#so I wasn’t sure I was gonna be able to bury it and was gonna have to macerate it on like the driveway or something

[starryjake]

medicine | s.j

in which jake is sick and the only thing that will make him feel better is a taste of you.

pairing: jake x fem!reader

includes: face sitting, oral sex, jake being sick, squirting, cumming untouched, cumming in pants, face riding (lmk if i missed anything).

jake was game to eat you out at any time.

you’re exhausted after a long day of work or classes? jake was there already kneeling in front of the bed, awaiting your pussy.

it’s the middle of the night and you’re tucked into bed, fast asleep? jake can’t help the craving he gets and just has to have one lick of your addictive taste before he’s able to fall asleep.

you step foot out of the shower and within less than a minute, jake is laying you down in the tub and devouring your pussy.

the point was, it didn’t matter the occasion. jake just always wanted to eat you out.

that was never anything you felt the need to complain about. you knew people who’s boyfriends refused to go down on them and you couldn’t believe it. you and your boyfriend had just about the opposite of that problem.

but since jake was always game, that meant he wanted it even when he was in not-so-great situations himself.

“no, jake,” you said assertively, shaking your head.

“please,” he begged, looking at you with those pleasing puppy-dog eyes.

at any other given time, you would’ve said yes. just like jake always wanted to eat you out, you always wanted to get eaten out. you two were a match made in heaven.

however, jake had picked up some virus going around campus and had been completely knocked out by it. he’d spent the past two days in bed sleeping, trying to rid his body of the sickness.

you’d been his faithful nurse, staying close by in case he needed anything. you made him soup, brought him medicine every few hours, monitored his temperature, and gave him everything else he could’ve possibly needed. except, that is, the one thing he actually wanted.

“why not?” he practically whimpered. “it’s been days. i deserve it. i’ll feel so much better.”

his desperation almost made you laugh. he wanted you so badly and if he wasn’t as sick as he was, you would’ve given it to him, but he just wasn’t well enough. he was still sniffly, still weak, still running a fever, and just simply was not in the right position to be giving you head.

“you deserve it?” you couldn’t hold back the laugh this time.

“i do!” he whined, not finding the situation funny whatsoever. “i’ve been stuck in this bed for days feeling like shit and all i want is to have my face buried between your legs. just a taste, baby, please.”

you shook your head.

“just a taste is gonna turn into you eating me out for hours,” you said.

“and what’s wrong with that?” he pouted.

“you need to be sleeping and getting better,” you told him.

he leaned forward in your shared bed to get closer to you, who was sitting at the foot of the bed. he placed his hand on your thigh, tilting his head to the side.

“your pussy will make me better,” he said softly.

you placed your hand on top of his, looking into his pleading eyes. he was still so handsome, even as sick as he was. you were tempted, you had to admit.

“i don’t know, jake,” you said.

“please, baby,” he begged you, practically on the verge of tears. “i’ll make you feel so good, i promise.”

his pink cheeks, his swollen lips, his teary eyes, you just couldn’t say no to him.

plus, he said it would help him feel better, so how could you argue with that?

“fine,” you gave in. “lay back.”

jake bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling in victory. his eyes lit up when you agreed and he immediately complied, lying back down on his back.

you crawled up the bed until you made it to his abdomen. you planted your knees on either side of him and hovered over his body, second guessing whether you should actually do this.

“are you sure, jake?” you sighed.

jake’s face flashed with terror at the mere idea of you changing your mind. his eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

“i’m sure,” he insisted. “please, i need it. it’s my medicine.”

for whatever reason, his words turned you on. calling your pussy his medicine was all you needed to hear to shuffle your shorts down your legs, leaving you bare and exposed to him.

he licked his lips and watched you closely as you crawled up the remainder of his body until landing by his face. you hovered above him, sighing at the sight of him underneath you.

“sit,” he urged, beyond eager to get his tongue inside you.

“stop me if you can’t breathe,” you warned, knowing his nose was stuffed and his mouth would be occupied.

he didn’t say anything, just grabbed your hips and pulled you down so you were actually sitting on his face.

a surprised moan escaped your lips as jake immediately started licking your folds, gathering all your wetness on his tongue. he moaned, muffled, but the vibrations from it were extremely pleasurable.

you dug your hand in his mop of messy hair, legs already starting to tremble as he swiped his tongue up and down the length of your pussy.

you looked down and you could just tell he was in his most happy place. his eyes were closed, savoring the sensation of licking your pussy and tasting your sweet arousal. he was almost moaning as much as you were, certainly enjoying it as much as you, if not more.

you turned your head back and weren’t surprised at all by the sight of his hips thrusting up into the air, desperate for any kind of friction. his neglected cock was straining against his pajama pants, but you knew he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he just wanted to eat you out, and that was enough for him.

“tastes so fucking good,” he said through an exhale, taking a second to catch his breath.

“are you doing okay?” you asked him, raising yourself off his face.

“more than okay,” he assured you. “i could do this all fucking night.”

he grabbed your hips and pulled you back down onto his face, going straight for your clit this time. he wrapped his lips around the bud and sucked on it softly, swallowing your taste.

you yelped, your legs clenching around his face.

“oh fuck, jake,” you cried out, your grip tightening in his hair.

he released his suction on your clit and went back to gliding his tongue up and down your pussy. he stopped at your hole and delved his tongue inside, letting out a broken moan at your tight walls around his tongue.

you found yourself slightly grinding on his face, subconsciously trying to rub your clit against his nose while he thrusted his tongue in and out of your hole. you knew he didn’t care. in fact, he loved it. he loved you humping his face in an attempt to increase the pleasure.

you sat up again, removing your pussy from his face. a string of your arousal mixed with his spit kept your pussy connected to his lips.

he looked up at you in confusion and even a slight hint of frustration as to why you just took away his treat—your pussy.

“why?” he asked urgently.

“your forehead is so warm, jakey,” you said, having brushed against it while you were tugging his hair.

it’d brought you back down to earth, reminding you that you were riding the face of someone who was not entirely up to health.

“i’m fine,” he said, annoyed. “i feel so good, please just come back. let me have it again.”

he was so, so desperate. you knew you should get off and let him get some sleep, but he wanted it so bad. so, you lowered your hips back down to his face and allowed him to lick up your pussy lips.

“fuck, thank you,” he moaned out, relieved to have your warm pussy back on his face. “i feel good, i promise. just need your pussy on me, baby, that’s all.”

you sighed in pleasure, leaning back slightly and starting to grind again. jake closed his eyes again, lapping and slurping at your pussy.

your stomach was warm and the knot would unravel soon, you were sure of it. he was so good at eating you out, you never lasted long.

“harder,” he urged, pulling you down on his face even more. “ride my face harder, baby.”

you whimpered, humping his face harder. your puffy clit hit the tip of his nose every time you fucked your hips forward. jake fucking loved it. he loved inhaling through his nose and smelling your sweet pussy, having it right there in front of him.

he loved you sitting on his face just as much as he loved laying on his stomach and eating you out regularly. he loved when you would just lose all control and ride his face like you were riding his cock. he loved to be used.

“fuck, jake,” you sobbed out. “i’m gonna fucking cum, oh my—don’t stop, please don’t stop. fuck, i’m cumming!”

you squealed as your orgasm washed over you. your legs tightened around his face and his tongue quickened, eating your pussy through your orgasm and lapping at the excess wetness dripping out of you. you fucked his face, letting all your weight sit on him because your brain was in too much of a fog to care.

“fuck,” jake moaned against you. “you’re so fucking hot, angel. wait! don’t get up.”

he gripped your waist, stopping you from climbing off his face.

“why? you should sleep now,” you said, catching your breath from your orgasm.

he shook his head, pulling you back down.

“need more,” he mumbled, lightly circling your clit with the tip of his tongue, going gentle as to not overstimulate you.

“no, jake,” you declined, however made no attempt to stop him.

“shh,” he shushed you, disregarding your words. “please, baby. i just need a little more and then i’ll be all better, promise.”

you whimpered as he rubbed his wet tongue on your drenched folds. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, basically keeping you trapped on his face.

“jake,” you whispered, pushing some stray strands of hair out of his forehead.

“so good,” he mumbled, flattening his tongue. “ride my tongue, baby. c’mon, i know you can do it.”

you started grinding back and forth on his tongue, head falling back at the sensation. his tongue was so warm and wet and felt euphoric as he laid it out for you to use, to rub your spent pussy on.

if jake was paying attention to his own cock, he’d realize how much pain he was in. he was so, so hard, and needed to be touched desperately. but he couldn’t. he just wanted your pussy and nothing else, not even oxygen.

“fuck,” you moaned. “feels so fucking good, jake. i think i’m gonna cum a lot.”

you didn’t know what you were saying. you were so fucked out and jake was too pussy drunk and sick to comprehend your words either.

you knew what you meant, but he didn’t.

you rubbed your pussy all over his face, getting your wetness all over his nose, his cheeks, and his chin. he started licking you again, moaning nonstop.

“i’m gonna—mm, jake! i’m cumming!”

it hit you a lot faster this time, so fast that you couldn’t even give him a proper warning.

you also couldn’t warn him as a stream of wetness shoots out of you. you were squirting all over his face and that was what did it for jake. that was what had him humping his hips up into the air one more time and cumming untouched in his pants.

he moaned, feeling sweaty and lightheaded as he felt your wetness all over his face. briefly, he thought he might pass out. even feeling so weak, he still ate you out through your second orgasm, drinking all the fluid you’d just released and moaning from how delicious it was.

he hummed, babbling nonsense because he was so far gone. you pulled yourself off his face, your pussy twitching from over sensitivity.

“baby,” he mumbled.

“yeah?” you retorted.

“i came,” he told you.

you frowned, looking down at his pants and noticing the stain of cum seeping through the fabric.

“but…” you trailed off. “you weren’t even touching yourself.”

“i know,” he said. “i think i’m just…really sensitive when i’m sick. but guess what?”

“what?” you asked, already starting to pull his pants down to help clean up.

“i was right about your pussy being medicine,” he informed. “i feel completely better.”

you laugh, shaking your head in dismay.

“you’re such a weirdo.”

-

this is FILTH. what i wouldn’t give to sit on jake’s face man.

thanks for reading!

[starkeyisthelastname]

season 4 rafe reassures you that he is all yours 😻

Rafe reassured you that Hollis Robinson was someone you didn’t need to be jealous of, but could see the look on your pretty face that you were still worried about something happening as the older blonde was clearly into him from the flirtatious grin and batting eyes she was giving. He wasn’t going to let you sit there the rest of the evening and get in your head about some blonde bimbo wanting to do business with him. Finishing his beer in one large gulp, he sat the empty bottle down and took your hand in his larger ringed one.

He was sure to remind you that he was yours and you had nothing to be worried about. His thick length sliding in and out of your slick hole as he buried his face into your neck. “You feel that? That’s all yours.” He rasped, his voice low as he continued to thrust into you. His lips kissed your sweet skin, leaving goosebumps all over your body as your nails dug into his muscled back.

He was deep, the tip of his cock ramming into your sweet spot over and over to make you cry out. “P-please Rafe!” You gasped, his sculpted hips slamming into yours. His lips traveled up towards your lips, capturing them in a gentle kiss. “Don’t ever fucking worry about anyone else. Yeah?” He mumbled, a low groan threatening to escape as your cunt fluttered around him. He pulled back ever so slightly, his blue eyes watching your face fall as you began to grow closer to an orgasm.

Your lower stomach was on fire, your eyes threatening to roll back from the intense sensation that was bursting from your quivering body. “I-I’m gonna cum baby.” You squeaked out, his words that you never had to worry about anyone else throwing you over the edge. He could feel you squeezing his cock, a groan leaving his mouth as he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer himself.

“God, you’re gonna make me cum inside you. You want that? Show you that I’m all yours by filling your perfect pussy up.” His eyes never leaving yours, as he brought a hand up to grip your chin. “Hey, look at me. I want you and only you.”

[bunnis-monsters]

OK SO- I fou d you from your werebunny post which-

BTW

Was really good?? I- it made me feel things- If possible, more werebunny crumbs please? It could go either sfw or nsfw, I don't mind! (Or both but its up to you!)

NSFW

It’s always fun watching his cotton tail wag with excitement when you’re near. He has the cutest pink nose, soft bunny ears and a fluffy tail that goes crazy with every kiss and touch.

Momo, your pretty bunny, really enjoyed having you near. His heart would explode with joy every time you kissed him, his bunny ears flicking as his nose twitched.

“Mmph… love~”

He couldn’t stand being apart from you, living in separate homes just wasn’t an option. He set up a nest in your room within weeks of your first meeting, unable to be away from you for more than a few minutes.

Lately, he had been extra clingy, and very possessive, which was uncharacteristic for him. Usually he was pretty submissive and sweet, almost like a lap pet that wanted all of your attention… but now he was more like a guard dog, constantly on alert, his body always subtly in front of yours.

It was only when you woke up to him humping your leg, his face buried in your neck that you realized what was going on.

He was in some kind of heat or rut… whatever it was, it was making him cling to you, desperate to mate and keep you safe.

All he wanted was to be close to you. The first stage of his rut had him making a cozy little nest in your bed, then spending all his his time snuggling you, his cute fluffy tail wagging furiously as he pulled you in for more kisses and nibbles.

The next stage… you weren’t ready for. You had sec with Momo before, but this was his rut. He was insatiable, fucking into your cunt fast and hard, unlike to gentle, sweet love making you usually experienced.

And his stamina was way too high, one breeding session lasting nearly 5 hours. Every time he came, he bit down on your shoulder or neck, his hips fitting against you as he begged for your forgiveness.

“Sorry, so sorry… just need it so bad, angel! Need to… g-give you my litter!”

After each session, he ignored his own exhaustion and pampered you, purring and bathing you, letting your head rest on his chest as his cotton tail wagged. Momo felt terrible, breeding you for so long… but he just couldn’t help it! His rut made him so horny, and he could only focus on filling you with cum and impregnating you!

But he adored you so, making sure you were treated like a princess once your baby bump began to show. Momo was so proud, not able to keep his hands off of your belly.

“My princess… gonna be a good mommy, the best…”

[todoriin]

x : TOUCH ME NOW *+ﾟ

in which: you help sunday through a predicament. a part 2 nsfw to this sunday fic.

warnings: 3k wc,MDNI or u fail ur next test, afab!reader but no pronouns, sex pollen trope, oral (m receiving), fingering, idk how in character sunday is but i blame it on sex pollen, sunday busts like multiple nuts, wall sex that then becomes bed sex, riding, creampie, unrealistic sex, unprotected p in v, emotionally charged sex towards the end, multiple rounds.

a/n: there are so many warnings i'm kinda ashamed. anyways, i hope u enjoy! i'm never gonna look at this again lol

A feverish heat clings to Sunday, racking shivers up his spine. Warmth suffocates him, expanding to all edges of his body- legs, chest, head, there’s a particular stubborn sensation that clings to his core. And his pants.

It must have been because of that mysterious substance that befell him during the mission. At first, it was a stinging in his nose and eyes that eventually faded, but after a while the real side effects kicked in, and he concluded that it was some sort of material that enhanced… sexual needs, if the growing stiffness in his pants was any indication. He excused himself from the group, and darted back to the hotel at record pace.

Curled up on his made bed, the linen sheets are a mild balm against his hot skin, coat and shirt discarded the second the hotel room locked behind him. Hours have passed since he separated from the group but the symptoms still stubbornly fester in his gut, falling and rising but never fading, sticking to his being like glue. 

It’s already painful enough on its own, but you just have to be on the other side of the hotel door, knocking and knocking, asking if he was alright in that sweet, concerned voice of yours. 

Things have been… awkward since that incident with you in his room. He hasn’t been able to look you in the eye since, and Sunday’s positive the entire Express can tell that something happened between you, just not entirely sure what.

Having a good memory can be a curse sometimes, and because of it, he hasn’t been able to forget the feel of your warmth atop him, and the paralysing fear when he realised just how strong his desire was. Sunday won’t deny it, even back in Penacony when he was the strict and rigid Head of the Oak Family, there were undertones of attraction that stirred in his heart when he first got to talk to you, but they were quickly buried, just as he was taught to do years ago.

Now, in closer proximity and freed from shackles of duty, he can’t help but let the desire roam wild, peaking at the incident that occurred not too long ago.

A siren’s song. He’s going to give in to your call. 

He opens the door no more than a crack, letting your voice come through loud and clear.

“Sunday?” Your tone is gentle, kind, treating him like a wounded stray that would run if you got too close. In some sense, he is, except he thinks if you got too close, he’d pounce on you and do what he’s been thinking of doing for days- weeks, even.

Except in his barely-lucid state, he thinks it might be worse.

“Can I come in? Mr Welt told me you were unwell and separated from the group when March and I went away.”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs, strained.

You raise a brow. “You’re clearly not. No offense but… you sound a bit worse for wear.”

“It’s alright, I can manage alone.”

“Yes but you don’t have to, I’m happy to help.”

“I don’t think this is something you might want to stick around for.” 

With each passing moment that you turnaround his rejection, Sunday feels his sanity slipping and pants growing tighter. And when you raise your eyebrows again in defilement, he just wants to pull you in and sink you both to the floor, reduced to a puddle of limbs where neither of you can tell where he ends and you begin.

“How bad can it be?” You whisper and all fighting spirit leaves him. He lets you inside.

As soon as the door clicks shut, you’re putting a hand up to his forehead, testing his temperature as if his entire face wasn’t flushed, pale skin heating up to an uncharacteristic pink. You seem to be avoiding the obvious issue that’s happening in his lower body.

“What happened?” 

“I- uh, was hit with something,” he groans when you steps away.

“Like hay fever?” You ask, still somehow innocent and unaware.

He never thought he’d need to spell this out to someone. “Like extreme arousal.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth forms a small ‘o’ in realisation, eyes trailing down to his bare torso for a mere second before meeting his gaze again, as if deciding how to word the next sentence you want to say. 

“Would you like some help with that?”

In any right state of mind, Sunday would be double checking that what you said was right. That he wasn’t hearing things. However, in a lust-ridden state where he can’t even tell north or south without thinking of the incredible stiffness in his pants, he says what he thinks is most logical.

“Please.” It’s no more of a whimper, but you hear him loud and clear because next thing he knows, you’re cupping his face with bringing it to yours, tongue parting the seam of his lips. 

Sunday backs you up against the hotel door. You seem eager, that delights him. 

With the invitation pressed into his mouth, he uses it to lick into your mouth, exploring and reaching wherever he can, tilting his head slightly for better access, overpowering whatever control you had previously exerted over him, just has he’s dreamed of. Biting on your bottom lip, he feels saliva dribble down his chin, wetting his skin. He separates from you to catch the trail, kissing down your chin and going even further, lips meeting the dips and curves of your neck as you gulp, overwhelmed by the onslaught of affection. 

It’s your hands that remove your shirt, pulling it over your head as he continues his flurry of kisses, eventually stopping near your sternum. It’s your hands that exposes you- all of you, to him, letting him near his mouth and hands to your breasts. He squishes and pinches your left mound as the right one is enveloped by his lips where he spits and suckles, the sound so unabashedly wet that it shoots straight down to your core- where you need him the most. So you roll your hips against his and enjoy the vibrations of his moan, mouth still connected around you. You do it again and this time, his grip tightens, parting from your breast with a satisfying pop. 

Crazed hunger gleams in his eyes and you sink to your knees before him. 

“Let me take care of you,” you mutter breathlessly, now eye level with his member. His very obviously, very painfully hard member. Your hands make quick work of his pants, unbuttoning them as Sunday does the work of discarding both his boxers and the pants, leaving him naked before you, cock hitting the base of his abdominals. 

It’s an odd sensation to present yourself so wholly to someone for the first time, especially when your most private parts are in the other person’s face, but Sunday’s mind is too far away to feel ashamed. Not when your hands crawl up and play with the angry, swollen tip of his dick.

“This looks so painful,” you mutter. “How long did you suffer for?”

“A couple hours,” he confesses through stifled teeth, feeling your hands move up and down along his shaft. You’re toying with him, seeming so sympathetic to his current condition when the only thing you’re doing is making it worse, the heat flaring hotter and hotter than he thought humanly possible in his abdomen. 

It’s like torture, but he never wants you to stop. Never wants you to leave.

“Poor thing,” you coo. When you kiss his leaking tip, he collapses against the hotel door, bent arm catching him against the hard material. From this perspective, Sunday gets to watch you take him whole, his cock disappearing into your mouth inch by agonising inch until you stop just short of the base. It is so filthily wet and warm, and his skin glistens from your saliva when you move back, only to take him again, tongue sliding over the veins of his incredibly sensitive member. 

The pleasure is overwhelming. It feels like everything and not enough, all at the same time. He wants your mouth to be hugging him like this forever, but he wants more, wants you to sink into his ligaments and press this feeling of pleasure into him permanently. Wants his muscles to remember the sensation of your tongue and lips, and how your spit mixes with his precum as small whimpers and moans leave him.

A hand comes to the back of your head, and Sunday begins to move his hips in tandem with your actions, and a surprised sound rings from the back of your throat when he forces himself deeper into your mouth. He does it again and again, wings fluttering as a coil begins to tighten in his lower half.

“I’m- I’m close,” Sunday whimpers. “Don’t stop, please, I want to- I want-”

The pleasure climaxes and hot ropes of cum shoot into your used mouth, dribbles out when it’s too stuffed to stay in, falling down the curve of your lips, down your chin, and landing on the floor or your body. He feels like ascending. This has been the high he’s been craving, the solution to the mania Sunday has been subjected to.

It is still not enough. He watches you swallow his cum, using your finger to clean around your mouth, and gulps when his dick springs to life again, aroused by the sight alone. 

Only a fraction of his issue has been solved it seems, because neediness still burns hot in his veins, and he needs you so pathetically bad. Needs to press you against the nearest surface just to take you again and again. 

Your eyes widen at his hard cock again.

“Still not enough?” You ask, voice slightly hoarse from being used. 

“More,” he groans, and presses his mouth against yours when you rise from your knees, pressing a flurry of kisses against your lips, mixed with moans as words are spoken against your mouth. “Want more of you, let me inside.”

You nod against him, hands coming up to hold onto his shoulders, desperate for the anchor. “Please.” 

A hand traces over your hip and moves down to your core. Two fingers part your folds, letting two digits sink into your wet entrance, collecting your slick as he glides in and out, feeling the constriction of your walls around his hand. 

You cling to him tighter, resting your forehead against his shoulder as you deal with the onslaught of blinding pleasure, heightening when his thumb plays with your clit, rubbing circles and moving the nub up, down, left, and right. It’s mind-numbing, you don’t know what else to think of except the pleasure he’s bringing you. 

It’s torn away when he retracts his hands, heated golden gaze staying locked with yours as he licks himself clean. An act so obscene that it leaves you speechless, all coherent sentences slipping from your brain as Sunday holds your leg up to his hip, allowing him more access. 

He grinds his hard length against you, sliding it along your wet slit, sometimes catching your clit, causing you to jolt in his hold. Your breath is heavy with anticipation as you claw at his back, unable to take anymore of this gentle torment, walls clenching around nothing when his tip rests against your entrance. Sunday’s testing you, teasing as his perceptive, golden gaze never strays away from your expression, analysing every micro change as he slowly, slowly, slowly eases in, feeling every movement of your walls parting to make space for him.

You’re constricting him, pulsing around him so tightly that it’s getting harder to breathe, harder to think straight without fucking into you so recklessly that you leave an imprint on the door. His lust-filled brain wants to, but the composed part of his mind knows to give you time to adjust first, even if you’re wet enough for him to move freely. 

However, it seems that he’s too impatient himself. 

A sudden warmth floods your walls, gushing hot white as Sunday rests his forehead against you, shuddering, laboured breaths heaving out his chest.

“Did you just… cum?” 

“Yes,” he pants, wings fluttering lightly as he recovers from busting his load without warning.

Your hands move to play with the hair at the base of his neck, twirling the strands as you wait for him to come down. It’s alarming that you can already feel him getting hard again. Just how strong was this pollen? 

“Sorry, it’s just… I haven’t felt anything this powerful this before.”

“It’s okay,” you murmur, holding his cheek. “Sunday, use me. Don’t hold back.” 

With your blessing, he regains his footing and slowly retracts his hips, almost sliding out of you before thrusting back. You moan right by his ear, nails clawing his skin. The pace of his movements stay slow, methodical as he splits you open, but with a last few rolls of his hips, Sunday begins to pick up the pace, listening to his frayed mind as the wet sound of skin slapping skin fills the hotel room. 

Your whimpers of his name are soft as he keeps moving, holding your leg higher to his hip for more access as he relentlessly bullies himself into you, reaching even deeper parts of you. Mixed essences coat your skin, the last load he spilled into you falling out and dribbling from your entrance, and down to the apex of your thighs. It sounds obscene every time he thrusts into you, and the pleasure makes you bite into the junction of his neck- a coping mechanism against the searing build up in your abdomen.

He’s thrusting into you so deep, hitting a sensitive spot over and over again, causing you to see stars on the edge of your vision. 

“I’m almost there, please, don’t stop,” you’re puffing against him now, gasping for air when his hand suddenly crawls between your bodies, rubbing your clit in the exact way he did before, intensifying the pleasure as it shoots through your nerves.

Without warning, you gush all over him, walls spasming around his cock as he continues chasing his own high, hands squeezing you harder as he grows sloppier. Then, with a muffled moan, he lets go and spills hot semen into you, his hips stuttering flush against your pelvis as he presses himself as close as possible. 

Both of you pant erratically, still coming down from the high as you cling to each other with vice grips. He nuzzles into your shoulder, wings and silver hair tickling your skin. His is still feverish, burning and hot against your body. You can’t even remember if he grew hotter since you first began, but it’s hard to think about it when Sunday’s still nestled inside with no intention of leaving any time soon.

“Are you okay?” You ask softly, careful not to break the delicate atmosphere.

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I’m feeling… a little more clear-headed now.”

“That’s good. Should we move away from the door and sit on the bed?” 

He slips out of you and you wince at the feel of thick fluids dripping out of you and down your inner thigh. Sunday is at least conscious enough to sit you down and go grab a towel, gently grabbing your ankle to stretch your leg, patting your skin gently to rid the traces. Despite how methodical and tender he is, he can’t hide his growing erection, even if he’s diligently avoiding looking at your spent cunt. 

“This… predicament of yours must be stubborn,” you joke when he takes a seat next to you, unable to meet your eyes.

“I think this one might be mostly my doing.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really.”

Without hesitation, you swing a leg around and straddle him, sitting daringly close to his cock. “Need a little more help?” 

He groans through gritted teeth when you roll your hips, teasing him with a half-lidded look, lips turning into a smirk. You will be the reason for his demise, an obsession growing in the depths of his mind.

“If you are fit enough, don’t exert yourself for me.”

“But I want to help,” you pout at him. 

Yes. Something like obsession. 

Sunday’s hands are vice grips on your hips as you lower yourself down on his dick, the familiar stretch causing you to wince, but his touch is grounding as he places a flutter of kisses on your face when you’ve lowered yourself completely, the back of your thighs meeting his. You watch as his face contorts with pleasure, gaze focused on where you’re joined. 

“You feel so perfect,” he murmurs. “I’ve been dreaming of this, I can’t believe it’s real.”

“Dreaming? How so?”

“Ever since that… day, where you visited me in my room,” he grunts, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, to stop desiring you, I felt it was better for the both of us if I just kept my distance since then.”

You cup his cheeks, placing a kiss on his nose before you move, rising before slamming down, causing the both of you to moan in sync, his being more of a whine. Repeating the movement a few times, you feel wet droplets landing on your hands, and you stop moving out of surprise, the ichor falling from his eyes catching you by surprise.

“Sunday, are you-”

Catching the liquid gold with your thumbs, you are so devastatingly careful handling him that he might just cum again, decorating your insides with white for the fourth time that night. He barely just holds on, though, for the sake of his own sanity. 

Although he almost snaps when he feels you catch a tear with your lips, and then you clench around him- oh, this is the recipe for his downfall.

“You will drive me crazy.” He whispers as he holds onto your wrists. “T-This… this is incomparable. I-I want you like a man starved.” 

Then, without warning, he rolls you around so that your back is on the bed and he’s the one on top. Climbing between your parted legs, he carves a space for himself in your arms, infatuation glazing over his expression. 

“Let me show you how badly I crave you.” 

© TODORIIN 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[elalfywhore]

could you write a paige x reader with the brother's best friend trope?

•you guys didn’t never not like each other, it was your typical older brothers best-friend thing.

•you guys shared awkward “hi”s whenever you ran into each other at the store. when she came over to hang out with your brother there was never more than 20 words exchanged between the two of you.

•you always found her attractive, she was tall, lean and had a pretty face but, you were sure she hadn’t felt the same way considering you were just her bestfriends little sister to her.

•you would hear your brother and her talk about whatever fling she had, you didn’t try and listen too hard but you couldn’t help yourself.

• “bro you don’t even understand the brain this girl gave me.” you could hear her smack her lips with a laugh, the provocative words dripping from her mouth. your parents were gone for the weekend, and your brother had invited paige over to watch the game. you could hear them talking from the kitchen as you made dinner. “might’ve been good but she’s still not a ten” your brother fired back, “whatever bro, i’m gonna go grab another beer. you want one?” you can’t hear your brother respond but you can imagine he nodded at the blondes words.

•paige could always make you nervous, she always had this effect on you to where no matter what was happening you always looked like a deer in headlights when you saw her.

• “smells good.” her voice is softer than normal as she walks towards the fridge. “ ‘s just spaghetti.” you whisper, barley able to make eye contact. “that’s my favorite, y’know?” she opens the fridge, pulling two beers out. “yeah, it’s good.” you try and concentrate on the pot of sauce in front of you but when she doesn’t leave and her stare is intense on you, you can’t help but slightly turn your head towards her. “do you need something, paige?” she steps closer to you, getting close enough that you can feel her breath on her ear as she steps behind you. “you’re a real pretty girl, know that?” your breath hitches, she uses one hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, resting her head on your shoulder for but a second to whisper in your ear, “i would give anything to fuck you.”

NSFW BELOW!!!

•that night kinda blurred. your brother had one too many beers and passed out on the couch, you were already up in your room. paige saw the opportunity and took it.

•the hard part for paige wasn’t convincing you to spread you legs and lay back for her, the hard part was getting you to be quiet.

• “shhh, don’t wanna wake him up.” paige whispered from between your thighs. your ass was pulled to the edge of the bed and she was on her knees on the floor. she had your legs pushed back as far as they could go, leaving your dripping, warm, wet pussy on display for her. “mm’ sorry, just feels s’ good.” you whine, slapping your hand over your mouth as she licks a stripe up your pussy. you watch as she spits on your pussy before sticking her tongue out, rubbing it up and down your pussy and shaking her head in it. “oh-oh my god baby, feels so good.” you whimper, “feel good, princess?” she teases, sticking two fingers in and taking your clit into her mouth.

•there was something fun about sneaking around with paige, she made it clear after that night it wasn’t a one time thing but she couldn’t risk your brother knowing yet.

•you guys sneak in little kisses and make out session whenever you can.

•if your brother gets up to go to the bathroom while you guys are watching tv, she’s defiling you for the few minutes he’s gone. shoving her tongue down your throat, her hand grazing your pussy under your pj shorts, the other hand groping your tit.

•the first time you ever fingered paige had been about 2 weeks since your guys’ first hookup and it happened on your couch while your brother was showering to get ready to go to some party with paige.

• “that’s it, pretty girl.” paige bites her lip, one of her hands buried in your hair, slightly pulling and the other hand teasing your nipple that was exposed from your tank top being pulled up. you moan at the sight, your middle and ring finger being swallowed by her, her jeans and boxers pulled down just enough for you to be able to do this. “you’re so hot.” you whimper, the sound of her wetness reacting to your fingers being drowned out by the tv. “you’re the hot one, baby.” she mumbles, pushing your head towards hers, putting her lips to yours. she moans into your mouth as your fingers speed up. “i’m gonna cum baby, keep going.” she bites her lip, your noses touching and eyes staring into eachothers. “cum for me baby, wanna taste you please.” you talk her through it. her body twitches as she bites back a moan and you feel a stickiness start dripping from her, a tall tale sign. you pull your fingers out, shoving them in your mouth making her throw her head back with a smile, biting her lip watching you.

• when she does go out with your brother, she’s texting you like the whole time, reassuring you she’s not talking to other girls.

•she’s super thoughtful, she always sends you cute texts, she holds doors open for you, buys you things even when she doesn’t have too.

•it felt like a dream being with paige, and you had never intended on your brother finding out. especially not so soon, knowing it could put an end to things with paige if he knew.

•paige was killing your shit from the back. when she texted you to come over you weren’t expecting her to have a plastic dick attached to her but it was a pleasant surprise. “that feel good, huh? little fucking slut.” she moaned at the sight of your plump ass clapping against her hips. “feels s’ good, fuck daddy don’t stop.” you feel yourself becoming more wet when she puts one of her legs up on the bed, foot planting on it. her grip tightens on your hips and she fucks into you, her stamina and athleticism showing. “you love. this. dick. huh baby, you love it pretty girl?” her thrusts match her words. “love this dick so much daddy, fuck me harder, please.” you moan, face shoved into the pillows, looking and sounding like something out of a porn. that was until the door opened.

•it was an embarrassing moment as much as it was quick. the door opened and closed in a flash. you and paige rushing to get ready. you weren’t sure what was worse, your brother seeing that for a split second or having to explain how your sexual relationship with his bestfriend started.

•it took him a while, like months to come to terms. once the secret was out paige and you made things official after some back and fourth, considering the circumstances. things got better after that, he accepted things for what they were as long as you guys promised to lock the door.

[writeriguess]

Hii! Glad to see you back!

I was wondering if you could write a soft, shy fem!reader x prohero husband!Katsuki where they find out reader is pregnant and Katsuki's actually really excited? Maybe melts into soft lovemaking, calling reader princess?

Please don't feel pressured to write, ik this is a bit of a weird request!! Thank you for your time 🥺❤️

Unexpected

You stood in the bathroom, gripping the small pregnancy test in your trembling hands. The two pink lines stared back at you, clear as day, and yet, your mind struggled to catch up.

Pregnant.

A shaky breath left your lips as warmth bloomed in your chest. It wasn’t that you weren’t happy—you were. Overjoyed, even. But you had no idea how Katsuki would react. He was dedicated to his work as a pro hero, always running headfirst into danger. Would he worry about not being around enough? About keeping you safe? About—

“Oi, princess, you good?”

You startled at the sound of his voice outside the door. Your husband never really knocked—more of a “push the door open and demand answers” kind of man.

Quickly, you tucked the test behind you, swallowing hard. “Y-Yeah! Just… gimme a sec.”

Too late. The door cracked open, and Katsuki leaned against the frame, crimson eyes narrowing as he took in your nervous stance. He was fresh out of the shower, damp hair sticking up wildly, a towel slung over his bare shoulders.

“Liar.” He huffed, crossing his arms. “What’s goin’ on?”

You pressed your lips together, heart pounding so loud you were sure he could hear it. Slowly, you brought the test from behind your back and held it out with both hands, barely able to meet his gaze.

“I… Katsuki, I’m pregnant.”

For a second, nothing happened. His expression remained unreadable, eyes flicking from you to the test and back. Your fingers curled tightly around the plastic stick, preparing for the worst.

But then—

His arms wrapped around you in an instant, strong and sure, pulling you tightly against his chest. A choked breath left him as he buried his face into your hair, warm lips pressing against your temple.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, his voice thick with something you’d never quite heard from him before. He pulled back just enough to look at you, hands cradling your face. “You serious?”

You nodded, finally meeting his gaze.

Katsuki exhaled sharply, a slow grin stretching across his face. And then, to your utter surprise, his eyes glistened.

“You’re havin’ my kid?” His thumbs brushed your cheeks gently, voice dropping into something soft, reverent. “Shit, princess… that’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.”

Your heart squeezed, and before you could stop yourself, you surged forward, throwing your arms around his neck. He caught you easily, lifting you slightly as he turned, carrying you toward the bed.

He set you down gently, crawling over you, his weight comforting as he peppered slow, warm kisses across your cheeks, your nose, your lips.

“Didn’t think I could love you more,” he murmured against your skin, hands slipping beneath your shirt to caress your stomach. “But you keep provin’ me wrong, huh?”

A soft whimper left you as he leaned down, kissing just below your navel with a rare tenderness.

“Katsuki…”

He hummed, pressing another kiss there before making his way back up, resting his forehead against yours.

“Lemme show you how much I love you, yeah?” His voice was low, reverent, and when you nodded, he smiled—softer than usual, filled with nothing but love.

“Good girl,” he whispered, lips brushing against yours. “Gonna take care of my princess. Always.”

And as his hands roamed, as his kisses grew deeper, you melted into his warmth, feeling nothing but love in the hands of the man who adored you.

Katsuki hovered over you, his body warm, solid, safe. His hands, rough from years of hero work, traced over your skin with a gentleness that made your breath hitch. He looked at you like you were something sacred—something fragile and precious, something only he had the honor of touching.

His lips found yours again, slow and deep, savoring you. You whimpered softly into his mouth, and he groaned, pressing his body closer, like he couldn’t stand a single inch of space between you.

“God, princess,” he murmured against your lips, “you’re fuckin’ perfect.” His hands slid under your shirt, fingers grazing over your stomach. “Can’t believe you’re havin’ my baby…”

The way he said it—low, reverent, full of awe—made warmth pool in your core. He kissed down your jaw, your throat, lingering at the sensitive spot beneath your ear, where he nipped gently before soothing the spot with his tongue.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, slipping your shirt up, over your head, tossing it aside. His lips traveled lower, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down your sternum, across your ribs, worshipping every inch of you.

You arched beneath him, whimpering his name as his hands explored, kneading, teasing, caressing. He kissed down your stomach, just above the waistband of your shorts, and nuzzled the soft skin there.

“My princess,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion. “Makin’ me a dad…” He looked up at you, eyes dark with love, with hunger, with something deeper. “Gotta take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded breathlessly, fingers threading through his hair.

Katsuki made his way back up, lips ghosting over yours. “Gonna make love to you, real slow,” he whispered. “Wanna feel you, wanna make sure you know how much I fuckin’ love you.”

His hands slid lower, peeling the last barriers of clothing from your body, and he took his time, mapping out every inch of you with his lips, his tongue, his hands—like he had all the time in the world.

And when he finally pushed inside you, he did it with a reverence that made your breath catch. His forehead pressed to yours, eyes locked on you as he filled you, as he moved slow and deep, whispering praises, murmuring sweet nothings.

“So perfect, princess,” he groaned, rocking into you with aching tenderness. “My girl. My wife. My everything.”

Tears pricked your eyes at the overwhelming love in his gaze, the way he held you like you were the most important thing in his world. And when he reached between your bodies, coaxing you closer to the edge, he whispered, “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

You shattered beneath him, and he followed soon after, burying himself deep, groaning your name like a prayer.

Afterward, he didn’t pull away. He stayed close, wrapping you in his warmth, pressing kisses against your temple, your cheeks, your lips. His hands cradled your stomach again, reverent and gentle.

“We’re gonna be a family,” he whispered, voice laced with wonder. “You, me, and our little one.”

You smiled, pressing a hand over his. “Yeah… we are.”

Katsuki kissed you again, slow and deep. “Love you, princess,” he murmured.

And as you lay in his arms, safe and cherished, you knew—without a doubt—you’d never been more loved.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

CURIOSITY GLASSES KILLED PETER.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤ●ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ P. PARKER

SUMMARY ৎ୭ peter always leaves his glasses lying around, and today, curiosity gets the best of you. slipping them on seems harmless—until he walks in, stops dead in his tracks, and suddenly, you're the cutest distraction he’s ever seen

WARNINGS ಇ. fluff overload, peter being utterly whipped, excessive compliments, and one (1) very flustered boyfriend. proceed with caution A/N ಇ. first peter fic omg?? was kinda gonna make a longer fic on the more angsty side but then i was like nah that’s too much effort so drabble it is. and honestly i love it so much ughhh enjoy!! ‹𝟹 also pls tell me it it's terrible

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 403

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

The apartment is quiet, save for the hum of the city outside and the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Peter had left a little while ago, probably off to grab coffee or run an errand, leaving you curled up on his couch with one of his old textbooks in your lap.

Your gaze drifts toward the small table beside his desk, where his glasses sit, slightly askew, as if he had taken them off in a hurry. A small smile tugs at your lips. You’ve seen him push them up the bridge of his nose a thousand times, seen the way he squints when he forgets them, how they somehow make him look both like the smartest and the cutest person in the room.

Curiosity wins. You reach over and pick them up, slipping them onto your face.

Everything is…a little off. The lenses make the room blur at the edges, and you blink rapidly, adjusting. A quiet giggle escapes you. “Wow, how does he even see in these?” you murmur, tilting your head at your reflection in the window.

The door creaks open.

“Babe, I—” Peter stops mid-sentence.

You turn toward him, wide-eyed, and his breath catches in his throat.

He blinks once. Twice. His mouth opens, then closes again as if he’s buffering.

“Pete?” you say, confused by his sudden speechlessness.

“Oh my God,” he mutters under his breath, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “Why—why do you look so cute right now? What is happening?”

You snort. “What?”

“No, seriously.” He steps closer, eyes locked on you like you’re a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. “That’s illegal. You can’t just—just put on my glasses and look like that.”

You grin, tilting your head. “Like what?”

“Like the most adorable human to ever exist?” He groans dramatically, dropping onto the couch beside you and burying his face in your shoulder. “This isn’t fair. I wasn’t prepared for this.”

You laugh, tugging the glasses off. “So what you’re saying is I should wear them all the time?”

Peter lifts his head, eyes soft but full of mischief. “Babe, if you do that, I’m never gonna be able to focus on anything else ever again.”

You smirk, slipping them back on. “Guess you’ll just have to suffer, Parker.”

And judging by the way he grins before pulling you into a kiss, you’re pretty sure he doesn’t mind one bit.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[snowball-doie]

| pairing: Dom!Johnny x Switch!AFAB!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. Bondage. Restraining Johnny. Thigh riding. Edging. Mentions of D/s relationship. ...Hands free orgasm ig?

| wc: 3.1k

| aurora's note: in honor of me seeing nct in tx tomorrow, we're gonna be riding a cowboy today-

Johnny wasn’t the type to just lay down and take it. Even with you on top, he needed his hands on your hips, guiding you as you bounced on his cock and he bucked up into you roughly. For the most part, though, he liked to be on top so that he could do as he pleased while listening to you whine about how he was being too rough or he was going too deep. It entertained him to see you squirming and acting like you didn’t like it. He knew you loved it. Having him push you into the mattress, pulling on your hair, burying himself as deep as he possibly could just so he could watch your hole desperately attempt to stretch around his dick.

However, there wasn’t much of a choice left for you upon seeing him come home from his photoshoot with bags full of free clothes and merchandise his partnership gave him as gifts to welcome him to their team. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of the last outfit of the day. In the cold, he waltzed right into your apartment wearing a thin skin-tight black shirt with a zipper running down the middle— the zipper not even close to covering his belly button— and a pair of cute jeans that were decorated with painted-on keychains and buttons in various pastel colors.

“Are you bragging?” you asked, your gaze following him as he set the gift bags down on the dresser next to the bedroom door.

“I’d call it showing off.”

“To whom?”

“You.”

“Why?”

Johnny started crawling onto the bed to settle on top of you, his lips hovering over yours seductively. “In the hopes that you’ll want to rip the clothes right off my body to keep for yourself.”

“You’re funny.” Laughing, you pushed him off of you then sat upright.

Johnny settled on his knees with a pout that told you he was hoping to get his dick wet the second he got home after a long day of photoshoots, yet you weren’t entertaining him nor the erection growing in those tight jeans of his.

You pinched his chin between your fingers and teased, “Cute.”

Kissing him, you were nearly inclined to actually let him climb back on top of you, but Johnny didn’t take any initiative that you wouldn’t approve of, so instead he allowed you to take the lead until he would find the right opportunity to fuck you so hard that you wouldn’t be able to walk tomorrow.

“Did you have fun at least?”

Johnny pouted some more after you slid out of bed to investigate the contents of the bags he brought back with him. There was stuff in there for you. He’d been kind enough to ask the company to give him something you would enjoy, and beyond his expectations, they actually gifted three things for you, which Johnny found humorous because he was planning on spoiling you with all of the things he got for himself anyhow. The pink bandana was cute. The winter scarf to match his was appreciated, too.

Johnny snuck up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist in order to pull you flush against his strong chest. “I had a blast. Went shirtless and everything.”

“I’m sure the girls on set enjoyed that.”

“Why’re you teasing me, baby? Help me out here.”

“It’s fun to see you desperate for me for a change.”

Johnny kissed your neck gently. “You really think I’m not always desperate for you?” He chuckled before leaving a hickey. “I think about you every second of every day.”

After rolling your eyes, you elbowed him back a bit to give you enough space to dig something out of one of the bags. In the meantime, Johnny stumbled back to sit back on the bed again, hoping that if he sat there looking like… that… you would eventually give in. Honestly, he wasn’t wrong. From the second you saw him in the doorway when he first got home, you planned on having fun with him regardless, but it really, really was fun making him drool over you when you pretended to not care. If Johnny were really in a Dom mood, he would’ve grabbed you and thrown you onto the bed then plowed into you from behind to make a point, but he just wanted to fuck you and he hoped that you wanted the same— Which you did! Just on your own terms.

Turning to face him, you hid what you held in your hands behind your back with an innocent grin plastered to your face. “You love me that much?” you asked him.

Johnny looked you up and down. “More than anything in the world.” It was like he was silently thanking you for wearing nothing except underwear and a tank top by biting his lip and rubbing a palm over his crotch slowly. “Let me show you how much I love you, baby. I’ll make it worth your time, I promise.”

“How would you make it worth my time?”

He welcomed you with a smirk as you began pushing him up towards the headboard before you settled on top of him, your thighs bracketing his waist, his erection so close to touching you, however you refused to fully sit down.

“I’ll fuck you ‘til you see stars.”

“You already do that on a semi-regular basis.”

“I’ll let you be on top.”

“I’m already on top.”

Johnny huffed. “Come on, baby, stop teasing me.” As expected of him, his grumpy Dom side snapped so he decided to glue his hands to your hips then force you to sit down entirely. “You want me to cum in you? Fill you to the brim so you’re leaking me out for days?” He rolled his hips and moaned quietly. “You wanna cum ‘til you can’t think straight? I can do that for you— to you.”

“I have something else in mind.”

Confusion slapped him across the face. He wasn’t quite sure what you meant, even as you peeled his hands away from your body before lifting them over his head to the black headboard. He was silent as you revealed that pink bandana he’d worn on his face for the photoshoot. He didn’t protest or question you while you brought it up to his hands which you held steady with one hand, or when you started wrapping it around his wrists and a pole on the headboard.

Johnny chuckled slightly. “Usually this is my job.” He tugged just enough to test the knot but not enough to break the expensive gift or really try to get out of his predicament. “What did I do to deserve this?”

“Show up looking like this…”

Both of you went silent as you slowly began drifting your palms down his body, starting at his shoulders, sliding over his pecks— his nipples hardening under the thin shirt and his cock jumping with excitement between your legs— and down to his exposed belly button.

“So… not a punishment…” His eyes were glued to your fingertips that played with the hem of his jeans.

“Why? Scared I’ll get you back for all the times you did it to me?”

“I’d like to see you try.”

But that tinge of confidence and lack of belief was stifled the second you rolled your hips over his, the friction between the two of you creating enough pleasure for him to moan your name. You could try. Hell, you could do more than try, even if it was with Johnny who never, ever gave up control or his dominance. You’d already gotten as far as managing to sit on him and tie his hands up, you could do anything now and either Johnny would let you or he’d ruin that scarf without a second thought just to free himself and take it out on you instead.

To tease him a bit further, you slid off the entirety of his lap to see that pout of his when he thought you were going to leave him high and dry, however you maintained your seat on him, just on his thick, muscular left thigh. Johnny smirked up at you. He enjoyed how pretty you were while hovering above him. It wasn’t just his thigh that was between your legs, he was quick to notice how your knee was pressed up against the underside of his balls, and with just enough pressure on his jeans, he could feel you. He looked so handsome— Decorated in all of those expensive clothes of his, his arms trapped overhead, his eyes dark with lust.

“I can’t wait much longer,” he warned you through a moan.

As a means to entertain yourself and get things going with your plan in mind, you slowly started rolling your hips forward along his thigh. The feeling of his jeans rubbing against your underwear felt good. Friction from the coarseness of his pants mixed with the smoothness of your clothes allowed you to move easily yet still feel the textures pressing to your sensitive clit. Biting your lip, you moaned quietly. Johnny reacted to the noise and the movements by tugging at his restraints again in the hopes that he’d be able to touch you this time, however that endeavor would prove to remain fruitless, so he settled, watching you carefully. Your hips swayed backwards and Johnny got a look at the slight wet spot that you’d left behind.

“You’re gonna ruin my pants at this rate, baby.”

You chuckled. “That’s the plan.”

Continuing your motions of riding his thigh, relief swept over you the faster you went. The more you hit the right spots on his thigh, you were more inclined to moan his name while leaning forward with your hands braced on his bare stomach between his shirt and jeans. Johnny tried to buck up, hoping that your hand would slip down to his erection, however you didn’t waver. All of your focus was on getting yourself off. Selfish, sure. But it felt so fucking good.

“Baby, please, I can’t take it, I’m gonna burst out of these jeans any second—”

A moan got caught in his throat as you shut him up by running one of your hands over his hard-on.

“Just like that, baby.”

You decided to give him just a minute of relief by continuing to palm him at the same pace at which you were riding his thigh, yet when you started to feel your orgasm approaching, you pulled your hand away from him. Johnny protested by desperately pulling on the pink bandana around his wrists. He wasn’t alone, at least. You even slowed yourself down just to really revel in the fact that you’d finally got him as submissive as you could ever make him, which was saying something given his personality. It would’ve been a waste to cum so fast and have it be over before you really got to enjoy it. And you wanted Johnny to remember that night— What it felt like to be at your mercy, begging to be touched, pouting because he didn’t get the orgasm he wanted so badly. It wasn’t a punishment like he assumed it was, but it also… wasn’t not a punishment. It was pure fun, and Johnny understood that as you started up again by riding his thigh at the same fast pace that had gotten you close the first time; This time, though, you didn’t touch him. You just giggled at how he tried swiveling his hips every which way to get you to accidentally touch him just once… You’d done that to him a million times. Whenever he’d tie you up and laugh at the way you cried from being overstimulated by the vibrator taped against your clit, you wiggled your hips like a wild animal in the hopes of escaping it all, but Johnny was tougher than that. He could restrain you every which way, there was no getting out of his cruel and exciting punishments until he was finished with you.

Suddenly you rolled a different direction to give your hips a slight break, only to discover that you hit a new, sensitive spot, causing you to moan. Falling against his chest, Johnny took the opportunity to grind up against your thigh that was over his erection.

“Th-that’s cheat— cheating…” you croaked against him, your head going fuzzy with pleasure.

“Then make me stop,” he challenged you.

He must not have been expecting you to actually take him up on it given your state, however you managed to pick yourself up, taking away the only ounce of pleasure he had before you began fiddling with the button and zipper of his jeans. Johnny’s face lit up. It was obvious that he was anticipating the moment you’d get comfortable on his lap again so that you could slowly sink down onto his cock… That still wasn’t your plan, unfortunately for him. The bit of freedom that came with having his jeans undone was enough to make Johnny moan, and you only contributed to that more by sneaking your hand under his jeans just to see how much he’d leaked. If he wanted to tease you about how wet you were, you could do the same to him. Johnny’s head fell back against the pillows and his eyes squeezed shut. Feeling your fingers press to his tip sent him up to cloud nine. But it didn’t last long.

“You’re going to ruin your pants at this rate, baby,” you teased him with a confident grin, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to lick his pre-cum clean. He glared at you. “What? Not having fun?”

“I’d have more fun if I was in you.”

“Maybe if you earn it.”

He rolled his eyes.

“That won’t get you anything.” You sighed and rolled your head back as you went back to riding his thigh. Thankfully, your drenched panties and his wet jeans made it even easier to glide around, getting you dangerously close to your orgasm once more. “I’m having fun…” You grabbed your tits over your pajama shirt and squeezed. “Doesn’t that matter, too?”

Johnny was silent. He couldn’t take his eyes off your tits that you were massaging. Obviously you were having as much fun as you wanted to rub in his face since you were getting off but he wasn’t. You figured if you stopped for a third or fourth time that Johnny would inevitably get fed up with you and finally flip the two of you, so this was your last chance to really make it worth it and remember the image of having Johnny Suh tied up beneath you with his arms stretched overhead, his cock leaking pre-cum in his jeans after being painfully neglected by you all night. Poor thing. Well, if grinding your leg against him made him feel good the first time, you could enlighten him a second time. So while desperately riding his thick thigh in search of your high, you made sure that your knee brushed his crotch consistently enough to the point that his breathing hitched and his eyes screwed shut.

“You look handsome like this.”

Johnny didn’t acknowledge you fully. He was too locked into the way you were “accidentally” touching him and how he didn’t want you to stop, so he didn’t dare to bring your attention to it.

“Maybe I should tie you up more often.”

“Y-you… wish…” Johnny grabbed the scarf holding him back. “Shit,” he grumbled under his breath.

“I’m close, J.”

He nodded eagerly as if to say, Me too, however the words didn’t leave his mouth. That look of concentration was adorable, and it felt deserved after years of enduring all the things he did to you and he laughed at your pretty faces you made while approaching your orgasm. An extremely cruel part of you had half a mind about pulling away from him entirely at the last second— But you hadn’t meant it! Really, you wanted to keep doing whatever it was that clearly worked to break his brain a little bit, however in the midst of your orgasm sneaking up on you, the focus on what made Johnny feel good slipped to the back of your mind to make room for what made you feel good. You rode his leg faster. Johnny didn’t make any protests— Not a peep. You were so lost in pleasure that your eyes didn’t open and your hands reached to grab the closest thing within reach that would keep you steady. His small waist.

“I’m cumming!”

Usually, if it had been you with your hands tied to the headboard, you would’ve had to ask politely for permission to cum, otherwise Johnny would’ve edged you until you learned proper manners. However, because there was nothing to stop you, you simply told him, and even then you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes or remember to pull his cock out of his pants so that you could jerk him off. He would have to wait his turn, you quickly decided after your peak hit, sending a shiver down your spine and to your core which pulsed around absolutely nothing as your sensitive clit throbbed from the friction provided by Johnny’s jeans. You rode out the last bit of your high before slowly trying to end it.

“Fuck— Fuck— Baby, wait—” Johnny’s panting came to a sudden halt as his body shivered, his biceps bulging as he tugged hard on his restraints. He moaned your name loudly, and as you looked down to inspect him, you found that he was cumming in his jeans. A wet stain covered the crotch area more than what you’d done to his leg. “Oh, shit—” He slumped on top of the bed. “You’re the worst.” While catching his breath, he picked his head up slightly to watch you collect some of his cum from his pubic bone and bring it up to your lips for yet another taste of him. “Really, the worst.” He swallowed a moan while watching you closely.

“But you made it worth my while,” you told him, chuckling, leaning over his body to untie his wrists.

The second he was free, Johnny did just as you expected of him by wrapping his arms around your waist so that he could keep you safe and steady as he suddenly flipped you onto your back, his large stature hovering over you.

“I hope it was worth it,” he replied. You grinned up at him. “‘Cause now it’s my turn to have some fun.” He continued to pin you to the bed expertly with one hand, meanwhile the other traveled down to push his ruined jeans off his hips.

Hitting him back with his own words from earlier, you held your ground by challenging him with, “I’d like to see you try.”

taglist: @onlyrosyjohnny , @yutasputa69 , @ahgayeah0305 , @alili-milidoy

@luvhaeni , @junrenjun , @madiilolz , @kawaiikels , @cigarettesafterjae

@chchfyshij , @vrak-co , @sunshinesmuse , @stickerlover444 , @aeriyell

@reallylazyjulia , @zozojella , @supersoulskeletonclod , @dogsarewaybetterthanpeople , @choizzn

@aestrelle19 , @stolasisyourparent , @bluedbliss , @bunnybabylolll , @henderysposts

@cherriestcheol , @popstarlix , @robluvaa , @seaweedsticks , @keqshins

@dotaeisms , @theycallmesya , @scrumptiousbasketballranchalien , @whalien52bbgrl , @lp-cs

@pandagirl753 , @saladgirl , @musically-imbalanced , @nroneval , @lunarthedreamer

@woosangnoem05 , @faehycklvr, @senpazzi , @bambbiisworld , @mawnehkah

@magicshop1913 , @slayhaechan , @daisyaxvii , @imchenleshoe , @bristidutta

@shoetaroshoe , @ah-2212 , @urlocalradical ,

[leqonsluv3r]

What about Leon with a reader who is hard to make cum? I love your work 💛

lunch

—re4!leon kennedy x fem!reader

masterlist taglist prompt game

contains nsfw content, MDNI

an: my ovaries are fucking crying anon, i hope this is what you wanted :,) sorry i took so long my lovelies, i hope this makes up for my absence <33 ily all

they had tried everything.

or almost everything, it felt like no matter what leon did. she just couldn’t cum. she just couldn’t, it’s not that she wasn’t attracted to him, she’d have to be blind and stupid not to be.

but she just couldn’t cum.

it was annoying and at first she didn’t take it personally, but after he had spent hours, upon hours. trying to eat her out, nothing.

nothing.

not even a small hint of getting close, just a small bubbling and tingling in her belly whenever she got remotely into it.

it was frustrating, it was making her angry. she just wanted to cum and her body wasn’t letting her. they had tried everything. well not…everything. but pretty close.

leon knew how frustrating this was, and no matter how many times she reassured him that it wasn’t his fault (which it wasn’t), she had never been able to reach orgasm easily. even when it was just her by herself.

he wanted to try something with her, thinking that maybe if he tried this. they’d be one step closer to maybe getting her to unravel. he hoped anyways, he just needed to wait until the right time.

it was another one of those nights when she was sitting with him in bed, his hand on her knee as she watched the tv. her head resting on his shoulder, she was relaxed and content. she didn’t feel wound up, she just felt at peace where she was.

his hand slowly started to drift up her thigh and under her nightgown, her body thrumming just a little bit at the touch. she groans softly and buries her head into his shoulder, “what’s the point…?” she mumbles, “i’m defective. i can’t cum like you want me too.”

he hums and presses a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her thigh, “i still want you.” he whispers in a low growl.

she heaves a small shaky exhale at his words, the way they echoed through her body like an electric shock. she bites her lip and leans her head more into his shoulder, “leon…” she whines in part annoyance and part arousal.

he squeezes her thigh again, “we’re gonna try something different. sit in between my legs, baby.” he says as he looks down at her.

she hoped he had some kind of plan or else this was going to be a very uneventful evening. one of many that she’s had. she crawls in between his legs and sits against his chest, her back laying against the hard edge of his chest.

she swallows as she feels his bulge against her ass, making a small noise as he slides his large hands over her covered thighs. “do you want to hear my theory?” he mutters lowly against her hair, gripping her nightgown clad hips.

she swallows but finds words, “yeah, sure.” she mumbles, half distracted by the way his hands were grabbing her so possessively. like he was an animal, a caveman almost.

“i think you don’t know how, i think you don’t understand your body.” he says with a small smirk against her hair, his hands drifting back underneath her nightgown. “like what if…” he slips his hands underneath her panties, causing her breath to hitch.

“i smack this pussy? what do you think will happen?” he says in a low playful tone, his fingers tracing the outer lips but not really touching her. she swallows, leaning her head back a little against his chest, “i-i don’t know, it’ll hurt?”

he chuckles softly, “i don’t think it will, i think you might like it.” he hums as his finger finds her clit, slowly circling it with his finger and causing her breath to catch again.

“that’s not…”

“no, it’s not.” he says with a small smirk, “but i think you need to be properly stimulated and educated, baby. i think that’s your problem.” he explains gently as he keeps circling her clit at a slow agonizing pace.

his eyes were blown wide with desire as he watched her twitch a little in his lap, “mmm, yeah, i think you just get too amped up.” he tuts as he slowly pulls his hand out of her underwear, causing her body to sink in disappointment against his.

“but i think we can fix that.” he hums softly, “i’m almost determined to get you to come, to be the first guy to get you to finish.” he says in a low growl as he tugs her ruined underwear off of her legs, tossing it onto the floor next to the bed.

his words sparking a thrum of desire through her, one that no other guy could match in a million years.

he pulls her back forcefully so she’s in the same position as before, moving her thighs over his own so she was spread open. “oh yeah, mmm…” he hums into her ear as he spreads open her pussy with his fingers.

“look at her, poor thing.” he sighs dejectedly in her ear, like he’s actually talking to it. “poor little pussy has never gotten to cum. she’s probably dying.” he says with a mocking chuckle as he slowly runs his large finger over her drenched slit.

she shivers audibly against him, her body shaking with the anticipation that she could cum tonight. she needed to, it was so beyond frustrating that she couldn’t.

“i think we should stuff her full, do you think that’d work? have you full so that you can barely speak?” he rasps in her ear, gently nibbling on her earlobe as he ran his fingers through her drenched slit.

she bites her lip and nods slowly, “yes…” she whispers with a small exhale. “i-i think that’s worth a shot.” she finds herself saying.

he hums and smacks her pussy lightly, causing her to jump and whimper, “good, because i think you need it. your all tense, baby.” he says lowly, “and i think cumming would help.”

she couldn’t agree more, she felt so wound up. irritated that she couldn’t come and frustrated that he was trying hard all this time and nothing was working.

he slowly slides one finger into her entrance, stroking her inner walls with his finger as she gasps softly. her eyes flutter shut, she tries to lean her head backwards again but he shakes his head behind her. “no, eyes down. your watching.” he says firmly, and there’s no room to argue with that.

her eyes look down, watching one finger disappear in and out of her. the action is lewd and defining but she doesn’t care. his fingers feel so good, he’s like a master at her inner workings. her body just doesn’t always respond to it.

the lewd noises from her arousal and his finger only heighten when he adds another one. pumping two of his fingers in and out of her. she moans as she watches, her thighs shaking where they’re wrapped over his.

“your taking it so well, such a good girl.” he mutters lowly into her ear with a smirk. she whines and clenches around his fingers at his lewd words. her body shaking. she could feel his covered erection against her tailbone, he was just as worked up as she was.

he decides to keep going, slipping another finger inside of her, three fingers now moving in and out of her tight soaked entrance. she whimpers and her face scrunched up at the tightness.

“you were made for this, made to take my fingers inside of you.” she grabbed onto his hand that was resting on her shaking thigh, holding onto it for dear life. “leon…im not…im not going to be able to-“

“shh, be quiet.” he says firmly as she writhes a little against him, “your going to soak my fingers, you hear me.” he says lowly into her ear, the implication of his words making her more determined. “don’t force it baby, relax…” his hand on her thigh soothes over flesh.

she swallows as if she’s a fish out of water, gasping for air. she tilts her head back against his shoulder, his large fingers hitting that spot inside of her, making her eyes roll. she felt like she was teetering closer and closer, she didn’t think something this simple would make her come.

all the other times it was much more and it never worked but this, this was simple and close to nothing.

and it was working.

he moved his thumb up to her clit and rubbed over it with his thumb, her body practically vibrating as she let moan after moan leak from her lips.

“you gonna be a good girl and soak my fingers?” he asks as he curls the three thick digits inside of her, not stopping. his thumb pausing over her clit. “yes! fuck…please!” she exhales a sob, feeling water pool its way into her eyeline.

he remembers something he tried with her a while ago that she seemed to like, he smirked against her ear and moved his free hand up to her neck, his large hand gently wrapping around the base of her throat. “mmm, there you go.” he hums with a small dark voice.

her eyes rolling back as he lightly squeezes, clenching around his three fingers as he continued to pump them in and out of her. she was practically drooling, fucked out at just his fingers and his hand around her neck.

“such a messy little slut.” he hissed into her ear, the gentle man from before was gone and in his place was him. his hand on her neck, calling her a slut. she felt taboo for liking something so raunchy and dark. she didn’t care right now though.

she could feel her orgasm cresting, her arousal shining on his three fingers as he moved them faster. his thumb rubbing rapidly against her clit. she was such a mess and she couldn’t find it in herself to even care.

he was so hard, it was borderline painful for him. her pretty lashes soaked in tears as he kept moving his fingers in and out of her at a rapid pace, his hand wrapped around her neck and gently squeezing. her moans seeped into his ears like the sweetest melody he’s ever heard.

“you like that baby? you like taking my fingers like you take my cock?” he asks lowly as he nips at her ear, gently biting it. he squeezed her neck again as she didn’t answer, “yes…! yes!” she practically screamed as she felt tears leaking down her cheeks.

it was all too much and yet not enough, she was so close. it felt like she had finally almost reached the finish line.

“mmm, that’s it baby…you can do it. cum all over my fingers.” he mumbles into her ear, squeezing her neck in his grip. she feels her eyes water as his words swim through her head and she lets out a loud moan…

and finally, she cums.

she covers and releases all over his fingers, letting out shaky exhales as he pumps his fingers, trying to work her through it. it feels so good, the tension is melted and gone. she feels so much better now.

his hand loosens and drops from her neck, rubbing over her trembling thigh in comfort, she swallows like she just ran a race — her mouth dried out.

he presses a kiss to the side of her temple and her cheek, he slowly takes his fingers out of her pussy. the glisten of her arousal all over them, she watches with half lidded eyes as he brings them to his mouth and sucks the release off.

she lets out a shaky breath, his blue eyes dropping to her fucked out expression on her face. he chuckles softly, “you look wrecked. you okay?” he asks softly.

she swallows and nods slowly, “i feel good. i forgot how good it feels to…” she breathes raggedly, short sporadic breaths exiting her lips. he nods and smiles at her, “i know, honey. i know.” he whispers as he presses a kiss to her forehead.

he gently moves her to her side of the bed, letting her lay back against the pillows. he slides her underwear back up her legs, gently rubbing her hips in soothing circles.

she remembers his words from earlier, “so you feel accomplished right? you made me come.” she whispers with a small shaky laugh.

he smirks, a devilish one that looks almost unlike him. “oh absolutely.” he says as he crawls next to her side on the bed. pushing some hair out of her face, “but this wasn’t about me, it was all about you. that was the goal this entire time.”

she feels her heart soften a little, he could’ve easily just fucked her or…done something for his benefit — like other guys from her past did. but not him, he did this for her. because she needed to feel how good release is.

“i love you.” she whispers with a tired smile, her limbs sinking into the comfort of the mattress. he cups her cheek with one hand, rubbing his thumb over her jawline. “i love you too.” he whispers.

he was perfect already, but this just added onto everything. how selfless he was to give her an actual good experience instead of giving her up and tossing her to the side. she actually felt like she was worth something when she was with leon.

and no other guy could measure up.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @porcelainseashore @squazmine @spfoah @jmivenus @rcttendolly @melankkholy (to join the taglist visit the link at the beginning or on my blog!!)

[anythingneverythingnstuffs]

neighbor!reader x simon 'ghost' riley pt 8

masterlist

You began drinking your tea a little stronger, a little less sweet than usual, after the night that Simon saved you from eating shit on the icy pavement all for your emotional support water bottle. The snow removal off of your car before first light became something you were used to, though still thankful and grateful for. He still got toffee or other treats as thanks.

It was a few weeks after your slip-on-the-ice fiasco. You were still slightly embarrassed by the memory, but it didn’t plague you like it did before. And guess what? You hadn’t forgotten your water in your car since that fateful day.

~

This was a first for Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. In his years of service, he had never hesitated before leaving for an extended mission. But that was before you.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was just something about his smiling next-door neighbor. It was his first extended mission since meeting you, and he was dreading informing you that he was leaving.

Tomorrow.

It wasn’t completely out of the blue for Simon to show up to your door with wine. The fact that he brought two bottles this time didn’t seem odd at first, even though he usually only brought one. You had just figured he was extra thirsty that night or something. One bottle was his favorite, and one bottle was yours. He remembered.

“Evenin’, love- busy tonight?”

God, that smile made him weak at the knees. “For you? Never, come on in- I think Izzy knew you were coming, she’s been warming up your spot on the couch all night.”

My spot on the couch, he echoed in his head. Was he really here that often?

It didn’t take long for you to figure out that something was up. Even with his balaclava, which he never took off even in front of you, you could always read him like an open book. Or, you seemed to be able to, at least. Ghost wasn’t sure if he could rule out mind-reader just yet, as terrifying a thought that was.

“What is it?” you asked him idly as you put down a plate of cookies on the coffee table in front of Simon.

He hesitated. “What is what?”

“Simon,” you said, raising an eyebrow in his direction. “Is that really how you’re gonna play this?”

Oh, he had to try now. “Play what, love?” he asked, trying to sound innocent.

It didn’t work on you. He could tell from your eyes. They were just so expressive.

When you didn’t say anything else for fifteen seconds, Simon let out a sigh of defeat. He wasn’t going to spend his last evening with you before his mission in silence because of his stubbornness.

“When are you leaving?”

Simon’s eyes shot up at you in surprise. Had he been that obvious?

“Tomorrow.”

You set your mug of tea down on the coffee table next to the plate of cookies with a soft sigh. That sigh was like a stab to Simon’s chest. “You’re leaving tomorrow... and you’re just now telling me?”

Simon visibly winced at your words. “Found out this morning, love, I swear it-”

“How long are you going to be gone?”

The silence after your question was deafening. With each passing second, your stomach grew tighter and tighter.

You weren’t looking at him now, instead looking at the way your hands were folded in your lap. God, he wanted to just wrap his arms around you, to tell you everything was going to be alright- but he couldn’t. It wasn’t his place. He was just your neighbor.

And you were his.

So why the hell did it hurt so bad?

“Four to six months, give or take.”

Simon was not prepared for the small gasp that escaped you.

He was on his knees in front of you, eyes searching yours, his gloved hands resting on your cheeks, his thumbs gently brushing away tears as they began to fall before you even realized what was happening.

“Shh, it’s okay, love,” he murmured. Even with his balaclava, you could still feel his warm breath against your face, he was so close to you.

He brought his cloth-covered lips to your forehead, resting them there for a few seconds before you wrapped your arms tightly around him and buried your face in his neck. One of his hands made its way to the back of your head, and he began to rub the pads of his fingers against you as his body rocked you back and forth in his lap, his other arm around your waist. You weren’t sure how you ended up in his lap, but you were there, and he wasn’t about to let you go.

Simon was going to be gone for about the same amount of time that he had been in your life. He knew that, you knew that. Months and months. It felt both like forever and like no time at all in the same breath. Looking at it through the lens of him being gone, being away from you, made it feel even more like forever.

“It’ll fly by,” Simon mumbled against the top of your head. It was obvious he wasn’t just speaking to you. He was telling himself that, trying to convince himself that the time apart wouldn’t actually kill either of you.

“Liar,” you grumbled, sniffling against his neck.

Ghost continued to rub against the small of your back, his eyes closed as he inhaled against the top of your head. Oh, how he wanted it to be true. Maybe if he told himself enough times that it would just fly by. Maybe he’d believe it himself.

Probably not.

“I’m… I'm gonna miss you, Si,” you managed to mumble. He could feel your lips brush against the sensitive skin of his neck as you spoke, your warm breath, even the dampness from your tears.

He had wanted to hold you like this for so long. But not like this.

first

previous

next

[rainynightwrites]

take me as you please - t.n.

content warning: 18+ content mdni. fem!reader. oral f!receiving. anal fingering. brief mentions of sex. implied fwb. spit (one time). poorly translated italian (I'm sorry). university setting. very little plot. all characters are 20+. not proofread. ᯓᡣ𐭩

It wasn’t everyday you found yourself in Theo’s dorm— he did however, have his hands on you at least once a day. At first it was just glances from across the library, then it was small touches under the table in lab. It even progressed to quickies in the lecture hall before philosophy. You weren’t dating, just simply…blowing off steam.

This time, you weren’t even sure which of you initiated it, all you knew was that you were in Theo’s dorm, at his mercy, and by gods was that a beautiful place to be.

Theo loved the little interactions he had with you, but his favorite was getting you in his dorm, throwing you onto his bed, and either, burying his face between your thighs, or sucking and biting your nipples until you begged for release. Well, those were his favorite things until he buried his cock inside your warm, welcoming cunt. The noises he could pull from you inflated his ego more than you could ever imagine.

Today though, Theo had pressed your face into his pillows and lifted your hips until your ass was in the air. He promptly flipped your skirt up, groaning as he saw the lacy thong adorning your body. “Tryna fuckin’ kill me, I swear, tesoro.”

His touch was light, reverent, as he dipped his index finger between your skin and the lace. He pulled it back towards him every so slightly, then released the lace causing it snap against your pussy.

You turned your head to the side, resting your cheek against his pillow, straining as you tried to watch him from the corner of your eye. Theo pulled the lace down, letting it pool around your thighs, exposing your dripping cunt, and your tight hole.

Theo lowered himself until his breath was fanning over your wet heat. He didn’t hesitate to grab your hips, and pull you back against his mouth. Moaning as his tongue delved between your folds, and he began to feast on your cunt. He could do sinful things with his tongue alone.

“Theo…” You whined in response, your body igniting at his touch. Your hands grasped at the cotton sheets and your chest heaved, forcing your nipples to rub against his sheets. You fought not to push back against his face as his tongue swept over your clit.

Eventually, Theo pulled back just enough to spit on your tight ring of muscle. Your body tensing as his thumb circles over the muscle, spreading around the mixture of his saliva and your release. “Relax, bella,” His voice, smooth as satin, “Gotta stretch you out first, unless you want me to-“

“No! No.” You interrupted, knowing exactly where that statement was heading. Theo said he wanted to do anal with you, at first you weren’t sure, but you made him promise he’d take it slow. Plus, getting to feel his cock in your ass for the first time? That was enticing.

Theo huffed out a laugh and shook his head, pressing a chaste kiss to your soaked cunt, “Just relax, I promise I’m not gonna fuck your pretty little asshole tonight, tesoro,” Theo mumbled, a smug smirk forming on that handsome face.

Theo’s mouth found its way back to your cunt, his lips attaching to your clit and he sucked, hard. You bucked your hips back towards him as a moan tore from your throat. Theo took that opportunity to push his thumb past the tight ring of muscle.

He worked open your hole until he was able to push his index and middle fingers inside, and still, you were impossibly tight. Theo had sat back on his heels, using both of his hands, in both your holes. Two fingers in your ass, and three in your cunt. “Atta girl, takin’ m’fingers so well, your little asshole is gonna suck my cock right in. How ‘bout you cum f’me, yeah?”

“Yes! Yes, Theo. Fuck, I-I need to cum, please,” The words spilled effortlessly from your lips, nodding your head eagerly. Your body was drawn taught, your legs already shaking, a sheen of sweat covering your brow. The tingling in your stomach had only gotten stronger the past few minutes.

Theo only chuckled darkly at the desperation in your voice, but his fingers never stopped their devastatingly accurate assault to your holes. “Brava ragazza, piccola. Cum for me, and then, I think I will actually fuck your ass tonight. You’d let me do that, right?”

⊹₊⟡⋆ thanks for reading. ⊹₊⟡⋆

tags: @nottsangel

© rainynightwrites 2025. please do not copy/repost elsewhere, translate or claim any of my writing.

[theonottsbxtch]

I LOVED YOU FIRST PT2 | FC43

part one

an: not even gonna leave an an, i always had a part two lol

wc: 5.2k

Franco found out she was dating Angelo via an Instagram story. A fucking Instagram story.

But that was almost three years ago now, and Franco tried to let it go, god did he try. He was getting married now, after all. He had to forget about what could have been.

The engagement ring on his finger felt heavier than it should. Not because he hadn’t once thought it was right—he had. Or maybe he just convinced himself it was right. They’d been together for four years, maybe more, he stopped counting. She was beautiful, poised, easy to love, easy to fit into his world. That’s what he’d told himself, anyway.

But now, standing in the grand suite of the London hotel they’d rented for the weekend, Franco stared out the window at the city below, watching the lights flicker in the distance. He hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was missing. Not that he had any right to be questioning it. After all, he was about to get married, wasn’t he?

The last three years had been a blur of wins, podiums, and post-race parties. Formula 1 had been a dream realised, his face plastered across billboards in every country, every magazine with his name next to the headlines. He’d travelled the world, earned millions, lived a life many envied. But somewhere along the way, his heart had wandered.

And the truth was, despite the glamour, despite the fame, the money, he couldn’t shake the thought of her. The way she’d looked when she told him she loved him first. The way her eyes had glistened with unshed tears that night in Monza—before she left for good. The way she’d walked away, no longer the girl he took for granted. It was like he could still see her disappearing down the hallway of the hotel, leaving him behind, a shadow in her past.

What if I had chosen her?

He thought about that too often. But it was too late. She was gone. She’d moved on with Angelo, the guy who was everything Franco wasn’t—steady, grounded, someone who could give her a love that wasn’t tied to racing, fame, or endless, mind-numbing travel. And that fucking Instagram story—her laughing, the two of them in a café in Buenos Aires, arms around each other, looking so effortlessly happy—had been the final blow.

That was the last straw.

And now, three years later, here he was—about to get married, with the wrong person. He should have been thrilled, but something about it gnawed at him, like he was suffocating in a life that wasn’t his own. She was everything he thought he wanted. She’d followed him to every race, always the perfect girlfriend, the perfect partner. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure he loved her anymore. He wasn’t sure he ever had.

She had been the easy option. She fit into the world he’d built for himself—the shiny, public life, the world of sponsorships and media appearances. She had the right background, the right education, the right looks. She was what was expected of him. What people saw when they looked at a successful F1 driver: the perfect match, the ideal woman.

But the reality was that whenever he closed his eyes, he saw someone else. He saw her. The girl from that small village in Argentina, the one who’d loved him first and probably would, even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he hadn’t been able to see it for what it was.

He hadn’t thought about her for a while—not in the sense that would make him ache, not the way he used to. He’d buried that pain under the chaos of the last few years. But it was like a low hum in the back of his mind. Every time he saw Angelo’s name pop up, or when he’d hear a new story about her from people back home, he couldn’t help but wonder how her life had turned out. Was she happy? Was she still with Angelo? Was she finally over him?

He could only imagine the life she’d built without him—the kind of life she deserved.

But now, standing on the edge of a new chapter of his life, Franco wondered if he’d ever be able to move on. Because, no matter how many laps he raced, no matter how many trophies he collected, it always came back to her. And now, with his wedding on the horizon, he couldn’t help but ask himself: What the hell had he been doing this whole time?

His phone buzzed on the table, snapping him back to the moment. His fiancée. A text: “Hey, I made reservations for dinner tonight!”

He sighed and stared at the screen of his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. 

He knew he shouldn’t, it was ridiculous. It was stupid. He had no right to send her an invitation, not after everything. He hadn’t heard from her in so long, hadn’t even thought about reaching out beyond those painful Instagram stories and the passing updates from mutual friends.

But, for some reason, there he was—typing out an invitation to his wedding.

It’s the right thing to do, he told himself. She was a part of his past. She had been the first person to love him unconditionally. They’d spent too many years growing up together not to extend an olive branch. Besides, she had a life now, a life without him. Maybe it was selfish to think she would even want to come, but maybe, just maybe, she deserved to know. She deserved to hear it from him, the way things had turned out.

He hit “send” before he could overthink it any more. The words felt hollow as they left his phone, but there was no going back now.

It was a quiet afternoon in Buenos Aires. The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a soft, golden light through the windows of their apartment. She and Angelo had just finished dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and wine—and now she was curled up on the couch with a book in her lap, one of the many cosy rituals they had settled into over the past couple of years.

Her phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, seeing a notification from her email app. The subject line made her pause.

Wedding Invitation: Franco Colapinto.

She blinked, feeling her chest tighten before she even opened it. It had been so long since she’d thought about him—since Monza, really. It was a chapter of her life that had closed the moment she walked away. But the sight of his name brought it all rushing back. The summers spent racing bikes down dirt roads, his smile so effortless, so wide. The way he’d looked at her before everything changed.

Slowly, she opened the email, feeling a strange mixture of nostalgia and disbelief.

I hope this message finds you well. It’s been a while since we last spoke, but I wanted to reach out and invite you to something important. I’m getting married in three months' time, and I wanted to personally invite you to be a part of the day. It wouldn’t feel right without including you.

I understand if you’re unable to come, but I thought it was important to extend the invitation.

I hope everything is going well in your life.

All the best,

Fran

She stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, the words swimming in her mind. There were so many things she could have said, but the only thing she could focus on was the feeling of her heart, beating a little faster than it should. A soft ache settled in her chest.

Three years had passed. She had moved on, found a life she was proud of—one that was stable and calm, filled with love from Angelo, whose steady hand had never wavered, who had been everything Franco couldn’t be. She had built a future, and it was more than she had ever expected for herself.

And yet, the invitation sat there, a reminder of what had been. Of the boy she had loved, the boy who had never truly seen her. Of the boy who she had walked away from.

She set the phone down for a moment, leaning back against the couch. Angelo’s gentle snoring filled the living room from the slightly ajar door, a quiet reminder of the life they had made together—together, with no ghosts of the past lingering between them. But even as she sat there, she could feel the sting of Franco’s message, the painful reminder of how much had been left unsaid.

She thought about the wedding. How strange it felt to be invited to something so intimate, something so final. It was a life she would never be a part of. A life that wasn’t hers to claim, never was. But part of her, deep down, still wondered what had happened. Was he happy? Was this really the life he wanted? Or was this just another easy option for him? Another decision made out of convenience?

Why am I even asking myself this?

She shook her head, her lips curling into a rueful smile. She knew she didn’t want to go. There was no reason to go back to that part of her life, not now. Not when everything she had built with Angelo was exactly where it needed to be.

The following morning, the soft clink of Angelo’s keys echoed through their small kitchen as he got his things ready for work. He was already dressed in his crisp suit, his tie neatly adjusted, preparing for another day at the law firm. She, on the other hand, was in her scrubs, packing her bag for her shift at the hospital.

She was tying her trainers when she saw him glance at her, his eyes focused on his phone.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity. “You seem a little quiet this morning.”

She shrugged, setting her bag down on the counter. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

It was only a half-lie. She had hardly slept last night after receiving Franco’s invitation. The words had stuck with her, gnawing at her thoughts, replaying in her mind like a loop she couldn’t escape.

“What’s up?” Angelo asked, watching her intently, his brow furrowing slightly.

She hesitated, then sighed and reached for her phone, pulling up the email Franco had sent her. She handed it to him without a word.

Angelo read it in silence, his eyes scanning the screen. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but somehow, she already knew that he would have an opinion on it.

Finally, he set the phone down and looked at her, his expression unreadable for a moment. “He’s getting married, huh? I didn;’t believe it when I saw it on the news.” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she replied quietly, as if the words themselves felt like an admission. “I guess he thought I should know.”

“You’re not planning on going, are you?” Angelo asked, his voice laced with concern.

She shook her head, biting her lip. “He’s my past now. It doesn’t matter. It’s… it’s not something I need to revisit.”

Angelo nodded, his eyes softening as he stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. He knew how much Franco had meant to her—how he had once been the centre of her world. But that was years ago. And he had never once doubted that she was now his world.

“I haven’t seen Franco since we were sixteen,” Angelo said, his tone thoughtful. “I know things between you and him ended... well, the way they did. But maybe it might be good to go. For closure. For you, if nothing else.”

She met his eyes, her gaze wavering. “Closure?” she repeated, almost incredulously. “I don’t need closure, Angelo. I moved on a long time ago.”

“I know,” Angelo said, his voice gentle but firm. “But I think sometimes it’s easy to say we’ve moved on, that we’re over things. But there are pieces of our past that stick with us, no matter how much time passes. Maybe seeing him—seeing that life—will help you put the final chapter behind you. Don’t you think?”

She was quiet for a long moment, turning the idea over in her head. It made sense, in a way. The past had never quite been put to rest, even if she had buried it deep. Maybe it wasn’t about Franco anymore. Maybe it was about facing what had happened, about finding peace with it, once and for all.

“I don’t know,” she murmured, shaking her head. “I don’t want it to mess with what we have, Angelo. I don’t want to go and be reminded of something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

Angelo smiled softly, taking her hand in his. “It won’t. I promise. You’re the one I want, mi amor You’re the one who matters. Whatever happened back then, whatever Franco was, that’s not us. It’s not our life. But if this is something you think you need to do, then I’ll be there with you. I want you to have the closure you need.”

She felt a warmth spread through her chest at his words. Angelo had always been like that—steady, understanding, and so patient with her. He never pushed her to forget, but he also didn’t hold her to the past. He was the one who made her feel safe, who built her the life she was proud of, and the thought of him beside her through whatever this was made her feel like she could take on anything.

With a slow, hesitant breath, she met his eyes. “You’re right. Maybe it would be good to go. I don’t know what I’ll feel when I see him, but I think... I think I can handle it now.”

Angelo smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then we’ll go. Together.”

She nodded, feeling a weight lift from her shoulders. The decision was made, and it was time to let go of the last remnants of the past. Franco and his life—whatever that was now—could stay in the past, but she wouldn’t be running from it anymore.

“Thanks,” she whispered, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “For always being here.”

“Always,” Angelo replied, his voice warm. “Now go. You don’t want to be late for your shift.”

She smiled at him one last time before grabbing her bag and heading for the door. The wedding was still months away, but somehow, her world felt just a little bit more at peace now.

Three months later

The morning of the wedding, the soft rays of the sun filtered through the curtains of their hotel suite, casting a warm, golden glow across the room.

She stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of her dress as Angelo adjusted his cufflinks in the reflection behind her. The air was filled with a quiet sense of anticipation. It had been a few months since she agreed to come to the wedding, and now, standing in this luxurious hotel in the heart of the Mediterranean, she could feel the surrealness of it all.

She was here. With him. With Angelo.

He caught her gaze in the mirror, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “You look beautiful,” he said, his voice tender.

She smiled back, her heart swelling with a quiet joy. Angelo was always so calm, so steady, and he knew exactly how to make her feel loved without needing to say much. The simple moments like this were the ones that made her certain that their life together, their future, was the right one.

“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. He was perfect in every way. “You look handsome, as usual,” she added with a smile.

He chuckled softly. “I try,” he teased, adjusting the hem of his suit jacket before stepping forward to take her hand. “Are you ready for this? I know it’s been a long time coming.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. I’m ready. It’s just… it’s strange. You know? We’re not the same people we were three years ago. And I feel like I’m finally letting go of that past. I just need to do it, for me. And for us.”

“Whatever you need, you have it,” Angelo said, his voice unwavering, filled with a quiet strength.

She smiled at him, grateful for his support. They had come so far, and no matter what happened today, she knew she was in the right place.

“I’m going to step outside for a second,” she said, pulling away from him gently. “I’m going to grab a photo of the schedule. I’ll be right back.”

“Take your time,” Angelo replied, watching her with those warm, reassuring eyes.

She stepped into the corridor of the hotel, her heels clicking against the polished floor. She pulled out her phone, navigating to the event details to snap a photo of the ceremony’s schedule. The hallway was quiet, save for the distant chatter of guests below and the hum of preparations for the wedding in the distance. The excitement was palpable in the air, but in this moment, everything felt calm.

That was until she heard the faint sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

She turned around, feeling her heart give a small, unexpected jolt when she saw him.

Franco.

He was standing there, half-dressed in a black tuxedo with his shirt untucked, sleeves rolled up, his tie still loose around his neck. He looked just like he did three years ago—handsome, dishevelled in the way that made him seem effortlessly charming.

Her stomach tightened.

“You came,” he said, his voice soft with surprise. 

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to say, before forcing a calm smile. “I said I would,” she replied evenly. Her heart beat just a little faster, but she kept her expression neutral.

He looked at her, his gaze a little more intense than she remembered, and she couldn’t quite place the mix of emotions flickering in his eyes. There was something unspoken there, something she hadn’t expected.

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” he added, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

She didn’t know what to make of that. She shrugged. “I thought I’d at least be polite.”

A silence stretched between them, uncomfortable and thick with everything that had been left unsaid over the years. Franco’s gaze drifted toward the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her, his jaw tense, and his voice was almost pleading when he spoke.

“Can we talk?” he asked, his words hesitant.

She hesitated, feeling her pulse quicken. She didn’t want this. Didn’t want to go back to the past—didn’t want to open that door again.

“I’d rather not,” she said, her tone firm, though her heart was beating harder than she cared to admit.

Franco’s expression softened. “It’s been three years. Three years overdue, don’t you think?”

She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, the weight of everything hanging between them. She didn’t owe him anything, and yet, a part of her—perhaps the part that had loved him—knew there was still something lingering. Something that she hadn’t been able to shake off.

She finally gave a soft sigh, one that carried all the weariness of the years that had passed. “Fine,” she said quietly, her shoulders sagging slightly in resignation. “But just for a minute. I don’t have time to rehash everything.”

“Thank you,” Franco murmured, stepping forward as he gestured down the hallway. “My room’s just down here. I won’t keep you long.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, the weight of the moment sinking in. She wasn’t sure what she expected from this conversation, but she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Not for either of them. When they reached his room, Franco opened the door and stepped aside to let her in.

It was a modest suite, far removed from the lavish ceremony unfolding just downstairs. The quiet of the room seemed to accentuate the tension between them. He closed the door behind them, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Can I get you anything?” he asked, his voice distant as he turned to face her. “Water? A drink?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

There was a long pause. He ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. For the first time in a long while, he seemed uncertain.

“So…” Franco began, taking a breath, “I guess this is awkward, huh?”

“Yeah,” she replied, her voice steady, but her insides were churning. “A little.”

Before she even had a chance to settle with what she was doing, he shot her straight to the heart with the words that came out of his mouth.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he said, his voice quiet. “I know I did, but that wasn’t ever my intention. You were always there for me, and I should’ve done better. I should’ve realised…”

Franco ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that was all too familiar. He seemed to be gathering the courage to say something, but when he spoke, his words were not what she expected.

“I should’ve told you,” he started, voice low, almost regretful. “I should have told you that I loved you.”

She blinked, her chest tightening as she took in the weight of his words. “Don’t,” she said quickly, cutting him off. Her voice was sharp, a defence mechanism against the rawness he was trying to expose. “You can’t do that. You can’t come here and say things like that after all this time. It’s... it’s mean.”

Franco’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t back down. “I should’ve told you,” he repeated, his voice thick with something she couldn’t quite place—guilt, perhaps? Regret?

She shook her head, unable to stop herself from responding. “Why are you still with her, then?” Her voice trembled slightly, the question feeling more like a challenge than a simple inquiry. She thought of how excited she must be right now getting ready, while he was confessing his love to his childhood best friend. She wondered whether she knew.

He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his eyes flickered away, as though he was ashamed of the truth he was about to speak. “It’s easier to pretend to love her,” he admitted, his voice flat. “It’s easier than facing the truth.”

“Than what?” she asked, her words cutting through the air, her eyes locking onto his. “Than admitting you love me?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Franco’s eyes darkened, and he stepped closer, a hesitation lingering between them. He opened his mouth, but instead of speaking, he exhaled deeply, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.

“You don’t understand,” he said softly, voice barely above a whisper. “I was scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. I still don’t.”

She looked at him, biting her lip, trying to keep herself from breaking. “You can’t do this,” she said, her voice cracking with frustration. “You don’t get to walk back into my life now and make me feel like I was some... some second choice. You don’t get to say things that undo everything we went through.”

Franco’s gaze darkened, but his next words were even more dangerous. “Say it, and I’ll leave her,” he said, his voice low and intense, as if he were testing her. “Say you want me the same way you wanted me three summers ago, and I’ll do it. I’ll walk away from her. I’ll choose you.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart stuttering in her chest. The temptation was there—familiar, painful, and so very dangerous. She could feel that old longing tug at her, the part of her that had loved him so fiercely, so deeply. But this wasn’t that girl anymore. She wasn’t the girl who would wait around for him to realise what he’d lost.

“I can’t,” she whispered, feeling tears prick the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “I can’t do that anymore. I’m happy now. I’m happy with Angelo.”

The words felt heavy on her tongue, and for a moment, it felt like she had to convince herself of them. But as she looked into Franco’s eyes—still searching, still wanting—she realised that she meant it. She really did.

Franco’s face fell, his expression a mixture of frustration and defeat. “You don’t understand,” he said again, the words sounding more like a plea. “I never stopped loving you.”

She took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear the emotions that were spiralling inside of her. “No,” she said firmly, her voice resolute. “You don’t get to say that, Franco. Not now. Not when I’ve spent three years getting over all of this. You don’t get to come here and break my heart all over again.”

For a long moment, they stood there, the space between them filled with unspoken words and unresolved tension. But it was over. It had to be.

“I can’t undo what happened,” she added softly, her gaze not leaving his. “But I’m not that girl anymore. And I’m not going to be someone’s second choice.”

Franco didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. The weight of everything they’d been through hung heavy between them, and it was clear now that nothing could fix it. Not words. Not promises.

She turned to leave, her hand on the doorknob, but before she could step out of the room, she paused, glancing over her shoulder one last time.

“I’m happy now, Fran,” she said quietly, her voice steady despite everything. “And you need to figure out what makes you happy too. But I can’t be part of that anymore.”

She opened the door and stepped out, not looking back, not giving him the chance to say anything more.

The wedding was beautiful.

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the guests who had gathered for the wedding. The ceremony was set to take place on the terrace of the luxurious hotel overlooking the sea, the soft sound of waves lapping against the rocks below barely audible amidst the murmur of excited chatter.

She sat there, a few rows back from the front, Angelo by her side. The venue was beautiful—everything that was supposed to be perfect for a wedding. The guests were in their best attire, the flowers were arranged in pristine perfection, and the atmosphere felt like a dream. But something was off. A low hum of anxiety had been building ever since the music started, and she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Franco was supposed to be standing at the altar now. But he wasn’t.

She stole a glance at Angelo, who was sitting quietly beside her, a reassuring hand on her knee. He could sense her unease.

“You okay?” he asked softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle clinking of glasses and conversations around them.

She nodded, but her eyes drifted nervously toward the aisle. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “Something feels wrong.”

The minutes dragged on. The officiant glanced at his watch, confusion spreading across his face as he leaned over to whisper something to the bridesmaids. There was no sign of Franco, and the guests were beginning to exchange worried glances. The tension in the air became palpable, the excitement of the ceremony suddenly replaced by a growing sense of discomfort.

After a few more minutes, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She turned to Angelo, her voice barely above a whisper, but her anxiety was thick in her words. “Do you think he’s going to come?”

Angelo squeezed her hand gently, his gaze soft and understanding. “I don’t know, cariño. Maybe something’s happened. He’s probably just... running late.”

But as they exchanged those quiet words, it became clear that it wasn’t just a delay. The guests were shifting in their seats, some starting to murmur under their breath, the ceremony now holding a sense of surreal anticipation.

And then, just as the whispers reached a crescendo, the sound of footsteps echoed from behind. Everyone turned, their heads swivelling as they saw him—Franco. He was walking down the aisle, his face pale, his expression one of guilt and uncertainty. He wasn’t in a rush, though. It was as if he was taking his time, as though he had already made a decision.

The room fell silent as Franco reached the front. He looked out at the gathering of faces—his family, his friends, all of them waiting for the moment when he would say "I do." But he didn’t speak immediately.

He was struggling with the words, and she could feel the weight of the tension from across the room. Her heart raced, confusion and disbelief washing over her as she watched him take a deep breath, his eyes scanning the crowd before finally locking on the bride’s family sitting in the front row.

“Excuse me,” Franco’s voice broke through the silence, shaky but loud enough for everyone to hear. “I’m sorry for the disruption,” he continued, his eyes darting nervously between the bride and the guests. “I... I can’t do this. I can’t marry her.”

The air seemed to stop in that moment. His words hung like an echo, the shock rippling through the crowd. She couldn’t look away, her heart pounding in her chest as Freddie stood there, his face flushed with embarrassment, his hands trembling at his sides.

“I’m sorry, I thought I could,” he went on, his voice quiet but steady, “but I can’t marry her when I love someone else.” His gaze shifted to her, and for a split second, their eyes met. The pain, the regret, the history of everything they had been—it was all there in that single glance. But she didn’t feel anything but exhaustion. It was like watching someone else’s dream unravel.

The guests were murmuring, unsure of how to respond. His bride, stood by the doors he’d just walked in from, ready to walk down the aisle frozen and unmoving. Shelooked like she was about to collapse, her face pale as she took in the words that no one had expected.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Franco continued, his voice breaking, “I can’t do it. I can’t go through with it. I’m sorry. I—I just can’t.”

Without another word, he turned and began to walk away, stepping down from the altar, leaving the bride standing alone, abandoned in front of everyone.

The room was filled with stunned silence.

Angelo reached for her hand, squeezing it gently as the reality of what had just unfolded sank in. She didn’t know how to feel—didn’t know what to think. Her chest ached with a strange mixture of relief and guilt, but most of all, there was a numbness that began to set in.

And then, just as quickly as Franco had walked away, he was gone, disappearing behind the closed doors of the venue, leaving a trail of shock in his wake. The ceremony was over before it had even begun.

She couldn’t help herself.

The guilt she felt in her stomach was strong.

It was her fault.

the end.

an: actual an, im sorry guys! i was feeling sad so i wrote this muahhah

tags: @obxstiles @charlosvibesonly @zestytimbit @taygrls

[helen-with-an-a]

Tough

Misa Rodríguez x Reader

Description: R plays for Arsenal and Misa is there after the quarter-final first leg loss

Warnings: i wrote this during the Bayern match so if there are any typos and/or it's shit, I'm sorry.

You couldn’t help but sigh as the final whistle went. You game had been shit. There were no two ways about it. You had been sloppy in defence and failed to capitalise when it mattered. And now you were facing an uphill battle next week. You felt your eyes begin to sting a little.

“Chin up, pet.” Katie smiled at you, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

“Not right now, Katie.” You sighed but leant against her anyways.

“It’s gonna be tough, but we can do it, ja?” Wally chimed in, her optimism not what you wanted to hear.

You just hummed noncommittally. You knew that it would be hard. You already knew that from the minute they had drawn Real Madrid’s name out of the pot. You didn’t need positivity right now.

All you needed was a shower and a mug of tea. And your girlfriend. And a good ole cuddle … in her nice warm bed that smelt like her … and made you feel all warm and safe … with her arms holding you all night as she played with your hair … and whispered sweet things about you in Spanish that you only half understood

God, you missed her.

You were tired and touchstaved and really, really missed your girlfriend.

“Bien jugado,” Caicedo smiled as you shook her hand.

“Igualmente,” you sighed, clapping her on the shoulder. You liked Linda. She was one of the nicer girls who happily spent some of her time showing you around the city as Misa pouted that she wasn’t getting your full attention.

You made your rounds, humming and fake smiling as you avoided the pitying looks from the Madrid players and the promises from your teammates that you could turn this around.

“Mi vida,” Misa smiled sheepishly at you, her dark eyebrows knitted together.

“Shut up,” you pouted, lifting your arms as you walked towards her.

“Lo siento?” She winced, afraid of your reaction. Would you hate her? You had the only shot on target for Arsenal all game – it was a spectacular short, looping in from the edge of the box aiming straight for the top corner. The net was just waiting to ripple. Except it didn’t. Misa’s glove had pushed it wide. It was some stunning goalkeeping. You couldn’t fault her. Your heart had sunk as it drifted past the post, the annoyance you felt more towards yourself than her.

“Shut up,” you grumbled again, this time wrapping your arms around her neck in a tight hug.

“I truly am sorry, mi vida.” She wasn’t even sure why she was apologising. It was quite literally her job to stop your shots. You sighed, feeling your feet leave the ground as she stood up to her full height.

“Mis, baby, my love. Stop talking,” you complained, wrapping your legs around her waist.

You didn’t care that you were still on the pitch. You didn’t care that you could feel the eyes of all your teammates. You didn’t care that probably a thousand cameras were on you. You didn’t care that this was probably being broadcasted around the world. You just needed Misa.

“Mi vida, honestly, you played … fabulosamente…”

“María,” you warned.

Usually, you loved Misa’s inability to stop talking, especially when you were able to hear her raspy voice and lilted English interspersed with Spanish. But right now, right this minute, you needed silence and a hug from your girlfriend. You buried your nose in her shoulder, inhaling the scent of the wet fabric, grass and something undeniably Misa.

“Lo siento,” she apologised again, her arms tightening against you.

“Shush,” you huffed again, melting into her.

“Bienvenido a casa,” Misa grinned at you, holding the door to her flat open. “Ladies first.”

“Such a gentleman,” you teased, lifting yourself up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to her cheek. “Gentlewoman?” you laughed again, dropping your bags in the hall.

You loved Misa’s flat. It was the perfect representation of her, all crisp lines and cozy colours. It was odd, that you had your home all the way back in London, and yet this space felt far more comforting than yours ever did. The fuzzy blankets and fruity candles adding to the perfect space. Despite you only living in it for a few weeks at a time, your influences were all over the flat. The Lego flowers you had made over Christmas sat pride of place in the vase on the coffee table, the blanket you had knitted (appallingly badly) was draped over the back of the sofa. Pictures of you and Misa littered the walls and spare surfaces. Your favourite one on the bookshelf. Misa had one of her hands tangled in your hair as she tilted your head up to look at her, the other resting and your hip. You were both mid-laugh, a lovesick gaze in your eye as Misa was obviously about to lean down and kiss you. You knew Misa’s favourite was on her nightstand in her bedroom. It was taken some time in the post-World Cup win, when you were finally celebrating alone. You had a bright red bikini top on, although it wasn’t really hiding much, and her gold medal glinting in the sunlight. From the angle she was sitting at, you could see your hands resting on her muscular thighs as you arched an eyebrow at her, trying to hide your smile. It had taken a lot of convincing, but you had finally managed to get her to keep the framed photograph hidden from public view.

“Do you want a shower, mi vida?” Misa’s voice was gentle in your ear, her hands running up and down your torse. You had already showered in the changing rooms before escaping for the night. But you knew that Misa wasn’t necessarily asking as a way to get clean.

It was one of your favourite ways of reconnecting. It was usually after a gym session in the off seasons when you were all hot and sweaty, or when you had finally returned from a day of tanning in the Spanish sunshine. Misa’s gentle hands doing far more than the cool water ever could to relax you.

“Mmhmm,” you sighed, leaning back into her.

“Buena,” She smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The shower was perfect. The steam cleared your chest as Misa’s hands gently massaged your aching muscles. “I’m not lying when I said you played well, mi vida.”

“I know, baby. You can’t lie for shit,” You wiggled your eyebrow. “I’m just disappointed.” You mumbled as you ran your own hands over her toned stomach.

“Con quién?” Misa’s voice was as soft as a pillow.

“The team,” you shrugged. “Myself.”

“But you played well.” She leant down, pressing a long kiss to the side of your mouth.

“No, we didn’t.” You rolled your eyes. You knew you gave a sub-par performance tonight. You didn’t want her trying to sugarcoat it.

“The team, sure. Arsenal played like … como el culo.” She waited for your small little laugh. “But you, mi vida, your shot was good. I had to work hard to stop you. The whole of my backline did.”

“Agree to disagree?” You asked, hoping she would stop talking about the match.

“Nope,” She stuck her tongue out at you, sensing you needed the humour. “I am right, como siempre. You played well,” She took a step closer to you, her hands falling to your waist.

“and I’m going to spend,” She pressed you back against the shower tiles, the cold biting against your skin. “Toda la noche” she slotted her thigh in between yours. “Proving it to you.”

You blinked, your head reeling at the dizzying pace that Misa had switched on you.

“Sound good?”

[sunkissedscribbles]

Mattheo Riddle's Guide To Win Y/N's Heart

pairing: mattheo x fem!reader (house not clarified)

genre: fluff

tw: my bad writing

word count: 1532

summary: mattheo's desperately trying to lure you in by using psychological tricks on you.

a/n: okay, this one might not be the best, but it's sweet. also, i wrote this in the middle of the night lol

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It all started a week ago when Mattheo strutted into the Great Hall in the morning with that stupid, confident grin plastered across his lips.

“It’s 7:30. In the morning,” Theo raised an eyebrow at him as to why he was in a good mood so early for his liking.

“I have the master plan to get Y/N to date me,” Mattheo stated proudly, to which Enzo and Theo shared a look, and the latter snorted a laugh.

“And how are you gonna do that, Casanova?” Pansy chimed in too.

“Psychology,” Mattheo shrugged simply, deeply believing that his master plan would work perfectly.

He read in Enzo’s book that if you want to be appealing to a woman, you should sit across her at a table and if about to win a man’s heart, you should sit right beside him. So, the first trick he tried was sitting across you at the table in all cases, even if it meant two people — including you — sitting on the one side and five people squeezed together on the one across because Mattheo wanted to sit across you with millimeter accuracy. First, you didn’t understand it one bit. You only sensed Mattheo growing weirder by the day and your friends having more fun directly proportionally and putting two and two together, you realized these two are actually related.

The next thing was wearing red. Now this one was a hilarious one; on Tuesday afternoon when you, Enzo, and Mattheo were due to study together for Arithmancy (which, may I mention, Mattheo only took up because you did so too), Mattheo slumped down on the chair across you at the table in the library, wearing a Gryffindor hoodie.

“What on earth-“ Enzo shook his head in disbelief but you had to fight back a loud outburst of laughter.

“Hi, Y/N,” Mattheo grinned confidently but you shook your head with a grin still lingering on your lips.

“Whose is this?” you nodded in the direction of the hoodie hugging his upper body.

See, the problem with wearing red was that he didn’t own a single clothing piece of the colour, so he had to think outside the box and be creative for this one.

He looked down nonchalantly and shrugged with that familiar smirk. “Longbottom’s. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

Enzo buried his face into his hands next to you, trying to hold a groan back from escaping as your mouth hung open and your eyes widened. “He doesn’t know?”

“His door was open…”

You, knowing Mattheo, lifted your eyebrows in disbelief as he clearly didn’t tell the exact truth.

“Well- it wasn’t open, but soon it opened magically and I took it as an invitation…”

“You Alohomora’d his door to get a burgundy hoodie for Merlin-knows-what?”

“Well, y- wait. Burgundy? This is red,” Mattheo shook his head as he stiffened. He was convinced it was pure red — boys and their eyes for colours, huh?

Enzo snorted a laugh finally, knowing exactly Mattheo was trying to use the ‘red makes you appear more attractive’ law of psychology on you and he technically failed.

“No, darling, this is burgundy,” you chuckle which by the way, Mattheo found adorable, even in the middle of his embarrassment, plus, you called him darling — so he took it that you actually fell for his trick and, well, for him too.

But of course, there were things in Enzo’s psychology book Mattheo didn’t even think of doing. This was, for one, playing hard to get. Because he knew his eyes would have failed him every time he’d tried to close you out, and he knew exactly how well you were able to see right through him. You being concerned about him was also a problem with this because as Pansy once absent-mindedly drew his attention to how you noticed people’s energies shift pretty quickly, he had to close this option out completely.

Another one was putting on a cocky, intimidating, or prideful look because of the same reason; you noticing the energy shifts, and because no matter how hard he’d tried, that stupid grin had grown on him and your sight only fueled it.

He tried mirroring your body language, too. You were leaning forward at breakfast, tiredly resting against the wooden dining table? He was sitting opposite you, sitting as if he was actually in your mirror. You ran a hand through your hair? Guess what, he had to scratch his head. Even when your leg was bouncing nervously under the desk in History of Magic, he sure mirrored it.

You weren’t oblivious to this either, and you knew something was up — but you simply thought he was playing a prank on you. And your friends being awfully quiet whenever you brought up how weird Mattheo was being around you only added to your suspicion.

“I see” was a common way for him to start whatever he had on his mind. Because, research by MIT showed that women were more attracted to men who used the phrases “I see,” “Okay,” and “Yep.” And for him, he used them until he’s grown sick of them.

But of all the things he’d tried, his favourite — and yours too — was touching. Touching you had always lightened his day, even if it was just a tap on your shoulder to enquire about the time. And his touch provided reassurance for you, whenever he touched you for even a split second you knew you had someone to count on, someone to be comforted by. When you were tired in class he had a shoulder to offer for you to rest your head on (not Theo though because he could go fuck himself rather than sleep on his best friend’s shoulder, respectfully, in the best friend in question’s opinion.) When you were anxious, he chose to put his quill down and not take notes, rather have his hand comforting you by rubbing little circles on your thigh just above your knee (and sometimes a little too high), having his arm around you or playing with your hair, saying he’d borrow your notes later to catch up, which he never did.

However, things haven’t changed for two more weeks. And, as time went on, Mattheo grew more and more desperate, seeking the moment he could finally hold you in his arms and kiss the life out of you. He was waiting for the moment when he could confess his love to you — or, which would have been more convenient, and a whole ego boost for him, to have you come crawling by yourself, singing odes about him. But he realized it was a rather unlikely scenario that lived rent-free in his head.

“That book sucks,” Mattheo complained to Enzo one evening in the common room frustratedly as he sank into the green velvet material of the couch.

“Why so?” Enzo didn’t even look up from his Transfiguration essay he was desperately trying to put a dot on the end of for an hour.

“‘Cause I tried everything! And Y/N still doesn’t have a clue how I love her,” he let out a grunt as he let his head fall back against the backrest of the sofa and rubbed his closed eyes tiredly. “She’s still not into me.”

“I am into you,” your voice came down on him like a rain of cold ice. After nagging for two whole weeks, Pansy agreed to fill you in about what Mattheo called his master plan, and you finally understood what it was all about.

Mattheo’s eyes shot open to see he hasn’t hallucinated your reassuring words in that sweet tone you always talk to him with, and to make sure you are very physically standing there. He quickly got up from where he was and sat on the couch next to Enzo, who seemed to be in a completely other world with how concentrated he was on his Transfiguration homework.

Mattheo quickly made his way over to you, standing just a few feet apart with that stupid grin already growing on his lips as he took you, your gorgeous figure, bright smile, and shiny eyes in. “Are you now, princess?” He asked in a tone sweet like honey while tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

You rolled your eyes at him before taking a step closer to the point that your chests were grinding against each other, to Mattheo’s biggest pleasure. And before he knew it, your lips came crashing against his in a long-awaited kiss and his arms slithered around your waist so naturally like they were made to be resting there. However, you pulled away after a few seconds before it could’ve got a little too carried away. “Did you really steal Longbottom’s hoodie so that I’d find you more attractive?” You chuckled with a touched but still a little mocking smile.

“Borrowed it. I returned it after you told me it wasn’t the right colour,” he rolled his eyes at you too, but he was the happiest guy on earth right then and there because he had all right to wrap his arms around you like a shield, protecting you from the world and its horrible people.

[ephie-om]

Sick Day

You pause by the door, hand poised to knock. A weak cough sounds from the other side, followed by a wet-sounding sneeze and a defeated groan. Shit, he really wasn’t joking about being sick. You give the door a couple of quick raps and open it without waiting for a response. 

Two huge wet blue eyes stare back at you from under the pile of blankets. “Mammon…”

“MC!” Even through his stuffy nose and raspy throat, the delight in his voice is unmistakable. “I was worried Lucifer was gonna stop you from coming.”

“Yeah, he tried,” you sigh, perching on the edge of the bed. Puffing up your chest in your best Lucifer impression, you declare, “MC! You cannot take care of Mammon. He is perfectly able to recover from an illness himself. Lord Diavolo would be very displeased if you fell ill.”

Mammon hacks out a laugh that quickly turns into a cough, curling up even tighter under his layers of blankets. He takes a moment to catch his breath, then peeks out at you again. “What did you tell him?”

“I told him I’m a bomb-ass wizard who doesn’t get sick.” Mammon blinks at you. 

“I also told him I’d take over your chores while you’re sick,” you admit.

“Yeah, that would do it,” he sniffles. You hand him the box of tissues from his bedside and he blows his nose into three of them, tossing them over the side of the bed, where they land in a pile next to your feet. He tucks his reddening nose back under the covers and pulls his cocoon tighter around him, shivering.

“You look terrible.”

He shoots you a look, probably trying to be intimidating, but it doesn’t quite land coming from his pathetic, sniffling form. “Here, let me straighten out the blankets.” Your hand reaches for the covers when you hear a grating noise. You pause, trying to process. Did this demon just hiss at you? “I’m trying to help you, asshole.”

In one surprisingly quick movement, he shakes off your hand and buries his entire head in the blankets. “You’re going to let all the cold air in,” his muffled voice accuses you.

“Hey, idiot,” you say affectionately, tugging at the covers. One doleful blue eye peeks up at you. “Remember how I’m a bomb-ass wizard? Who can cast a warming enchantment?”

He huffs dramatically. “Okay.” His grip loosens enough to let you fluff out the many layers covering him, sending a fresh wave of chills over his body. He scoots back up to rest his head on his pillow, nuzzling his face into it like a cat. You mutter an incantation over both of his bottom blankets, then pull them back up and tuck them in carefully under his body. His eyes flutter shut the instant the warm fabric touches his skin, and you nestle the rest of the blankets over top of him. He groans appreciatively, his muscles visibly relaxing into the bed.

You smile down at him, marveling at how cute he can look even while half-conscious. Before you can stop yourself, you reach down to brush his fluffy white hair out of his eyes. He jerks slightly at your touch, and you brace yourself for a whiny lecture on “how dare you touch the Great Mammon while he’s sick and dying”, but nothing comes. The opposite, actually. He pushes his head into your hand, so close you can feel his warm breath against your wrist. 

You sit on the bed, doing your best not to let your weight on the mattress shift his body. Your arm rests just above his head on the pillow to let you use your whole hand to pet his head. Uncomfortable, sure, but that’s secondary to the demon by your side. You let your fingertips graze over his head, not quite sure how much force you should use.

Experimentally, you run your nails gently along his scalp, threading his soft hair through your fingers. The corners of his lips turn up ever so slightly.

You’re so screwed.

Thankfully, your question is answered almost immediately by one pouty demon. With a theatric sigh, Mammon heaves himself up on his arms, then plops himself down so that his head rests squarely on your lap. You go back to petting his head in long strokes down his scalp, which you assume is what he wanted since he refuses to budge even an inch. Not that you mind. Having the Avatar of Greed as putty in your hands (or lap) is probably feeding your ego enough for Lucifer himself to sense. Not to mention the weight from his head on your legs is awfully comfortable.

You lean back against the headboard and close your eyes, letting the soft sound of his breathing and yours meld together. This wasn’t so bad. Even if you did get sick, you could pull the “woe is me” card and convince him back into your lap. He probably wouldn’t need much convincing anyway.

so I was stalking @butchmammon's blog to try and find their posts about their skeptic mc au when I saw a post about a mammon sick fic and I got inspired ':) so thank you for that xo

[syoounn]

Them trying period pain simulator

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, Fyodor, Sigma

Chuuya

Chuuya quirks a brow at your random suggestion. It's an odd question for sure. He blinks, raising his head from the crook of your neck.

“A period pain….Simulator…?” He echoes, confusion lacing his voice. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you a little more directly. “Why on earth would you want me to do that, Doll-“

As soon as you explain the purpose of the simulator, He laid there, relaxed, and let you set up this “pain simulator” thing.

"Fine.. I can take it even the highest level anyway.." He said, sounding cool and not fond of the idea.

Chuuya wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect, but he knew it was going to be bad. He just didn’t know HOW bad.

The moment the simulator turned on, Chuuya inhaled sharply, arching his back with a small groan of pain.

“F—-k-“ He cursed, his hands clenching into fists. The simulated pains weren’t at all gentle whatsoever.

Chuuya groaned again, shifting his body a bit to try and get more comfortable, but in return, the pain only intensified. Chuuya tried his best to muffle his pained noises by pressing his hands over his mouth, keeping his gaze up at the ceiling.

Chuuya then heard you giggling as he raised his head, looking at you. He gave you a look that was simultaneously annoyed but also kind of pitiful.

“Y’think this is funny? I feel like I’m dying, Doll.”

Chuuya let out a sound that was a strange mix between a pained whine and a scoff.

“Not fair,” He grumbles, shifting his body onto his side. “This thing is cranked up t-to 10 in intensity… ain’t ya’ gonna turn it down a bit..?”

"What do you mean? it's only level 4.." You said.

Chuuya froze, his body stiffening up a bit from hearing that. He had thought that the simulator was at the highest level of intensity the whole time, but now that he heard you say that… that made it worse.

“T-this is only f-fucking LEVEL 4?!” He asked, turning his head to look at you with an almost frightened expression.

A few minutes later and Chuuya was already a complete mess. He was clinging to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and his arms were wrapped tightly around your body. Chuuya was trying his best to suppress the whimpers and the sniffles of pain that he was letting out. He still had a bit of his stubborn dignity, but he was crumbling quickly, slowly losing the battle against trying to look tough.

"I thought you could do it until the highest level.." you said.

Chuuya groans against your skin,

“H-highest level my a—ass-“ He hissed, his voice shaky and breathless.

Chuuya continued to cling to you, pressing himself against you like a small, clingy puppy. His breathing was slowly returning to normal, but he still was trembling slightly. Perhaps this is the only way to get rid of his "coolness"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dazai

Dazai is just clinging to you as he usually does as he tilts his head up at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He’s heard of those things before, though he isn’t exactly sure what it is. He’ll admit he is curious.

“A period pain simulator, huh? What, you wanna see if I can handle worse than you..?” He teases lightly, letting his arms fall from your body as he sits up, turning to face you.

"You think you can handle it?" You questioned.

He gives you a smirk, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Darling, I’m a grown man; I can handle anything life throws at me. I'm not saying I’m not gonna whine and complain while I’m at it, but I’m sure whatever that thing can dish out, I can handle~”

Dazai grins, his words full of confidence. He figures he’s dealt with far worse things in life, so something that’s just supposed to simulate period cramps shouldn’t be THAT bad… Right?

Dazai watches you in silence as you set the simulator up on him, still wearing a smile as he’s sure he’s able to withstand the feeling. But as soon as you turn it on, his entire demeanour changes.

His eyes widen as unexpected pain courses through his body, his jaw clenches at the uncomfortable feeling, and he lets out an exhale that sounds almost like a gasp.

The room filled with Dazai's sound of whimper and groan as you decided to turn it off.. Chuuya lets out a small sigh of relief as you turn off the simulator. He then shoots you a look, his cheeks a little flushed, and he looks rather needy looking.. is this his plan all along..?

You look at him with suspicious look he just smiles. "Ahh..~ I've been in pain.. don't i deserve to have a-..

You then turn on the simulator again. Dazai's eyes widen in surprise as the simulator simulates the cramps again. He lets out another pained groan, his hands clutching at the bed spread as the pain returns.

“Bella- turn it off- ah-“ He groaned, looking up at you through half lidded eyes.

Looks like you’ll have fun torturing him?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fyodor

I don't even know how you manage to convince him, and perhaps you can see this other side of him, but anyways... He snickers lightly, seemingly entertained by the idea. A smirk rests on his lips. "You want to see how well I can endure menstrual cramp simulations? How intriguing."

He takes in the sight of the device, his expression neutral, yet his gaze slightly narrowed, as if studying it closely. "I must admit, I am quite interested to see if this simulator will manage to mimic the pain experienced during a woman's menstrual cycle."

"Alright.. I'll start it up, " you said.

A slight wince appears on his face as the simulator begins its work, the first wave of discomfort making itself known. Nevertheless, he remains silent, determined not to let it affect him too, obviously. He does his best to maintain a neutral facade, though his eyes betray a hint of strain.

The simulator's simulated cramps get increasingly more intense with each passing moment, and Fyodor can't help but feel his determination beginning to crack. Sweat beads on his temple, and his pale face flushes with effort.

Yet, he continues to bite back any further sounds of discomfort, refusing to give it the satisfaction. He mutters through clenched teeth, "How much longer...?"

"It's only level 4..." You said.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, a hint of disbelief flickering in their depths. Level 4? He'd barely endured the first few waves of pain. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. "How many more levels are there?"

"Like 10 levels.." you said.

Fyodor continues to suffer in silence, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth clenched tightly together, stubbornly refusing to give the simulator the satisfaction of breaking his composure. The pain is increasing, getting almost unbearable, and he struggles to keep the sounds of strained gasps from spilling past his lips, struggling to push through the immense discomfort that has taken hold of his body.

"Do you want it to stop..?" you asked.

He opens his mouth to respond, then stops, his pride warring with his sense of self-preservation. Admitting defeat is not exactly his style, but the pain is excruciating and nearly unbearable. After a few moments, he grits out, through clenched teeth, "Tch. Very well. Turn it off."

"How was it?" you asked.

He takes a moment to gather his composure, his breathing still somewhat shaky from the ordeal he'd just endured. He runs a hand through his damp hair and shakes head slightly, trying to clear it. When he finally responds, his voice is slightly strained, and he allows just a hint of pain to creep into it. "Quite... intense. I must admit, it was even worse than I'd imagined."

He exhales slowly and lets his gaze drift over to the device, still feeling the aftereffects of the pain. "You certainly chose quite the... interesting way to spend our time together, my dear."

A sly smile twists his lips. "And here I thought you simply desired to see me squirm in pain."

You then got surprised by that.. he totally caught you. He moves a hand to his stomach, rubbing it in a slow, almost comforting gesture. "However, despite the rather... unpleasant experience, I can not help but feel a sense of respect. You have certainly managed to find a way to surprise me, dear."

He chuckles softly, his voice regaining some of its usual calm. "Still, do not expect me to agree to such a thing again anytime soon. That... experience was not exactly how I'd planned to spend my evening."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his smirk turning more cheeky. "Now, if you're in the mood for more pleasurable activities, I would be more than happy to oblige, my dear."

Well, i guess good luck to yourself tonight...

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sigma

Sigma thought over it for a moment before responding to you.

“You want me to experience what it feels to have a period?” He asked now, looking at you with a pout, but not saying no.

"You don't have to if you don't want.." you said.

He thought over it again and then finally made a decision.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it. Just for you, though.” He said before he removed the hair from his eyes and then looked at you with a shy and nervous expression.

You then prepared the simulator he sat down properly on the bed, mentally preparing himself for the pain he’s about the experience, not knowing what he’s gotten himself into.

The pain simulator then started to turn on and Sigma started to feel like something is tightening up inside of him, a burning sensation as the pain started to spread all over his abdomen, he gripped his shirt now as pained groans escaped his lips, looking at you again, wondering if this was worth it.

The pain just started to become worse and worse as time went by, Sigma now started to whimper out quietly, the pain growing more unbearable, he felt like crying now because of the pain, he just didn’t know how you could handle it, the pain and the cramps was awful.

You saw Sigma’s expression as you turned it off and felt bad.. as you spoke.

"Are you okay?"

When the simulation was turned off, Sigma just sat there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before nodding at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine..” He said quietly in a shaky voice, still a bit in shock and surprised at how painful it is.

Yes it was unbelievable to him that you actually had to suffer from this every single month, dealing with the pain and the cramps, and yet somehow you can still act like your normal self, it just makes him want to do everything he can to make you feel better whenever you are going through your period, he just wanted to protect you from everything.

He looked back at you, watching the concern in your eyes. He just wanted to comfort you and make you feel better. He wanted to spoil you.

He then opened his arms to you, signalling for you to join him, which you did. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace, pulling you to rest on his chest, nuzzling into you, letting out a quiet sigh as he did so.

As then these few days, you notice Sigma become affectionate and spoil you more, ahh.. he's such a sweetie.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Sorry for not updating for a long time! i promise I'll update more soon!!) ( =＾ω＾)