenes. I haven't talked to mr. Voisin yet, but I'm about to. If he agrees on everything too, then I see no reason these scenes should have to be changed. I understand it might bother you, but I think you need to put aside your personal feelings about this. She's an actress! It's art we're creating, smoke and mirrors."

Tylio glared at her from across the table, silent, because he was trying not to get too angry at her assumptions. She didn't know anything. She didn't even know him anymore. But he knew if he got too defensive, she would just view that as proving her point.

"Oh come on, don't glare at me like that", Evelyn told him, before he'd even said anything. He expected her to say something insulting but she just smiled, and he couldn't tell this time whether she meant it or whether she was just looking for a way to wrap up the conversation amiably. "If it really makes you so uncomfortable, maybe someone else should film those scenes? I'm sure that could be arranged."

"Non", he immediately dismissed that idea because if there was anything worse than him being on set when this stuff was being filmed, it would be him not being there. "Never mind. I'll talk to her. She just says yes to things sometimes, she's a hard worker. She doesn't want to be difficult."

"Hm", Evelyn hummed in reply and she sounded skeptical, but she realized that he might have a point there. She really didn't know Marinette well enough yet, and she definitely didn't want to push her into anything too fast. "Sure, yes, go for it", she eased up a little bit. "But like I told her, she doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to do."

"Yeah you told her that but she doesn't know you. You are a face of the industry to her, you're a director!", Tylio argued, getting a little more heated than he intended. "If she wants to do something or doesn't want to do something is irrelevant, she will do what you say either way and she won't complain because she doesn't want to lose her job!"

"Of course, I understand that", Evelyn replied in a voice so calm that it was grating to him. He called it her customer service voice. "I know how these things work. She might get nervous or change her mind at the last moment, that has happened plenty of times and I can work around it. Really, if she doesn't want to do something, I will find out about it. Okay?" She glanced at her watch for a moment, slowly grabbing her bag. "Now, I'm sorry but I really have to go."

"You know this conversation isn't over", Tylio told her, and Evelyn nodded.

"I know, but I'll be around the whole month. We'll talk another time. Just think about what I said."

Sensing that she was not about to change her mind, Tylio decided he would let it be for now and simply speak to her more about this later. He had to talk to Marinette first, anyway. He was pretty sure she was just agreeing to things in order to not be difficult. Both of them got up from their seats, Evelyn extending a hand and Tylio reluctantly shaking it. "Always fun to work with you", Evelyn concluded with a smile and before he knew it she was out the door. He also left the room moments after, still annoyed, only to find Nadja leisurely strolling past him and calling him a hypocrite under her breath. Merveilleux. She must have figured out who Evelyn was, somehow. An unsettling feeling came over him then. Did she tell Mari? No, probably not, right? Evelyn had only been here for a few hours, surely Nadja would let him talk to her about this first. He wasn't even sure how she knew, he wasn't even sure how anyone knew when Evelyn just got here. "Where is Mari?", he asked Nadja, ignoring her remarks and returning to the set soon after that. He found Marinette near the camera's with Jeremy. Jeremy had been talking to her only for a moment, he had called her over because he wanted to see how she was doing after talking to Evelyn, whether she was feeling shitty and whether there was any chance for him to cheer her up and thereby earn himself some points. But when Tylio appeared beside them, he could already tell their conversation was about to be interrupted. "Mari", Tylio reached out, his hand finding the small of her back without a second thought, as it often did when he was trying to get her to look at him. As soon as she did, he smiled. He felt a bit of relief, just seeing her face. He didn't even realize until that moment how tense he had been walking around all day. "Do you have a minute? I want to talk to you about something."

[veryfruitywriting]

The waiter has more

Sleepy Mac waking up in the middle of the night and finding you next to them, still studying and working for your programming exams(or any other subject tbh). They decide to try and help while also hugging you from behind and being very cuddly 🤧🤧

-💻

omg. ur gonna be the DEATH OF ME. i can’t… i have to write this. UGWXKWKXKSLSKKSKX. ITS TOO CUTE.

mac mini story :p

you had gone to bed hours ago. sinking into the mattress with mac, you didn’t really fall asleep. your eyes stared at the darkened ceiling that was illuminated by passing cars from time to time. you had a lot on your mind, your nerves were itching your skin.

you were studying. perfecting any chance of acing your upcoming exam. but mac had begged you to come to bed. to rest your eyes and take a break from your computer and stacked notebooks. you told them to go ahead and asleep, but they weren’t budging. after a few minutes of them staring into the back of your head, you admitted defeat and followed after them to the bedroom.

the clock ticked. roni was fast asleep. the cat was curled up at the end of your feet. mac had hugged you for warmth but drifted apart, limbs spread across the bed. you continued to stare at the ceiling. your hands clamped together, your thumb gently tapping against your chest. you were analyzing your notes from memory. whispering to yourself the answers and reciting long, complicated pages of numbers from your notes. 

an hour and half has passed. wasted. you would’ve gotten so much done if you weren’t laying here. gently and carefully, you lifted your head, looking at your lover who was sound asleep. mouth agape slightly and their arm over their face. you adored them. you loved that they took care of you. but reality was, you weren’t going to sleep. not like this. not when that exam was tomorrow evening.

you gently unraveled yourself from the sheets, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed as you were trying to be as quiet as possible. roni had woken up, shuffling in their little bed before noticing you sit up. they let out a small squeak before lazily running across the headboard and falling onto your lap. “roni…” you whispered out, rubbing your eye. “i’ll be back. i just need to look over my notes more.” roni shook their head and rubbed their head against your hand, trying to keep you from leaving. “just.. give me a few more minutes and i’ll be back. i swear.” after a moment, the mouse hesitated but nodded. returning back to their bed, they watched your silhouette disappear.

there you are again. hunched over your laptop, mindlessly clicking while listening to podcasts to keep you awake and somewhat focused. you kept your promise to roni, you had returned…. but you brought in your laptop to keep studying. they found themselves on your shoulder, snuggled against the crook of your neck. you both were happy. roni got to sleep on you while you continued to study.

hours and hours passed. you were very cozy yet determined with your work. you carefully sipped on your water bottle before adjusting your own blue light glasses. typing gently as you can, your head bopping with music. you sucked in your world to notice mac stirring away. they lifted their head up slightly, eyes half closed, and nose scrunched as they inhaled the cold air. they yawned softly, their hands trying to find you but only met with an empty space.

mac turned their head towards your directly and saw the horrific scene. you were still awake. they couldn’t deny the fact that you looked very cute right now. your small faint smile, your tired eyes, the yawn you just gave out. ugh. you were so adorable. but so irresponsible to your own well being. they hated exam season solely for this reason.

they flipped on their side, admiring the sight for a moment. their hand gently reached over and held your moving hand. your eye widened as you were finally caught in the act. before you could make up an excuse, they leaned over and wrapped their arms around your waist. pulling themselves closer to you and smuggling their face into your sides. inhaling your body wash. “why are you still studying…” they muffle againist your body.

you sighed softly and removed one of your earbuds, looking down at them before rubbing the back of their head. “i just.. needed a bit more time to study.” you answered honestly. “my nerves are tingling. i’m so worried about how this is gonna end up.” you continued, your free hand running through your hair in urgency. mac didn’t respond, as they had fallen asleep once more. it didn’t take long for them to gain consciousness again.

they yawned and finally moved, quickly planting a kiss on your cheek. rubbing their eyes, they sat upright and next to you, their arms crossed over their chest as they squinted at your lowly dimmed laptop. “lemme help you..” “no, mac. you’re obviously tired, go to bed.” they shushed you and snuggled against your side, “nonsense. if i can help you, it means we can get this done faster and you can sleep with me.”

you didn’t argue. honestly, having them to ask questions and be your second opinion was definitely helping you ease those nerves.

about half an hour had passed and you can tell the sleepiness was getting to them once again. they were becoming more physical with you. just like they always been when it was time for bed.

their hands held yours. ran over your exposed arms. messed with the fabric of your shirt. they planted lazily kisses on your face every time you gave the correct answer. they were so cute like this. you couldn’t help but feel so in love with them once again. a rush of serotonin was over taking your buzzing nerves.

they wrapped their arms around you once again,—after roni crawled to their bed once again—gathering any warmth they could from you. you couldn’t do it anymore. you were satisfied with your studying. it was time to hit the hay.

quickly, you saved all of your documents and soon powered off your computer. planting it on your nightstand beside your glasses. your arm wrapped around mac’s waist and pulled them on top of you as you adjusted yourself on the mattress. mac laid on top of you, their arms loosely wrapped around your shoulders and their face barely touching your neck. their faint breathing againist your skin made you instantly relax.

“thank you, my love.” you whisper into their ear. your free hand running through the back of their hair to ease them into sleep. you no longer felt that tightness in your lower stomach. no longer did your nerves itch underneath your skin. you felt confident about your exam. you felt grateful. you kissed mac’s ear before finally allowing your tired body to drift away.

[lostrologyy]

I lvoe your writing!!! can I request a firstbf!james with virgin reader?

losing your virginity to firstbf!james

cw: smut. unprotected sex. this is fucking but also making love (ik cheesy). loss of virginity. praise. missionary. cursing. not proofread! lmk if i missed something

a/n: ty for requesting angel! i have a job interview in half an hour so idk if i'll survive. anyway, remember english isn't my first language!

laying underneath him, you feel james’ lips plant little pecks from your cheek to your neck and collarbone, one leg supporting him from crushing you as the other presses slightly between your legs, his entire body covering yours even though the red curtains of his four-poster bed are shut.

the air feels warm, or maybe it’s james’ breath against your skin that’s making you feel hot. either way, you let out a shaky moan when his mouth claims yours again, his lips parting to let his tongue join the kiss, desperate and full of need.

you return the fight shyly, whining when his knee shifts between your thighs, making your legs shake and your core wet from the contact.

you feel him hard pressed on your hip, and that’s enough to clear your mind from the foggy, sinful thoughts scattered on your brain.

he protests with a noise when you pull away, a sharp curse leaving him as he drinks you in— spread out and trembling just for him.

“fuck, sorry love. i got a bit excited.” he laughs, pulling back from you, but your hand flies to grab his neck.

“no jamie, i- i wanna do it.” you tell him in a quiet voice, barely above a whisper as your eyes wander to the ceiling, incapable of making eye contact.

he stills. not in shock or judgment, only softness in his eyes. Like you just handed him something important and fragile, and in some way, you are.

“are- are you sure, angel? you know we don’t have to do anything, right?” his thumb brushes over your cheekbone, so slow it aches.

“i want to… with you.”

and his breath catches, like you just knocked the wind out of him.

you kind of expect him to tease you, say something cocky like he usually does. but he smiles and kisses your forehead.

he doesn’t rush with it. he takes his time kissing you. his hands warm at your waist, your thighs, your back. when he lifts your shirt, it’s almost like he’s unwrapping a present he’s been waiting for his whole life.

“you’re shaking.” he murmurs, his nose brushing against yours.

“i’m nervous.”

“me too.” he admits, smiling a little. “i want to make it good for you.”

and he does.

he peels off the rest of your clothes gently, stroking and cradling your hips like he’s afraid you might break. you lay there, only in your underwear, covering your face with your hands from embarrassment at being so exposed while he’s still dressed.

it almost like he reads your mind, because he immediately starts undressing too, you watch him slowly take off the layers of clothing, and your face gets warm at the vision that is his body—soft in some places, solid in others, all golden skin and messy hair with a trail of dark hair that disappears beneath the waistband of his boxers.

you want to look away but you can’t. he’s beautiful in a way that makes your heart ache.

he hooks your panties to a side, and you hold your breath when you feel him pressing against you.

“god,” he chokes, his forehead dropping to yours. “just- tell me if anything feels wrong, okay? we can stop anytime.”

you feel him line himself up, his tip nudging against your entrance and your clit, making you flinch—and then it happens. big, warm, unfamiliar.

your body tightens at the strange pressure, but he doesn’t move. he stays still, letting you adjust.

“breath, angel.” he whispers.

you nod, and he starts to press in, slowly, gentle.

it’s not pain exactly, more like a discomfort while he keeps going until he’s all the way in, deep and stretching and full.

you exhale a moan. he groans softly the moment your nails bury on his shoulders.

“you okay.?” he asks.

“y-yeah. just move… please.”

he grunts at your answer, and keeps moving, inch by inch, in and out. the air fills with the sharp, wet sound of skin slapping, your whines joining the symphony when the pleasure hits you. you feel claimed, his in a way you’ve never felt before.

it’s overwhelming, the way he kisses your jaw, groans and whispers sweet, dizzying things:

“fuck, you’re perfect.”

“so good for me angel, soso good.”

“fucking made for me, i swear.”

your moans get louder, walls pulsing and clenching around his cock as you arch up to him. each thrust stretches you open over and over, and it’s almost too much. he pulls out until only the tip is buried inside you. you whine at the loss followed by his hips slamming into you again, touching a spot inside you that makes your stomach clench and your eyes roll back.

“jamie—god—please don’t stop, please.” you beg.

“not gonna.” he pants. “not stopping until you’re filled to the brim with my cum.”

his forehead drops to your shoulder, and your hands scrabble at his back when a familiar pressure starts forming, aching and sweet.

he slips a hand between your bodies, his fingers a bit clumsy as they rub and pinch your sensitive clit. a sharp gasp ripping your throat as you feel closer to the edge.

and james feels it.

“fuck, sweetheart,” he groans. “you’re so wet and tight. i’m not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

your pussy clenches again, and it destroys him. his thrusts become faster, rougher, and the orgasm crashes you at the same time you feel hot spurts of cum flood you, thick and endless and so much. your back arches off the mattress, mouth falling open on a gasp and your vision goes white. for a second everytime disappear except the delicious stretch and the drag of his fingers clutching your thighs.

“shit, baby—shitshitshit, you’re perfect.”

he collapses on top of you, his weight wrapping you like a blanket as you both come down the high. your bodies are trembling, slick and sweaty, legs tangled together, breathless and dazed.

none of you moves, his now softening dick still deep inside you, holding you like you’re his entire world.

“you okay?” he whispers, his lips brushing your jaw.

you nod and wrap your arms around him.

“did i hurt you?” he plants a kiss on your shoulder.

you shake your head, too overwhelmed to speak, and he holds you just as tight like he’s scared you’ll float away.

“you made me feel safe.” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything, just kisses you, slower this time. like a thank you, like a promise.

lostrologyy © 2025.

[lilhughesy]

°•*⁀➷ YOU & MARK — streets of ann arbor au blurb

when in doubt, hot girl walk it out!

-> associated with this umich hockey gc leaked!

warnings! slight angst!

a/n: dedicated to my beloved @star2fishmeg for giving me this idea and for constantly supporting this silly little au! i love you meg💓💝💝🫂

The sun’s high and warm, the kind of day that makes everything feel a little lighter, even when your chest still feels heavy with the storm of emotions that have been brewing for the past few days.

notification: markyy (5 unread messages)

Hey! I know u haven’t been feeling like urself lately but I miss u and yk that I’m a good listener!

Hot girl walk? We can go to that cafe near ur place, ik u liked their lattes there!

It’ll make you feel betterr

Ik you love a good hot girl walk with a coffee!!! We don’t even need to talk abt it!

I’ll be there in 10, so be ready! Not taking a no for an answer!!

You and Mark have been walking along the waterfront for the last forty-five minutes. Coffee in hand, sneakers scuffing against the pavement, the sound of waves slapping lazily against the rocks just off the path. It should be peaceful, and it sort of is. But there’s a quiet ache under your skin that hasn’t really gone away since you were last at the hockey house.

Mark was doing most of the talking, and not in a bad way. Rather just his usual, distract-you-with-bullshit-until-you’re-ready-to-talk-or-tell-him-to-shut-up way.

“I swear to God, one of the squirrels at the park winked at me,” He said to you while taking a dramatic sip of his cold brew, “Like, not a blink. A wink. That’s a choice.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, “Did you wink back?”

“Of course I did, I’m not rude.”

You let out a laugh, a real one this time, and a grin formed onto his face. He nudged you with his elbow, “See? That’s what I’m here for. Emotional support with a side of stupidity.”

“You’re very talented,” You mumbled, trying to smile, “Truly gifted.”

You kept walking, but your steps have started to slow. The sun glints off the lake to your left, the breeze lifting strands of your hair, cooling the sweat at the back of your neck. You spotted a bench a few feet ahead, one of the old wooden ones that’s half-sun, half-shade — and without thinking, you drifted towards it and sat down.

Mark followed without hesitation and he flopped down next to you with a groan like the walk nearly killed him, spreading his legs out obnoxiously far and stretching like he just hiked the tallest mountain.

“I swear this walk was uphill both ways,” He complained as he stared at his coffee with a newfound fascination for the condensation that lined the plastic.

You huffed out a soft laugh but stare straight ahead at the water, eyes slightly unfocused. The laughter simmered away and fades, and he seemed to notice.

He sat up a bit straighter, adjusting his sunglasses on top of his head, “Wanna talk about it?”

You shook your head, “Not really.”

“Cool,” He replied easily, stretching his arms across the back of the bench, “Then we’ll sit here, people watch, and judge everyone who walks by instead.”

You nodded, feeling grateful for Mark’s presence but after a moment, you spoke up anyway.

“I just…” You paused, the words catching in your throat, “I hate that I’m letting it bother me this much.”

Mark tilted his head, eyes on the water in front of the two of you, “I think it’s expected, you two have been close to each other since the start and been closer than ever for the past little while.”

“I know, but I hate that I miss him so much and I think of him all the time even though he said that to me and did that to me.”

He doesn’t say anything right away, and the silence hangs for a beat too long. You’re already bracing yourself for some deep, serious answer but then he shifted beside you with his expression more straight-faced than usual.

“First of all, anyone who makes you feel like that is tragically dumb. Like, I’m talking permanently concussed levels of dumb.”

You snorted again, blinking a few times in a slight state of shock of his comment, “Mark-”

“No, no let me finish, and I have a list. Number one, he is a confused idiot who probably still uses his fingers to do the nine times table. Two, I’ve seen his shoe game and crimes have been committed- no person should only wear air forces to everything. And number three, he pushed you away, and that’s the dumbest thing a person could do.”

You pressed your lips together, half amused, half on the verge of falling apart again, “Mark…”

He finally looked at you, all the joking gone from his face. There’s something softer there now but it’s not pity and it’s not pressure, just quiet understanding.

“It’s okay to let yourself feel things,” He told you gently, “You don’t have to keep pretending it didn’t hurt.”

Your shoulders dropped slightly, tension melting even though the ache is still there. You swallowed the ball in your throat down, “I know. I just don’t want to make a scene here in public.”

Mark leaned back again, his arm behind you but not touching to give you the space you needed, “We’re literally alone, sitting on a bench, drinking overpriced iced coffee like bougie little pigeons. You can cry and I won’t even make it weird- Actually I can try to cry with you so you don’t feel alone.”

You let out a shaky breath, eyes stinging from the tears brimming your eyes, “You always say you’re bad with feelings, but you’re not.”

He shrugged, “I’ve had practice. Mostly with you.”

You laughed through your tears, wiping your face with the sleeve of your crewneck.

Mark stayed quiet for a while, letting you sit with the sadness, the anger, the confusion. Then he glanced sideways and broke the silence again.

“Wanna go find a soft pretzel after this?”

You sniffed, looking over at him as you fiddled with the straw of your drink, “Like, a sad girl pretzel?”

He grinned, “Hot girl walk, sad girl pretzel. You gotta have balance.”