#so i gave him that creeping around his ear

[getoslamb]

a/n: slow intro with a fair bit of dialogue & little plot twist at the end? + if you don't like gunplay, i promise this is not the one for you, don't read it wc: 5.7k

the rest of kinktober here + (toji art credit) + special tag @risararelywrites <3

As the night crept on, the thrill of the scare park hung thick in the air, punctuated by bursts of laughter and muffled shrieks from other visitors. You walked arm-in-arm with Shoko, Suguru, and Satoru, revelling in the pulse of adrenaline that shot through you whenever an actor lunged from the darkness. Together, you’d gone through nearly every haunted house in the park, each one more elaborate than the last. 

But now, as you drifted toward the edge of the grounds, the lively sounds began to fade, swallowed up by the sight of a lone haunted house standing apart from the others—a grim silhouette shrouded in eerie, rolling fog.

This house looked different. It was darker, older, with an unsettling aura that seemed to thicken the air around it. Unlike the other exhibits, there were no bright lights, no cheering guides or costumed actors welcoming you in, just an open doorway that hinted at cracked wood, grimy windows, and shadows that seemed to hang around and watch.

"Why isn’t anyone going in?" you murmured, stopping to stare at the building. "Did they close it for the night?"

Shoko glanced at Suguru, exchanging a look that sent a tiny ripple of unease through you. “No, it’s open. Just not exactly popular,” she replied, her voice low.

“Not popular?” You smirked, letting the hint of a challenge seep in. “Is it really that bad?”

“Depends who you ask,” Satoru replied, his usual playful tone missing as he stared at the house. “People don’t go in alone.”

“It’s a scare park.” You scoffed, waving off his warning. “How scary could it actually be?”

Suguru placed a hand on your shoulder, a rare seriousness in his eyes. “This one’s different. People say there’s something… wrong with it. Nobody wants to find out for sure.”

“Wrong?” you echoed, crossing your arms. “How, exactly?”

“Some say there’s a man who hides in there,” Shoko murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “They don’t know if he’s some rogue actor or just… some crazy man. But he’s armed. Supposedly, he sneaks around pretending to be part of the act.”

You looked at the house again, half-amused, half-spooked. “So you’re telling me there’s a real psycho in there hiding out? Right.”

Your friends exchanged wary glances, their usual bravado notably absent, which only deepened your curiosity. “You’re serious? This is over some urban legend?”

“It’s not a legend,” Shoko muttered, glancing over her shoulder as if expecting to see someone creeping out of the fog. “People say they’ve seen him covered in blood. They say he blends right in until it’s too late.”

“Staff avoid it too,” Satoru added, his tone unusually flat. “So if you’re thinking about going in, maybe reconsider.”

A thrill shot through you, half defiance, half intrigue. The house loomed ahead, daring you. “So you all think he’s in there tonight?”

Suguru’s hand tightened on your shoulder. “It’s not worth finding out. There are plenty of other places we can check out.”

But the challenge tugged at you, almost tauntingly. You took a step forward, drawing exasperated sighs from your friends.

"Are you actually going in there?"

"This is a hard no for me," Shoko insisted.

“Come on, we’re not kidding around,” Suguru said, his expression sombre.

You gave them a shrug and a smile. “I’ll just peek in, five minutes, that’s all.”

Shoko crossed her arms, rolling her eyes. “Right, nothing bad ever happens in ‘just five minutes.’”

“Remember, if he’s in there, we’re not coming to save you.” Satoru jokes as he rolls his eyes.

"Noted," you replied, dancing around him with a grin. "If anything happens, at least I'll have a story."

But as you moved toward the darkened doorway, the memories of the warnings hounded you, and crossing the threshold, a small voice whispered, maybe they're right.

Inside, the shadows clung to the walls, warping and shifting with every flicker of the dim yellowing light bulbs. The air was heavy, still, as though the house itself was holding its breath, waiting. With each cautious step, the floor remained eerily silent-no familiar creaks, no whispers from other thrill-seekers echoing from somewhere in the darkness. The quiet was suffocating.

"It's just another haunted house," you whispered, trying to break the silence. But even your voice seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows.

You reached the edge of a dusty, darkened room when a soft dragging sound cut through the quiet. You whirled around, your heart hammering, but the hallway behind you was empty. The moment you began to steady your breath, a low rumbling chuckle echoed through the room, crawling down your spine.

"Didn't think anyone would wander in alone," a voice drawled from the shadows, smooth and dripping with dark amusement. "You've got guts.”

Your breath caught as a figure began to take form: a tall, wide man whose eyes glinted in the poor light. He moved like a shadow off the wall, a smirk curling at the edges of his lips as he took another step forward, the faint glow illuminating a pistol in his hand, his finger lazily resting near the trigger.

You swallowed hard and forced a grin, hoping to mask your unease. "Are… are you part of the show?"

He chuckled, his eyes raking over you with dangerous curiosity. "I'm part of an experience," he told you, that taunting smile twisting. "But not the kind you paid for.”

Your heart was racing as he closed in; his eyes were razor-sharp and predatory. He didn't hurry-if anything, he drew out the fear across your features. The pistol glinted in his hand, but his gaze stayed fixed on you, like he was reading every flicker of emotion.

He moved forward with a nearly lazy step; his head fell to the side as his smile grew, watching you inch backward. "So, you thought this was just another haunted house?" he asked, the tiniest thread of dark thrill weaved in. "Guess it's too late to warn you some rumours are worth listening to.

Your back hit the wall, and his eyes lit up with a spark of satisfaction. He leaned in closer, pressing the gun against his temple as he did so, an intense gaze and a chilling gleam in his eye. "You've got that look-the one which says you're curious. Brave, maybe a little too much so." He paused, smirk deepening. "So, how brave are you feeling now?”

You clenched your jaw and wouldn't flinch. "Maybe I am not as easy to scare as you think," you muttered, though your own voice quivered ever so slightly. "Oh?" His smirk whittled just a little sharper, a flash of mirth dancing in his eyes. "Then let us see.”

He let go of your wrist, only to trail the gun’s barrel along your jawline, his eyes drinking in every flinch, every shiver. He seemed to delight in drawing out the silence, each second weighted with his slow, deliberate movements. And in that quiet, somehow, the unspoken threat felt far more sinister.

As he studied you, his gaze lingered, savouring the fear that glinted in your eyes. “I have all night to see what it takes to break you,” he murmured, his voice almost playful. “And something tells me, this is going to be fun.”

The glint in his eyes held a dark promise, and you knew, too late, that you’d wandered into a trap—the kind that left you wondering just who, exactly, was meant to be scared.

You swallowed, struggling to hold his gaze, fighting the instinct to look away. But he had you cornered, and he knew it—knew you were trapped in his snare, just like he’d intended. The glint in his eye sharpened as he watched, a spark of twisted satisfaction lighting up his face as he took in every flicker of fear.

The man’s grin stretched wider, dark and mocking, as he watched you. With a slow, deliberate motion, he lowered the gun, tracing the cold barrel down your jawline, his eyes studying every inch of your face with a predatory intensity. The silence between you pressed in, suffocating and tense, somehow worse than any threat he could have made.

“You’re trembling now,” he whispered, voice dipped in dark humour. “But it makes me wonder…” He tilted his head, a false look of innocence softening his gaze even as his smirk stayed razor-sharp. “Is it fear making you shake? Or is it something… else?”

Your breath caught, a barely perceptible hitch that he didn’t miss. His smirk grew, as though he’d stumbled on a private joke, something only he was in on. “Oh, don’t tell me you’re the kind who gets a thrill out of all this?” he mocked, his voice a conspiratorial whisper, as if he were sharing a secret with you. “The type who’d never admit it, but… can’t help the way their heart races anyway.”

You tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you off so easily. With a nudge from the gun, he forced your chin up, his gaze locking with yours. “I see you,” he continued, inching closer, his warm breath fanning across your skin. “People like you walk in here alone, pretending it’s just for the thrill.” He leaned in, his voice lowering to a near murmur against your ear. “But maybe you wanted more.”

His words sent a shiver through you, mingling fear with something you didn’t want to acknowledge. He leaned back, watching your reaction, fingers brushing the side of your face in a touch that was disturbingly gentle. “Maybe that’s why you’re here,” he said, a rough laugh slipping from his lips. “I doubt someone like you would admit it, though.”

Your mind raced, and your voice caught in your throat, a knot of indignation and fear keeping you silent. He noticed, smirking like he’d already won. “Right on the mark, aren’t I?” he murmured, his hand resting on your cheek. “It’s always the innocent ones—scare the easiest, break the fastest.”

Your heart pounded, and though you willed yourself to pull away, your body seemed frozen under his touch. He held your gaze, thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “Just say it,” he teased, leaning close again. His thumb pressed lightly against your throat, tracing the beat of your pulse. “You didn’t come in here just for the scare, did you?”

The mocking smile he wore softened slightly, his voice lowering to a nearly intimate whisper. “I can feel it—the way you’re responding. The thrill, the nerves, the part of you that’s not sure if you want to run… or stay.”

You hated the way he seemed to read you, hated that he saw through the mask you wore to the part of you he’d awakened, a part tinged with something reckless and dangerous. He bent down further, enjoying how he had you at his mercy. "That's it, isn't it?" he mumbled, "It's a game-this line between predator and prey." His voice dropped to a purr. “Between fear… and whatever this is.”

You tried to steady your breath as he studied every flicker of emotion that crossed your face. He brushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear, the touch feather-light but charged, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“How much would you actually enjoy being pushed?” he wondered aloud, eyes glinting. “Maybe you’d even beg for it. Maybe you’d even like not having control.”

A thrill of panic mingled with something darker, something that made your heart beat faster. He could see it, knew the effect he was having, and the satisfaction on his face only grew. “Just admit it,” he murmured, his tone insistent, his thumb grazing your jawline. “Admit how much you’re enjoying this.”

His fingertips lingered on your hip, a reassuring touch that was highly unsettling, as if he were daring you to let those words pass your lips out loud. "Come on," he seduced, the devilish glint dancing in his eyes. "I promise I won't bite… unless you're asking.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you against him. The heat of his body reminded you just how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted. His voice dropped to a near-growl. “Last chance to back out.” His lips ghosted over your earlobe. “Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don’t…”

His grip tightened, teeth grazing your ear, and then he pulled back, his gaze sharp as he slipped the gun into his waistband. His eyes were fixed upon yours with such intensity and something so akin to hunger; it sent the shiver down your spine. "So," he breathed, his voice low, with just a hint of challenge. "Ready to play?

Your heartbeat pounded against your rib cage, each thud a resonating drum in the silence between you. His words, his touch, the heat radiating off his body, it threatened to overwhelm you, drowning out every rational thought. You knew you should tell him to stop, should put space between you, but something kept you frozen there, curiosity mixing with the thrill of the unknown.

"I… I don't.", you stuttered, all but a whisper, while shallow breaths betrayed you, even in protest.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk edging toward a full grin. “You don’t what?” he asked, eyes gleaming. “Don’t want me to stop… or don’t know if you should?”

Closer still, he leaned in until his nose brushed against yours, his gaze burrowing into yours with an intensity that made your knees feel weak. “I think you want this more than you’ll admit,” he murmured. His hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair to tilt your head, exposing your neck. “Just say the word,” he whispered, his lips hovering over yours. “I’ll give you everything you’ve been too afraid to ask for.”

He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, a playful nip that he soothed with his tongue, his voice softening to a near-coax. “Come on, sweetheart,” he breathed, every word a slow, dangerous promise. “Let yourself stop fighting it.”

"Okay," you whispered, just barely audible, the last shred of resistance dissolving as his lips claimed yours-hard and demanding. The kiss bruised with its possessiveness-he took your mouth with such hunger that robbed your breath, his tongue delving deep inside to consume you. His hand tangles in the strands of your hair, keeping you firmly in place, the other roaming along your body, mapping out every curve.

But the next instant, he pushed you away, and you tumbled backward, falling against a stack of old props that tumbled with you, a flicker of fear crossing your features. He saw it.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" he mocked, stalking toward you on lean legs with a predator's ease. "Scared off so soon?"

His eyes shone with a feral light, a cruel smirk playing about his lips. "I thought you wanted to play."

He leaned over you, grasping at your chin roughly to force you to look up at him. "Maybe you're not as brave as you thought," he sneered. "Or maybe", the tone darker, "you just need a little more incentive."

His hand had gone to his waistband, drawing out his gun. He pressed the cold metal against your lips, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that chilled you to the bone.

"Open up, sweetheart," he ordered in his voice, a thick coating of mockery. "Let's see if you're as good with that mouth as I think you are." A hand twisted in your hair yanking your head back to bare the line of your neck. "Or maybe," he mused, "I should just shut you up completely."

He traced the gun along your jaw, down your throat, stopping at the hollow at the bottom of your neck. His eyes never once strayed from yours as he watched for the effects, feeding off your growing fear. "What's it gonna be, baby? Want to play nice, or should I get rough with you?"

He leaned closer, his eyes glinting with sadistic glee as he savoured the tension. "Tick tock," he murmured, his voice a low, menacing growl. "Time's running out, and my patience is wearing thin. Choose wisely, baby—it might just save your life."

A wicked grin spread across his face as he saw you open your mouth, lips parting just enough for the barrel of the gun to slide between them, the cold metal pressing against your tongue. "That’s it," he purred. "Good girl."

He pushed the gun deeper, savouring the sight of you as the taste of metal filled your mouth. "Suck," he commanded, his voice thick with lust as he watched you obey, your lips stretched around the barrel, tongue swirling over the smooth surface. His hand in your hair tightened, and he let out a low, satisfied groan.

"Fuck, that’s hot," he breathed, his hips pressing forward as he ground against you. "You’re a natural at this, aren’t you? I bet you'd look even better with your lips wrapped around something else."

He watched with rapt attention as you continued, cheeks hollowing, mouth working the gun with an obedient rhythm. His gaze darkened as he took in the sight of you, debasing yourself at his command.

Finally, he withdrew the gun, a string of saliva briefly connecting it to your lips. "Kiss it," he growled, voice low and commanding. "Show me how much you want it."

You pressed your lips against the barrel, kissing it softly, your eyes flickering up to meet his gaze, exactly as he demanded. Seeing you so submissive, so compliant, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

"Atta girl," he murmured approvingly, his voice a soft purr of pleasure.

He pulled the gun away, resting it on the side as he freed his cock from his pants, stroking it slowly, teasingly, as you knelt before him. He smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark promise. "Put that pretty mouth to work, baby. Show me what you can do."

He grabbed a fistful of your hair, guiding your head towards his cock, the musky scent of him filling your nostrils. His other hand gripped the base of his shaft, slapping the head against your lips, leaving a smear of pre-cum.

He pushed forward, forcing the head of his cock past your lips, groaning as your warm mouth enveloped him. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking gently, pushing deeper.

He groaned as your lips stretched around his thick, veiny shaft, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head. His cock was long and hard, the skin smooth and hot against your tongue. The musky, masculine taste of him filled your mouth as you took him deeper, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked.

Saliva dripped down your chin as you bobbed your head, your hand coming up to grip the base, stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth. He tasted of sweat and arousal, the flavour heady and intoxicating on your tongue.

Lewd, wet sounds filled the air as you slurped and sucked, your nose buried in his pubic hair, breathing in his scent. His balls were heavy and full, bouncing against your chin as you worked him over.

"Fuck, just like that," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening, his hips snapping forward, fucking your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, baby.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, your gag reflex working overtime, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you relaxed your throat, letting him slide deeper, taking him to the hilt.

He threw his head back with a groan, his abs clenching, his thighs trembling as you swallowed around him, your throat fluttering around his sensitive flesh.

"Goddamn, you're a natural," he panted, his voice strained with pleasure.

The click of the safety being disengaged sent a jolt of fear through you, even as you continued to suck him off. The cold metal of the gun brushed against your cheek, a stark contrast to the heat of his cock in your mouth.

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending vibrations through his shaft. "You like that, don't you, baby? The danger, the thrill. It gets you hot, doesn't it?" He pressed the gun to your temple, the barrel cold against your skin as he fucked your face harder, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper down your throat.

"Bet you're soaking wet right now," He groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he neared his peak. "Fuck, I'm close," he grunted, his hips stuttering, his cock throbbing in your mouth.

He pulled out of your mouth with a wet pop, his cock slick with your saliva. "Not yet, baby," he growled, his voice low and guttural. "I'm not done with you."

He grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet, spinning you around and shoving you so you were bent over the wooden table. The rough wood scraped against your skin, the edge digging into your hips as he kicked your legs apart, exposing you to his gaze.

He flipped up your skirt, tearing your panties away with a sharp rip. His fingers dipped between your folds, teasing your entrance, circling your clit. 

"Fuck, look at you," he purred, his hand coming down hard on your ass, making you yelp. "Already so wet for me. Yeah, you’re not innocent at all, are you?” He leaned down, his breath hot against your skin as he spat directly onto your pussy, the warm liquid trickling between your folds before he licked a stripe along your slit.

He dove in, his tongue delving deep into your folds, lapping at your juices. He teased your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking it into his mouth, flicking the sensitive bud with rapid strokes. The hand holding the gun rested against your ass as the other held one of your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry mouth.

He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks, his tongue exploring every inch of your pussy. He growled against your flesh, the vibrations sending shivers up your spine. His nose rubbed your clit as he buried his face deeper, his tongue probing your entrance.

He slipped two fingers inside you, curling them to stroke your G-spot as he continued to eat you out. He added a third finger, stretching you, filling you, as his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he groaned, his words muffled against your pussy. "So sweet and wet for me. I could eat this cunt all day."

He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking rapidly over the sensitive nub. His fingers pumped in and out of you, the wet squelching sounds obscene in the quiet room.

His cock throbbed, rock hard and leaking pre-cum as he feasted on your pussy. The taste of you, the feel of your wetness coating his tongue, the sounds of your moans and whimpers—it all drove him wild with lust.

He fucked his fingers harder into you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. His tongue flicked rapidly over your clit as he sucked, nibbled, licked every inch of your sopping folds.

He pulled back, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the sight of you, spread out and desperate for him.

"Mmm, you're so fucking wet," he purred, his voice low and dangerous. "I could eat this pretty pussy all night long."

He trailed the gun along your inner thigh, the cold metal a stark contrast to the heat of your skin. "But first, I think I need to prep you a little. Get you nice and ready for me."

He teasingly ran the barrel of the gun along your folds, the cold metal sending a jolt of sensation through you. "What do you think, baby? Think you can handle this?"

You looked over your shoulder at him, stealing a glance as his eyes gleamed in the moonlight, a faint nod of your head as you wanted it.

"I don't know," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. "Can you?"

He circled your clit with the tip of the gun, the metal cool against your heated flesh. Your hips twitched, seeking more pressure, more friction.

"Look at you, so desperate for it," he purred, his free hand coming down on your ass in a sharp slap. "Even with a gun to your cunt, you're still begging for it."

“Tell me-” he says as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, “Use those words.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatened to spill from your lips. His touch, his words, they were driving you crazy with need. You wanted him, all of him, and you didn't care how twisted it was.

"Please," you whispered, your voice hoarse with desire. "Please, I need it. I need you."

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "That's more like it”

He trailed the cold metal of the gun along your slit, teasing your entrance, circling it slowly. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of his gaze on your body as he watched you squirm

He pressed the tip of the gun against your entrance, the metal cool and unyielding. Your breath hitched in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as he applied just the slightest bit of pressure.

He pressed the tip of the gun inside you, the cold metal sliding in teasingly slow. You gasped, your body tensing at the unfamiliar sensation. He went deeper, inch by torturous inch, stretching you, filling you in a way you'd never experienced before.

"Fuck, look at you taking it," he groaned, his voice low and approving. "Such a good girl, so eager for me."

He worked the gun in and out, fucking you with it, the metal gliding along your walls, hitting spots you didn't know existed. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

He pushed the gun deeper, the metal sliding in with a slick sound, your wetness easing the way. You whimpered, your body trembling as he filled you, stretched you, claimed you in the most primal way possible.

He pulled it out slowly, the metal dragging along your folds, teasing your entrance, before pushing it back in.

He twisted the gun, the barrel rubbing against your sensitive walls, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you. Your pussy clenched around it, trying to adjust to the intrusion, the friction.

The wet, obscene sounds of the gun pumping in and out of your pussy filled the air, mixing with your moans and whimpers. He angled it just right, hitting that spot deep inside that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back in your head.

He pulled the gun out suddenly, leaving you empty and aching. You whimpered at the loss, your body craving more.

"Patience, baby," he purred as he tossed the gun to the side. "We're just getting started."

He lined himself up, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance.

He pushed inside you slowly, inch by throbbing inch, stretching you, filling you. Your pussy clenched around him, trying to adjust to his size, his heat. He groaned, his hands gripping your hips, holding you steady as he sank deeper.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his voice strained with pleasure. "Feels so good wrapped around my cock."

He bottomed out as his massive frame engulfed you as he leaned over your back, his balls heavy and full against you as he remained deep inside you. He stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every inch.

Then he started to move, his hips rocking, his cock sliding in and out of your slick heat. He set a slow, deep rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt.

Your pussy fluttered around him, your walls clinging to his shaft, trying to keep him inside. He grunted with each thrust, his fingers digging into your skin with a pressure that you know will leave marks.

He wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you back against him, his hips snapping forward, driving his cock deeper. His other hand slid up your body, coming to rest at your throat. Not squeezing yet, just a gentle reminder of his control, his dominance.

"That's it, baby," he growled in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Take it. Take my cock like the good girl you are."

He fucked you harder, faster, his grip on your throat tightening just a fraction. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, sent waves of heat coursing through your body.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he panted, his hips pistoning, his cock hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. "Gonna fill you up with my cum. Pump you full until it's leaking out of you."

His fingers tightened around your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your heart race, your pussy clench around him. He was so close, his cock throbbing inside you, his body tensing.

His grip tightened on your throat, his fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse flutter beneath them. His other arm cinched around your waist, pulling you back harder, his hips slamming into you with bruising force.

"Fuck, gonna come," he grunted, his voice strained and guttural.

He pounded into you relentlessly, his cock stretching you, claiming you, branding you from the inside out. His balls slapped against your clit with each brutal thrust, the wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

His hand on your throat squeezed again, not enough to cut off your air, but enough to make your head swim, your vision blur. The dual sensations of pleasure and pressure, of being filled and controlled, pushed you closer to the edge.

His fingers found your clit, rubbing it in tight, fast circles as he fucked you harder, deeper, his cock pounding into your pussy like a jackhammer. The added stimulation was too much, sending you careening over the edge into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Your pussy clamped down around him, fluttering and clenching, milking his cock for all it was worth. Your body shook and trembled, your moans echoing off the walls as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.

He groaned, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering as your pussy worked him over. "Fuck, yes, come for me," he growled, his fingers pinching your clit, prolonging your climax.

With a final, brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing and throbbing as he emptied himself inside you. His thick cum filled you, painting your walls white, marking you as his.

He collapsed on top of you, his weight pinning you to the table, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck. For a moment, you both just lay there, basking in the afterglow, your bodies still joined, your hearts beating in sync.

He rolled his hips, his semi-hard cock still buried inside you, drawing out your pleasure. He pulled out slowly, a groan escaping him as your walls clung to him, trying to keep him inside.

He watched, transfixed, as his cum leaked out of your pussy, dripping down your thighs. The sight of you, so thoroughly used, so marked by him, sent a fresh wave of arousal through him.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction. "So fucking beautiful, covered in my cum."

He leaned down, pressing soft, teasing kisses along your spine as you lay there, trying to catch your breath. His hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves and dips, the marks he'd left on your skin.

"You did so well, baby," he purred, his lips brushing against your ear.

He nipped at your earlobe, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. His hands slid down to your ass, squeezing. “Come on, up, lemme get a look at you.”

He helped you up, his hands steady on your hips as you wobbled on shaky legs. He turned you around to face him, his eyes dark and hungry as they roamed over your body, taking in the marks he'd left, the cum still dripping down your thighs.

"Fuck, you're gorgeous," he growled, his hands cupping your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. "I could look at you like this all day."

He kissed you then, hard and deep, his tongue delving into your mouth, claiming you, tasting himself on your lips. He pulled back, his eyes searching yours, a question in them.

“Didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asks as he helps you redress, along with himself.

"No," you breathe, your voice hoarse and trembling. "It was... intense, but not painful."

You lean into his touch, savouring the warmth of his hands on your face, the solidness of his body against yours. Despite the darkness of what just transpired, there's a strange comfort in his presence, a sense of belonging.

“The gun-” you begin before he chuckles and interrupts you as he approaches the gun and picks it up, “Looks pretty real, huh? Feels it too.”

You laugh a little at that, “Yeah, it definitely felt it.”

“I’ll have to thank your friends for getting me such a good prop” He says, “And for arranging this whole place…You think they’re waiting outside?”

“God no, Shoko made it very clear yesterday that she wouldn’t wait around whilst I came in here to get fucked by my boyfriend. They’ll be long gone, we can call a cab.”

“Cab it is.” He smirks as he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

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© getoslamb ↣ do not copy or translate any of my works

[koji-haru]

Intertwined

[For @inubaki as thanks for this beautiful drawing! And also to cheer you up, as well as everyone else. I know a lot of us were distraught with the results, so hopefully this would ease some of the sadness away even by just a tiny bit.]

“Man, your place is so gloomy,” Adam complained while he laid languidly on the couch just behind Lucifer, his much too large wings draped over the furniture reaching the floor. “It’s just red everywhere.”

Lucifer simply hummed in response, much too busy trying to read reports and proposals from his subjects to even entertain one of the first man’s childish complaints. Besides, he liked red. 

The acid rain pitter pattered against the window, the sounds – a soothing rhythm that made the monotony of his work become a bit more bearable as he scanned over the mindless drivel of some noble’s proposal. This was their 13th attempt at getting their proposal approved, apparently the first 12 times he had to reject them were not a clear enough message. Lucifer sighed, the tedious work draining all of the energy he had as he rejected the proposal once more. He gave the paper one more look before placing it on top of a sizable stack of papers before turning to his right where an even taller stack of unread papers stood, promising more tedium to come. All benefits of being the king of pride. Lucifer turned his eyes towards the window, speckled with raindrops that sizzled into the air almost as soon as they landed. Pride’s already dark red sky looked even gloomier with thick grey clouds blanketing the city as it rained down flesh burning acid onto its population, their pained screams barely audible from where Lucifer sat. 

He slouched down his seat, his body feeling like liquid as a deep sigh escaped his lips. For once, he might agree with Adam’s complaints, his place did look rather gloomy, but was he bothered to redecorate? No, not really. Lately, he hadn’t been bothered to do much really, the building stack of papers on his desk a glaring proof of that. He groaned as he dragged his clawed hands down his face; he could feel a certain numbness from within him start to creep out again. Maybe he could doze off for a few minutes, reset his mind a bit, that might help; the sounds of rain against the window were almost like lullabies inviting him for a quick nap. He felt his eyelids get heavier, his vision slowly fading to black until he felt soft hands on his head, tugging at the strands of hair on the sides of his head. 

“W-wha..?” He blinked his eyes open a few times, willing the sleepiness away as he tried to sit back up and look at what was happening, his hands feeling around his hair.

“Just sit still.” Adam lightly smacked his hand away. “You’re going to ruin it.”

“What are you doing,” asked Lucifer as he felt another light tug at his hair and something else being entangled with it. He tried to feel around his hair again, a little more careful this time; he felt something soft and silky with a little bony stiffness to it braided alongside his hair. “Are you…braiding feathers into my hair?”

“I don’t have flowers right now, so this will do,” replied Adam, his attempt at concentrating evident in the tone of his voice. He tugged at another lock of soft blonde hair, intertwining his golden feathers into it in a way that framed and highlighted Lucifer’s face, like a ring of divine light proudly presenting his sweet charm. 

A small smile formed on Lucifer’s lips as he relaxed back onto his seat, enjoying the soft rhythmic pull on his hair, the gentle brushing of fingers against his scalp; it was rather soothing, making his body feel warm and fuzzy all over as nostalgia slowly emerged from his memories of a distant past. 

~

“Adam, what are you doing here?,” asked Lucifer as he entered the damp cave where he found the first man crouched in a corner, his legs pulled close to his chest as he covered his ears with his hands. 

Adam hesitantly looked up, hands away from his ears for a brief moment as he tried to seek comfort from his angel. “L-Luci…” 

Then a bright flash of light sparked across the dark sky before being quickly followed by a deafening rumble that rang throughout the garden. Adam quickly shut his eyes and covered his ears again as he shrunk back into himself, his entire body trembling with newfound fear at the terrifying phenomena that was happening outside. He was terrified and Lilith was nowhere to be found, so he simply had to endure God’s wrath alone, for what else could those sounds be other than God’s stern voice? Another bright light flashed just outside the cave and Adam hugged himself tighter as another loud roar echoed from the sky.

Lucifer quickly made his way to the scared human, wrapping his soft wings around them both. “There there, I’m here now,” he said, his voice as tender as the first light of the day.

“D-did I do something wrong?,” Adam asked with a trembling voice, his eyes pricked with tears ready to spill. “Is God mad at me?”

“No. Nono, our Father could never be mad at you, you did nothing wrong.” Lucifer pulled Adam to his chest, holding him with all the love in the new born world. “I know it can be scary, but it’s just another way the garden waters itself so that life may continue to flourish.”

A low rumble sounded outside and Adam couldn’t help but hug the angel even tighter. “It’s scary. Please stay with me.”

“Of course,” Lucifer smiled. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.” He patted the first man’s head, the messy brown hair feeling softer than fresh cotton, smoother than silk. And there, the two sat together in comfortable silence, their shared warmth offsetting the chill that the storm brought along with it, the beating of their hearts a rhythm that grounded them together fading the rumbling of the sky into the background. 

Lucifer played with Adam’s hair, separating his hair into individual locks before weaving one of his feathers with it into a braid that trailed around his beautiful face, like framing a precious piece of art.

“Luci..?” Adam looked up, and it was as if the sun itself had kissed him with its warming rays. 

“I can’t always be in the garden with you,” Lucifer admitted. “So, I’m intertwining a part of myself with you. That way, I’ll always be with you,” he smiled as he tilted Adam’s chin up with gentle fingers. “I think red suits you,” he whispered before leaning down. The moment the two shared forever a secret enshrouded in beautiful feathers of red and white.

~

“Done!,” Adam declared as he finally finished adorning Lucifer’s hair with his feathers before spinning Lucifer’s chair to face him. Hands on his hips, he eyed his work up and down, a proud glint in his eyes. In front of him, sat Lucifer with shining gold feathers framing his delicate face. “Now you’re actually the Morningstar!”

Lucifer quickly created a small mirror in his hand, turning its shiny surface towards him, curious of what he looked like. And just as Adam had claimed, the image that the mirror reflected back at him truly was the Morningstar, bright and brilliant as it brought a dazzling light everywhere he went; pushing the gloominess of the room and within himself away and back into the shadows. 

“I think gold suits you,” Adam blurted out before covering his mouth and turning his face away, a faint golden hue visible on his ears. “To go along with the red, I mean.”

Lucifer sat there, stunned, for a good few seconds before quickly regaining himself. A grin crept up his lips as he pulled Adam down towards him, causing him to kneel on the floor as Lucifer pulled his face close to his chest. 

“W-what the fuck..!” Adam pushed and struggled against Lucifer’s hold, the golden flush on his face glowing even brighter now. 

“Just sit still, will you?” Lucifer held both of Adam’s hands, pinning them down onto his lap. “I’m just going to braid your hair too. Unless you’re thinking of something?,” he asked, a teasing smile playing across his lips. 

The wings behind Adam’s back puffed up in flustered anger as he pushed himself away from Lucifer, with the devil easily letting his hands go as he did. “No way!!,” he yelled out, though he ended up leaning his back on Lucifer’s legs anyway. He let out a loud huff as he crossed his arms while also shifting a little on the floor to get as comfortable as possible. 

“Well?,” he asked in mock irritation. “I thought you were going to braid my hair?”

Lucifer looked down at Adam sitting on the floor in front him, a sigh escaping his lips in pretend exhaustion. “You used to be so much cuter.”

“Fuck you,” grumbled out Adam.

“Hmm, maybe after this,” Lucifer replied as he got to working on Adam’s hair.

A shoe thrown backwards to his face was the quick response he got.

---

[Also, sorry for lying about the sweetness in the last post @twost3ps, it will unfortunately happen again 😇]

[charlunday]

In regards to my dilf Peeta claims

Also his face looked so good I need you all to appreciate it

[leyiorr]

i can't stop looking at her t-t-t-t, FACE!

mdni.

satoru gojo is doomed.

why is he doomed, you ask? well, put bluntly, you, his girlfriend of five months, are driving him absolutely crazy.

crazy is an understatement, actually. insane, mad, mental, unhinged, deranged, bonkers - whatever you want to call it. he's holding on by a thread; the thinly woven string known as sanity growing ever weaker as the days roll by and turn into weeks.

of course, he's only blaming you. you hadn't actually done anything wrong.

you're the first relationship satoru's had in his life, and he'd be damned if some inappropriate thoughts ruin his chances with the love of his life. he'd never been happier - dating you gave him the kind of happiness he thought only existed in movies; the kind of giddiness of a child in a candy store.

he was devoted to you in every way, shape and form - you are everything he's dreamed of and more.

more.

that's right, you were more.

recently, you were the devil's temptation personified.

surprisingly, even after twenty-odd years of being one of the most attractive guys around, and having women throw themselves at him like he's some kind of greek deity, satoru is a virgin. i'll repeat that, he is a virgin. a fact that only suguru knows. a fact that he's neglected to tell his girlfriend.

he may have a flirtatious personality and the ability to charm ninety percent of the human race with one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles, but in truth, he had never dated anyone. ever. let alone got his dick in a pussy.

so when he starts wanting to go further, he's not sure how to bring it up without sounding like a horndog.

it all started when you wore a sleek black dress to one of your dates. it clung to your figure, fabric wrapping shamelessly around your every curve and tickling your midthigh at its end. and if that wasn't bad enough, it had a plunging neckline, giving the world - satoru specifically - an eyeful of the assets god gifted you with. your boobs were practically spilling out of your dress, the light catching your cleavage as you held his arm. he could feel himself salivating like some sort of perv. how was he supposed to focus with aphrodite's personal creation hanging off his arm?

his eyes began to drift to the flesh of your chest more than he'd like to admit. all sorts of r-rated scenarios ran through his head and he dared to entertain every. single. one. he could do so much with them, tease them, spit on them, pinch them, suck on them, put his dick between them-

“satoru?”

his gaze snaps back to your face at record speed. you notice how he's chewing his bottom lip, flush creeping onto his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. his hands are clammy; there's suddenly too little oxygen in his room.

“did you listen to anything i said?” your arms fold beneath your bosom and satoru almost implodes.

what do you expect him to do? the necklace around your neck has his initial on it, and it hovers over your tits almost mockingly. if it snapped, the letter would fall right between the valley of your breasts-

“satoru!”

he's choking on his saliva, apologizing profusely as he encourages you to continue your story - though he hasn't heard shit over the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

it's a battle no, a war between his rationality and his desires and he doesn't know which is winning. his rationality wins when he's around you - he just sucks in a breath and thugs it out, no matter how much his dick shouts at him. but in private, he's letting the desires win as his fists himself to the thought of you, your lips, your ass; your boobs.

the first time he sees you in a bikini he has to take a breather before he can get into a game of beach volleyball with you and the group.

(and even then he was struggling. every time you jumped for the ball the only thing he was looking at was your tits.)

he should be neutered. effective immediately.

it drags out for so long that you finally notice, and force him to talk to you about why he's avoiding you, and if you'd done anything wrong. but all you get is:

“baby, i'm so sorry- you're so pretty and i can't help myself. i didn't know how to bring up that i wanted to take our relationship to the next step, you mean the world to me and i'd hate to make you uncomfortable-” he trips and stumbles over his words-

“...is that it?”

and his eyes bug out of his head as he stares at you. weeks, months of agony over this and all you have to say is 'is that it'?

he doesn't even have chance to respond; to process your words before you're popping the top button of your blouse.

yeah, satoru gojo is doomed.

[rememberwren]

Skin Deep

Tattoo artist!Simon x fem!reader. Reader, looking to expand her horizons, gets her first tattoo from Simon. 8.4k. Features: soft!Simon who is bad at people-ing, vaginal sex, lots of nipples, like at least three nipples, poor writing, abrupt transitions, shy and awkward reader. Based on this post.

Sequel here.

-

“I bit the bullet!” you shout over the music, hand cupped around your friend’s ear to be better heard. She shrieks in delight at the sound of your voice, turning to wrap her arms around your waist and pull you close to her swaying body. Many eyes in the club follow her movements. She has always been the wild child to your wallflower, attracting attention wherever she goes.

“You bit what?” she shouts back, her breath like a mint julep. 

“The bullet,” you laugh. “I called that guy you recommended and set up an appointment. For the tattoo I wanted!” 

She stares at you blankly. Her silky little tank top is drooping off of one shoulder, so you reach out and tuck it back into place. The longer she stares, the more nervous you grow. She’d been so encouraging after your last boyfriend dumped you—encouraging you to step outside your comfort zone, to ‘make more mistakes’, to live life more fully. Now she’s staring at you like you’ve grown a second head and it’s the one doing the talking. 

“What guy I recommended?” she asks. 

“Kevin!”

“Oh no. No, no, no. Not Kevin. Not Kevin. Why, Kevin?” 

You frown. “You said you went to Kevin.” 

“It wasn’t a recommendation, sweetie, if anything it was to caution you away from him! He’s a creep; there’s a reason why I never went back.” 

You deflate like a balloon, going limp and letting her drag you to the nearby free seats at the bar where you sit heavily. It’s not just the tattoo. It’s the icing on a shitcake of a day. 

A new song seamlessly starts, and the dancers nearby go wild with excitement. Your mood is the antithesis of the event; everyone seems to be having a great time except for you. Story of your life. 

“You conveniently left that out. Ugh. I’ll cancel it. What am I even fucking doing—thank you—” you accept the cup of ice water the bartender slides in front of you with a shy smile, sipping at it and keeping your hand curled over the top of it protectively. “—none of this is like me.” 

Your friend frowns. She steals your drink and sips at it. “You were the one who said you’d always wanted a tattoo. You’re an adult. These are exactly the kinds of decisions you’re old enough to make. Look, fuck Kevin. All my friends hate Kevin. I know another guy, and he’s highly recommended. Let me give you his number. Alright?” 

“Alright,” you sigh. You make a silent promise to yourself though: if it doesn’t work out with this next tattoo artist, then you won’t be getting one at all. You’ll take it as a sign from the universe to get back in your comfort zone and stay there, once and for all. 

-

What kind of a moniker is Ghost? you wonder to yourself as you skim the Instagram of the shop this Ghost owns. The profile picture is one of the building itself, and all of the pictures are of various inked body parts. Beautiful ones, admittedly. But no hint of the mysterious figure who owns the shop. There is a personal instagram linked @GHOST89 but it is private when you try to click on it. 

The phone number your friend gave you rings straight through to voicemail. You let out a shaky breath. Fuck, you hate voicemail. Talking to people was difficult enough; talking to people’s disembodied machines was even worse somehow. It isn’t until you’ve hung up after leaving your message that you realize you forgot to tell him your fucking name (genius!). Groaning, you contemplate dialing him back when the phone in your hand rings—and it’s him. 

“Hello?” 

“I’m free Wednesdays for consultations,” says a baritone voice from the other end of the line. 

Nice to talk to you too, you think dryly. Maybe this guy is as bad at the phone as you are. “I work Wednesdays. Are you free in the evenings?” 

He sighs, like this is going to be very strenuous for him. 

“Name a time. I’ll pencil you in. Half is due at the end of the consultation upon booking an appointment. Cash only,” he says. 

Jesus Christ, could he be anymore abrupt? While a tiny part of you is grateful that he isn’t trying to make small talk, a larger part is terrified that you’ve already made an impression so foul that it’s incurred his wrath. What other reason could he have for being so stilted? 

“Alright,” you answer cautiously. “How’s five?” 

“Five. Don’t be late.” 

He hangs up on you, leaving you wondering why every step outside your comfort zone must be so bloody far.

-

You arrive early to the consultation, only to find that the building itself—a tidy little brick two-floor, adorned with a sign that dubbed it SKIN DEEP tattoos & artisan piercings, which you recognize from Instagram—is locked. A note written in neat handwriting taped to the door declares NO WALK INS. Your palms are sweaty. You wipe them on your work slacks, but it doesn’t help. How are you supposed to get in? 

All at once a shadow appears on the other side of the door. The shadow is enormous: well above six feet tall, and broad shouldered. A black surgical mask is tucked up over his mouth and nose, which only adds to his intimidating aura. Judging by the impressive sleeve of tattoos he has, you imagine that this is the guy. 

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. And Ghost. 

Dark brown eyes stare down at you when he opens the door, cocking a hip against the frame, staring at you. Waiting. 

Waiting for you to explain your presence, you realize. 

“I have a consultation,” you blurt out. “At…five?”

He opens the door wider to let you pass without a word. He’s so broad that you can smell him as you pass him: clean and masculine. The inside of the tattoo shop is bigger than it looks on the outside. There is a reception area with a desk and a computer and printer. The glossy wooden floors are polished to shine, leading to an open floor plan. There is a small sitting area with armchairs, a wide sofa, and a table on which rests two bottles of water, a notebook, and a steaming mug of liquid.

“Sit,” he says, his voice the same deep rumble you recognize from the phone. He chooses the chair beside the mug. His body is so goddamn long, his legs lean and thick all at once where he stretches them out in front of him. He reaches for the mug and takes a sip—of tea, judging by the smell. “Name?”

You tell him, perching yourself anxiously on the other chair. He glances up at you, eyes raking over your posture. Suddenly he tugs the mask down to rest beneath his chin, revealing a full, pale mouth. A straight, noble nose. A pink scar stretches across his lips and up towards his cheek. 

“The water is for you,” he says. 

“Oh!” You reach forward and take one bottle, breaking the seal. “Thank you.”

“This is your first tattoo.” 

“What gave me away?” you ask with a weak laugh. 

He doesn’t laugh. “Everything. Is someone putting you up to this? This smells like Soap.” 

“What? No, of course not. I want this, I’m just, I’m an anxious personality. I promise.” You hesitate and then add: “I probably smell like soap because I showered this morning.” 

His mouth twitches. He leans back in his seat and sucks on his teeth, and you get the distinct feeling that he is trying very hard not to laugh at you. Why had you mentioned to him that you showered? What was wrong with you? Just as you’re comprising a list of things, he picks up the pencil and the notebook, opening to a fresh page.

 He asks what you want and God, that’s a harder question. 

You do your best to express your idea, but your words feel halting and silly. His pencil scratches rapidly at the paper as he listens in total silence—pausing only once, when you say that you want this to be a sternum piece. Only then does his pencil seem to hover over the paper, his dark eyes seeking you out and pinning you in place on the armchair. 

He reaches for his tea to take a generous sip and then continues writing. 

He asks a few pointed, concise questions (and you’re just thrilled he was actually listening), following your answers up with more scribbling in his notebook. At length, he shuts the book. 

“I think I see the vision. Give me thirty to sketch something and we’ll see if you want to book an appointment. Something this size, on your sternum could take more than one session, depending on how well you sit. How do you take pain?” 

“I mean, it hurts?” you offer. 

He stares. “Two sessions. Let me sketch something. Drink your water.” 

You think that maybe he’ll move to another room to sketch, but he just flips to a clean page and begins to work right there (drawing the mask up over his nose and mouth again). With nothing else to do, you can’t help but watch him. 

He’s handsome, in an odd sort of way. His brow is a little too low, his gaze a little too intimidating to be considered conventionally attractive, but you find him fascinating to look at, especially when he is so clearly in the throes of something he enjoys doing. It’s almost like watching someone have sex. The thought makes your face go warm. You pick up your phone, determined not to look at him again. 

“Here.” 

You glance up from your mindless scrolling. What he shows you is a beautiful rendition of what you had expressed wanting. There are a few key differences, and he patiently explains why he made the decisions he did. He didn’t make the changes because he thought your idea was stupid. He made them so the image would better fit the contours of your body. He made them because the ink will spread over time, and he wants the look to stay clean. 

His thoughtfulness touches you. 

“I love it. I want it,” you say, enthusiasm getting the better of you. 

“This is just a first sketch,” he says dryly, making that warmth return to your face. “I’ll text you a few variations this week, and we can nail down the final piece. You want to book?” 

“Yes,” you say, nearly buzzing. “I really want to book.”

He’s expensive—but judging by the book of his artwork that is available for you to flip through at the front desk while he quotes you a price and writes you up a receipt, he is more than worth the money. Fuck, he’s got skill. You thought that maybe his art style was too dark for what you wanted, but you found that he was able to adapt styles nicely. You just hoped this tattoo wouldn’t bore him to death. 

“Thanks again for meeting with me,” you say as he sees you out. “I’ll be waiting for your text.” 

“You’ll get it.” He glances past you out the window. It’s dark. “Did you walk?” 

“No, my car is just there.”

“I’ll wait.” 

And he does. His figure darkens the doorway until you have shut your car and locked the doors, temporary insanity making you give him a short wave. He raises two fingers and then disappears. 

-

You didn’t tell me this guy was cute, you text to your friend. 

GHOST? Cute? I’ve never even seen his face lol. He’s always wearing one of his masks. 

You chew over this information. Yes he’d been wearing a mask, but he’d lowered it for you. Did that mean something? Did it mean something that you wanted it to mean something?  

Masks are cute, you say. 

Fuck the tattoo artist!!!! she says. Maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

You’re terrible. 

You’re…thinking about it. 

-

Two days later, you squint blearily into the darkness at your phone after it vibrates on your nightstand. The time reads twelve past one in the morning. It’s from GHOST. 

The two images he sends are beautiful; enough to rouse you straight from sleep into wakefulness. 

I love them both, you tell him. But the second one is amazing. I think that’s the one. 

Keep your appointment. Ten minutes later (after you have already fallen back to sleep) he sends: wear something appropriate.  

And fuck, you didn’t even think of that. 

-

“You’re being ridiculous,” you mutter to yourself in the mirror, turning sideways to assess yourself. On the bed behind you are a series of button up shirts, all of which you have tried on at one point or another. 

“You are,” your friend agrees from where she lounges on your bed, scrolling on her phone. “Your tits are cute. Let Ghost see them.” 

The look you give her is the one the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ was modeled after, surely. She doesn’t even see it, so the effect is lost entirely. You turn your gaze back to the silicone nipple adhesive covers again, still stuck to their adhesive backing. You’ve already used one set of the pack of three, and they covered your nipple and areolas nicely, but still left you feeling so exposed. 

“Be glad you’re not going to creepy Kevin anymore,” your friend says.

“Very glad of it.” 

You felt reasonably safe with Ghost, but still a degree of embarrassment about your own body. Or perhaps that was too strong a word—it didn’t embarrass you, but it felt private. Baring your breasts to a near stranger (especially one you had a grudging attraction to) made your anxiety reach epic level proportions. 

“You should text him about it, see if he has any advice for you. He’s been doing this for years. I’m sure he’s seen it all,” she says—the first good idea she’s had all night, miles ahead of ‘Just let Ghost see your cute tits’. 

That night, you take her advice and text him, hoping you aren’t overstepping some weird artist-client boundary. 

I’m a little nervous.

You can cancel, is all he says. I’ll refund your money.

It’s not that. 

What is it? 

Not really accustomed to the nakedness tbh. There. You said it. Let him think you some prim priss; it was true. 

But all he said back was: how can I help?  

I don’t know, you admit. Then; sorry. I’m probably bothering you with this while you’re working. 

I’m not working. Five minutes later, when it seems as if you aren’t going to message back: I keep the shop closed to the public. One customer at a time: you. I’ll let my piercer know I’m with a client and not to walk in. I’ll keep you covered every moment I can. Better? 

Relief, warm and sweet curling low in your belly, you let him know: much better. 

-

You bring the pasties anyway. 

-

The day of your appointment, you are so nervous you are shaking. Now you know the truth behind the phrase ‘knees knocking together’, as you stand outside SKIN DEEP waiting for Ghost’s hulking figure to appear on the other side of the glass. 

When it does, he’s like a little punch to the gut. That black surgical mask is in place—typical for him, if your friend’s words are to be trusted—but his blond hair, cropped short to his scalp is riotous in a way that is adorably charming, like he hasn’t been able to keep his hands out of it. His black t-shirt stretches across his broad shoulders, and his jeans fit him nicely around his thick thighs. 

You’re horrified to find that your attraction to him has grown. Exponentially. Your friend’s words echo in your mind—fuck the tattoo artist, maybe he’ll ink you for free. 

“Hi,” you squeak. 

Ghost raises both his brows. He opens the door wider for you to slip past him. Fuck he still smells good.

“I’m still nervous,” you blurt out, hoping that speaking the truth out loud will help you feel better. It doesn’t. 

“That’s normal. You can back out at any time, but the earlier the better. Come look at the image and tell me if it’s still what you want.”

It’s exactly what you want, and more. 

“It’s perfect. You’re very talented.” 

He huffs a little, like you shouldn’t have said such a thing. 

The chair is a great leather contraption which reclines comfortably once he’s gotten you in it (after making you use the restroom first, during which you took the time to splash water on your burning face and double check that your pasties were in place covering all the cutest bits according to your friend). Simon moves around you, making preparations with the ease of someone who has done this work for many years. 

You fight the arousal that blooms in your belly at the sight of him doing such benign things as washing his hands, putting on gloves, opening fresh needles, preparing little wells of ink and sticking them to the movable cart with Vaseline. There’s just something about a person who knows exactly what they’re doing and who is able to do it with efficacy.

“Ready?” he asks at length. 

You nod, hoping your nerves don’t show on your face. Steeling yourself, you unbutton the shirt you’re wearing. His eyes follow your hands, but there is a detached, clinical sort of expression in them. He’s not watching a strip tease, he’s looking at a canvas. 

Finally, you sit in front of him in only the pasties, the shirt lax around your shoulders, and your sweatpants, socked toes curling in anxiety in your shoes. Without missing a beat, he leans the chair all the way back. Then he opens a fresh disposable razor and shaves you. 

“Am I hairy?” you ask, resting your hands oh-so-casually over your breasts to keep them out of his way. 

“Yes,” he says. Then his eyes flicker to yours. “Everyone is. Everywhere. It’s normal.”

“I’m just teasing you.” 

“Didn’t think you had the breath in your body left to tease me,” he mutters, voice nearly lost behind his mask as he carefully works the razor across your skin removing the baby-fine hairs from beneath your breasts and across your sternum. “You’re nervous, I mean.” 

“Would you take the mask off?” you ask on a whim. It had helped last time, to see his face. 

“No,” he says. He adds: “Sorry. It’s more sanitary f’you if I keep it on.” 

You get the feeling that he really is sorry—and that’s well enough. Some of the anxiety in your belly fades away. He would take it off if he could. The most anxious part of the process (baring yourself to a stranger) has already passed. Maybe now you can begin to relax. 

After cleaning your skin, he carefully lays the stencil and has you stand up to look at it in the mirror and make sure the placement is correct and holy fucking shit. It’s sexy. You’ve always been attracted to tattoos, and fancied the idea of getting one on your sternum for far longer than you’d ever admitted to anyone, but seeing it come to life gives you a rush you hadn’t expected. You feel so…badass. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Very good,” you answer, sitting back down, hoping he ignores the way your breasts bounce a little as you do. He leans you back again and this time breaks out the needle gun.

But before he uses it on you, he carefully takes a clean towel and lays it over your left breast, covering the parts of you that are not nearest to his eyes. His gentleness and thoughtfulness go straight to your cunt. 

“Thank you,” you say softly. 

He just nods. The gun buzzes to life. “I’ll make a line and see how you feel. Last chance to back out without any souvenirs.” 

“I’m not backing out.” 

He clicks his tongue as if to say, It’s your funeral. Then he lays his hand on your sternum above your breasts, pinning you in place, and makes a gentle line. 

It burns more than you expected it to. There’s a sandpaper quality to it, almost like the rasping of a cat’s tongue. The pain is sharp and bright, but it isn’t overwhelming. In fact…a strange part of you sort of enjoys it. Maybe it’s the rush of endorphins. 

“Good?” He asks. 

“Good,” you squeak. 

You hear his quiet laugh, no more than an exhale of breath.

“Let me know when you need to break.” 

You don’t know how you feel about the way he phrases that: when you need to break. He adjusts his mask a little, leans over you, and gets to work. Sometimes the needles pass over a place that is more sensitive than the others, making you flinch. He pauses when this happens, eyes flickering up to your own, making sure you are alright even though he can likely feel the pounding of your heart beneath his hand. That hand on your chest, wrist just brushing the top of your breast, is a solid warm weight that seems to tether you back down to the earth as he lines you. He is very careful not to brush against your breast when he wipes away the excess ink and traces of blood, but you feel hyper-attuned to how easy it would be for him if he wanted to. How huge his hand is compared to your tit. Beneath the pasties, your nipples ache with tension, a tension that is mirrored between your legs. 

“Alright. Break,” he says, abruptly turning the gun off. He covers your exposed breast with another towel. “Take ten.”

He disposes of his gloves and disappears behind a curtain in the back, leaving you throbbing between the legs. Worming your phone free from your pocket, you scroll aimlessly, hoping to calm your raging hormones. He returns right at the ten minute mark, just as his cellphone rings. He glances toward where it rests on the table, but makes no move to answer it. 

“Do you need to get that?” you ask, offering him an out.

“No,” he says. “I make everyone leave a message. Weeds out the cowards.”

It had almost weeded out you, you think about telling him, but in the end you decide against it. He gloves back up. 

“Good for more?”

And so it repeats. 

At one point, he runs into a patch of sensitive skin on your ribs just overlaying the bone. It has you sucking in a breath through your teeth, eyes squeezing shut. It’s too late to turn back now you tell yourself; the only way out is through. 

His thumb gently strokes your sternum. 

“It’s rough. You can take it,” he says, quiet and focused. The buzzing of the gun never ceases as he tries to make his work as quick as possible, his words a little distant and distracted. “Just keep breathing. That’s it. Good girl.”

Jesus. Did he not have any idea what those words could do to a girl? A groan escapes your lips, and he clearly mistakes it for pain, because his thumb strokes again the soft skin over your heart, just above the curve of your breast. 

“You can do it. Just a little longer for me, and we’ll break.”

“Hurts,” you breathe, flinching again. 

He hushes you, surprisingly tender. 

“This is the worst of it.” This time, his thumb does brush the edge of your breast, making you suck in a gasp. He recoils, hand lifting away from you and curling into a fist. He rests that against you instead, taking away any further hope that he might brush his fingertips against you. You make it through the rough patch with tears in your eyes but no worse for wear.  

“Break. Ten minutes,” he says again, already shredding his gloves and moving to disappear behind the curtain. 

You call out: “Hey, wait—I’d rather just get through it in one go if I can. If this really is the worst of it.” 

“I need breaks too,” he says stonily.

You duck your head, feeling silly. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He vanishes again. 

He is late to return to you. Only by five minutes or so, but noticeably for a man so usually punctual and so demanding of punctuality in you. His face is stoic—what bits of it you can see from behind the mask—as he washes his hands thoroughly and preps his work station again. 

This time his hand keeps a very respectable distance from your breasts—a fact which you both lament and appreciate all in one. He works with single-minded efficiency, giving you his entire focus. You break once more, but this time he breaks in the room with you, stretching out his back and neck (giving you a generous glimpse of his belly when his shirt rides up, exposing cut abs and a happy trail you’d give your life to follow). 

“I think we could do this in one sitting, if you have nowhere else to be,” he mutters at length. 

“Eager to be done?” you wonder. 

He stares at you, expression flat, and says nothing. Nothing needs to be said. 

“I don’t have anywhere to be,” you murmur, staring up at the bright adjustable light that he has positioned over you. You hope he mistakes that for the reason behind any mistiness in your eyes, his rudeness cutting you deeply. 

So the two of you push through later into the evening, until you are sweating at your temples and the base of your neck from the continuous pain for so long. At last he lays the last gradient for the shading, sprays you down, and wipes you clean so very gently. 

“Go take a look. I’m going to cover it up.” 

It’s beautiful. Stunning, even. You let your shirt gape closed and cover the pasties, revealing a broad glimpse of the sternum tattoo, and it is the sexiest you have ever felt. It almost makes your eyes burn anew.

“I love it,” you choke out. “Thank you.”

“Can I take a picture of it?” he asks. “For Instagram.” 

“Sure!” It will feel a little like being famous, you think, judging by how much notice each of the photos on his Instagram garners. He crouches down on the floor to be at the perfect height, reaches out and gently adjusts your shirt. Parts of the tattoo are covered—the very far edges—but you can’t deny how sexy it is. Maybe he feels the same way. 

After he takes the photo, he posts it and asks for your handle to tag you in it. Then he says: “Let me cover it up. Keep it covered overnight, but tomorrow let it breathe. Keep it clean. Don’t do anything stupid to it. Understand?” 

“I understand.”

“And if you have any questions—text me.” 

-

You get home to find that Ghost’s personal account has requested to follow you. Thrumming with nerves and excitement, you accept the request and send one of your own, spending the night scrolling through his Instagram (so, so carefully to avoid any incidental ‘likes’). Plenty of the photos are of his artwork, still. But there are ones of his dog: a German Shepherd that is thankfully much more photogenic than her surly owner. There are three or four photos featuring Ghost himself, and only one has his full face in the picture. You find yourself staring at his fixated expression for longer than is respectable. 

-

Three days later when you find yourself panicking, you don’t text him like he asked you to. You call. 

Your skin is peeling off. Peeling. Off. The sight of it makes your stomach roll. The entire tattoo is hot to the touch, and the skin around it feels warm as well. Flushed. Is it supposed to hurt this much? 

The internet doesn’t help. The peeling is normal, sure. But everything else is suggesting that your tattoo could be infected. What sort of ink did Ghost use? Was it reputable? What if the infection reaches your bloodstream? You were too young to die! Your anxiety spirals like a plane with one wing, trailing smoke as it soars straight down, determined to take you with it.   

With shaking hands, you don’t even think about texting Ghost. You go straight to calling him, tapping his number in your phone and pressing it to your ear, listening to the ring. 

He’s going to send you to voicemail, just like he does to everyone else—except he doesn’t. All the sudden there is glorious feedback from the other end: a cacophony of voices and laughter, clearly some sort of gathering. 

“Yes?” Ghost says into the phone, as if that’s a decent hello. 

“There’s something wrong with my tattoo!” you cry. 

“Wait—get out of my goddamn way.” There is rustling, and then the noise decreases substantially. You can almost see him standing outside whatever bar his friends have brought him to, mask down around his chin, hand over his other ear as he strains to listen to you. “Say it again. Now I can fucking hear you.”

“There’s. Something. Wrong,” you say through your teeth. “With my tattoo!”

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s falling off, for one!”

He snorts. “That’s normal. That's why you called?” 

“It’s all swollen and hot. And it hurts.” 

Now that shuts him up. He sighs a little, switches the phone from one ear to the other. “Hurts how bad?”

“Worse than getting it.” 

“Fuck me. Alright. Meet me at the shop in…twenty?” 

“Twenty minutes from now?” 

“From when else?” He hangs up. Man doesn’t know the meaning of the word goodbye. 

-

The night is cool. You don’t bother with a bra, not when it irritates your tattoo so much. Pulling your jacket closed more tightly around yourself, you walk from your parking spot along the street to the tattoo shop. 

Ghost stands outside at the curb. His figure is unmistakable. He is smoking, mask down, the lit end of his cigarette a burning ember that flares bright in the darkness. When he sees you coming, he crushes the cigarette beneath his boot and opens the door to the shop, which is still and dark. He flicks on a light switch as he goes, casting the place in a warm glow. 

He’s dressed in his usual dark jeans and an obscenely tight t-shirt, his sleeve of tattoos on display. He leaves the mask down. His eyes are on your tits—or resting where your tattoo is beneath your clothes. 

“Well. Sit. Show me.”

You sit in one of the armchairs, your shoulders rising in defensiveness. “What, just flash you?”

“Nothing I’ve never seen before.” 

Gritting your teeth, you begin unbuttoning your shirt until it gapes open. You cup your breasts with your hands, maintaining your modesty while putting the tattoo on full display. He narrows his eyes, leaning down. His fingers reach out, but then he thinks twice and washes his hands. 

“I was smoking,” he says when you roll your eyes in exasperation. 

“You’re worried about getting the chemicals on my skin but not in your lungs?”

“Fuck my lungs,” he mutters. His fingers hover over your tattoo. “Can I?”

You nod. His fingers are cool when they gently prod and ghost along the edges of the tattoo, feeling for the signature warmth of an infection. “Any fever?” he asks. 

“Not that I’ve noticed.” 

“You feel warm, but I’ve felt warmer. I don’t think it’s infected. Have you tried icing it?”

“No,” you admit. 

“Ice will help. Just use something clean, for fuck’s sake.” As he speaks, his breath fans across your chest, making you shiver. He sees this, his eyes darkening. “When you called, I thought it was for me.”

“It was for you,” you say, brow furrowing. “Who else?”

He snorts, lips quirking. It tugs on the scar across his lips. “Forget it.” 

“Forget what?” 

“Talking about it goes against forgetting it.”

You groan, tossing up your hands. “You’re impossible.” 

He reaches out and jerks your shirt closed, hastily doing up a button. Your face burns as you do up the rest of the buttons—you end up having to backtrack and redo them because he was off by one. 

“Thank you for meeting me. I’m sorry it was for nothing.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” he says. “And I wasn’t doing much.”

“You were with friends,” you insist.

His eyes narrow. “Who told you that?” 

“I saw it on your Instagram tonight.” 

“Nosey.” 

“I could buy you a drink sometime,” you offer after a lengthy pause, your heart pounding loud enough to fill the silence between you. Are you really doing this? Are you really asking him out?  “Make up for the ones I lost you tonight.” 

“Maybe.”

God, it’s like he’s not getting it. Maybe you need to be bolder. Fortune favors the bold, doesn’t it? Your hands are shaking when they fall back to the buttons on your shirt. 

“Would you take one more look at my tattoo? Just to be…positive?”

He sighs and makes an impatient hand gesture. Your fingers fumble through the buttons again. You don’t cover yourself with your hands this time; just keep the halves of your shirt over your nipples. He dutifully exams the tattoo again, prodding gently, laying the flat of his fingers against it to feel the warmth it lets off. 

“Maybe you should look closer.” 

His eyes flicker up to yours. “Closer.”

Your mouth is dry. “Yeah.”

“Can’t get much closer than I am.” 

“You could—if you wanted to.” 

“If I—“ it hits him then. You can see it in the fractional widening of his eyes, the way his mouth parts softly in blatant surprise before he shuts it, dark eyes returning to your sternum. He says: “Closer.”

“Mhm.”

The back of his hand brushes against your breast, causing your breath to hitch. His thumb traces softly along the outline of the tattoo, following the path just beneath your shirt, nudging the fabric aside slowly, so slowly, until your breast is bare, nipple puckered and aching. 

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. His eyes flicker to yours as if to see if you really want this—and whatever he sees must reassure him, because then he is sweeping his fingertips along the bottom curve of your breast and taking it into his hand, his palm rasping gently over your nipple. All the breath rushes out of you. Your thighs clench together. Already you’re aching—have been since you saw his mouth around that cigarette on the street—but he moves with determined caution. His thumb finds your nipple and teases it, pulling a desperate little sound from the back of your throat. 

“Pretty little tits,” he says, his voice a warm, smoky rumble that goes straight to your core. He captures your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching softly. 

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand reaching out to brace yourself against his shoulder. He is solid and firm beneath your touch, unmoving and unmalleable. Your breasts have always been sensitive, but it feels like every touch is directly related to the feelings in your cunt. You find your back arching, hips searching for friction against the seat of the chair. 

“Be still,” he says firmly. Another pitiful sound slips past your throat. “Let me play with you.” 

“Please,” you gasp. “Play with me—even if that’s all you want—just don’t stop, please.” 

His mouth parts as he listens to you, his eyes so, so dark. The pupils have nearly swallowed his irises whole, until you can see yourself bare from the waist up in the reflection. He shakes his head a little. “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“I do. I—“ your words are cut off with a gasp as he hauls you out of the chair by your wrist and onto his lap. He’s so thick thighed that it stretches you obscenely to have him between your legs. His hands tear the button-up off your shoulders and down your arms until it flutters to the floor, leaving you half naked. Dipping his head, he presses a heated kiss to the place on your sternum where he had rested his hand during the tattoo—and then trails wet kisses towards your left breast, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking with a decided softness. 

You let out an unflattering, choked groan, resting your weight heavily against him until you can feel the prominent bulge in his tight jeans. His hands find your ass and grip you tightly, working you back and forth, rubbing that bulge against your clothed sex. 

“Driving me fucking crazy,” he mutters against your skin, opening his mouth to drag the sharp line of his teeth against the curve of one breast before switching to the other and flicking his tongue over your nipple. 

You gape at his admission. Had you been? He’d been so closed off and cool…though now that you thought back, maybe that was just his way of hiding it. Suddenly he grips the back of your neck, where your hairline ends, and pulls you to his mouth. He tastes faintly of smoke, even fainter of the drinks he had had earlier in the night, but it is an intoxicating mixture. Your tongues find a rhythm as your hips do the same, both of you fucking in every sense of the word except the literal kind. 

He takes one of your thighs and wedges it between his own, until you’re no longer grinding against his cock but instead his denim-clad thigh. “You the kind of girl who can cum like this? Just from this?” 

“Uh-huh,” you promise, head bobbing. 

He buries his face in your neck. “Good. I won’t last when I’ve got my cock in you. I’d like you to cum at least once before then.”

“Oh god,” you groan, gripping his shoulders fiercely as you begin a halting, stilted rhythm against his thigh. The denim is rough against your leggings. He feels all around you: his scent, his taste, his touch. When his hands find your hips to help you work yourself against him more smoothly, a sigh of gratitude fans from your lips. 

“What else do you need?” he asks. 

“My—touch me—“ He abandons your hips once you find a suitable rhythm. He finds your nipples again, teasing them with clever fingers. The stimulation has your peak approaching faster, building like a storm in your lower belly. 

Ghost leans back to look at you, eyes trailing over you from head to toe: your face burning with warmth, your breasts with peaked little nipples, your leggings nearly soaked through at the crotch with how wet you are. He shakes his head, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. 

“Fucking perfect.” You bury your face in his neck, feeling a warmth inside your chest. He grips you by the neck again and tugs you back. “Look at me. Look at me.” 

You look at him for as long as you can, but when the band in your belly finally snaps, your eyes roll up and slip shut, your mouth drops open in a choked gasp, nails digging into his shoulders as you shudder and shake in the throes of your pleasure. 

He leans down to kiss you through it, tongue teasing at your slack mouth. 

When he stands, he takes you with him, hauling you up until you wrap your shaking legs around his waist. It’s probably a good thing too. You aren’t sure you could walk otherwise. He carries you the few steps to the couch and lays you down, curling his fingers in the waistband of your leggings. You nod. He strips them off you, along with your flats, and your panties until you are naked as the day you were born.

Your thighs clamp together shyly. He lets them, reaching behind himself to pull his shirt off. Something catches your eye in the streetlights streaming in through the window: Ghost has one of his nipples pierced, a neat little barbell through the sensitive flesh. 

Fingers enter your vision—your own—reaching out on instinct. You hesitate, unsure if he is receptive, and a little afraid to hurt him. He’s so bloody tall, too…but he takes care of that himself by kneeling down by your side, his eyes cautious. Closer, you can see the scars: silvery in the moonlight, crisscrossing over his torso. 

“Does it hurt?” You ask, softly stroking your fingers beneath the pale pink skin of his areola. 

“No,” he says. You can feel the timber of his warm voice vibrating through his chest, up your fingers, straight to your pussy. “You can play with it.”

You shyly run your thumb over it the way he had yours. He sighs, breath fanning across your arm. His eyes go heavy-lidded, tongue flashing as he wets his lips. After a moment, you grow insecure and move your hands away from his nipple down to a scar that crosses his sternum. He lets you, very patient, like a dangerous creature withholding its bite. 

“You’re so—“ the words are whispered dreamily before you have any idea how you plan to finish the sentence. Flushing with embarrassed heat under his wary stare, you finish: “—hot.” 

He physically turns away, expression inscrutable. You can’t help but feel like you have said the wrong thing. He puts a hand on your belly, stroking the softness. “You broken, or can you take more?” 

“I want more.”

“Want my cock?” 

You nod, feeling like a bobble head. 

“I want to hear you say it.” 

“I want your cock.”

His hand reaches for his belt, unbuckling it. Your eyes track the movement with hungry nerves. His hands put butterflies in your belly: thick palms with long, slender fingers, veins criss-crossing along the backs. An artist’s hands. He works his belt free with nimble grace and shucks down his jeans and underwear in one smooth movement, revealing his cock to your gaze and the light from the street lamps. 

He is huge here to match. Downright intimidating in length and girth, uncut with a nice curve toward his belly. He grips himself and gives a series of smooth strokes, the muscles in his abdomen flexing into sharp relief. 

“Oh my god,” you mutter. 

“No gods here,” he says, kneeling up on the couch. His hands part your thighs, and for a long time he just looks at you, that sensitive, swollen place between your legs. He stares so long that you nearly cover your face, embarrassed by whatever he is thinking. Then he touches you, and when he does, he touches you with surprising reverence. He touches you like you are art. 

“Can’t believe you let me ink you,” he mutters, stroking your vulva with his warm palm. His eyes are on the sternum piece now. “Practically let me carve my name into your skin. Anybody around here who sees it will know who did it. They’ll know who touched you.” 

“Good,” you breathe. 

His sigh is shaky. You’re learning his reactions, his very breaths. That shaky sigh means he’s pleased with you. You’ve said something right. 

He reaches down to his jeans on the floor and works a hand into his pocket, pulling free a condom. He hands it to you—for inspection, you realize, though you’ve had so few one night stands (try zero) that you’ve never had the need to inspect a condom before. The package is intact at least. There appears to be an expiration date which you squint at. All looks well. You hand it back to him and he tears it open, rolling it down his considerable length. 

Then he goes back to touching you. One hand braces himself against the back of the sofa so he can lean down to kiss you, tasting your mouth deeply. The other hand finds your entrance, circling it with a finger before slipping inside you all the way to the last knuckle. You are wet enough and relaxed enough that he slips in easily. 

“Relax…there you go. Let me in,” he says under his breath, working a second finger in beside the first. It is a bit of a stretch—he’s thick everywhere goddamn it—but it’s a good stretch, a much needed one. The third finger has you stiffening, whining at the pinch of pain. He slows his fingers and lets his thumb find your clit, muting the pain with little jolts of pleasure. 

“Ghost,” you groan, toes curling against the leather of the couch.

“I think you can take it,” he says, thumb so soft and insistent against that aching pearl of nerves. “But what do you think?” 

“Your cock—want it—please—“

“Alright,” he laughs, pulling his fingers free and wiping the wetness on his cock. “No need to beg.” 

He notches his cock against your entrance and slips inside you. Both of you inhale together, like on cue. Just the first few inches have you feeling full beyond your comfort zone, but he seems to understand in his silent, all-knowing way. He stills, working that free hand between you both to play with your clit until you’re clenching around him, body trying to pull him deeper. He slips further in and then reaches the end of what your body can take. You feel fucking stuffed, your hands shaking where you have gripped his naked shoulders, nails digging into his skin. 

His own breathing is ragged, pecs brushing your nipples with every inhale. The little bursts of pleasure help, until you find that your hips have grown restless, working back and forth as much as his substantial weight will allow when you’re pinned beneath it. 

“Stay still,” he mutters into the juncture of your neck. “Stay still or I’ll cum and this is all over.”

“Can’t,” you gasp, his revelation electrifying you. “Have to move, ‘m so full—“

“Fucking hell,” he groans. He pulls out, leaving you feeling gaped. “Roll onto your side.” 

He gives you instruction but isn’t shy about reaching out and physically arranging you until you are both spooning, your back to his chest. This time when he enters you, it is more shallow, and easier for him to reach around and play with your clit. 

You arch your back, seeking more of him, pressing your breast into his free palm. He plucks at the nipple, teeth nibbling at your throat. 

“Want you to cum again,” he says, stilling your movements so that you can’t fuck your self back against him. “Give me one more. Then it’s my turn.”

“Ghost—I can’t—“ you’ve never cum twice before. Not even with your favorite toys have you been able to scrounge together more than one illustrious orgasm. This knowledge and your expectation of his disappointment has you stiffening in his arms. 

“If you can’t, then don’t,” he says simply, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He keeps his fingers soft and insistent against you, and only after a few lengthy moments does he feel confident enough to work his hips against you too. He pulls out too far and his length drags across your labia, the head brushing where his fingers play with your clit. 

You give a sighing little moan. His head cocks; you aren’t the only one listening to sighs. Now when he gives those lazy, lackadaisical thrusts, his entire length just strokes the outside of your sex. 

“Oh fuck,” you whine, feeling that band in your belly begin pulling tight again. 

He hums behind you, a smug sound. 

“Not sure I want you to cum now,” he says. “Hold it. I’m thinking it over.” 

“Ghost!”

He laughs, honest to God laughs at you. Tears prick your eyes from the sheer need (and a bit from embarrassment) but his hips never cease nor slow their tireless thrusts against you, not even when you grow close enough to beg, close enough to plead. 

He loops his arm around your waist and pins you against him when you cum to keep you from rolling right off the couch, your body wracked with shivers and spasms. The warmth of your release washes over you from head to toe, and you are still basking in it when his cock finds your entrance again and enters you. 

The position keeps the penetration blissfully shallow (otherwise he might give your cervix a painful beating), but he still reaches new lengths inside you, filling spaces you didn’t know were empty. The shop is eerily quiet except for the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and the frequent breathy sounds his cock punches out of your lungs. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lets out a series of sounds that are toe-curling: deep groans and raspy curses, whispered praise and hisses through his teeth. His hand grips your hip tightly, leaving shadows the shape of his fingerprints on your skin as he fucks you. 

Sooner than you’d like—but he’d warned you, hadn’t he?—his thrusts grow sloppy, the sounds messy thanks to your wetness as he finds his release and moans it into the skin of your throat. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. And again: “Fuck, fuck. You broken?” 

“Yes.” 

He snorts. Then it turns into that laughter, warm and rumbling against your back. You smile where he can’t see. 

-

“Sorry about this,” he says as he ties the condom off and throws it away, naked as the day he was born. You’re still naked too, though much more shy, legs crossed demurely and arms wrapped around yourself. 

“Regretting it already?” 

“Yes,” he says. Then, when he sees the stricken look on your face, he adds: “Should have at least taken you to dinner first.” 

“Dinner?”

“You owe me drinks. I owe you dinner.” He finds his boxers in the darkness and slips back into them. Then, because the expression on your face still hasn’t relaxed, he says: “I don’t regret the sex. Do you?”

You shake your head. 

He scoffs a little. 

“I mean it,” you insist. You touch your tattoo. “I wanted it…the day you did—this.” 

He raises both brows at you, silently calling your bluff.

“I didn’t think you were interested,” you admitted sheepishly. 

“I jerked off in the back just from seeing half your tits,” he admits, slipping into his jeans now too. His mouth curls a little at the corner when he sees the way you gape at this news. “I was interested.” 

You laugh; you can’t help it. “Dinner, then? Or drinks?” 

“Yeah,” he says. “Alright. Get dressed.”

[shmpxx]

CURSED SPIRIT — y.o

⛤ curse! yuuta okkotsu x fem! reader

yuuta okkotsu being your one and only curse.

cw. smut. unprotected sex. creampies. multiple orgasms. groping. dry humping. public sex-ish. fingering. slight oral (f. receiving). overstimulation. thigh fucking. somnophilia. possessiveness. yandere tendencies. mentions of violence. +18!

wc: 1.2k

a/n: inspired by @deviants-forest work! etc. (go check it out) also happy kinktober! :)

Curse!yuuta who creeps up your back, his hands finding your waist and his lips tickle your ear as he’s whispering how much he needs you on a subway train to home. “Not now…” you whisper over your shoulder to him trying not to be noticeable by others who crowded you and payed no mind, too busy on their phones. You bit your bottom lip when he presses himself against your ass in one movement already having your blood rush like crazy. You try to keep your composure like nothings bothering you but yuuta’s hard on humping into you desperately, whining in your ear and his cold hands reaching under your shirt to grope your boob. “need you ‘s bad” he was always touchy, could never keep his hands off you.

Curse!yuuta who doesn’t mind your sorcerer friends as long as they don’t get too close. Your friends can sense the heavy weight of cursed energy from you, even if they got close it was too much to bare sense yuuta was around, the air would fill thick and negative. You could barely go out with them to eat without his fingers buried in your cunt and playing your clit. They would ask you if you were okay when your head is down on the table but you just excuse it as you were not feeling well for a second but yuuta is grinning ear to ear, amused how your well your taking his slender fingers, curling them inside and you can’t help but squirm in your seat acting like your stomach is just hurting though you were about to orgasm. “Please yuuta..” you whisper to him “Come on you can cum on my fingers..” his raspy tone sending you shivers down your back.

Curse!yuuta who watches an “old friend” hug you, his hands in places that shouldn’t be. After you would praise yuuta for staying calm but yuuta would give shake his head only because you would be upset if he did anything and simply gave you a warning “Next time I’ll break his arm” “You can’t be serious” you sigh, you always knew he was.

Curse!yuuta who clenches his fist watching some prick try to flirt with you in front of him knowing he can’t be seen. Even the second time you reject him you can feel yuuta’s anger grow by the second that in any moment he would take action. “I-i have a boyfriend-“ praying yuuta doesn’t get violent “I don’t see him?” His hand coming up to touch your shoulder now he’s on the floor shouting in pain, blood from his broken nose all over his hands, shaken up that he didn’t see anyone hit him? Was he going crazy? “Pathetic” Yuuta mutters luckily he held back a lot, he could do so much worse and this wasn’t the first time.

Curse!yuuta who gets anxious that you might hate him when you get into arguments. He feels like he can’t exist without you, he’s nothing without you and the thought of you hating him makes his heart sink and scared that he’ll be all alone. He didn’t care about anyone else he just needed you. The amount of times you got tired of telling him not to hurt people and you could handle the situation yourself. He’ll plead you not to hate him and apologized excessively. “We can talk about this tomorrow” his stomach sinking by the tone of your voice that it will all end up to you hating him. He couldn’t stand the feeling.

Curse!yuuta who wants to let you know how much he loves you and how much he needs you, praying you don’t leave him or hate him. He glares at you in your sleeping state though he can’t wait til tomorrow he needed you to know now. “Please don’t hate me” “i love you so much” as he’s softly kissing your neck on each side, peeling your panties off. The cold air makes your cunt clench at his sight. He’s kissing the inner of your thighs sweetly and his lips makes contact with your pussy and a small whimper emits from your mouth. “Yuuta” you utter half sleep thinking it was only a sex dream, you were a heavy sleeper at that. he’s burying his lips between your folds trying to get more like he was so starved. If he can just make you feel good you won’t be mad at him and you can forgive him.

Curse!yuuta who can’t wait any longer, his dick pulsating through his pants even how much he gets drunk off your pussy, he loves the taste of it every time but he’s rutting against the mattress. Brings your thighs together to slip his cock between, throwing his head back letting out quiet moans as his cock is rubbing against your clit between your thighs. Your eyelids almost twitching open. He spreads your legs apart and sinks his dick into you watching your pretty lashes flutter at the sudden pleasure of you being spread apart. “Yu..?” You begin to stir awake, he kisses your lips before you start to fully take consciousness. “I don’t want you to hate me” “forgive me please” as he’s thrusting harsh inside you and swallowing your lips. By the time your walls were the shape of him every time he used you so it was easy for him to slide right in, you were made for him and he was made for you was the thought that brought him comfort. His fingers entwines with yours, his cock continuously rubbing hard in your insides. “Yuuta!” You moaned beautifully in his ear, your hand clawing at his back, yuuta loved it, it didn’t hurt him because you could never hurt him he didn’t mind it.

Curse!yuuta not wanting to stop, he’ll never get tired of cumming and filling up your pussy. You’ll be overstimulated begging him to stop it was awfully much to handle, you couldn’t cum anymore but you did as he’s plunging his cock in your abused cunt. The choke sobs and sounds of squelching filled the room “Need you-need you tell me you love me…please f-forgive me..ah!” Rubbing your clit increasing more nerves. “I-i love you yuuta! Ah-I really do! I could never be mad at you” Your words lifting weight off his chest still pounding into you. Holding you in a warm embrace to finish inside you. When he did filling up your womb one last time with his string of cum, your nails dig into his back letting your last orgasms crash into you. You let out a cry into his shoulder, your body trembles.

Curse!yuuta who needs constant reassurance you’ll never leave him, placing gentle kisses on each part of his face. Even though he’s nothing but a curse to you, being invisible to the outside world, Has a hard time showing remorse it’s just what he does to protect you, he somewhat doesn’t know that but knows he can be a bit possessive he just can’t help the urges of anyone getting close to you or worse even laying a finger.

Curse!yuuta bending you over the counter in the morning as you were trying to make yourself breakfast, last night was rough you were a bit sore but yuuta still misses your pussy. “Just a quick one I promise! I miss you so much! I’m just displaying my love for you—“ he pushes himself inside your worn out cunt from last night once again, you whimper at the feeling each time he rolls his hips when his balls slap against you. His hands reaching to your tit, massaging it in his palms. You don’t think you could ever break the curse from yuuta okkotsu.

[amaranthinespirit]

Hi! I couldn’t find anything on your pinned regarding if you take requests, so feel free to ignore this is you don’t.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed lately about the lack of love towards us mid-size girlies in fanfics in general. Its hard to feel wanted sometimes if you’re not thin enough or curvy enough. Would mind writing a fic with any member of the CoD 141 that just appreciates their mid-size girl? Thank you 💞

simon riley with midsize!reader (I'm so sorry this took so long, but I love this request)

simon riley loves a girl with a bit of weight on her. he'd never understand how you could be so insecure about how your body looked (if you were), especially when you just looked so perfect to him.

your body was a perfect balance in his eyes, plush thighs and tummy that he could bury his face in after he arrived home to you.

when you first asked him to leave the room so you could change, he just gave you a blank stare. he just loved to stare at you (he has a staring problem).

you just look so delectable, he could just eat you up (he does).

but aren't your thighs too big? no, better to crush his head when he's lapping at your sopping pussy.

but aren't you not curvy enough? who needs curves anyways? his eyes are glued to your ass or tits regardless

but your tummy isn't flat? who wants a flat stomach anyways? you have organs, lovie, and he'll gladly rearrange them.

but you're not thin enough? he doesn't care, it just means you're well taken care of, and that's all he wants. more to love, anyways darling.

he can still throw you around without breaking a sweat, toss you over his shoulder with a sharp slap to your ass.

he'll happily fuck you in front of the tall mirror in your bedroom, his chest pressed against your back as he hovers over you. his breath kissing your ear, his voice breathy and deep as he mumbles praises.

his hand is laced through your hair, forcing your eyes to the mirror, his other hand around your neck, fingers creeping up to hold your jaw. red marks and bruises forming all along your neck, trailing down your skin with no pattern. chest bitten and glistening from saliva around your perky buds.

he'd fuck you slow, every praise about your body, your appearance punctuated with a sharp thrust of his cock buried in your weeping pussy. the soft slap of his hips against your ass, your skin rippling from impact, reddening.

come on, lovie, you don't get to come until you're saying positive things. you want to come, don't you?

[cuntdevil]

★ TOUCHDOWN ON THAT PUSSY !

a good way to celebrate the victory of a game is to have a sweet little treat right after.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, satoru gojo & geto suguru, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 5905 words !

╰┈➤ football player!gojo satoru & afab!reader (she/her) & football player!geto suguru, college football!au, threesome, some bantering on satosugu's part, teasing, oral through the panties, dry humping and groping, unprotected sex, creampie, overstimulation, nipple play, oral (female & male receiving), cum eating, satosugu kiss, not proofread, etc.

( author's note. ) i had a vision of geto licking the pussy clean right after gojo cums in it, so i had to make it a reality. im a whore & also wanted some boy on boy action so accept this because i feel like that's the only right way to do a threesome. especially with satosugu.

Gojo has a promising future ahead of him as he dashes across the football field on the ten second mark. He can’t hear a thing underneath his heavy football helmet, but everyone’s screaming is getting louder as they stand on the bleachers and egging him closer to touchdown. He’s unstoppable. His teammates back him up as they prevent the opposing team from laying a finger on him and if they get too close, Gojo’s an extraordinaire at ducking and dodging. 

An absolute fiend he is, blazing through the bright green grass like the roadrunner, swift on his feet as he’s so close to victory. His coach was right, the Racers were no joke as they gave them their most difficult game in the season. Now they’re at neck-and-neck, tied at 15. His team is depending on him to break this tie, to keep their winning streak going strong and he’d hate to disappoint.

The audience battles between watching the clock and the field, the six ticking down to a five. 

Five… They’re starting to have their doubts, dread creeping into their bones as they begin to believe he’s not going to make it. Knuckles turning white as Gojo continues to speed with the ball in his hand. 

Four… Someone is gaining up on him, only a few inches away from tackling him down until he’s beat down. There’s a stagger on his feet before he picks up the same moment. Three… Tw— It happens in a matter of a split second. With a force that could cause it to deflate, Gojo throws the ball down with his entire strength as he cheers, screaming through the helmet before the huge buzzer overhead goes off and blaring into plenty of ears. 

Their moment of apprehension is replaced with exhilaration as Gojo pulls off his helmet, revealing his white head of beautiful hair, shaking it as sweat beads down his face. His teammates all come to surround him, his coach getting into the mix as they use all of their strength to throw him in the air. The opposing side mopes, heading to their side as they grab their towels and huddle around each other. While disappointment fills their lungs as their coach tries to give words of wisdom, the other party celebrates.

It’s always been overwhelming, moments like this— especially one so big. Soon Gojo will be drafted, leaving college football to go professional and make it within the NFL. There’s already lots of chatter and noise as many people anticipate it. It feels incredulous, though he always expected it. He worked so hard for it and knew he deserved the best, but for it to become closer to him? It feels immaculate to see your dreams coming true before your eyes. They’ve happened to him aplenty, when he graduated high school and got drafted the first time. It closely resembles this, that tight feeling within his chest that’s suffocating him and close to putting him on the brink of death. 

To get to that spot right into the college he’s been wanting to attend since the moment he figured out what he wanted to pursue in life. Everything he put his eye on and decided he wanted, he got it. To know it was through his hard work and dedication to get here, it brings a huge smile on his face.

However, to say he did it all alone would be a lie and a huge disrespect to Geto's name. His close friend stuck with him through it all, holding the same ambitions simultaneously. He put in the same work as Gojo did, landing them both a spot on the same team.The one to pass him the ball and assisting in their victory. The duo was a force to be reckoned with— undeniably good with each other. 

The crowd slowly dissipated around Gojo, finally giving him the space he needed to catch his breath properly. Though, said friend and his coach stayed behind. Gojo extends his arms to be pulled into a tight hug. A retired player himself, the coach engulfs Gojo in pride and happiness for the youth. A burly chuckle that leaves his lips. “Proud of ya, son. You’re one of the strongest I’ve got blessed to work with—” Gesturing to Geto, he drags him into the hug as well. “— You, too, boy! You’ve both made me so proud.”

“Thank you, coach,” they say in unison. 

Out of the helmet, a few strands of Geto’s raven locks have left the band of his bun, the sweat making it stick to his head as he swipes them away. “We probably would’ve gotten our ass handed to us if it weren’t for you.”

“Well, ain’t that damn right!” his coach laughs. “Your football careers would’ve probably ended before they even officially started.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Gojo jests, hands resting behind his head as he grins widely. “I’d’ve been fine without you.”

Slapping him in the back of his head as Gojo winces his pain, his coach chortles. “Your ass would’ve been in the ground, for sure, with that cocky attitude of yours.”

The coach leaves not too long afterwards before someone’s walking past the bleachers and onto the football field. You weren’t easily spotted at first, maneuvering yourself past hurdles of men as you can only muster up so many “excuse me’s” before you’re tired of the repetition. You’re wearing one of Satoru’s jerseys that he got tailored to fit you just right, it is hugging you and your curves that the football players that want to ogle are immediately deterred they see the number of just who you belong to. Geto spots you first, the white-haired man has his back turned as he grabs a few of his things and is ready to head to the locker room before he’s being nudged. “Your trophy’s arrived.”

Knowing exactly who he’s talking about, Gojo spins on his heel right as you’re easier to make out through the shortening distance. That boyish smile that graces his features as he turns into an absolute fool when you’re in his sights. He goes to close the gap, jogging to close it even sooner. You pick up your pace, landing in his arms as you’re quickly engulfed by his sweaty form. You inhale his scent, accustomed to the sweaty musk after a game. He plants a chaste kiss against your neck, humming as his grip tightens.

“You were great out there,” you breathe, arms wrapping around his neck before he detaches himself from yours. “It’s probably the best you’ve ever played.”

“Thanks, babe,” you murmurs, pulling you into a kiss. “Could’ve done infinitely better if you were out there on the field with me.”

You roll your eyes. “You don’t get tired of that stale joke, do you?”

“Because I’m not joking,” he pouts. “If I got to chase after your fine ass out there, we would’ve beat them much faster than we did.”

Pinching his arm so that he can put you down, you immediately go to fix your shirt. You exhale, “Well, you have Geto out there with you. He’s got a nice bubble butt just for you to chase.”

Grimacing, Geto frowns as you come to approach him. He extends his arms to pull you in his embrace. “I don’t think I like your form of objectification. Can we talk about something else?”

“Yeah,” Gojo agrees. “I don’t think I like your admittance that you’ve checked out my best friend.”

The hug between you and Geto lasts a little longer than it should, though shorter than your embrace with Gojo. Pulling away from the heat that Geto enfolds you in, you push at his chest as you giggle, kissing Gojo’s pouting cheek in reassurance. Your hands wrap around his waist, one lingering to his ass as you give it a few pats. “Don’t worry, babes. I prefer yours, anyway.” 

The field is diminishing as the three of you linger, the boys getting their things together. You planned on waiting for them not too far along, hanging with a bunch of your girl friends in a group, so that you can feel safer before you leave. Gojo comes to peck your lips once more. “I’ll message you when we’re ready, ‘kay?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Call or text me if you need anything,” he presses.

“Of course, I will,” you assure him, puckering up your lips some more for more affection that he’s glad to give. With a few more farewells before he lets you leave, you’re throwing Geto a temporary goodbye before you’re sauntering down the field again, your hips swaying with every step you take. The two boys watch you leave before Geto’s glancing at Gojo. “Have you told her?”

He knows his best friend all too well, aware that he can prolong things to the absolute last second. And just as he suspected, Gojo shakes his head. “Nah, not yet.”

However, it still brings him to shock that he’d do it for something like this. Something you might not even agree to. “Why not?”

“Because I thought it would be a nice surprise,” he shrugs, his nonchalance picking at Geto’s annoyance. "Makes it sexier.”

“What if she says no?”

“She won’t.”

“Satoru,” Geto digs, crossing his arms as the two finally make their way to the locker room. He can be such a cocky asshole sometimes, so sure of himself until he’s hearing the word ‘no’ and feeling like a fool. And in this case, Geto can also be one if you end up disagreeing. 

“She won’t! I promise you,” Gojo continues reassuring his best friend. He’s seen the way you interact with Geto. You’ve admitted your attraction towards the long-haired brunette before, when he vaguely tried to get your opinion on the proposition of a threesome with him. He never coined the term exactly, but he assumed that through your attraction, it would be something you’re interested in. “I know my girl better than anything. She’s down.”

Geto sighs as he decides to put his trust into Gojo instead of making the decision to delay things in itself. He’s said it before. I know my girl better than anything. While Gojo’s been wrong on plenty of things, so far, when it comes to you, Gojo’s an expert. Punching his arm to elicit a wince, white eyebrows furrowing before glaring at Geto. He doesn’t have to verbally say it, What was that for? 

Geto points in his face, brown eyes boring holes into Gojo’s blue. “You better be right because I’ll beat your ass if you’re not.”

—

From Gojo: hey, the locker room is empty now. just me and geto. come.

You furrow your eyebrows reading Geto’s name. Typically when the locker room is empty, it’s an open invite for sex. And if another person’s in there, it’s not entirely empty as he says it is.

To Gojo: geto?

Immediately, Gojo’s typing in. Three dots bouncing before your phone is vibrating in your hand once more.

From Gojo: just come. wanna talk about something with u

“Hey,” you call for the attention of the girls that around you at a picnic table. They were all nice to stay with you for the time being. “Gojo said he’s ready. I’m gonna go meet up with him.”

“Do you want us to come with?” one of them asks, eyes brightening up as she comes to stand. However, shaking your head, you stop her.

“No, I’m fine from here. Thank you so much, though!” you bid your farewells, showing your gratitude to them repetitively as you walk off. Then, you’re met with the silence of the night, hearing the chirps of cicadas and crickets deep in the grass and the sizzling of the overhead lights illuminating your path as the sky begins to darken. It’s getting chilly as you hold yourself, the short-sleeved jersey and the tight denim jeans barely doing a thing to conceal you and give you warmth. 

When you arrive at the locker room door, you know in a specific rhythm that immediately lets Gojo know that you’re here. Shortly enough, the door swings open as Gojo’s standing before you, dressed down in a pair of baggy gym shorts that stop below his knees and a muscle tee. He pulls you in by the waist, kissing you quickly and leading a path towards Geto. He sports a similar fit to Gojo’s, just replace the shirt with a regular band one. His hair back in a neater bun as he leans against the lockers, arms crossed and one leg on one of the seats. There’s a shift within the air as Gojo sits down next to his leg, making you cock an eyebrow as you grow nervous. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”

“No,” Gojo denies. “Nothing’s wrong. Just need to ask you something.”

“Ask me what?” The tension in the air nips at your skin, bringing you to a comfort that you don’t like. Noticing this, Gojo puts his hand in yours, pulling you down onto his lap to put his lips on yours to ease it. Geto can only watch, shifting to hide the impending erection just in case this goes left. His moist pink lips on yours are sweet. They always are. Making you addicted to them and has you whining when he pulls away. 

“You trust me, right?” Gojo’s blue eyes stare into yours, searching for something that you can’t quite define. Yet, you nod because you do. You always have. “And you know that if you don’t want this, you can say no, right?”

“Want what—”

“If Geto were to kiss you right now,” Gojo interjects. “How’d you feel?”

“‘Toru,” you look at him in confusion, refusing to look over at Geto. “What are you getting at?”

“Man,” Geto finally speaks up. “I told you, you should’ve—”

However, he’s cut off with a hush from Gojo before his focus is right back to you. He takes a deep breath as you’re trying to get a hold of what’s happening before you. Your mind is going to a few possibilities before you land on the right one. But, in denial, you wait for Gojo to continue speaking. “If he were to touch you—” his hands start traveling all over you, from your shoulders down to your thighs to in between your stomach and to in between the crevices of your breasts. Your heart rate starts to increase as well as your breathing as you finally muster up the courage to glance over at Geto, whose eyes are already on you. “—touch you in the way I do. Make you feel good in the way, er, close to the way I do… Would you want that?”

Your eyes haven’t left Geto’s, mind finally wrapping around the current proposition. “You want a threesome?”

Glancing over at his friend, Gojo nods. “Yeah, we’ve talked about it, but we won’t do it if you don’t want to. If you say no—”

“No,” you say so abruptly before you’re sputtering on your words as Gojo’s immediately caught off guard. “Wait, I mean, yes. I agree.”

It takes a moment for either man to register that you’re agreeing to this. That you want to have a threesome. Gojo chokes out a laugh, a grin gracing his features. “You had me on a rollercoaster for a second.” 

“Sorry,” you apologize sheepishly. Geto inches closer to the two of you, hand pushing at the back of Gojo’s head. 

“Guess you were right,” the corners of his lips twitching upwards. “You do know your girl.”

— 

You never took your attraction towards Geto seriously. He was a sweet guy and often people have told you that you should’ve gone for him instead of Gojo. However, you have a type. And while Geto is an angel and if you were to date him, he’d treat you like royalty, you know Gojo’s the one for you. That’s why Gojo has so much trust in you. Knowing that despite it all, you’ll still run to him after this. That despite Geto’s hands on you right now, your back leans against him and holding onto his wrist as he’s got you secure in his hold.

His cock is painfully hard in his gym shorts, pressing into your back as you’re slouched off the seat. Gojo’s hand is snaked under your jersey, your bra hiked over your breasts as they’re pooled out for his enjoyment. Your breathing is heavy, dark nipples puckered and being played with. You’ve let out breathy moans and squeaky whines as the two men are determined to tease you to death. Despite your pleas, Geto continues to play with your pussy through the fabric of your panties, watching how it darkens as your juices soak through it. His thumb would prod at your clit, pressing down as your arousal keeps on coming and pushing through. Your sweet cunt would throb and clench for more, thighs tensing up as the boys sought after your torture. 

Your back arches as you plead, begging Geto to do more. “Please, Sug. Please.”

Then Gojo moves one hand to play with the band of your panties, the hem continuously snapping against your skin as your boyfriend lets Geto continue his teasing. Geto would be a liar to say he’s doing all of this because he loves to see you whine and writh from what he’s doing, but truthfully, it’s not. While he loves seeing how you get so worked up, he enjoys seeing how your pussy can develop so much slick. The bubbles that it forms as you’re just secreting so much that it comes to mess in between your thighs whenever you tighten them together to the point he has to pry your legs open once more. He should stop, his cock painfully hard and wanting nothing more than to empty himself inside of you, but no. Impatience never leads to anything good. 

It feels so good, having you buck your hips out, pressing your body into Gojo and squirming around. You don’t know what you’re doing to your boyfriend, rubbing against him in your lust-fogged mind as you can’t focus on the erection against your back. He wants nothing more than to have you. Fuck that tight pussy of yours and have his fill, but he won’t dare be too hasty for the sake of his best friend. The one down on his knees messing with your pussy as if it were a toy, resembling a cat. But, he himself is growing impatient and he’s afraid that with you pressed into him like this, he’s going to cum earlier than anticipated. 

“C’mon, Sug,” he emphasizes your nickname for Geto. “Give my girl what she wants.”

“Is that why your girl is such a spoiled brat?” the brunette chuckles. “Always giving into what she wants?”

You whine and pout at him Geto. “‘m not—”

“Yeah,” Gojo agrees, turning your head to face him and planting a chaste kiss on your lips. “Maybe if you were more giving, you’d have a girl already.”

You find it obnoxious how even in a moment like this, they find a way to banter with each other. It makes you frown as you jut your hip out forward. “Stop arguing and do something already.”

Finally does Geto inch in closer to your pussy, fingers prodding at the hem of your panties, but not moving it. You can feel his breath against your covered cunt, breathing steadily while you feel like an erratic mess. “And there you go proving me right,” he chuckles. 

His tongue presses against your core, not removing your panties as you hoped, but he presses into your cunt deep that it tickles your folds and has you jolting in Gojo’s arms. You can hear a soft fuck leave Gojo’s lips as he bucks his hips out. Hooded eyelids with his sapphire blue eyes peering down at you as yours are shut now. 

Your braids tickle his bare skin, and surely a bit disheveled at the naughty actions you’re partaking in tonight. However, he can ignore the scratching as he watches Geto enjoy the taste of your pussy, sucking up your slick through the fabric of your panties. It’s a lewd sight that he can’t help but chuckle at, pushing you more into his tongue as Geto’s arms come to grip your thighs and pull you closer to the edge. 

One hand traverses to press a thumb into your clit while he laps at your panties, sucking at it hard to drag your juices out of it. You never thought you’d have found it so hot for a man to eat you out like this, it's enough being able to have you moaning like this. Your folds feel sticky as you leak and leak into your underwear. However, it’s still not enough, your body begging and aching for more to be done to you. You throw your head back, it nearly bangs into Gojo’s as you whimper out. You manage to maneuver a leg around Geto’s shoulder, bringing him closer to your core.

He’s addicted to your taste already, moaning as he feels you wrap yourself around him, slotted in between you and your boyfriend’s legs. Grunting and groaning, his cock strains inside his pants, his pre staining his boxers and surely to show through his shorts. For a girl that’s not even his to have him feeling this way, addicted off of something— someone— that’s not his. 

“Fuck,” he pulls himself off of you, leaving you unsatisfied and wanting more. He pulls your legs off him rather abruptly as he comes to his feet. He doesn’t have to say a word to Gojo, one of his hands already disappearing into the band of your panties to shove two fingers inside of you. It has you screaming out in the locker room, your cries echoing loudly. They can only hope and pray that the janitors on the night shift don’t come inside anytime soon to stop them. 

The stretch is somewhat painful, Gojo’s fingers are long and they hit deep inside of you, touching at your g-spot. He’s easy on you as Geto shuffles with his pants, pulling at the tie and letting it drop to the ground along with his underwear. His cock springs free, hitting his abdomen. He differs from Gojo, where your boyfriend has more length to him, Geto has more girth. His shaft is darker, a fat cock that is slightly over the average. His balls hang heavy as his happy trail is carefully trimmed and is wavy. The only thing you can say that the two resemble is that they’re both cut, no mushroom head to fill you up. 

He inches towards you. The fingers stuffed inside you start to move, your walls wrapping around them greedily as your pussy is so responsive. Your juices pooling down to the base of his fingers and dripping down at the palm of his hands and trickling his wrists. It’s a reason why he loves your pussy so much, so reactive and always soaked. 

Geto’s hand wraps around his length, using his pre to spread it around as he pumped it a few times. With his free hand, he comes to caress your cheek, pulling your head closer to him as he pets and touches you. Your skin his smooth, feeling the short and soft hairs as you react immediately to his soft touch. You relax in Geto’s hold as his cock’s so close to your face, pumping himself that your eyes flicker from his down to his length and back. 

“Look at you,” he says, his voice always so smooth that it could talk someone into murder. “Such a pretty little thing looking to get fucked by another man, one wasn’t enough.”

Gojo clears his throat, but Geto scoffs. “Don’t ruin the moment. Remember, you’re the one to first suggest it to me.”

That piece of information sparks your attention that Geto notices it. He chuckles, his hand grabbing at your chin and forcing you to look up at him even more. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Your boyfriend here wanted to see you get ruined by another man. He’s just as nasty as you are.”

You clench around Gojo’s fingers, a coil forming in your stomach as you try to look back at your beloved. However, Geto forces you to look at him. “Aht aht, look at me, dear. Look at the man that’s gonna stuff your face full of his cock.”

His tip kisses your bottom lip first, smearing his translucent pre on them before he props to the opening. Your mouth opens, but not enough for it to fit. You look up into his brown eyes, purposely teasing as you lick a small stripe on his tip. He shudders at the sensation, but his voice doesn’t falter when he says, “Don’t be stubborn. Open up some more.”

“Oh, just like you made me wait,” your retort has Gojo chuckling, him moving a few of your braids to whisper in your ear, “Oh, be a good girl for Suguru, babe.”

His fingers press deep into your pussy then, having you immediately dropping the act as you mewl and quickly coming to obey your boyfriend’s words. Opening your mouth wider for Geto, the head comes to rest on your tongue as you lull it out. He tsks at your obedience for your boyfriend, finding it cute yet annoying in a circumstance like this. “If I remember correctly, you were the one to agree to this.”

Then, he shoves his cock inside of you, hitting the back of your throat to make you gag and tear up. Your cry out is muffled as you’re forced to take the whole of him before he’s pulling out completely. “So, like your boyfriend said,” he pants. “Be a good girl for me, babe.”

Shortly after is the sound of squelching heard, Gojo’s fingers starting to rapidly fuck into your pussy, the impact of his fingers inside of you, creating such a lewd sound in the night. In another hour, the lights will go pitch dark, so the three of you better be done by then unless you all plan on fucking in it. Your juices pour from your pussy, sticky strings forming simultaneously as Geto enters your mouth once more. 

This time, he’s easier on you, the bottom of his shaft, grazing your tongue as his balls come to hit at your chin when the base hits your lips. He stays there for a moment, adjusting you to him before he feels your mouth closing around him completely. Your face is becoming teary-stained as you momentarily shut them before they flutter back open, the sting not dissipating, however.

You moan around his length, your tongue flattening out against the bottom of his shaft as it comes to swirl around it. You try to focus on his cock while your boyfriend obliterates your pussy with his fingers, bucking your hips into him while doing so in a visceral need. You grind down into him as one hand comes to hold onto Geto’s waist as you slowly begin to bob your head. Geto hisses at the sight before him, looking down on you as he comes to wipe away some of your tears with his thumb. 

You look so pretty like this. Laid up against your boyfriend who’s got you weak in the knees as he fucks into your pussy with his digits. Your sweet nectar dripping down onto the bench and floor as you make a mess of yourself and him. How you manage to stay so level headed keeping up the pace of sucking Geto’s cock, breathing in through your nose as you moan out and send vibrations that go straight to his cock. You’re a dirty little vixen, taking them both like this. It makes the brunette want to cum inside your mouth and your boyfriend wants this to last forever.

His cock’s grown sensitive under the restraints of his pants, pressed into him and rutting like the needy girl that you are. He’s held himself back for so long that he just can’t anymore. His fingers leave you, making you a needy mess as you whine in an attempt to ask for him back. However, he’s lifting you up, pushing you deeper against Geto’s cock and forcing you to take his entire length in your mouth. Still, you behave so well that you continue to suck at it despite it hitting the back of your throat. 

Gojo pulls down his pants and boxer briefs, letting them pool at his feet in a hurry to have himself completely sheathed inside you. Cock bearing free, the tip is red and angry with need that he doesn’t make haste in pulling you down onto him. First, you feel his length against your folds, how he’s grabbing at your hips and bringing you up and down. He glides his length in between your pussy lips, coating it in your juices in preparation before he brings his tip at your entrance, holding his cock to gently push in.

Geto eases himself, pulling you off his cock to watch you adjust to your boyfriend. Watching how your face twists and contorts in pain as you sink down on his length, taking inch by inch. You whimper and pant at the stretch, still holding onto Geto as your nails dig into his skin. When you’re fully sheathed, taking every last bit of Gojo, you’re taking heavy breaths as your boyfriend plants kisses along your neck. “I know, I know,” he whispers into your ears. “You did so good for me.”

“Feel so full,” you babble out, whining out as Gojo’s hands are at your waist, starting to bob you up and down on his length. It’s then that Geto’s back inside your mouth, taking control as he knows that you’ll now be unable to focus. He grabs a handful of your braids, pulling your mouth onto his cock. Eyes mouth shut as you moan out at both intrusions, you let your body be used for their pleasure. Your body bouncing as both men fuck into you. All that can be heard is their moans against the slapping of skin and your muffled noise. Your hands are digging so much into Geto’s skin that you might draw blood, but he can’t find it within himself to care when you’re making him feel so good. 

“Shit,” he curses, eyes shut as his mouth hangs open, hips rutting into your mouth. Saliva begins to drip from the corners as his fingers dig into your scalp, both hands preoccupied in them. Gojo’s lips are on your bare skin as he uses his strength to fuck you onto him, your pussy clenching around him as the slapping of skin sounds the entire locker room. The stench of your pussy fills their air, your smell so potent that Gojo recognizes it within a matter of seconds. It has his chest grumbling out as if he’s a feral animal, burying his nose deep into your skin as he sucks into it. 

Your pussy clenches and pulsates as you didn’t know it’d feel so good to be used like this, thinking that the videos you’ve seen of women being railed by two men to be an act. However, Geto and Gojo’s doing such a good job, ten times better than what you’ve seen before. Saliva pools heavily in your mouth, escaping it and pouring down your chin as you can barely keep your eyes open. Your mind is filled with everything dirty, not managing to stay focused on a single one as a familiar band reaches you. 

Your moans become more high-pitched and you start slapping Geto’s side. Gojo curses the signs heavily there. “S-shit,” he stutters as he feels himself twitch inside you, his orgasm approaching him as well. “She’s gonna cum.”

Geto doesn’t say anything, only fucking into your mouth harder and egging on Gojo as his thrusts up into you become brutal. Your sounds become choppy as he brings you into a quick release, your cream coating his cock in a matter of seconds as he continues fucking with a vigor. The tears that Geto wiped away are back as your sensitive folds become overworked as Gojo doesn’t stop until he’s relieved himself inside you. 

His leg tenses up before that sweet cunt of yours is milking him, flexing and contracting as your mouth is full of Geto’s load inside of you. He pants heavily as he watches your body convulse the longer Gojo stays inside you. It’s as if the three of your bodies were in sync with each other. Gojo emptying himself in you to the brim that his seed starts pushing him out. He drags you off his cock and pulls you back into him further as he can no longer stay upright. He brings you to lay against his back with him and it’s such a sight to behold that Geto’s cock hardens again in a manner of seconds. Your cunt is open and spread, just his for the taking. He can’t help himself for falling onto his knees and pushing you open.

Feeling him against both of you, you and Gojo bring your heads up to see Geto right at your cunt. It takes you too long to process, unable to utter a word and only able to cry out when you feel his lips enveloping your labia. Your folds were covered in yours and Gojo’s cum, a delicacy he wanted to try and uncaring for the man that laid claim on your cunt with his seed. Take it as him cleaning you up, a thank you for letting him have you in such a vulnerable way. 

You jolt in Gojo’s arms, but he holds you tight, his cock hardening once more himself as he watches his best friend eat away at both of your releases. You’re sensitive, he knows, but fuck is this hot. You thrash in his arms, crying out but never saying no. The only thing Gojo does to soothe you are the sweet kisses and an infinite circle drawn into your skin, telling you that you can take this. Geto doesn’t pull away until your cunt is shining and gets rid of the white.

Gojo’s eyes dilate as he’s back to sitting up and caught into the spur of the moment, catching Geto off guard when he says, “let me have a taste,” before his mouth is on him and he can taste himself and you on his best friend’s lips. You find yourself stuck in between the homoerotic scene shared amongst the two best friends, your body humming back to life that you mewl out. It’s long before they’re pulling away, pink tongues dancing against each other as the flavor is embedded into their taste buds.

Heavy panting and breathing as none of you say a word, simply digesting everything that happened. However, the jingle of keys are enough to have you all rejuvenated with energy as the door swings open. The unsuspecting voice calling out as they still see that the lights are on and a few bags thrown down haphazardly. They must’ve been wearing headphones to not hear the raunchy actions taking place prior. 

“Hello,” a voice of a man in his late forties. “Is anyone here?”

( author's note. ) SATOSUGU MY BELOVEDDDD ‼️

[entitled-fangirl]

So eager.

Cregan Stark x wife!reader

Summary: Cregan's usually nervous wife has a little too much to drink.

Warnings: talks of sex, making out, being drunk,

A/n: not a gif of Cregan, but like... girl. Also, based on an ask!!!

Masterlist

..........................................

"Surely, you should slow down," Cregan gently suggested as he took the chalice from his wife's hand. 

She giggled when their fingers brushed, "Why would I when I am so thoroughly enjoying myself?"

He set the glass down on a nearby table, "You're a wonder, my love. Let us take you to bed."

A playful look came over her eyes, " 'Take me to bed?' I'd quite like that." She reached up and ran a hand over his chest. She gave him her best bedroom eyes despite the glaze over them from the alcohol. "And tell me what we'd do."

A chuckle escapes up from his chest as he grabs her waist. "We'd sleep." 

Her brows furrowed in disappointment. "Was that a jest?"

He rubbed her hips softly. "No. I'm afraid I'm not. It has been a long night. You deserve rest."

She leaned up on her tip-toes and brushed her lips against his jaw. 

His grip on her hips tightened to hold her in place when she began to kiss and nip at his skin. A low rumble came from him. "Easy, love."

"I want to go to bed with you, Cregan." She whined quietly into his ear, "Take me to bed and have your way with me."

"Gods, you test my self-control, sweet wife." He looked around the busy feast. "C'mon."

She giggled, confident that she had won him over. Their hands intertwined.

The two moved out of the banquet hall and into the corridor. She felt as if she couldn't keep up with his large stride and it caused a blush to creep over her cheeks due to the belief that he was truly eager to make love to her.

She tugged at his hand and he paused to look at her, stopping in his tracks. "Something the matter, lovely? We're almost there."

She stepped up to him and gently pushed him backwards. He let her, giving in as his back rested against a wall. He only stared down at her with a soft look in his eyes.

He knew what she was doing, and he knew she would be completely embarrassed by her movements in the morning regardless, so he decided he wouldn't let her go too far.

She was much too shy normally. Sure, they had completed their marital duties many times, very eagerly in fact, but she was always hesitant to make the first move. She always feared she'd look too unladylike.

So Cregan was silently enjoying this new side of her. The little smirk on his face as he observed her said enough.

She kept her hands on his chest, as if they could truly keep him pinned against the wall, but he humored her. Her body pressed against his as she tried to resume what she had started before. She kissed up his neck and to his cheek agonizingly slow. "Kiss me?" She asked.

He chuckled at that and let his hand move around her waist, the other moving into her hair. "What a lousy husband I'd be to deny that." 

He leaned in but paused for a moment. His hand on her waist moved to her cheek. "You're quite flushed. Are you feeling alright?"

She smiled, "Oh, I feel quite perfect." She kissed his jaw again. "The mere thought of you brings heat to my cheeks. Is that bad?"

"No," he quickly corrected. He pulled her face back so he could look at her again. "But I believe it's the drinks that have affected you."

She leaned her cheek into his palm. "Are you going to love me or not?"

"You know I love you." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. 

It felt heavy, a pressure that was grounding her. 

She reciprocated his motions with ease. It was second nature to her. 

His hand in her hair pulled down gently which tilted her head further up to him. She groaned lightly, "Take me, husband."

"You know I can't," he whispered.

"Please."

"You beautiful woman, I can take you to our bed, but I will not take you tonight."

She pecked his lips again, "Can't I do anything to change your mind?"

He grinned as his thumb brushed her cheek. "No, my love. I'm firm on this." At her disappointment, he continued. "But I will walk you to our chambers. Does that fair with you?"

She hummed in thought. "Are you angry with me?"

"No. Not at all. But I know you well enough to know you'll be entirely embarrassed by everything you've done so far."

"You're certain?"

"Very much. Now, let's get you some rest."

She pressed one last kiss to his lips before giving in.

He intertwined their hands and pulled her down the hall again. Eventually, they made it to their room and he made quick work of getting her into her nightgown. 

"You'll stay?" She asked him when she pulled the furs over her. 

"I'll stay until you fall asleep. I fear I didn't give a proper goodnight to the lords in the banquet hall, so I'll do so after I know you're finding rest," he said as he sat on the bed.

"You're sure I can't have you tonight?" She tried one more time.

"You can have me all you wish for in the morning."

She grinned, "That's a promise?"

"It is. Now, sleep."

True to his word, he stayed with her until she began to lightly snore.

…

The next morning, her eyes creaked open then closed once again due to the brightness coming from the window. A groan left her mouth.

"Late start today, I see?" Cregan's voice echoed.

She forced her eyes to open.

Cregan stood from the sofa in their chambers and moved to her. "I'm sure your head hurts."

Her voice was low and groggy, "No, I'm fine."

He chuckled, "Well, when you sit up, I'm sure it will."

"Why would it?"

"You don't remember?" He asked in surprise.

Her cheeks flushed. "Did I make a fool of myself?"

"No, beautiful. Though, it was close." She moved to sit up and he rushed to her, caressing the back of her neck as she did so, "Easy."

Exactly as he had guessed, pain felt as if it was splitting her head in two. She let out a whine and covered her eyes again. 

"C'mere," he cooed. As he sat next to her, facing the headboard, he leaned her body into him and rested her head on his shoulder. "It's only the aftereffects. I dare say you drank much more than I believed your size could manage."

She wanted to speak, but the pain felt too great, so she groaned instead.

He reached out and grabbed something from the nightstand and pulled her away from him carefully, "Here."

She eyed the cup in his hand and shook her head, "I don't want to drink anymore."

His confusion turned to amusement. "This is water."

With that, she took the cup and gulped it down, relishing in the way it soothed her dry throat. 

He brushed her hair back from her face. "Any better?"

She hummed and leaned back into him. 

"Any other pain besides your head?"

As if on cue, there rose a horrid taste in her saliva that she hadn't noticed before. 

"Lovely?"

"Hmm?"

He became more concerned. "I asked you a question."

"No, just… just my head."

"Oh, you're an awful liar."

"Cregan, please," she muttered against him.

"I had the maester brew you a tea. Should be here soon. Tell me what else is hurting you."

She was fighting with herself as the bile rose. 

"Hey," he pushed. "Speak to me."

She let out a whine. 

He kissed the top of her head. "C'mon."

"I…" she paused and pulled away from him quickly, scrambling to get away from the bed.

"Wait. Wait!" He tried to grab her but he missed. 

She dropped to her knees by the chamber pot and waited. Sweat dripped from her forehead and her fingers shook as she opened it. Lucky for her, it had been cleaned earlier that morning. 

He immediately moved to her and knelt down beside her. His hand rubbed up and down her back.

She finally bent down and hurled into the pot. 

He grimaced but forced it down. He reached up and tried to pull her hair away from her face. 

She leaned back and let out a light sob. 

He wiped the sweat from her forehead. "It's alright. You're alright. Think you're done?"

She sniffled and nodded. 

He helped pull her up onto her shaky legs.

Once back on the bed, he pulled her to him, letting her cuddle into his side.

"I suppose you don't want me this morning," he teased her.

Her face turned scarlet. 

"Shame. You were so eager," he continued with a smirk. "We'll get you that tea, and you can rest again. How would that fair?"

She only nodded. 

"I've got you, sweet girl. Don't you worry."

Silence consumed them for a while before she spoke, "You think maybe later then?"

"What?"

"When I feel well enough. Don't tease me if you won't follow through."

That got him scarlet.

.............................................

Taglist: @twinkletwinklenotastar, @kidd3ath,@yujyujj, @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne, @ethereal-athalia, @ashovertheriver, @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom, @dozcan123, @wangjiangelangel, @kamitargaryen, @aegonswife, @lv7867

[333sturns]

soft!matt x virgin!reader

“FIRST TIME?”

while the both of you are making out, matt realizes youre a bit unexperienced… so he helps you.

includes smut, inappropriate language, soft sex, kissing, p in v, no protection, if uncomfortable do not read!

the feeling of matts lips against yours was a new feeling, his lips were soft, and the way he kissed you so gently had you completely feral.

you let out a stifled groan in response, feeling his movements get more and more desperate by the second. you tried moving your lips in the same rhythm as he did. but unable to due to his quick pace.

you gently cupped his face as you moved your head to the side. he smiled against your lips before he pulled away. raising his eyebrow at you in a playful manner. you felt the blush creep onto your face in embarrassment. “what..?” you managed.

“first time?”

you quickly felt your face flush red in an instant. trying to get yourself to form some words instead you let out a sigh in defeat. “yeah.” he gave you another gentle kiss before caressing your cheek with his thumb. his eyes so reassuring and soft you could almost kiss him again. “its fine if you—“

matt cut you off with another small kiss on the lips, pushing you slowly down onto your shoulders. he tucked the hair behind your ear and caressed your shoulders softly. “dont be absurd, m’love.” he lowered himself to your neck: peppering kisses until he reached your stomach. “ill be gentle,”

he looked up at you, eyed piercing through your body as your breath quickened. the feeling of his hot breath making you wetter by the second. he unbuckled his belt in a quick pace, not taking his eyes off of you. admiring every curve and inch of your body. “you know,” he starts, “we don’t have to do this if you aren’t ready baby.”

you watched as his lower half was now exposed to you. his cock bursting through his boxers catching you off guard. i mean how big is he? you bit your lip as you shook your head. tugging at the brim of your shorts. “no, i—i want you..i really want this matt.” you plead.

matt blushed: dumbfounded at your words. he helped you remove your shorts and stared in awe. he contained himself and breathed, “my god youre so fucking beautiful.” you pressed your legs together in embarrassment. matt being quick to spread them back open.

your panties had already been ruined with your wetness. slightly sticking to your thighs. matt gently grazed his finger over your clothed pussy, earning a helpless whimper from your lips. you covered your mouth in order to keep yourself quiet, but was quickly stopped when matt moved your arms back to your sides.

“shiiit..—“

he continued to run small circles along your clit; watching how quick you crumbled underneath him. your hips bucked into matts finger subconsciously. melting into his touch as he moved a bit faster.

“oh—matt..!”

“its okay, dont worry.”

he moved your laced panties to the side, then, wasting no time to remove his boxers. he centered himself between your legs while resting his hands on both of your knees gently. he looked down at you with a soft smile that made your heart flutter. “tell me if its too much alright?” he wrapped your legs around his waist and gave your hand a kiss.

“okay.” you breathed.

matt lifted your shirt up ever so slightly, running his hand down and stopping just right above your pussy. he ran soft circles along your stomach before positioning himself right.

“relax f’me.” he softly let his tip rest above your clit. not breaking eye contact as he slowly inserted himself in. he let out a low groan to your tightness while letting his lips curl into a smile, watching how your face scrunched up in pain.

“is this okay s—sweetheart?”

you rolled your hips in response while gripping the bed sheets tightly. loving the feeling of matt being inside you. “yes—oh my, f-fuck..”

matt slowly began to move his hips in a steady rhythm, but slow enough for it to be the most comfortable. he gently placed one of his hands onto your hips to keep you steady while the other gently caressed your cheek.

your eyebrows were knitted together, your mouth was dangling open, and your cheeks were a faint pink. “mmm, how does that feel?” matts voice lowering to a whisper in result to hide his soft grunts. he shut his eyes closed and began to pick up a faster pace. trailing your smooth skin along with his finger.

“s’good s’good!,” you cried

matt captured your lips in a passionate kiss. muffling the sweet noises that slipped through your lips. he moved down to the tip of your jaw and mumbled soft praises against your skin,

“youre doing great.”

“taking it so good f’me..”

you swayed your hips and squirmed underneath matt, arching your back against him and moaning when he rubbed against your sweet spot. he quickly caught on and saw your blissful moans become louder. your lips pursed together as you reached out to grab matts shoulders.

“m—matt i—!” he moved his hands back to your hips and quickened his pace ever so slightly. you felt your mind go blank as the only thing you were focusing on now was coming. the knot in your stomach building up every second that passed.

“fuckfuckfuck m’gonna…” he gave you one last but harsh thrust before pulling out and coming, the semen now displayed all over your stomach and t-shirt. your own orgasm followed not long after. feeling the pleasurable waves rush to your core and out. with one final moan you let your hands fall to your side. desperately trying to catch your breath.

“are you alright? how was that?” matt whispered.

he let out a low moan as he pulled out. the feeling of emptiness rushing over the both of you. you squeezed your legs together and whined softly. “painful,” you let out a breathless laugh. watching matt through your half closed eyes. “but also felt so good.”

matt laughed along with you and layed beside you. pulling you onto his chest as he played with your hair. “auuw baby, its alright you did great.” you relaxed into matts arms, feeling the warmthness of your bodies. he planted a kiss on your forehead while drifting off to sleep with you.

©333sturns

[oceantornadoo]

home invasion

neighbor!simon, gender-neutral reader, fluff, implied violence

--

there was someone in your room.

you had fallen asleep on your living room couch, soothed by the sounds of trashy reality tv show. however, some creeping sensation overcame you, cold hands tickling your spine, waking you up with a bucket of ice water. you lay absolutely still as you heard sounds of someone rummaging through your things. thankfully your apartment walls were thin, so you heard them closing drawers loudly, as if they didn't think you were home. you started running situations through your head, ones where you called the police and they came too late, your trespasser having heard the phone call. there was only one decision to make.

silently, like you were five again and playing hide and seek, you moved towards your door. thankfully your door didn't squeak as blood rushing was the only sound running through your head. you left the door slightly ajar as you sprinted down the hall to his door.

"simon!" you whisper yelled, knocking furiously but trying not to alert the intruder at the same time. tears were gathering in your eyes, ones of frustration of having your safe space broken into. finally, after what felt like an hour, the lock clicked and he opened the door.

simon was grumpy. he had just started to fall asleep, that elusive feeling he was always chasing these days, never quite catching it. he was about to tell you such until he saw your eyes glistening, hands gripping your blanket fiercely. "theresanintruderinmyroomhesinmy" you sputtered, absolutely distraught.

"slow down, lovie. wha' happened?" fuck, he wasn't supposed to call you that. he was supposed to keep his distance and not be one of those creeps you complained about. and now he had fucked it up and- "there's someone in my apartment. in my bedroom. going through my things. i knew the cops wouldn't come fast enough so i just thought-" he interrupted you, opening his door just wide enough to shove you through it. fast as a whip, he turned around, kissing your forehead through his mask and murmuring "lock it behind me." then he was gone, your vengeful grim reaper stalking down the hall to his next victim.

ten minutes later, the clock in the kitchen ticking slower than humanly possible, you spotted him closing the door of your apartment, shoulders bunched around his ears. you were pressed against the peephole and opened the door for him as he neared. "simon? what happened?" his eyes were black pits in his head, pupils blown wide by some intangible force. bloodlust. he reached behind you, triple checking the lock, before turning on the light. you gasped.

his knuckles were bloody, gray shirt disheveled, like someone tried to claw it. his mask was askew, shoved up as if someone tried to pull it off but was stopped before they got the chance. he pulled your forehead to his, souls touching in some intimate embrace. this was your neighbor, the one who always held the door for you and accepted your extra baked goods with quiet disagreement. the one who covered sharp edges of corners before you bumped into them, watched your door to make sure you got in okay after late nights out with friends. he breathed in your scent quietly, telling himself this was not a mission, this was you. he ran his thumbs under your jawline and down your neck, feeling your pulse to remind him you were alive. you, this bundle of life he came back to, week after week, deployment after deployment, the one reason he stayed in this shitty building when he could easily afford something better. "yer stayin' with me tonight." you nodded easily, soft as butter in his arms.

you blinked and you were in his bed, strong arms wrapped around you. he gripped you hard, like he thought the intruder might try to steal you straight out of his arms. in the darkness of his room, you slipped off his mask, laying it on his bed table. you kissed his forehead, a mirror of the one he gave you earlier, and snuggled into the crook of his neck. "thank you." you whispered into the silence of the night. you felt him nod against you, arms constricting tighter, legs tangled in the safety of his bed.

simon didn't sleep much. too many memories, sounds of gunfire and the glint of the meat hook ever present. he was required to see a shrink on base, but even that didn't help. turns out this whole time, all he needed was you.

--

[suhkusa]

THE KISS BET.

PAIRING. Bakugou Katsuki x f!Reader

SUMMARY. Your friends bet you to kiss Katsuki Bakugou. Fortunately for you, they’re offering you $500 for it. Unfortunately for you, the two of you absolutely hate each other.

CW. third year, angst to fluff, light hurt/comfort, enemies to lovers, mature humor, feelings, language

WC. ~2.8k

A/N. enjoy :3

You and your group of friends had a running gig. Bets. 

The group would bet one person to do something, on a scale from normal to outrageous, and that person’s turn wouldn’t end until they complete that bet. Of course, depending on how crazy the bet is, everyone would put in some amount of money. 

The most you’d gotten was $100 total from accepting a date from creep in the business class. Worst date of your life, but Jirou felt bad so she gave you an extra $50. 

As the lot of you gather around the campfire, everyone offers up their money to Mina who had just done her bet to put laxatives in Kirishima’s drink. There were a lot of questions about the morality of it, but you ignored it and gave her a crisp $20. 

“Y/N~ it’s your turn!” Ochako gleed. 

You roll your eyes, “I feel like I just did my other bet, which by the way was shit,” the girls laugh at your words. “I feel like all of you get the easier ones,”

“Easy? I had to kiss Monoma, do you know how hard that was? He knows I’m lesbian so imagine how hard that was for me to convince him,” Yaoyorozu sighs with a palm to her face.

“Oh, whatever,” Mina says with a clap of her hands, “You want a hard one, Y/N?”

“I mean that’s the whole point of paying each other to do bets, they’re supposed to be hard,” 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Mina smirks before standing up and pointing at you. 

“I bet you $100,” your ears perk up.

“-to kiss–,” your eyes widen but listen nonetheless.

“Katsuki Bakugou,” your world falls apart.

“Mina, no,” 

“Y/N, yes,” she jumps up and down, “It’s too late, I already said it,”

All the other girls are hooting and hollering, but you just sit there in silence as you stare at the flames. Are you really going to try this?

As you consider your options the other girls start placing their bet offerings.

“$75 from me,” Tsuyu calls out.

Then from Hagakure, “$50,”

“$150,” from none other than Yaoyorozu. 

“I guess I’ll put in $80,” Jirou smiles at your misery.

“Hmm, I’ll even it out with $45, so $500 flat for you, Y/N,” Ochako smiles.

$500?!? You’d be outright stupid to deny such a big amount of money. But you’d even stupider to think Katsuki Bakugou would kiss you of all people. 

“I think that’s impossible,” you whine as the other girls poke fun at you.

“I guess only time will tell,” Mina grabs your hands and smiles, “Good luck, Y/N,”

—

You can hear the rambunctiousness of your class before you walk in. When you walk through the doors, your eyes scan the class before your eyes lock in on Katsuki Bakugou. You groan with a roll of your eyes before stomping your way towards him. 

“Hey, Katsuki,” you stare down at him, “You want to do me a favor,”

“For you? I rather eat shit,” he grumbles as he meets your gaze.

“You’re a freak,” you already knew this was going to be hard, “Please,”

“Mm, depends, what’s in it for me?” 

“I guess you’ll find out,” you say. “Kiss me,”

It feels like the class goes silent as the two of you continue to just stare at each other. He opens his mouth then closes it. 

“You– The fuck?” His eyes are scattering as the words continue to process through his mind, “What a weirdo, hell no,” then he’s pushing himself out of his seat and making his way to the door.

“You know class starts in 5 minutes right?” you call to him.

“Fuck off,” he grunts as he shuts the door behind him.

Yep, definitely hard. 

—

The next time you bother Bakugou for a kiss is when the two of you are paired up for combat training. Much against his will. 

“Katsuki~” you call out as you dodge another blow from him. “You can’t avoid me forever,”

“Yes-” another explosion, “I can,”

You go on the offense as you continue, “Just a peck, please. I’m a good kisser, I promise,” 

“You’re shit,” he’s grumbling between dodges of your attacks.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you send him a wink before getting a hit on him. 

Bakugou groans, about to send another remark, when the training ends with a blow of a whistle.

The two of you meet eyes one last time, “Think it over, kay?” you smile before walking away.

—

Knock, knock. 

You stand at Bakugou’s door.

“Go away, perv,”

“Aw, how did you know it was me? You missed me?”

“I can just tell by the stench,” 

You laugh a little at his words, “Please, let me explain to you and maybe you’ll reconsider,” 

You can hear footsteps, and you smile. When he opens the door he’s adorned in his classic black tank and some sweats.

“You should put some clothes on, perv,” you mock. “Anyways, it was a bet from my friends and there’s $500 on the line, so if you would just–”

“I don’t kiss just anyone, princess,” the nickname causes you to fluster, but you shake it off as he continues, “You gotta earn it,”

He’s got a stupid smirk on his face, and you didn’t even realize it but he’s definitely leaning closer to you. It’s sending butterflies– well maybe more like moths– into your stomach. 

“What the– You’re definitely the pervert. I’m just going to ask to call it off,” you fake gag, “Later, loser,” 

“You’ll be back, nerd,”

You internally groan as you hear him shut the door, ignoring the intense heartbeat in your chest.

—

“No,” Mina says.

“What?! I told you it’s impossible,” you argue, all of your friends on the other side of the argument. 

“No it’s not, he said you had to earn it right?” Mina retorts, “So obviously there’s a way, you’re just stubborn,”

“You’re really not asking me to… You guys are crazy. Please, please, I’ll take anyone else, anything else,” 

“Sorry, Y/N, it’s the rules,” Tsuyu looks at you with pity.

“He hates me and I hate him! That’s all there is to it. It’s not going to happen,”

“Why do you guys even hate each other? It’s our third year, get over it already,” Jirou teases. 

“Because he’s a dick and I refuse to let him walk all over me! I just cursed him out one time for calling me weak. He’s the one who holds grudges because of his fragile, little heart,” 

“You should’ve known he’d hold that against you, but I honestly doubt he hates you because of that,” Mina says. “He probably thought you looked hot,” she laughs.

Heat rushes to the tips of your eyes, “Whatever, all of you are weirdos. But anyways-”

“No, Y/N,” Mina states, end of subject.

“You all just want me to kill myself,” you groan as you sink into the couch. “Whatever, but I’m going to force all of you to double your offering if I actually do this shit,”

The girls cheer. You cry inside. Anything for money, you guess.

—

It seems like the universe heard about the predicament you were in, because it felt like you were suddenly around him more often ever since the bet had been set.

“You know, I don’t want to be on patrol with you either,” you grumble, kicking at rocks as the two of you walk up and down the roads of the dorms.

“Glad we agree,”

Silence washes over you both. 

“Why don’t you want to kiss me? Am I ugly or something?” you ask, but it definitely comes off sadder than you intend.

“Don’t get all insecure because you don’t get a stupid kiss,” he looks the opposite direction of yours, “You know damn well you’re not ugly, so don’t piss me off,” 

He had a strange way of saying stuff.

“Aw, you love me, don’t you?” you tease, poking at his arm.

“Ah you dumbass, pay attention,” you snap back into place with a laugh, “‘M just saying you’re better looking than some of these extras,” 

You don’t know what to say in response to his words. Because they were surprisingly very sweet. 

Realizing he had said too much, he changes the subject. “Let’s go this way,”

You follow him with a nod.

There was definitely a certain type of tension lingering that the two of you walked in near silence for the rest of the patrol. 

You definitely were not repeating back his words in your head over and over again for the rest of the patrol. And Katsuki Bakugou was definitely not turning red because of what he said earlier. Definitely not. 

—

After that patrol, things seemed to sort of shift between the two of you. And to say it was scary was an understatement. 

Conversations wouldn’t always start off with the two of you insulting or cursing each other out. There’d be a hey or hello. If you guys saw each other in passing, he’d greet you with a nod of his head. Him being anything but passive aggressive towards you was terrifying because it was so not him. 

“Y/N,” a familiar voice calls out to you, you groan as you put your pencil down.

“I’m studying, what do you want, Katsuki?” 

“Come with me to the movies after school today,” it’s not really a question, more like a command. 

You put your hands to your mouth in fake(?) excitement, “You’re asking me on a date?! So kind, Katsuki,” 

“It’s not a date, idiot. I’m going with Ei and Denki later, they’re bringing Jirou and Mina. They were teasing me for not bringing anyone, so come,”

“If I don’t?” you muse.

“Be there or be square, nerd,” he doesn’t take your bait, but you can tell he’d prefer it if you go. He walks away before you can respond. 

Well, you guess you have plans later.

;;;

You meet up with the lot of them at the allotted time. The group walks together, and you thank God your friends have a questionable taste in men so you wouldn’t be stuck with some randos. But you also have half a mind to curse them out for leaving you to fend for yourself when you all arrive at the theater. 

They left you with no choice but to sit with Bakugou. Part of you really hates it, but not as much as you hate the rate at which your heart beats. 

For the most part, the two of you just sit there in awkwardness. The other couples indulge in that lovey dovey shit, and it makes you feel out of place. You zone out and get into your head. Was there a motive in asking you to come out here? He could’ve invited like… Midoriya… or Ochako… Or anyone, really. But, you? Does he like you? Or were you his last option to invite? Your head hurts from overthinking.

Your hand rests in your lap, picking at the material of your pants. At least that’s what it was doing. Until it happened. 

From the corner of your eye, you watch as Bakugou slid his hand into yours. His fingers finding a comfortable place between your own. You release a deep breath when you realize you were holding your breath. Is he out of his fucking mind?

Despite your efforts to try and justify how much you absolutely hate it. You didn’t even try to stop him. You didn’t pull away. You didn’t let his hand go. And even as the movie ended, you actually felt sad when he slid his hand away. 

The cool air of the night shocked you a bit when all of you made it outside. 

“We were thinking of grabbing a bite, did you guys want to come?” Mina exclaims. 

“Ooh, that sounds good, are you down, Jirou?”

“Sure, and you guys?” they all look at you.

“I- I have a stomach ache… Butter fucks with my stomach really bad,” the excuse is kind of weak, but still holds up as they all nod in understanding. 

“I can walk you to the dorm,” Bakugou offers, and you don’t really give him a yes or no, he just follows you.

Kirishima and Mina whistle and holler as the two of you part ways with the rest of them. 

Part of you regrets making up some stupid lie to go home. Because this was way more awkward than getting free pizza. 

The two of you are right by each other as you walk in silence towards the dorm. You wait. And wait. Wait for him to bring it up. Why did he do that? Why did he grab your hand? Was it all a front?

Why is he treating you so well?

Even as he drops you off at your room, he says nothing. Just a simple “Goodnight,” before he’s making his way to the elevator.

What an asshole.

—

So you take the initiative. The initiative in ignoring him. You weren’t some casual fling. Fuck the bet, fuck him.

When you saw him making his way towards you, you were quick to get up and rush out of the classroom. When he nodded your directions in passing, it was easy to just walk past and not acknowledge him. Whatever there was between you and him, was gone. Whatever “it” was, exactly. 

But you were okay. You guess. You were down $500 or $1000, but whatever. That game was bullshit anyways. You always got the worst bets. You kind of felt bad that you were the end of it, though. 

It was easy to avoid him. That’s what you thought. At least until one week later, you found yourself cornered by your dorm room with nowhere to go.

“What the fuck is up with you?” he’s angry, you’d be stupid if you thought otherwise.

You cross your arms and avoid his intense gaze, “Whatever do you mean?” 

He’s getting closer, and a tiny, like miniscule, part of you finds angry-him hot. “You know what the hell I mean, you’ve been avoiding me,” 

“Nuh uh,” you retort, still avoiding the subject at hand. “I’ve just been busy, sorry,”

“Like hell, Racoon Eyes said you’ve been in your dorm room everyday, so try again, asshat,”

Fucking Mina.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you poke at his chest, “Now get out of my way before I beat your ass,”

“Yeah? I’d like to see you try,” he’s smiling with mockery.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to be touched by me, you little virgin,” you inspect your nails in nonchalance, “Too bad, so sad, now move,”

“No, not until you answer me,” he’s a bit more serious now, you can sense it in his tone. 

You groan, “Fine, not until you answer me, though. Why the fuck did you hold my hand and act like it didn’t happen? Am I like a joke to you?”

He straightens up and his eyes widen. He looks to the side, then back at you.

“You’re fuckin’ smart, why don’t you take a guess?”

“You’re not a baby, why don’t you use your words?” 

You got him there.

“Maybe ‘cuz I like you, or something, idiot,”

You laugh. Laugh. Because he really thought you’d believe a stupid joke like that.

“You’re funny, but seriously, why did–”

A kiss. Katsuki Bakugou has always been known for his speed and his wit. But now you see it more than ever. As he steals a kiss from you. It happens faster than you’re able to even realize you’re leaning into it. 

When the two of you part, it’s tense again. You don’t know if you should say something but he takes that choice from you.

“You think that was funny?” he asks.

“Well- no, but–”

“No buts, that’s that,”

“I didn’t even say I like you back! What if I didn’t-”

“Oh, so you do?” you jump up in realization you fumbled your words. “Good to know, princess,”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying. How was I supposed to know you liked me? You’re such an asshole, you know?”

“Really? Because this asshole just got you some cash,” he laughs referring to the bet, “But y’know, I don’t let just anyone call me Katsuki,”

You grit your teeth before throwing a punch at his arm, “Annoying! Annoying, so annoying,” 

Another hearty laugh escapes from his lips as he pulls you into a hug. You didn’t even know Bakugou gave hugs. But you don’t mind it. 

“You’re such a pervert, I bet you’ve been looking forward to that kiss,” he teases.

“Yeah? Well you’re a pervert for even kissing me in the first place,”

—

YOU: pay up bitches

YOU: i’m talking double btw

[164 new notifications]

You were rich and in love. What more could you ask for?

© all writings belongs to suhkusa 2024. do not repost or change.

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Bsf!Reader ☼ 1796

"Y/n! You came!" Marlene exclaims, her eyes widening with surprise. Her usually confident demeanor melts into a mixture of shock and delight. Dorcas, sitting next to her, sends you a bright smile when she notices you. Lily practically flies off her barstool to give you a hug.

"You seem surprised." You giggle as you pull away from the hug you just shared with Lily. Noting the genuine astonishment on Marlene's face, you take in the lively atmosphere of the pub, which is buzzing with conversations and laughter, typical for a Friday night. You can't remember the last time you went out with the girls; it's been ages.

"Well, I mean, yeah, a little." Marlene admits, shifting slightly on her barstool. She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear and glances around, almost as if she’s trying to ensure that you’re really there.

"Why's that?" You ask, flagging the bartender down for a drink. The bartender, a tall guy with a friendly smile, nods at you in acknowledgment as he finishes serving another customer.

"You haven't been out with us in ages." She replies, a hint of concern creeping into her voice. Her eyes search yours, looking for an explanation.

"I've been busy, you know that." You say, smiling softly. The pub is so loud that Marlene's sigh goes unnoticed by you.

"With James." Marlene says blankly. Dorcas sends her a look of caution. Your eyebrows furrow, and you look over at her in confusion and surprise.

"Um, yeah, of course. Who else?" You ask, sending her an odd look. It's been clear since school days that you and James were close, so you aren't sure why she seems annoyed by this.

"Don’t you think you’re spending a lot of time with him?" Marlene asks, bringing her drink up to her lips and looking at you over the rim.

"With James? I’ve always spent a lot of time with James." You laugh, though you're starting to feel like Marlene is about to interrogate you. You love her, but she never holds back from stating her opinion, and sometimes that puts you on edge. You prefer to avoid confrontation at all costs. The lively chatter and clinking of glasses around you only add to your growing discomfort.

"It's true!" Lily chimes in, trying to diffuse the brewing tension. She broke up with James because everything for him always came back to you. Not that you knew that.

Marlene raises an eyebrow, clearly displeased with your answer. "I know, but lately it’s felt... more intense." She admits, her voice lowering as if she doesn't want everyone in the pub to overhear.

Dorcas, who has been silently observing, finally speaks up. "What Marlene means is that we miss you. It feels like we barely see you anymore, and when we do, it’s usually with James." You and Marlene remain silent, merely staring at each other blankly.

Your arms are crossed tightly over your chest, and your voice takes on a challenging edge. "Intense? What do you mean by that?" Dorcas and Lily exchange uneasy glances. Girls' night was not supposed to go this way.

Marlene raises an eyebrow, clearly incredulous. "He’s got Henry now."

A waiter sets your drink on a napkin in front of you, and you offer a quick, grateful smile. When you turn back to Marlene, your smile has vanished. "And how does that affect anything?" You ask.

“It changes everything,” Marlene says sharply. “You’re playing house with James. That isn’t your responsibility. If James wants that, he needs to find a girlfriend.”

You scoff, “I’m his best friend. Of course, it’s my job to help him out.”

“But you’re not just helping him,” Marlene counters. “You’re practically Henry’s mum.” You stand there, rigid. “Look, I want the best for you. Spending your twenties raising another woman’s child isn’t how you should be spending them.”

Your head jerks back as if struck, and you pull your lips tight. “She gave up her rights. Henry is James' son. If James doesn’t want me to help, he can tell me himself.” You sling your bag over your shoulder and down your drink. “And did you ever consider that this is how I want to spend my twenties? Being a part of their lives means everything to me. I’m sorry if you haven’t found someone you feel so strongly about.”

You're so upset that you don't even notice you've just confessed your feelings for James out loud for the first time.

By the time you reach James’ place, it's well past midnight. The streets are quiet, and the only sounds are the occasional distant car and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. Given that it's a Friday night, there's a strong possibility he’s already in bed, but you’re willing to take that risk. You know he might be asleep, but the thought of waiting until morning is unbearable.

It takes a second for him to open the door, but when he does he squints at you and glances back at the street in horror, “Did you walk-”

You interrupt, a bit impatiently, “You would tell me if you didn’t want me to help with Henry as much as I do, right?”

James studies you closely. Your hair is tousled by the breeze, and you’re huddled tightly into your jacket against the chill. The sight tugs at his heart, making him want to gather you close and warm you himself. He reaches out and gently pulls you inside, closing and locking the door behind you as you slip off your coat and shoes and place them in their rightful place.

When you look up, James stands there with his arms crossed, a concerned frown on his face. “Well?” you prompt. James sighs, clearly grappling with how to respond.

“Of course I would,” he says softly. “I’ve always appreciated your help. I’ve never once considered asking you not to help me.”

You hesitate, glancing at the three pairs of boots lined up by the door—James’s, yours, and Henry’s. “And you really don’t think I’m trying to be Henry’s mum?” you ask, your voice quiet and edged with tension. James follows your gaze to the boots, his expression neutral. He doesn’t reply immediately, simply looking back and forth between the boots and you.

“He calls you his mum.” James says finally, and your heart feels like it stops. The room seems to shrink around you as tears spring to your eyes without warning. You raise a hand to cover your mouth, afraid that a cry might slip out uncontrollably.

Your voice is barely a whisper, “He does?”

James nods, his gaze steady but gentle. “He has for a while now. But I asked him to keep it between us because I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” The soft light from the hallway lamp casts a warm glow on his face, and the quiet of the room feels heavy with the weight of his words. If you weren’t so overwhelmed with emotion, you might have noticed that he took your advice to turn off the overhead lights and use a lamp instead.

A tear slowly traces its way down your cheek, and James catches sight of it instantly. His expression softens with concern. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.” You say gently.

There’s a pause between you both. You struggle to keep yourself composed, while James fights the urge to reach out to you. Neither of you is succeeding.

“Y/n,” James says, stepping closer with a hesitant expression. “You can tell me to forget it if this sounds strange, but—” He trails off, his gaze dropping to the floor as he nervously fiddles with his glasses. The soft hum of the heater fills the silence. “I don’t think you’re trying to be Henry’s mum. I think you already are.”

Your gaze snaps up to him, tears streaming freely down your face and leaving damp trails on your cheeks. “James, you can’t just say that. When you get a girlfriend and it gets serious—”

“Darling,” he interrupts gently, his hand coming to rest reassuringly on your arm. “Why do you think I haven’t gotten myself a girlfriend after all these years? Henry’s about to turn four.”

You sniffle, “I—I don’t know. I just thought you were waiting for the right person, someone who would be a good fit for both you and Henry.”

“I have been.” He says, stepping closer until you’re nearly chest to chest. His gaze locks with yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. The soft light from the lamp casts a gentle glow on his face, accentuating the earnestness and vulnerability in his eyes. Your stomach tightens at the sight of the tenderness in his gaze—eyes soft and honeyed.

“Jamie—” you whisper, but your voice trails off as you feel his hand settle on your hip, pulling you gently against him. Your heart pounds so fiercely that you’re sure he can feel it if he presses any closer. The space between you seems to shrink, the air thick with unspoken feelings.

“What, darling?” He murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath as he leans in. His lips, pink and slightly parted, are just inches from yours. The warm, intimate proximity makes you ache to close the gap and kiss him, yet a flicker of doubt makes you hesitate, wondering if you’re misreading the depth of the moment.

You barely have time to process your doubts before James leans in and presses his lips against yours. The kiss starts off tentatively, allowing you the space to pull away if you need to. But you rise onto your toes and slip your right hand into his soft curls, guiding him closer with a gentle pull. The deep, passionate groan he releases sends a rush of warmth through you, making your head spin.

His fingers find yours, and he intertwines them with a reassuring grip. He slowly walks you backward until your back meets the cool surface of the door.  The texture of the wood presses against your shoulders and the small of your back. Your bodies are pressed closely together, and your hands remain intertwined, resting next to your head on the door.

The kiss grows more intense with each moment. Your lips part, and James licks into your mouth, his tongue moving with an urgency that’s both surprising and exhilarating. His left hand comes up to hold your jaw, his thumb pressing into your cheek, holding you steady as he continues to kiss you. The soft whimpers and moans that slip past your lips are pathetic.

When he finally rests his forehead against yours, sending you a breathless, knowing smile, it becomes clear that you’re completely done for.

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

[chestersturniolo]

“so you miss me when you’re tipsy, huh?”

PART TWO

Chris Sturniolo x fem!reader

part one HERE

In which; Your best friend Chris takes care of you when you show up to his house wasted , fluffy fluff

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘

It was later in the night now, and the music seemed to get louder as the club filled with even more people. You felt your body starting to drag with exhaustion, the drinks you’d had finally catching up to you. Your friends were still dancing, but you were over it.

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down, blinking a few times to steady your vision. A small smile creeps onto your lips , seeing It was Chris checking in, just like he said he would.

You stared at the message, suddenly feeling a wave of emotions hit you all at once. The fun, the drinks, the noise, it was all starting to feel like too much. You just wanted to leave, to be somewhere quiet

You typed back, fingers fumbling slightly, trying your best to make the letters string together in your drunken state

it took seconds for chris to respond

Relief washed over you. He always had your back. You said your goodbyes to your friends, ignoring their protests, and stumbled your way to the front of the club. Stepping outside made you realise how drunk you really were, but the cold air woke you up just a little as you spotted the silver car pulling up. You climbed in, beginning to hear your heart thumping in your ears now the music was gone.

~

Before you knew it, you were standing in front of Chris’ place, swaying slightly as you fumbled to close the Uber door behind you. The driver gave you a sympathetic nod before pulling away, and you wobbled towards the front door.

The door opened before you even had a chance to knock. There he was, standing in the doorway, looking like the most familiar thing in the world. His eyes softened when he saw you, taking in your disheveled state.

“Chrissss” you sing, as you go to step towards him, tripping over your own feet. Chris lunges to catch you,

“Woah kid, easy” he says, steadying you by your waist. “Oopsy” you mumble , resting your forehead against his chest , his familiar scent lingering in your nose.

“Alright, I got you, c’mon-” he murmured, his voice soothing as he scooped you up into his arms without hesitation. “-let’s get you inside”

Your arms wrapped lazily around his neck as he carried you through the front door, closing it behind him with his foot.

“You dont have to carry me” you slurred with a sleepy smile, your head resting against his chest.

Chris chuckled “Yeah, but when’s the last time you made it anywhere on your own two feet when you’re this drunk,huh?” he teased, looking down at you with a smirk.

You groaned, half-laughing. “Rude”

“Honest” he shot back playfully, shifting you in his arms as he carried you up the stairs, through living room “Besides, you always like it when I carry you”

All you could do is giggle as his response, he was right, whether you admitted it or not, you loved it.

When you reached his bedroom, Chris gently set you down on the edge of the bed. You start to sway lightly in your spot, eyes unable to focus properly. He chuckled as he stood over you “You’re a mess, you know that?”

You just giggled in response, the sound muffled by how tired you felt.

He knelt down infront of you, his hands resting on your knees. “Alright, let’s get you out of this stuff” he said softly. He started with your shoes, slipping them off one by one before looking up at you. “Can you lift your arms for me?”

You blinked at him slowly, still processing his words. He smiled and lightly guided your hands up, helping you out of your shirt. It slipped over your head, and he tossed it aside, “Gonna grab you one of my shirts, alright?” he said, standing to pull out one of his big t-shirts from his dresser. He came back over, and with the same gentleness, he helped you put it on, tugging it down over your body.

Next, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of your skirt. “You want this off too ma?” he asked, waiting for your nod of permission.

You gave a small, sleepy nod as you try your best to raise your hips slightly, and he carefully slid the skirt down your legs. He threw it aside and stood up, turning to grab a makeup wipe from the drawer he had prepared for you. He knelt before you once again, gently cupping your face, starting to wipe away the makeup as you blinked at him with heavy, glazed-over eyes.

“You’re always taking care of me” you murmured, your voice slurred

He smiled, his thumb brushing your cheek as he finished cleaning your face. “Mm-Hmm, wouldn’t want it any other way”

Chris rose to his feet “Let me grab you some water”

You whined, reaching out to grab his arm. “Nooo, don’t leavvvvee”

He grinned ,before leaning forward and kissing the top of your head. “I’ll be right back, promise”

You let out a big huff, as he laughs at your neediness, disappearing to the kitchen.

It took him only a minute to grab a glass of water from the kitchen, and when he returned, he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed “Here” he said, holding the glass out to you.

You took it, taking a couple of small sips, the icy water doing wonders for your dry throat. You hold the glass back out to him as he raises his eyebrows “Few more f’me” he softly orders. You sigh before bringing the glass back to your lips, taking multiple gulps. “Good girl” he whispers, before taking the glass and going to put it on the bedside table, and pulling the bed covers back.

He makes his way back to you, scooping you up bridal style and placing you in bed properly. You watch as he takes off his shirt, climbing in next to you. Chris pulls the covers over both of you before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You immediately nuzzled into him, resting your head on his chest as you let out a content “Mmphm-“

“-I missed you” you whispered, your words almost inaudible against his chest.

“I missed you too” Chris whispered back pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His hand rubbed soothing circles on your back, putting you in a state of peaceful drowsiness.

With your last bit of consciousness, you felt his hand intertwine in your hair, laying long soft strokes, “Sleep, sweetheart-“ he whispered, his voice soft and comforting “-I’ve got you”

⋆·˚ ༘ * ⋆·˚ ༘

MASTERLIST

taglist; @sturnobsessedwh0re @nayveetbhh

@phone4pills @demzzz @sturniooolos

@monroesturnns @mattsbitchh @pvssychicken @tsturniolo4 @brianna-grace12

@blahbel668

@stvrlighht @witchofthehour @ilyttmatsa @asherrisrandom @l0ver-i

@starstrucktyrantinfluencer @fratbrochrisgf @emely9274

@chriseatingmeoutin4k @slvttie-zx

@bbybloop @sturnn372 @chrissturnsss @slut4m4tt @izzylovesmatt

@spideylovin

[grandprixprincess]

hermana part 3 || ln4

lando norris x fem!reader smau + written

part 1 // part 2

warnings: some language

a/n: thanks for all the love for this series :) it's so fun to write! as always, requests are open for smau and text fics <3 also, cherry part 2 will be up next week! read part 1 here :) oh and happy race week!!! i'll be at cota this weekend, so excited!

f1gossip posted

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f1gossip 🚨 Lando Norris seen leaving his Monaco apartment this evening!

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user1 on his way to pick up y/n perhaps? 🤞

user2 the jolly is such a VIBEEEE

user3 oh our man is dressed nice tonight!!! it's giving date night!!!

user4 i think you're right omg??? user5 y/n just posted a story all dressed up 👀

user4 lando is in his lover boy era 😭💗

yourusername posted a story

caption: 🧡🧡🧡

story replies:

yourbestfriend 😍

carlossainz55 are the orange hearts really necessary? 🙄

yourusername yes 🙄

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror before checking the time again. 5:48 pm. Lando would be here soon to pick you up.

Just as you prepared to make your way downstairs, you heard the front door to Carlos' apartment open. You furrowed your brow, wondering why he or Rebecca would be back at this time. They had left earlier in the day and said they would be out until after dinner.

"Y/N?" Carlos' voice rang out.

You grabbed a pair of dainty gold earrings as you walked out of guest bedroom, inserting them in your ear as you walked to where you heard Carlos' voice come from. "Yeah?"

Carlos was alone, carrying a few bags in, his back turned to you. "Good, you're still here. Listen, I just wanted to talk to you real quick before you-" He suddenly turned around mid sentence, "What are you wearing?"

You rolled your eyes. "Don't start, Carlitos. I'm about to leave."

Carlos scoffed. "Uh, no you're not."

You narrowed your eyes at him, "Carlos, stop." Now was not the time for Carlos to go into big brother protection mode. "There's nothing wrong or scandalous about what I'm wearing."

Your phone buzzed. You looked down, seeing Lando's name across your screen, and couldn't help the smile that made its way to your face.

I'm 5 minutes away. See you soon, beautiful.

You were so caught up in reading Lando's text, a blush painting your cheeks a soft pink, that you didn't notice Carlos smirking slightly at you. He liked seeing you happy and smitten like this; it warmed his heart. "You're blushing."

Carlos' words broke you from your daze. "Huh?"

Carlos chuckled lightly. "I said you're blushing." He took a step towards you, reaching his arm out to give you a quick hug. "You look beautiful, hermana. Have fun, yeah?"

You smiled brightly, happy to see Carlos following through with being supportive of you and Lando. "Thanks, we will. I'm going to head down. I'll see you later."

Carlos suddenly gripped your arm, holding you steady. "You are...coming back home tonight, right?"

You blushed, hating every second of this conversation, and gave him a sheepish grin. "Yes, mano. I promise."

"Good. No funny business tonight." You rolled your eyes at his words. "Hey, I mean it, manita. If he's serious, he'll wait."

You obviously didn't tell Carlos the intimate details of you and Lando on the yacht from the previous day. You felt a blush creep on your face again just thinking about it. Giving Carlos' arm a reassuring squeeze, you said, "Not that it's any of your business, but we want to wait. I want Lando to properly wine and dine me first."

"Please don't ever say the words 'Lando' and 'wine and dine me' together in a sentence ever again."

You laughed. "Okay, I need to go. He's almost here." You reached up, giving Carlos another reassuring hug. "Love you!"

"Love you. Keep your phone on. If I text you, you better answer."

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Fine." You grabbed your purse, making your way to the door. "Bye!"

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, user3, georgerussell63, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando and Y/N spotted out in Monaco tonight! The pair were reportedly seen cruising around town before heading to a restaurant.

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user1 lando took her for a drive to watch the sunset 😭😍

user3 literally crying 😭😭😭

user2 i love my emotional support rich couple

user4 george in the likes 💀 he wants to know the tea just like us

user5 carlos at home seeing this like 🤨

user1 nah I know deep down he's a lany/n shipper

user6 they looks so cute together 😭🧡

"Red or white?"

You and Lando were looking over the wine list. The restaurant Lando brought you to was cozy and romantic; you both wore goofy grins as you sat across from each other.

Suddenly you heard your phone buzzing from inside your bag. You and Lando immediately made eye contact, a smirk growing on his face. You had told him in the car what Carlos had said about answering him if he texted you.

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, his gaze causing you to throw him a sheepish smile. "Stop looking at me like that!"

He had a full on grin now. "What, am I not allowed to look at my beautiful date?"

He had you blushing now. "Yes, you can look, but don't make fun of me because I have a psycho brother."

Lando gave you another teasing smirk, looking down at the wine list again before saying, "You better answer him. I don't want to have to worry about him bursting in here and tackling me or something."

You giggled, reaching into your bag and grabbing your phone. You were confused and surprised when you saw who had texted you.

Lando grabbed your hand as you made your way upstairs to meet up with Charles and Alexandra. His hand in yours felt so natural, like two puzzle pieces fitting together perfectly. You smiled down at your joined hands before pulling out your phone to take a quick photo.

After taking the picture, you look up to see Lando staring at you, almost awestruck. You quirked your brow and smiled slightly, asking, "What?"

Lando just shook his head, rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand affectionately. "Nothing, just wondering how I got so lucky to have such a beautiful date tonight."

You blushed for what felt like the hundredth time tonight. "I feel pretty lucky too. I'm here with my dream man." You squeeze his hand.

The two of you have made it to the rooftop now, and do a once over of the space, looking for your friends. Lando leads you two towards the bar in the meantime.

"Dream man, huh?" Lando let go of your hand suddenly, his hand finding its way to your hip, pulling you in close, whispering in your ear, "You're literally the object of all my fantasies and desires." Lando keeps his hand on your hip, using his thumb to rub slow, small circles into your side.

You feel hot suddenly, and you know it's probably another blush on your face. Words lose you; you just focus on Lando's hand on you as stare up at him, eyes dilated.

"It's so fucking cute when you blush like that," Lando whispers in your ear again, "You're my dream girl."

Just as you were about to respond, you hear a voice behind you say, "Well, well, well, what do we have here?"

You turn around, Lando's hand still on your hip, to see Charles and Alexandra, both with coy smiles on their faces. You and Lando wear sheepish smiles as you wave to your friends.

Charles spoke up again. "Okay, first round is on me. Then you two can explain what's going on."

Lando laughed, letting go of your hip to join Charles to bring the drinks back. "Vodka cran?" he asked you, hand lingering with yours as he walked away.

He still remembers your drink of choice. You smiled, nodding. "Yes, please."

Once the boys were gone, Alex looked at you, still with that coy smile on her face. "Alright, spill. When did this happen?"

"After Singapore." You had another goofy smile on your face, you were sure of it. "We hadn't seen each other in a while, but after the race he texted me asking to see me again. Then he offered to pick me up from the airport, and yesterday we spent the day together..."

"Oh trust me, I saw the photos." Alex said teasingly.

You blushed again. "He told me yesterday that he tried to ask me out years ago, but Carlos stopped him."

Alex rolled her eyes. "I know he means well, but that doesn't surprise me at all."

You nod. "The past is the past. I've already spoken to Carlos about it and we've cleared the air."

"That's good." Alex reached over, grabbing your hand and giving it a squeeze. "You two looked so smitten with each other during dinner. I'm happy for you."

You saw Lando and Charles walking back towards you two, drinks in hand. You locked eyes with Lando, who was mid-conversation with Charles, and he flashed you a handsome grin.

Dream man.

yourusername posted a close friends story

story replies:

yourbestfriend screaming crying throwing up

iamrebeccad carlos saw this and threw his phone across the floor

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, user3, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando Norris and Y/N Y/L/N spotted out at a bar in Monaco tonight!

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user1 the way lando is looking at her 😭 when will it be my turn

user2 lany/n army we are getting FED

user3 and they were seen hanging with charles and alex!! 🥰

user4 why them and not carlos and rebecca?? user3 probably because carlos would kill lando on sight if he saw lando touching y/n like that irl user3 also I think charles and alex just happened to be there too coincidentally

user5 idk who i'm more jealous of: lando or y/n 😭

It was nearly midnight when Lando pulled up outside Carlos' apartment building. You didn't want the night to end. Lando's hand was latched with yours in your lap.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, just trying to savor the moment. "If you asked me to sit out here with you all night, I would," you admitted.

Lando chuckled. "As tempting as that is, these seats aren't exactly the most comfortable." He began rubbing soft circles on your hand with his thumb. "I had a great time tonight."

Your heart fluttered at his words. "So did I." You laid your free hand on his forearm, just wanting to savor as much of his touch as possible. "Will I get to see you again before I leave?"

Lando had a teasing glint in his eye as he said, "That eager to see me again, huh?" Little shit. He shifted in his seat, turning towards you, inching closer.

You playfully rolled your eyes. "Hey, that's my line." You inched closer to him, waiting for what was to come. "Answer the question."

Your faces were centimeters apart. "I've been spoiled the past few days. I want to see you every day."

"Come see me tomorrow."

Lando sighed. "Are you sure? I don't want to take you away from spending time with Carlos."

You smiled at his thoughtfulness. "He's going golfing tomorrow," you said, "So I'll be alone until he gets back." You hesitated for a moment, before adding, "I'm making dinner tomorrow. You should come."

Lando quirked his brow. "Come to dinner...with you and Carlos?"

You narrowed your eyes, flashing him a grin. "It's not like the three of us haven't had dinner together before."

"Yeah, but it's different now."

"You do know you'll have to face him eventually, right?"

If it was possible, Lando leaned even closer. "Yeah, I know." He reached his free hand up, caressing your face. "I'll be there."

Lando smiled at the way your face lit up with joy. "You will?" When he nodded, you finally leaned in and closed the gap between you two, connecting his lips with yours.

It felt blissful. You were sure you could kiss Lando for the rest of your life and never get enough. As his lips moved against yours, you released your hand from his, snaking both hands around his neck.

You smirked against his lips when your hands found themselves in his curls again.

"Careful, baby," Lando cooed against your lips. "I'm already fighting the urge to ask you to come home with me."

You giggled, pulling his face back towards yours, desperate for his lips on yours again.

Suddenly, you felt your phone buzz in your purse. The two of you broke apart, smirks on your faces. You both knew who it was.

Stop sucking faces and come inside already. It's late.

"He's watching us," you said, showing the text you received from Carlos. "I better go." You sighed, a wave of sadness taking over you at the realization that the night really was ending.

"Can I walk you up?"

Your eyes widened. "Uh, yeah, of course." Lando quicky got out of the car, walking over to your side and holding out his hand. "Are you sure?"

He flashed a genuine smile. "I'm going to have to face him eventually, right?" You look at his offered hand again before reaching out and grabbing it, lacing your fingers together. As you made your way inside and towards the elevator, he added, "Besides, it's not a real first date unless you do the classic goodnight kiss at the front door."

"You're a real charmer, huh?"

As you finally made your way to Carlos' front door, you stopped to dig for the key in your purse. You struggled to find it for a bit; suddenly, the door opened, revealing Carlos.

"Hey, mate." Lando said nervously, letting out an awkward laugh.

Carlos stared blankly at Lando for a moment, before saying, "Hey, cabrón." He stepped out into the hallway to join you both, eyes still on Lando. "Nice of you to walk her up."

"Of course, yeah, of course," Lando rambled, Carlos continuing to stare him down.

You decided to stop this before it escalated further. "You're making him nervous, Carlos. Stop it."

Carlos broke out into a grin, playfully slapping Lando's shoulder. "I was just messing with you, mate." He finally looked over at you before saying to Lando, "You should join us for dinner tomorrow."

You couldn't hide the surprise on your face if you tried. Looking over at Lando, he wore a similar expression on his face before saying, "Yeah, I would like that."

"You should join me for golf tomorrow too if you're not busy."

Now you were sure your eyes were going to pop out of their socket from shock. What was Carlos up to?

When both you and Lando were silent at the second invitation, Carlos added, "Listen, I don't want things to be weird between us because you guys are," he gestured his hand in the space between you two, "dating, or whatever."

You and Lando both laughed, feeling more at ease. You turned to Lando, nudging him with your elbow. "You should go. I'll sleep in and enjoy a day to myself."

With both you and Carlos' eyes on him, he nodded quickly. "Yeah, a round of golf sounds nice. I'm in."

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, mate." Carlos said, offering his hand out to Lando and giving him a bro hug. As he went inside and closed the door, he added, "Doors unlocked, manita."

As Carlos disappeared, Lando turned to you. "Are you sure?" Lando asked, searching your eyes for any doubt. When you nodded and flashed him an earnest smile, he nodded back. "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?" Lando said, reaching for your hand, caressing it softly. You nodded, leaning up to press one last kiss to his lips for the night; a goodnight kiss to end the most perfect night.

landonorris posted a story

caption: hanging with bae ❤️ @/carlossainz55

story replies:

yourusername LMAO

landonorris sorry you had to find out this way yourusername with my brother too 😔 landonorris carlando can't be broken

user1 y/n brought carlando back together and for that i'll forever be grateful

lando.jpg posted

liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, daniel3.jpg, and others

lando.jpg nice lil break

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user1 CARLANDOOOO

lnfour 📣 new jpg photo dump alert

user2 y/n on lando.jpg y/n on lando.jpg y/n on lando.jpg

user3 the soft launch is soft launching 😙🤌

user4 putting the carlando pic before y/n??? lando said that's still my man

yourusername mama a girl behind you

user1 LMAO 💀 user5 one thing about y/n? she's always going to roast carlos

carlossainz55 posted

liked by yourusername, iamrebeccad, yoursister, charles_leclerc, landonorris, and others

carlossainz55 Had a great few weeks off. Ready for Austin 🤠🇺🇸

tagged: iamrebeccad, yourusername

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user1 LFG TRIPLE HEADER TIME

user2 rebecca and y/n are the cutest

yourusername love you but love @/iamrebeccad more 💗

iamrebeccad 💗👯‍♀️ carlossainz55 wow 😐 carlossainz55 whatever we all know who you really love more 🧡 user1 OMG??? user4 the orange heart 😭 oh he is a lany/n shipper for sure

user3 manifesting a y/n appearance in the paddock in austin 🙏

scuderiaferrari Ready to be back on track 💪

user5 chili podium in austin 🕯🙏

yourusername posted

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc, and others

yourusername Monaco memories ✨

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user1 not lando liking this under 1 minute of posting

user2 oh he's so down bad, he has those notifs on

landonorris First ♥︎ by author

user5 OH user2 oh ABSOLUTELY down bad user6 og lany/n shippers used to pray for times like these 😭

user3 pls come to austin queen 🙏😔

alexandrasaintmleux 💗☀️

yourusername btw carlos made me post that photo to make up for the last post 🙄

carlossainz55 👍 yourusername 🖕 user1 someone tell ferrari the girls are fighting again 🙄

user4 her not tagging anyone in this post so her and lando can keep soft launching 😂

user5 they're having fun with it and i love it

user6 lando once again behind the camera like 😍🤳

yourbestfriend the first pic 😍😍😍

landonorris i know right 😍 user4 OH user2 down bad on main 😨

It had been a week since you arrived in Monaco. Things with you and Lando were going better than ever, but a fear was beginning to creep in as it was nearing the time for you to head back home. Lando was about to head out on a triple header, and the championship battle between him and Max was at its peak. You contemplated asking Carlos to take you with him to Austin, but would Lando want you there?

"Lan?" You sat on the bed in the hotel room, waiting for Lando to finish getting ready to head out for media day at the circuit. Something had been weighing on your mind as you got ready.

"Yeah?" He grabbed his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. "You ready?"

You nodded. "Yeah, just one thing..." you started, "I know we've been spotted and posted who knows how many times already, but this will be the first time we go out together, you know publicly, in front of the media." You fiddled with your hands as you contemplated your next sentence. "I just want to make sure you're ready for that."

"Are you ready for that?"

Without a second thought, you said, "Yeah, I don't want to hide. Soft launching is fun, but I think we lost the element of surprise already."

Lando chuckled before offering his hand for you to take. "I've been ready this whole time. Let's go do our hard launch then, baby."

f1gossip posted

liked by user1, user2, user3, and others

f1gossip 🚨 Lando and Y/N spotted entering the paddock together for media day at COTA!

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user1 the people's prince and princess

user2 hard launching at a gp is iconic

user4 taking selfies together with fans 😭 i love them sm

user3 will y/n be in the ferrari or mclaren garage this weekend???

user2 i thought for sure ferrari but now i'm thinking mclaren 😬 user4 no she will 1000% be in ferrari there's no way

yourusername posted stories

story 1 caption: save a horse ride a cowboy amirite 😍🤠

story 2 caption: don't worry i'm still a ferrari girl first <3 (ferrari pls give carlos a good strategy this weekend or i swear)

story replies to story 1:

user1 we went from subtle soft launch to horny on main so quick I have whiplash

carlossainz55 delete this

landonorris was busy doing an interview but is this why people keep yelling cowboy at me

yourusername oops sorry baby yourusername come eat i got your chicken wrap landonorris otw 🏃🏻‍♂️

story replies to story 2:

carlossainz55 for once I agree with one of your posts

user2 i can't wait to see you flame williams next year

oscarpiastri posting this while sitting across from me in the mclaren hospitality is wild

yourusername 😂

a/n: part 4 will be out soon :) it will most likely be the last part!

taglist: @npcmia @tinyhrry @that-one-little-soybean @a-beaverhausen @mxdi0 @scorpiodiosa @dripostsstuff @maddja @thegirlamongthestars @flrboyd @saythename-sm @landossainz @arrowenchantress @plotpal @jule239 @avni-sarai @hangingwiththestars @nxk1309 @amberpanda99

[meidiary]

( ♡ ) WHEN THEY'RE JEALOUS .. !!

synopsis : ur wbk favs get a little too annoyed because of the bold guy next to you

starring : sakura haruka, suo hayato, nirei akihiko, kiryu mitsuki & kaji ren

mei's note : eeehhh!! first time writing for wb.. i absolutely adore all the wb content on here && I wanted to contribute a bit- so that's what brings us here.. hope you enjoy! this layout was inspired by the lovely @stunie & @kaiser1ns ♡

SAKURA HARUKA

nicknames / f!reader

"baby~ need me to put some sunscreen on your back?" you grab the sunscreen spray and get up on your knees. you giggle as you see a faint blush on your boyfriend's face. "don't need any sunscreen," sakura mumbles, avoiding any eye contact with you.

you wrap your arms around his neck from the back, leaning down before brushing his ear with your lips. "nuh-uh, you do need it.."

"close your eyes, okay?"

he grumbles a bit before obliging and allowing himself to melt in your embrace.

the first spray was cold, albeit the warm weather, it still gave sakura the chills. but he forgets about the cold sensation once he feels your soft hands, massaging the sunscreen onto his skin. your fingers slowly gliding from his shoulders to his upper back.

sakura almost missed the cold feeling of the second spray because he was too focused on how warm your hands felt om him. your hands gently making their way to his lower back.

then the third spray- your fingers suddenly stop moving. his eyes jump open, his eyebrows are up in confusion, where did the warn sensation of your touch go? he looks to the back to see you waving to a group of people on the other side of the beach.

"haru', i'm gonna go say hello to some old friends! give me a minute or two, and I'll be back, yeah?" you tell him all giddy before heading to your old friend group.

a huff leaves sakura's lips, just a tad bit annoyed some randoms stole your attention. he meticulously follows you with his eyes as you make your way to the group. sakura internally scolds himself for not telling you to wear something on top of your little two piece bikini. don't get him wrong! he thinks you look gorgeous, stunning even! but now he has to restrain himself from going over there and punching the guy who's been undressing you with his eyes the second you greeted the group.

his teeth are clenched, the veins in his neck are popped while he struggles to stay put and not make a scene. sakura knows you don't like it when he starts a fight, that's why he's using up all the patience he has to prevent himself from beating the guy. if it were up to him, he would've started a fight the moment that weirdo started smiling at you like that! who does he think he is? does he really think he stands a chance with someone like you? funny.

sakura doesn't even know what you see in him, but there's absolutely no way he's going to stand by while some sicko is flirting with his girlfriend!

as if on cue, you bump into sakura the moment he started agigatedly stomping your direction. "eh? you miss me already?" a giggle leaves your mouth as you wrap your arms around your boyfriend's neck. "I didn't know you needed me around so badly!" another silly joke of yours flew right past sakura, his attention still being at your former friend group.

"hey..! what're you looking at?" your head spins to the same direction sakura's looking at before you notice he's glaring at your old friend. after a while the realization hit; your tsundere boyfriend was jealous! ah, lovely, another thing to tease him about!

"baby~ are you jealous I was talking to him?" you laugh, turning his head to face you.

"w-what?! of course not! w-what are you on, you weirdo!" he stumbles backward a bit before gaining his balance again, your arms now detached from his neck. sakura continues to mumble, "he- he should just stop lookin' at you like that.." your raise your eyebrows as you see a blush creeps up on his face.

you bite the inside of your lip, trying your hardest to keep yourself from smiling. "like what haru'? hm?"

"you know what I mean."

you reconnect your hands with his neck, tilting your head to the side. "no~ I don't!"

"[ ♡ ]!" your first name rolls off of his tongue so smoothly, reminding him not everyone can call you that. not everyone could stand as close to you as he is standing right now. not everyone could feel your hot breath on their skin as your fingertips slowly caress their neck. and even if they could, he wouldn't let them. you're his and his only.

"like you're his girlfriend, cause you're not! he should know his damn place.." sakura sighs before hiding his face in the crook of your neck, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your waist. "y-you're mine. just- just don't forget that.."

you gulp as you stand in the middle of the beach, completely enveloped by your boyfriend, not able to move an inch because of the way he's holding you. you receive glances from passers-by but you don't care enough right now. he called you his, it felt as though you could've squealed when he uttered those 3 words.

but truth be told, you are most definitely his, and his only.

SUO HAYATO

if you squint your eyes -> a bitttt of yandere!suo at the end / nicknames / reader wears dresses !

"but- it looked so cute!" you protest, your eyebrows furrowed as you look at your boyfriend rolling his eyes playfully.

"hey now, I thought i already told you that it definitely carries like atleast 10 diseases," suo glances at you, noticing your lips were still pouted, "look, if you had touched it, you'd probably have ended up in a hospital, we don't want that now, do we pretty?" suo lets out a chuckle.

you slightly shake your head before intertwining your fingers with his.

he lets out a quiet sigh before admitting, "it did look cute, though.." you giggle at your boyfriend's statement, your giggles mixing with his chuckle.

suddenly, you hear a small thud, which makes you swiftly turn your head to the side at the sound of something falling.

"ah! su', gimme a minute, stay here with the bags please!" you let go of his hand as you make your way to the guy who had dropped some boxes. you get down and start helping him put the items back in the boxes. "h-hey, thanks for helping out!" the guy spills out before he continues grabbing his stuff, his hand accidentally touching yours as you both go to grab the water bottle. awkwardly laughing it off, you two finish up refilling the box.

little do you know on the other side of the street suo drops the shopping bags he was holding for you, he doesn't care less what could happen to those pretty pink bags filled with cute dresses you tried on earlier in the shops, which you decided were essential additions to your already filled to the brim closet. if the bags would end up stolen, suo would buy you new ones anyway. so they weren't that important right now.

not when some guy was gushing at his girlfriend. not when that same stranger had touched your hand, which only he was allowed to do. and oh, definitely not when he had the courage to shove his phone in your pretty hands, waiting for you to put your number in.

"[ ♡ ]," suo calls out your name as he reaches you. "we should go, sweetheart, we told the others we'd be at kotoha's in 10," he forces a smile before taking the guy's phone out of your hand and pointing it towards him. "yours?" cold, that was the only way to describe your boyfriend, whose smile had disappeared into thin air, tone.

the guy who you were so innocently helping earlier, started awkwardly thanking the both of you before hastily making his way to his car.

"ah, su'! my bags!" you sprint to the shopping bags on the other side of the street, worriedly checking if all the items were still inside. "everything's still inside?" your boyfriend's smile was showing again.

you nod as he grabs the bags in one hand and locks his other hand with yours. this time with a tighter grip, the last thing he'll allow is for you to stray from him again.

"stay close to me now, alright pretty? don't let go of my hand."

and you could've sworn you saw him clench his jaw before relaxing it and sending you his signature smile again. "love you."

NIREI AKIHIKO

no warnings, just nirei being adorable

how did nirei even get himself into this situation? no, but really, how? it was a perfect day; sunny weather with clouds nowhere in sight, nirei was hanging out with the people he loved being around, his friends, and of course, you! yet somehow, he finds himself in the bookstore, ignoring his friends' stories.

he isn't purposely ignoring them! it's just hard to listen to them when his, his girlfriend is being hit on by the employee.

you were talking him about how badly you wanted to read this book. it was of a psychological genre, and when you explained the story premise to your boyfriend, he got totally spooked by it! but when you two and your friends got to the store, you couldn't find it at all..

you were searching for an employee to help you find it as your earlier attempt with nirei and the others weren't really successful.

but, oh, the regret nirei's feeling right now about letting you go off on your own to find someone to help is absolutely tearing him apart! he doesn't want to seem like the possessive type by waltzing over there and snaking an arm around you, but he can't stand witnessing one more second of that guy flirting with you!

"hmm, what're you gonna do now, huh nirei?" suo teases the blond, elbowing kiryu to witness nirei's predicament.

"hah? you gonna let 'em take your girl, eh nirei?" kiryu chuckles, playfully pushing his shoulder.

nirei shakes his head before sending yet another glare at the employee. he was an older man, way too old to even think about flirting with you. what's worse is that you were completely oblivious to the situation, you probably just thought he was being friendly!

that's it. with that thought flowing in nirei's brain he makes his way to you.

"h-hey! you find the book yet, sweetheart?"

nirei usually sticks to calling you by your name or nickname, occasionally even calling you baby. but never had he called you sweetheart before. so that was what caught your attention.

"yes, darling, I have!" you giggle as you decide to play along this game of his, oblivious to the way your boyfriend's staring at the older man, waiting for him to get the hint and back off.

"well.. I'll be going then.." the employee abruptly leaves, after rolling his eyes at you two.

nirei's knot in his stomach finally seems to loosen as he intertwines his fingers with yours. "glad you found it," your blond boyfriend sends you a cheeky smile.

"thank you, sweetheart!"

"SWEETHEART?!" tsugeura yells out, fake-fainting into kiryu's arms. the pink-haired individual struggling with keeping tsugeura on his feet. "y-yo, you're 'bout to make me trip!"

suo smiles widely, one of his hands on nirei's shoulder. "my, my, haven't you progressed a lot in the past 5 minutes, haven't you? you even got sakura blushing like crazy.."

"hey shut up!" sakura hides his face behind the book he was holding, pretending he was checking it out. mind you, it was upside down..

oh my, nirei is going to be teased about this for the rest of the year. but honestly, he'd do it all again to see your pretty smile again. your laughing mixing in with all the ruckus the guys are making brings another genuine smile to nirei's face.

this was his happy place, right here with you.

(just look at him omg... i-)

KIRYU MITSUKI

nicknames

"ah! mitsuki, look at this top, isn't it adorable?!" completely in love with the clothing piece, you show it to your boyfriend, waiting for his opinion on it.

"mhm, it'd look so pretty on you. and it'd fit with your new shoes!" kiryu adds, slightly wiggling his eyebrows up and down to convince you the top is a must-have! "come on~, tried it on for me."

kiryu locks his hands with yours before pulling you along with him to the dressing rooms.

you hand your boyfriend your handbag and jacket before picking out where you'll try the top on. "I'll be quick, kay?" you tell him, earning a smiley nod from him.

after some time, kiryu sees your hand coming out of the dressing room, signing to him to come in. chuckling, he goes into the small space.

"baby, look how small it is! 's like a baby size.." you mumble, still trying to adjust the top.

the back of your top gets adjusted by kiryu before he shakes his head, "baby-, I'll just go grab another size for you. this size could actually be a baby's size.." you giggle as you nod, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before letting him go look for a different size.

kiryu searches at the original spot, but he doesn't seem to find the other sizes. after a long while of searching and asking the employees, going through 3 floors searching for the top, and then suddenly remembering there's a fourth floor, kiryu finally finds the infamous top.

this piece of fabric better be the best clothing piece ever.

with the top in his, your boyfriend makes his way back to you, eager to see you wearing the right size this time.

he turns the corner to get to the dressing rooms when he hears your voice. you're sitting on the couch, talking to some guy. that isn't a bad thing, it really isn't! what is, though, is the fact that the guy was giving you heavy heart eyes as he grabbed your phone to add his number. like yes, you're pretty, gorgeous, stunning, but you're taken, so no, thank you!

"h-hey.. maybe we should y'know go there togeth-"

"hey, princess, I found your top," kiryu walts over to the sofa, standing in front of the two of you. his smile disappears almost immediately once he shifts his gaze to the man next to you. "and you are?"

you widen your eyes a bit at your boyfriend's sharp tone. "baby-," you mumble

kiryu's fixed stare started to make him feel fiddly as he starts awkwardly laughing. "h-hey man, didn't know she was taken.. was just hitting up a pretty girl, right?" he chuckles before standing up.

"mhm, next time, don't hit on my pretty girl, yeah?"

another awkward laugh flows out of the man's mouth as he leaves the dressing rooms.

"mitsuki-"

"don't even get me started," kiryu hands you the top. he motions for you to try I on before plopping on the couch again, still annoyed at the individual trying to get with his pretty girlfriend.

but all that pent-up annoyance and frustration suddenly goes right out the window when he sees you walking out of the fitting room. wow, you look incredible.

the way the top hugs your figure so elegantly yet somehow still remains a casual vibe, surprises him.

"baby? what do you think?"

"you look so pretty, princess.." kiryu wraps his arms around your waist before pulling you closer to him. "you always do."

kiryu's bank account might be experiencing an existential crisis because of all the items he bought you, but he couldn't care less when he sees you smile like that.

KAJI REN

teenie tiny bit of swearing / reader's wearing a skirt

where is that damn soda of yours?! kaji's been roaming the grocery store, searching for another soda for you because you were all "baby, they're buy 1 get 1 free!". and how could he tell you he wasn't in the mood to go to the back of the store to get it for you when you were puppy-eyeing him.

damn you. (he loves you)

if kusumi were there with him, kaji just knows he'd be poking fun at him, calling him a simp again.

finally, he found the bottled soda! he angrily grabbed it, making his way back to you, who stayed in line, waiting for your turn at the cash register.

kaji moves past families with full carts, jumps over children playing on the ground, and almost knocks over a fabric softener stand.

reaching the line at the register, he hears your laugh and follows it past the others in line to get to you. wait, who were you laughing at? as he stands behind you, you turn around to greet him.

"baby! this is kai, he was telling me all about some trivia about fruits!" you giggle, waiting for ren to greet the man in front of you, who had reached out his hand to him.

your boyfriend only stares at him before the man retrieves his hand, uncomfortably running it through his hair before letting out a forced chuckle.

you smile awkwardly, turning your head a little to kaji's side. "ren. be nice," you warn with a smile still on your face.

"anyway, did you know figs aren't fruits! they're inverted flowers, isn't that crazy?" you start rambling, hoping to dissipate the awkward situation. you were completely amazed at what the stranger told you. unbeknownst to you though, kaji was fuming, he was humming at your rambles whilst scowling at the man in front of you.

you should've seen how the stranger was looking at you before kaji stood next to you! his toothy smile, flirtatious glances, the man even playfully touched your shoulder. but you, of course, being the clueless person you are, thought he was just being friendly!

as you ended your newly learned trivia about fruits, you saw the man grabbing his stuff and hastily walking off.

"y-yeah well, was nice to meet you too.. bye.." the guy turns around, not even sparing you another glance.

kaji rolls his eyes as you too load up your groceries in a bag and start heading out.

"baby, you were so rude!" you state while taking a sip from your soda, and then offering it to him. "the guy was just being nice.."

grabbing the sods, kaji lets out a scoff. unamused with your cluelessness. "the guy was trying to get in your pants," kaji's eyes shot down, only to see you were wearing a skirt. "..uh skirt, whatever, you know what I'm getting at..!"

"ren, you're exaggerating so much it's starting to give me a headache!" you joke, locking your arm with his.

another sigh leaves kaji's mouth. "baby, why else would a guy randomly tell a pretty girl some shitty trivia in a grocery store if not to get close to you?!"

a moment of silence lingers between the two of you before you look back at your boyfriend. "... you think I'm pretty?" you deadpan, holding in your laugh as you see kaji literally breaking.

"I should've let him have you-" as your boyfriend hears your giggles a tiny smile creeps up his face.

"love you too, rennie."

his arm slings around your waist and holds you even tighter to him than usual.

kusumi's right, he definitely is a simp.