#that grin? girl is so guilty <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[adipostsstuff]

Goddamn why does Kotoko have to have the crime I like the least but the looks I like the most? Why is she so wrong but so fine?

[cregansdingdong]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ɪꜱ ꜰɪɴᴇ.

Cregan Stark x pregnant!fem!reader | no use of y/n | warnings: pregnancy fluff, the tooth rotting kind <3

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“There you are.”

There he was. Watching from the threshold of their marriage doors—the only separation between their traditional chambers—Cregan gazes over the form of his bare wife, who was enjoying a nice bath in her alcove. His eyes moved slowly, deliberately, taking her in and committing her to his memory like it was the very first time. A sleepy smile graced her perfect face, head leaned back against the edge of the tub. Just barely breaking the surface of the water was her stomach, rounded and taut with his child; her wrist had been resting on it as he entered, a letter held loosely in her hand. “I am.” He murmured, feeling himself relax just at the sight of her, and he crossed the room to sit on the chair by the tub. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better now. Jace wrote to me.” She holds out the small paper to him. Cregan hums at the mention of her brother, and his eyes scan the words on the page, quietly snorting after a few moments of reading—he was as funny as he always was. Nothing new, really, in the letter. He’d mostly asked about how his sister was faring, questions about the pregnancy, and gushing over his coming nuptials to Baela. But it all brought a smile to his wife’s face anyway. Cregan felt guilty sometimes, knowing how far Winterfell was from King’s Landing. She missed her family often, but even more now that she was having a child. “He’s eager to be an uncle.” He muses, handing it back to her. “The second he learns the babe is born, he’ll be outside our quarters pouting.”

“Yes he will.” She laughs and places it off to the side. “Only a few weeks more.” Cregan peers down at her stomach, expression softened now, his hand reaching out to gently pet her bump, fingers caressing the skin. “The water is almost cold.” He notes, a slight chide in his tone. His wife nods along, obviously aware. “Mmhm. The maesters say hot baths aren’t too good for the baby—warm is fine, but it becomes tepid fairly quickly. I’m comfortable though, I promise. Supper was divine. I was craving that stew all day. And grapes, but mostly the stew. I missed you.” A pleased smile lifts the corners of his lips at her soft ramble. He loved hearing her speak—just as much as she liked to prattle his ears blue. “I assure you, wife, I missed you even more. You and our babe. How is she doing?”

“Are you truly still convinced we're going to have a girl?” She muses. Cregan gently splashes her in mock offense, tutting lightly at her teasing. “I know we're having a girl. I can feel it in my bones, wife.” He leans in, pressing a less-than-chaste kiss against her mouth, tongue just barely slivering past her supple lips. She tasted like something sweet. “Cake?” He asks, head tilted even though it wasn't really a question. She grins. “Sara brought the letter up here—and sneaked me some frosted scones from the kitchen. I love your sister.” Cregan rolls his eyes. “I should've known you two would scheme behind my back…and not leave me any. I'm your leige-Lord.” His wife reaches out to pull him in again, not satisfied with the previous kiss, and their mouths clash together nearly with a mutual clack of their teeth. "Get in." She was pulling him down into the jasmine scented water, hands fiercely tugging at the laces of his leather doublet. "This water is so damn cold—" He barely had a moment to remove his boots. "You'll be fine." What Lady Stark wants, she gets.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[yikesmary]

options — choi seungcheol x reader

summary: where cheol tries his best to make sure your pregnancy cravings are satisfied—by buying what seems to be the whole convenience store

notes: this can be seen as a pt. 2 to this one shot I wrote back in June of last year (I did not know it's been that long since that has been posted wtf), but it can also be seen as a standalone. I got a burst of inspiration suddenly, so enjoy the one shot! <3

disclaimer: I am not pregnant, so whatever I write about pregnancy is through pure guessing, and also, if I decide to google it! so yeah :)

masterlist

"Did you leave any food for the other customers who might want to eat tonight?" you asked in amusement, watching Seungcheol put what seemed like the fifth plastic bag filled with food from the convenience store onto the table.

"Well, you kept on texting me things the baby might want, so I decided to get everything you've been craving and maybe some things that might work," Seungcheol explained, a bit out of breath from how many times he had to go back and forth.

"Baby, don't you think this is a bit too much? I don't even think baby girl will want a fourth of these," you said, rubbing your pregnant belly.

Ever since you and Seungcheol found out you were pregnant, he had become an even more attentive husband, if possible. He had insisted that you were not allowed to lift a single finger throughout your pregnancy, saying that you shouldn't get tired.

You had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? He would wake up the second you called his name, helping you from the bed and waiting outside the bathroom to make sure you didn't fall in or something (it had happened once, and Seungcheol was both worried and amused at the time). You were hungry? Seungcheol was already ordering something from a food delivery app or cooking one of the doctor-approved dishes that he taught himself to make.

He also made sure all of your pregnancy cravings were satisfied, which was why you've found yourself with what must've been the entire convenience store stock in your home. "So where do we start?" you asked, watching as he brought out a ton of different food out of the bags—chips, samgak (and regular) kimbap, ramen packs, and even ice cream from the bags.

"We should probably see if baby wants the already made food, and the ice cream can be a dessert?" He suggested, but you were already eyeing up your favorite ice cream from even before you got pregnant.

Seungcheol saw that you were looking at the ice cream and without fail, gave it to you before going to the freezer in order to put the rest in so they don't melt. "Thank you," you grinned, a mouthful of ice cream, which made him shake his head in endearment.

"Here, smell this," he said, giving you an open bag of chips.

You looked at him weirdly, yet smelled it. "It smells... like chips?" you said and smelt it one more time just to be sure.

"Does the baby want this?" He asked.

"Oh, not really," you shook your head, and he closed up the chip bag and proceeded to grab another bag, presumably to do the same.

"This one?" Seungcheol asked, giving you what looked like the last item, which was a cup tteokbokki.

"Oh, yeah!" You excitedly said.

"Really?!"

"No, I just wanted to make you happy, but the baby's really not liking it," you sighed.

Seungcheol sighed, which made you feel guiltier, as he had bought all of this food, and it was nothing you were currently craving. "I'm so sorry, Cheol. Maybe I can eat something—" you were saying as you were picking up a package of sweet bread, but quickly dropped it once the smell hit your nose.

"No, you shouldn't have to force yourself to eat if you don't like it. It's not your fault our daughter might just be the pickiest eater ever. I'll just bring all of this to practice tomorrow and the guys can eat all of it," Seunghceol shrugged.

You still felt guilty, which he must've seen by the look on your face, which prompted him to grab you gently so he could give you a hug. "Maybe there's something in the fridge?" He suggested, holding your hand and using his thumb to caress the back of your hand.

You thought about it for a moment before releasing Seungcheol's hand, to which he pouted when you did and walked towards the refrigerator. You looked through the fridge, but nothing caught your eye.

Until a bright orange Tupperware lid caught your attention and you grabbed it. Once you opened it, you looked at Seungcheol sheepishly. "I found something to eat.." you said.

Seungcheol stood up walked over to you and looked at the Tupperware. "Isn't this the japchae Mingyu and Jun made?" he asked, and you nodded.

"I guess I'm gonna have to ask them to make you japchae every time you crave it. Or learn it myself,"

taglist: taglist: @belladaises @winterpaos @minhui896 @baekhyunimochibbh @x-alightinthedark @whywontyousetfree @coffeesandrains @slaveofmydreams @bmkgemz @dandycharmer @outrologist @stagefrjghts @dahliatopia @exo-saranghajaaa @uhlatcha @watermelon-sugars-things @miniminimingi @venzline @withloveyjh @lockburn-castle @userjunhuii @mypsychicpizzaworld @violetvoo @maevadobreva @soonyoungblr @baekhyunstruly @ryusol @dunixxd @minhwa @ovai @scorpiobitch88 @icyminghao @cookiehaos @duskunt1ldawn

[propertyofwicked]

SCANDALOUS - OP

summary - in which oscar discovers what type of books his girlfriend is actually reading

warnings: 18+ allusions to smut, but mostly fluff

this is my first oscar piece and i am considering a part 2! lemme know what you think! <3 (also sorry for disappearing my life has been all over the place)

masterlist the playlist

as they arrived at the silverstone track, oscar and y/n could feel the palpable anticipation in the air. navigating through the crowds was something y/n could only compare to her idea of personal hell. people everywhere, sporting the bright colours of different teams, people approaching the two of them, holding out hats and phones for oscar to sign. if this was friday, y/n hated to think what the rest of the weekend would be like - hopefully she could arrive later than oscar and avoid the hustle and bustle.

"are you going to be okay here?" oscar asked softly, concern evident in his eyes, as he led the two of them into mclaren hospitality. he wasn’t blind, if anything he could read her emotions better than he could read his own - he knew she was overwhelmed, but not quite at breaking point.

"yeah, i've got my book and headphones,” y/n replied, patting her bag quickly, “i'll find a quiet spot,” she added with a nod, giving him a reassuring smile.

“i’ll see you in a bit, yeah?” he asked her again, holding her wrists softly in his hands.

“i’ll be here,” she replied, still smiling as she stepped up onto her tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips.

y/n watched as oscar left, before turning on her heel and trying to find a cosy corner, tucked away from the commotion where she could read her book in peace. and as she sat with her back to the wall, she couldn’t help but feel grateful that no one could walk behind her and glimpse at what she was reading. her flushed cheeks may slightly give it away to anyone who recognised the book, but as she flipped through the pages she was met with nothing but pure, indulgent smut. it was a guilty pleasure that she seldom admitted to enjoying, and whilst she was more than content with oscar, she was too shy to admit she’d want him to do more than half of the acts she reads about.

maybe next time, she should bring a murder mystery book with her, instead of reading 82 pages of unforgiving sex scenes that are described in such detail that she could almost imagine how oscar would recreate it beautifully - yeah, maybe not the right thing to be reading at your boyfriend’s place of work.

“hi,” a voice interrupted, causing y/n to jump quickly as she looked up to see one of the hospitality staff stood in front of her, “i was just wondering if we would be able to steal this chair? i can find you somewhere else to sit - it’s just a guest would like to sit here.”

“of course,” y/n replied, smiling up at the nervous girl before moving to shove everything back into her bag, “i probably should go on a walk anyways.”

“thank you so much, and sorry for making you move - the guest is a sponsor, so they expect us to move heaven and earth to accommodate them,” the employee added with a grin.

“i understand,” y/n replied, laughing lightly as she stood, “your hair is so beautiful by the way.”

“thank you,” the girl smiled, blushing at the compliment.

oscar had been engrossed with his team, discussing strategy and making adjustments for the practice session, when he realised it had been several hours since he’d seen his girlfriend. and once the practice session had finally ended, with a full team debrief, he made it his mission to find her.

"have you seen y/n around?" oscar inquired casually, glancing over at lando who had walked into hospitality with him.

"yeah, she was sitting in the corner over there," lando chuckled, gesturing towards the quieter section of the hospitality area, “….but she’s not there anymore,” he added, trailing off as he noticed the empty chair.

"thanks mate, glad you’ve still got those keen observational skills," oscar replied sarcastically, “don’t know what i’d do without you around.”

“hey! i was just telling you where i last saw her!” lando defended, holding his hands up, ”she’s probably in a quiet corner somewhere, reading that book. she’s probably the only person that didn’t notice i’d even walked in earlier ‘cos she was nose deep in it.”

“sounds about right,” oscar hummed, pulling his phone out to shoot her a quick where are you text.

sure enough, oscar found y/n in a quieter corner, still engrossed in her book. he approached her quietly and gently tapped her shoulder. y/n looked up, removing her headphones and quickly closing the pages before smiling warmly at him.

"hey there, lost track of time?" oscar asked, sitting down beside her, pulling his legs up to his chest as his back leant on the wall.

y/n nodded, "yeah, i guess i did. how was practice?"

"pretty good," oscar replied, "we made some solid improvements. what about you? what are you reading?"

y/n hesitated for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness crossing her expression. "oh, it's just a book. nothing special."

oscar raised an eyebrow, sensing her reluctance to share. "come on, it can't be that bad. is it some secret spy novel or something?"

y/n chuckled nervously. "no, nothing like that. just... personal. i'll tell you about it later, maybe."

"alright, fair enough," he replied, "ready to head back to the hotel?"

y/n sighed with relief. "yes please.”

“that bored, huh?” he asked as he stood, extending his arms to help pull her from the floor.

“not bored, just-”

“overwhelmed? hungry? eager to see me after a shower?”

“always.”

“good to know,” he added, draping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "you know, you're quite the mystery sometimes," he teased gently as they began to walk to the car.

"keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" y/n smirked, “no fun in being predictable.”

they arrived at the hotel room, and as they settled in, the atmosphere relaxed. y/n flopped down on the bed, and oscar joined her, laying his entire body on top of hers, her hands moving to stroke along his back softly.

"so, how's the book?" oscar asked again, with a playful glint in his eye.

y/n rolled her eyes playfully but couldn't suppress a smile. "it's good. maybe i'll let you read it someday."

"wow, such a privilege!" oscar feigned shock, “but how would i ever repay you for such an offer.”

"don't push your luck, piastri,” she replied, her arms grabbing his sides in attempt to push him off. he laughed, rolling to the side to lay next to her.

"alright, alright. i won't push. but seriously, thanks for coming with me today. it means a lot."

y/n's expression softened. "of course. i wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

oscar leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "i'm lucky to have you, you know that?"

y/n's eyes sparkled with affection. "i think we're both pretty lucky."

“i’d be even luckier if you let me read that book of yours,” he grinned.

"you're ridiculous.”

"only for you," he replied with a grin, his arm reaching across her waist for his fingers to draw circles into the skin of her stomach. his head dipped, trailing kissed along her clothed shoulder, until he was resting on his arm, hovering over her slightly, his lips finding their way to the skin of her neck.

“please,” he whispered, kissing along her jaw.

“fine,” y/n replied with a loud huff, pushing herself up from the bed to retrieve the book from her bag. oscar remained on the bed, resting on his side and using his arm to hold his head up as his eyes followed her across the room.

she launched the book at him, watching as it landed just shy of his stomach.

“come and join me,” he beckoned, shuffling himself up the bed, book in hand.

“i’d rather stand here, actually.”

“ok weirdo.”

the room fell to a silence as oscar opened the book, choosing to open at a page in the middle.

“why is this all highlighte- oh. OH. oh wow,” he spoke aloud, grimacing slightly in between raising his eyebrows at the literature, “this is - is that even possible? how has he got her leg up there?”

“you can stop now,” y/n begged, climbing on the bed and stretching over in attempt to snatch the book from his hands.

“no, i don’t think i will,” he teased, raising the book above his head, though at an angle where he could still read it, “ ‘…..he said, grabbing my other leg and placing them both behind his head’ - this girl is flexible jesus.”

“oscar piastri you give me that book right now.”

“ok! ok!” he said defensively, “….on one condition.”

“…what?” y/n responded cautiously, noticing the way he smirked at her.

“you tell me, is this something you wanna try?” he asked, “the things in this book? is that what you want?”

“minus the kidnapping part….maybe?” she replied, fiddling with her fingers.

“maybe, huh?” he teased, placing the book to his side before grabbing her waist to pull her into him. y/n straddled his lap, though desperately tried to look anywhere but his face, desperate to hide the flush of her cheeks, only worsened by looking in his eyes.

“honestly, i just wanna know if im that flexible,” she replied with a laugh, still playing anxiously with her fingers whilst trying to fight against her own awkwardness.

“i know you can get at least one leg up there,” oscar joked, fingers tickling at her sides playfully, “although, you’re not very good at twister.”

“we have played twister ONCE. and i was drunk. you cannot hold that against me.”

“drunk or not, your foot was still dangerously close to going up my ass.”

“and yet no assholes were harmed.”

“speaking of.. does this book mention anyth-”

“if you think you are putting ANYTHING up there you are very much mistaken mr piastri,” y/n argued, holding his jaw in her hands to make her point clear.

“mr piastri? i prefer da-”

“NOPE! LA LA LA,” she interrupted, quickly covering her ears before he finished his sentence.

“im kidding, im kidding,” he laughed out breathlessly, holding on to her hips as his body shook with laughter, “so about this flexibility thing.”

“let me stretch first,” she told him, kissing his lips softly. y/n moved to climb off him, only half serious about stretching, but his hands stayed put on her waist, pulling her back into him. he kissed her again, a hand traveling up her body to rest on her jaw and he deepened the kiss, his tongue swiping her bottom lip briefly.

“no need, i know a good way to get you warmed up,” he told her cheekily, his lips returning to her neck once more, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin below her ear.

“oh really?” she replied, her eyebrows raising at the suggestion, “please, go on. tell me more.”

[moonstruckme]

summary: your roommate James plots to befriend a shy you

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

The apartment is loud and messy when you come home, and James immediately feels bad about it. You freeze in the door like a doe in the woods, a few of his friends pausing their conversations to greet you from where they’re scattered haphazardly about the living room. 

You give a terse smile and beeline for the stairs. You’re wearing your work clothes, dirty and rumpled from a long shift, and it doesn’t escape James’ notice that you’ve bypassed the kitchen in your hurry to get to your room. You seem to have an aversion to being witnessed. He makes a mental note to check that you’ve eaten later. 

“Oh, do you work at Rizzo’s?” Lily asks you, evidently recognizing the uniform. You stall halfway up the stairs, and James suppresses a smile at your obvious reluctance. 

“Yeah,” you reply, voice even quieter than usual. 

“My friend works there.” Lily’s friendly demeanor is unphased by your timidity. The two of you have met before, like you’ve met most of his friends, in passing. “Do you know Mona?” 

You nod, easing up a bit. James wonders at the fact that you’ve lingered as long as you have, but then he notices Sirius noticing you, and he prays his friend doesn’t say anything to make you regret it. 

“Yeah, we’ve worked some of the same shifts,” you say. “She’s nice.” 

Lily grins at the confirmation. James braces himself as Sirius angles his head. 

“What do you do there, lovely?” 

The endearment instantly flusters you. Your shoulders tighten and your hand flexes on the banister as though to keep yourself from bolting. “I’m a host,” you say. 

“That’s nice.” Sirius’ grin is intentionally disarming, lopsided and flirtatious. You look as though you’re not sure what to make of it. “I’m sure it makes for good business to have the pretty girls welcoming customers.” 

It’s your last straw. You mumble something about it being nice to see them and all but dash up to your room. James hears your door shut with a soft click. 

Sirius frowns. “Skittish thing, isn’t she?” 

“Tosser.” Remus pulls him roughly against his side, rolling his eyes when Sirius wraps his arms around his boyfriend’s torso sulkily. 

“I was paying her a compliment.”  

“She’s just shy.” James doesn’t know why he feels the need to explain you, exactly. Your diffidence is fairly obvious now, but he still feels a bit guilty for thinking you just hated him when he first moved in. After knowing Remus for so long, he thought he’d be able to tell the difference between shyness and standoffishness. Now apparently he feels responsible for liaising between you and his friends. “You knew you were going to embarrass her, prick.” 

The conversation turns to Sirius’ tendency to verbally prod at those with quieter demeanors, which he denies vehemently and Remus corroborates with pointed looks but not much commentary. 

Once they’ve gone, James goes up to your room with a sandwich. The door is cracked but he knocks anyway, waiting for your quiet “come in” before he pushes it the rest of the way open. 

“Figured you might’ve missed dinner,” he says by way of greeting, going to set the plate down on your bed. 

It takes effort not to let his eyes roam the room. He can see in his periphery that your desk is cluttered but neat and your walls covered with pictures and art. An effect of your reticence is that, aside from what sort of shampoo you use and how often you need to restock the milk in the fridge, James knows very little about you. He knows you’re a good roommate. You’re clean, you don’t bicker about the thermostat, and you haven’t even seemed cross with him for eating the rest of your oreos (which he’s going to replace, seriously, as soon as he remembers to go to the store). You’re quiet, obviously, but along with that you seem kind. 

Honestly, it makes him a bit uncomfortable that you don’t seem to want to be friends. James is only human; he likes being liked, even more so by nice girls with pretty smiles, and it seems crucial that he be liked by nice girls with pretty smiles who he shares a living space with. If you’re going to brush your teeth using the same sink as somebody, you should be on good terms. James believes this. 

And though he hasn’t had to work so hard for friendship in some years, he is diligent. He thinks he’ll bring you around yet. 

Evidence of progress: the happy-surprised look in your eyes when you spot the sandwich. 

“Thank you,” you say, a tender sort of bemusement lining your words. “You didn’t have to do this.” 

“Well, if you’ve actually missed dinner, you probably ought to eat something more substantial,” James hedges. He pushes his luck, sitting across from you on your bed. “I don’t want to be an accomplice to your snacks-for-meals agenda.” That wins him a small smile. “But I do feel bad, keeping you from your own kitchen because I have friends over.” 

Your eyes flit away at the last bit. You take a hearty bite of your sandwich, chewing to avoid a reply.

“You should know, you are actually paying rent for the whole apartment,” he says, “not just your room.” 

You look chastened as you swallow, but you wave him off. “I would’ve gone down to get something later,” you say airily. “I didn’t want to infringe on your time with your friends.” 

“You?” James actually laughs. “Never. Trust me, we see plenty of each other. They could probably use a fresh face.”

You roll your eyes. It’s a ploy to keep from looking at him, he’s certain of it. “Well, regardless, you shouldn’t worry about it. I wasn’t starving.” 

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Your mattress creaks as James stands. Some of the stiffness to your posture eases, and he wonders if you’re relieved to see him go, but you look up with another small smile. Pretty. 

“Thanks for the sandwich,” you say. 

“You should really have another one,” he replies, grinning back because of forces beyond his control. He starts backing out of the room. “Do you want me to make it? Actually, don’t answer that. I’m making it.” 

Your quiet laughter follows him down the stairs. 

[rafecameronssl4t]

idk if you’ve watched love island uk s8 but for the love island au can u make a story inspired by gemma and luca where reader’s ex comes into the villa and makes rafe jealous and a scene where reader accidentally calls rafe her ex’s name

+ i absolutely love ur stories <3

Guilty as sin? || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader (love island au)

A/n: S8 OF LOVE ISLAND UK IS MY FAV 😭😭 (there will be a part 2 bc it was getting too long but I'll post it soon as well so the wait won't be too long!!)

Warnings: slight angst if u squint ig lol

Word count: 2,746

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

You spot Rafe across the villa’s airy kitchen, caught up in a conversation with the other guys. Without a second thought, you walk towards them and call his name, excitement clear in your voice. “Rafe! Rafe! He turns at the sound, his brows knitting in slight confusion as you tug his arm, urging him to step aside with you. “Yeah?” he asks, his tone curious as he searches your face.

The hint of a smile curls at his lips when he sees how eager you are. “Sofia just got a text,” you say, a little breathless, unable to keep the smile off your face as you watch his reaction. “A text?” he repeats, eyebrows lifting. “What did it say?” “It said, ‘Girls, there will be a surprise for you tomorrow morning," you reveal, and his eyes widen, the full impact hitting him.

He crosses his arms, tilting his head as he watches you. “Wait—another guy’s coming into the villa?” You nod, feeling his gaze intensify as he studies you with a playful smirk. But before you can say anything, Lucinda’s voice echoes across the villa, singling you out. “Y/n, you simp!” she calls out, half-laughing, clearly catching onto your excitement.

You turn and laugh, calling back with a grin, “I wasn’t telling him anything!” She rolls her eyes in good-natured mock annoyance as she walks past, but you can’t help but giggle at the playful accusation. Rafe’s attention returns to you, his smirk deepening as he takes a step closer, lowering his voice so only you can hear. “So,” he murmurs, leaning in, “are you excited?”

“Excited for?” you playfully tilt your head, looking up at him with a feigned innocence. His hands slip around your waist, drawing you in until there’s barely any space between you, and his eyes search yours, warm with amusement. “The new guy coming,” he challenges, his voice low and teasing.

You pretend to consider his question, tapping your finger against your lips, scrunching your face as though deep in thought. “Mmm… maybe just a little?” you tease, letting the words roll off your tongue as you watch his expression darken with playful jealousy. Rafe scoffs, his hand falling to your hip as he gives you a gentle push, his smirk still lingering.

“Oh, really?” he mocks, his tone dripping with amusement as his fingers skim the small of your back. You laugh, slipping your arms around his neck and pressing your forehead to his. “I’m joking, I’m joking!” you reassure him, your voice softening. “Why would I even look his way when you’re right here?”

His face softens, a genuine smile breaking through as he lifts you off the ground, his arms tightening around you. He peppers kisses along the side of your neck, each one making you squirm and giggle as you cling to him, laughing. “Rafe!” you squeal, struggling to keep a straight face. “I need to go get ready!”

He finally sets you down, but not before stealing one last kiss. Just as you turn to leave, he smirks, his hand sliding down to give you a playful smack on the ass. You whip around, giving him a mock-glare, but he just grins, completely unbothered. “See you later,” he calls out, chuckling as you roll your eyes and walk away, unable to hide your smile.

~

“Sofia, you look gorgeous, babe!” you squeal, clasping her hands and giving her a little twirl. She giggles, cheeks flushed, excitement lighting up her eyes. The new guy had just chosen her for a date, and you couldn’t be happier for her. With all the girls hyping her up, it’s a moment of pure joy.

Linking arms, you and the other girls make your way to the balcony, eager to catch a glimpse of the date unfolding below. From up here, you have a perfect view, though the new guy’s back is to you, obscuring his face. “What are you girls doing?” a voice asks, pulling your attention. You glance over your shoulder to find the guys walking in, curiosity evident in their expressions.

As they come closer, you shush them playfully, grabbing Rafe’s hand and pulling him toward you. He doesn’t resist, settling behind you as his arms wrap warmly around your shoulders. Leaning back against him, you focus on the figure in the distance. But something about the guy’s tattoos catches your attention.

A chill pricks at your skin, a sense of familiarity hitting you hard. You squint, taking a closer look, and suddenly, it all clicks. Your heart skips a beat, and the realisation makes your stomach twist. “No, no, no, no…” you gasp, ducking down quickly onto the lounge, unable to tear your eyes away. Your reaction sends the others into a flurry of confusion.

“What?” Rafe asks, brow furrowing as he glances down at you, concern slipping into his expression. You press a hand over your mouth, whispering, “That’s my ex!” The words come out in a mix of disbelief and shock as you look back at the girls, wide-eyed. “What?” Lucinda breathes, glancing back toward the balcony with a look of pure disbelief.

“I’m not joking,” you chuckle, though it’s a nervous laugh. “That is my ex-boyfriend.” Rafe stays silent, his arm still around you, his gaze shifting between you and the new guy below. You don’t notice his reaction, too busy processing the whirlwind of emotions yourself. It feels surreal.

“You’re lying!” one of the girls gasps, her tone a mix of amusement and shock. You shake your head, peeking over the edge once more for confirmation. The familiar way he holds himself, the tattoos, even his laugh—it’s all undeniably him. “No, I swear to god, that’s him. Shit!” You cover your mouth, feeling a bizarre mix of dread and disbelief bubbling up.

Rafe’s still silent, his eyes dark and unreadable as he watches you, a slight tension in his grip around your shoulders. But your mind races too fast to register it fully.“How long were you two together?” Leah asks, her curiosity piqued. “Like… a year and a half?” you mumble, still processing, voice distant as you dredge up the memories.

“And how long ago?” she presses. “Uh, ten months ago, I think?” you say, distracted as you peek again at the scene below. It’s hard to believe he’s here, in this villa with you. And as you try to make sense of it, the lingering tension in Rafe’s silence seems to settle heavily over you, but you’re not quite ready to face that just yet.

As you glance back at the date, you catch sight of Rafe slipping away, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything, and you let him go, feeling an odd tension settle in your chest but brushing it off for now. There’s plenty to process already.

~

Once the date wraps up, Sofia rejoins you and the other girls in the makeup room, still glowing from her time with Jacques. You’re finishing up getting ready when Leah gives her an excited smile. “So, how was it?” she asks, her curiosity bright. Sofia’s smile widens, her cheeks flushed. “He’s gorgeous! So sweet, and we just talked non-stop. He’s so easy to be around!”

You smile back, watching her giddy expression. It’s clear she’s caught up in the excitement, and you’re genuinely happy for her, even with the twist of awkwardness lurking beneath the surface. “What’s his name?” Leah presses, a hint of mischief in her tone. “Jacques,” Sofia replies, her voice light and dreamy. But her answer shifts the atmosphere slightly.

The girls glance at each other, then at you, their expressions turning curious and cautious. Noticing the looks, Sofia raises an eyebrow. “What?” she laughs nervously, sensing she’s missing something. You clear your throat, managing a chuckle. “He’s my ex,” you say, unable to help the small, amused smile that crosses your face.

Sofia’s jaw drops, and she stares at you in shock. “No! What? Are you serious?” She looks between you and the others, trying to piece together this unexpected twist. “Yep,” you reply, laughing at her reaction. “It was about ten months ago, though, so it’s ancient history.” “And… how do you feel about it?” Sofia asks, a cautious look in her eyes.

You know she’s asking if there are still any lingering feelings or unfinished business. You shake your head, waving off any notion of that. “I mean, obviously it’s weird seeing him here, but I’m totally over him. There’s no way I’d want to rekindle what we had, you know?” You smile, reassuring her that there’s no reason for her to hold back with Jacques.

Sofia visibly relaxes, a relieved smile crossing her face. “Good. That’s honestly such a relief,” she laughs, and you exchange a small, supportive nod. “How do you think Rafe feels about all this?” Hannah asks, her eyes flicking toward the door where Rafe had left earlier. Her question makes you pause, recalling his sudden silence and the look on his face.

You shrug, trying to play it off casually. “I don’t really know, but he shouldn’t be worried at all,” you say, adding a chuckle to lighten the mood as you resume getting ready for the day Still, a small part of you wonders if Rafe had taken it harder than you realised, and maybe a talk was in order. But for now, you push the thought aside.

~

After Jacques finishes his other date, the girls gather outside to greet him, buzzing with excitement. You hang back slightly, watching as he makes his way through the introductions, charm turned all the way up. There’s an odd, surreal feeling creeping up as you watch him joke and laugh with your friends. Finally, his gaze lands on you, and a knowing, mischievous smile spreads across his face.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” he says with a smirk, his arms opening for a hug. You roll your eyes, giving him a mock look of exasperation. But despite yourself, you lean in, wrapping your arms around him for a brief hug. “Nice to meet you… dickhead,” you reply, tone playful yet loaded with familiarity.

He lets out a low laugh, clearly amused. “Still the same as ever,” he chuckles, giving you a wink that’s both teasing and a little too comfortable. You shake your head, a smile slipping onto your face despite yourself, as you walk with the girls toward the kitchen. They look between you and Jacques with wide, curious eyes, and you can feel the questions bubbling up.

“Well, that was… friendly,” Lucinda says with a smirk, nudging you as you all start gathering glasses and setting things up for the night. You shrug, feigning indifference. “Honestly, it’s just weird, seeing him here. But hey, if Sofia’s into him, good for her,” you say, keeping your voice light, though you can feel Rafe’s absence tugging at the back of your mind.

He had yet to say anything about Jacques since he left earlier, and you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that you needed to find him. Just then, Jacques strolls into the kitchen, joining the group with that same confident smile. His gaze lands on you for a second longer than it probably should, and the other girls exchange glances.

You pretend not to notice, fully focused on making a coffee. Sofia nudges you with a playful grin. “He’s cute, right?” she says, winking at you. You laugh, giving her a shrug. “If you’re into that kind of thing,” you say with a teasing smirk. But deep down, your mind is already drifting to Rafe, wondering what he’s thinking about all of this. The day's only beginning, and you can already tell it’s going to be an interesting one.

~

The guys settle in around the firepit, the evening sun casting a warm glow as conversation shifts toward you. Rafe sits back, sunglasses on, trying to keep his cool while sneaking glances in your direction. You’re in the kitchen with the girls, laughing and seemingly at ease, but Rafe can’t help but feel a subtle edge of tension.

“So, serious question, mate,” Rob starts, giving Jacques a curious glance. “Are you Y/n’s ex?” Jacques just hums with a nod, the smirk on his face saying more than words could. Rafe’s attention sharpens at that, though he tries to keep his posture relaxed, his focus seemingly elsewhere.

“What’s she been saying about it?” Jacques asks with a raised eyebrow, glancing toward the kitchen. “Like, how’s she feelin’ about all this?” Rafe shifts, keeping his composure, though he’s attuned to every word. “Bit awkward having your ex in here, right?” he comments, his voice casual but probing. Jacques shrugs, the ease in his posture unmissable.

“Eh, maybe for her. But me? I’m pretty chill about it. Honestly, I couldn’t give a fuck,” he says with a chuckle, a careless grin spreading across his face. “It is what it is. We’ve moved on.” Rafe nods slowly, assessing Jacques. He can’t help but feel a certain familiarity with the guy—there’s a vibe there, a sort of unbothered confidence he recognizes in himself. It’s disarming, and Rafe feels his initial tension ease a bit.

With a smirk, he leans forward, locking eyes with Jacques. “So… you probably know a lot about her then, yeah?” he teases, his tone light but with a hint of curiosity. He wants to understand what exactly Jacques knows—and, maybe, what he doesn’t. Jacques laughs, throwing his head back in genuine amusement." You could say that,” he replies, eyes gleaming with the kind of familiarity that only history can create.

“You want me to let you know if she’s into you or not?” he jokes, the hint of challenge making Rafe crack a genuine grin. Rafe didn’t expect to find himself relaxing, but something about Jacques’ nonchalant vibe—and the fact that he doesn’t seem hung up on you—makes Rafe feel a little more at ease. Still, he can’t completely ignore the glances Jacques throws toward the kitchen, wondering if this odd triangle is just beginning or if it’ll soon fade into the background.

~

Rob leans back, casting a curious glance at Rafe as the two relax by the firepit. The atmosphere is warm and easy, the soft hum of the villa around them, though Rafe’s attention occasionally drifts to where you’re standing in the kitchen, laughing with the other girls. “So, has she talked to you yet?” Rob asks, trying to gauge the situation.

Rafe shrugs, looking nonchalant, though his fingers absentmindedly trace a line up his bicep, his eyes following your movements in the distance. “Nah, not yet. She’ll come over if she wants to chat,” he says, a slight smirk on his face as he shifts his gaze back to Rob. “Bet she’s feeling a little shocked seeing her ex show up out of nowhere, though. I’d be thrown off, too.”

Rob lets out a chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, mate, can’t blame her. It’d be a bit of a head-spin, wouldn’t it?” They fall silent for a beat. Rafe looks relaxed, yet there’s a certain edge to him, a competitiveness that’s only starting to surface. He leans forward, voice dropping to a lower tone, though his eyes are playful.

“Here’s the thing, though,” he says, his smirk widening as he glances over at the kitchen before turning back to Rob. “Right now, my hoodie? Smells like Y/n’s perfume,” he says with a self-satisfied grin, watching Rob’s face break into a grin of his own. “Does his? Nah, don’t think so.”

Rob bursts out laughing, clapping Rafe on the shoulder. “Oh man, that’s cold,” he says, barely holding back his laughter. “You should walk right up to him and be like, ‘Recognize this scent?’ Just to mess with him a bit.” Rafe laughs along, picturing the scene and almost tempted by the idea, his gaze settling on you again.

He imagines Jacques catching a hint of your perfume on him, subtle but unmistakable, a reminder that there’s a closeness Jacques doesn’t share with you anymore. There’s no threat, not really, but Rafe feels a spark of pride knowing he’s the one wearing traces of you, even if it’s something as simple as your perfume lingering on his hoodie.

There’s a playful but possessive glint in Rafe’s eyes as he leans back, chuckling with Rob. He knows it’s all in fun, but he can’t deny that the thought of reminding Jacques who’s in the past—and who’s in the present—has a certain appeal.

[bestofmultiverse]

Between the pages || 2

Aubrey plaza x fem!reader

" I was half in love with her by the time we sat down. That’s the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty, even if they’re not much to look at, or even if they’re sort of stupid, you fall half in love with them, and then you never know where the hell you are. "

- J.D. Salinger, The catcher in the rye

Part 1 • Part 3 • 4 • 5

Y/N blinked, trying to get her bearings in the soft morning light streaming into her bedroom. She wasn’t on the sofa anymore, and she certainly hadn’t fallen asleep in her bed last night. But here she was, tucked neatly under her comforter, and beside her, separated by a few pillows, lay Aubrey. She was asleep, her face softened by rest, her features even more striking in the early morning calm.

A smile crept across Y/N’s face as she studied Aubrey’s peaceful expression. She was undeniably beautiful—not just beautiful for her age, but in a way that felt timeless and grounded. It made Y/N’s stomach flutter, and a slight pang of insecurity hit her; Aubrey was everything Y/N admired—confident, talented, and effortlessly alluring.

Feeling her heart race at the thought of Aubrey waking up to see her staring, Y/N slipped out of bed as quietly as possible, padding to the bathroom for a quick shower. When she returned, she busied herself in the kitchen, quietly making breakfast. The faint hum of the radio kept her company as she toasted bread and scrambled eggs, relishing the simple, cozy act.

“Good morning,” a familiar voice murmured, soft and sleepy, breaking Y/N out of her thoughts.

Y/N turned, catching sight of Aubrey leaning against the doorway, her hair still mussed from sleep. She looked comfortable, yet somehow effortlessly poised, even in Y/N’s small kitchen. Y/N blushed, realizing how close they were.

“Good morning! Do you want something to drink?” Y/N asked, smiling. “I don’t really drink coffee, but I can go grab you some from the café around the corner if you’d like.”

Aubrey’s lips curved into a warm smile. “No need, this is perfect. I’m just happy to be here.” She stepped closer, glancing at the plates Y/N was setting up.

“So… not to rush you out, but I have a mountain of work today,” Y/N said with a small, guilty grin. “You’re welcome to stay, but just a heads-up—I might be a little boring.”

Aubrey laughed, her expression softening. “That’s okay, I get it. I have some things to get to anyway.” She hesitated, then continued, “But… I’d love to see you again, if you’d like that.”

Y/N’s face lit up, her smile wide and genuine. “I’d love that too.”

From then on, their connection only grew. They read together, taking turns with books y/n recommended, and spent hours talking about everything from their childhood dreams to favorite movies. After their third date—a late-night visit to a bookstore followed by a stroll through a quiet park—Aubrey walked Y/N home. They held hands, a shared warmth between them, and when they reached Y/N’s door, Aubrey leaned in, pressing a soft, gentle kiss to her lips. It was careful, as if reading Y/N’s shyness and matching it with tenderness.

As the days turned into weeks, they grew more comfortable, falling into each other’s lives seamlessly. Aubrey was patient, taking her time to get to know Y/N. She made Y/N feel safe, and Y/N adored every minute they spent together. Soon, they were FaceTiming in between meetings, texting about little things that made them think of each other, and finding moments to be together whenever they could.

When they finally crossed that last boundary, sharing their first night together, it was both gentle and passionate. They communicated, both eager yet considerate, learning each other’s wants and needs. Aubrey’s natural confidence took over, her assertiveness balanced by her desire to make Y/N feel loved and respected. Y/N, in turn, was just as attentive, savoring every moment with Aubrey, discovering a balance between playful and deeply intimate.

Two months into their relationship, it wasn’t just the two of them who noticed how special their connection was. After a dinner date, a paparazzi photographer managed to capture a candid shot of them leaving the restaurant hand in hand. By morning, the image was everywhere, spreading faster than Y/N could have imagined.

Aubrey’s publicist called with the news, explaining that the story had already taken off. Y/N knew Aubrey was a public figure, but she hadn’t expected their private moments to become public conversation so suddenly. Their little bubble was shattered, and suddenly her face was online, next to Aubrey’s in articles and tabloid stories speculating about their relationship.

The attention was overwhelming. Y/N’s friends started teasing her about dating “the Aubrey Plaza,” while her family’s reaction was more complicated. They had always known she was queer, but the age difference gave them pause, making them wonder if Y/N was really ready for such a serious relationship.

As the media frenzy grew, it was hard for Y/N to brush off the harsh comments online—insinuations about why Aubrey would date someone younger, or assumptions about Y/N’s motives. It felt as if the world was intruding into their private life, prying apart the joy they had found together.

But Aubrey was her anchor through it all. Late one evening, after Y/N shared how overwhelmed she felt, Aubrey wrapped her arms around her and whispered, “Forget them. I know who you are, and you know who I am. The rest… it doesn’t matter.”

They held each other close that night, letting the world outside fade, finding comfort in each other’s presence. And as they lay there, Y/N knew that, no matter the scrutiny, what she shared with Aubrey was real, something worth fighting for—even if they’d have to face the world together, one step at a time.

As days went on, the intensity of the media attention didn’t exactly die down, but Y/N and Aubrey learned to adjust. Aubrey handled it with practiced ease, guiding Y/N with little tips on how to ignore the comments and dodge prying eyes. Despite the pressure, they found solace in each other, learning to carve out quiet moments that felt like their own little world.

One evening, they decided to stay in for a movie night at Y/N’s apartment. Y/N had loaded up a few of Aubrey’s favorite old films, trying her best to make it feel special—a few candles, some popcorn, and a cozy blanket they could share.

“You know,” Aubrey said, settling down next to Y/N, “I don’t think I’ve had a better night in ages.” She glanced around, smiling at the thoughtful touches Y/N had put together. “You really went all out.”

Y/N blushed, nudging her playfully. “It’s just popcorn and candles. Hardly a red carpet.”

Aubrey smirked, tilting her head. “It’s the thought, and you, that make it perfect.” She reached for Y/N’s hand, entwining their fingers, and squeezed gently.

As the movie started, they fell into a comfortable silence, Y/N nestled into Aubrey’s side. The world outside felt far away, reduced to nothing more than the faint city hum in the distance. Halfway through the film, Aubrey leaned over and softly kissed Y/N’s forehead, her lips lingering just a little longer than usual. Y/N looked up, her heart skipping as she met Aubrey’s gentle gaze.

“Thank you for sticking with me through all of this,” Aubrey murmured, tucking a loose strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

Y/N’s hand found its way to Aubrey’s cheek, tracing the soft lines of her face. “I’m not going anywhere. I knew this might be hard, but… you’re worth it.” She offered a small, reassuring smile. “And I’m learning. I mean, I’ve got the best teacher.”

Aubrey chuckled, pulling Y/N closer. “Flattery will get you everywhere, just so you know.”

They spent the rest of the night laughing, sharing stories, and talking about the little things they hadn’t yet told each other. Y/N felt a kind of warmth she hadn’t felt before—a love that was both grounding and freeing, as if Aubrey had opened up parts of herself she didn’t know existed.

A few weeks later, they decided to spend a weekend out of the city, heading to a secluded cabin by the lake. Aubrey had rented it on a whim, sensing that they both needed a little time to breathe away from the constant hum of the city.

On their first morning there, Y/N woke up to the smell of coffee and soft music playing. She wandered out to find Aubrey on the deck, wrapped in a flannel blanket with two mugs steaming in her hands. The sun was just rising, casting a soft pink glow over the lake.

Aubrey turned when she heard Y/N approach, her eyes lighting up. “Morning, sleepyhead. Thought you’d like to join me for the sunrise.” She handed Y/N a mug of tea, remembering she didn’t drink coffee.

They sat in comfortable silence, watching the sun climb slowly above the horizon, casting a shimmering path across the water. It was quiet, almost surreal, and Y/N felt the weight of everything slip away, replaced with the calm of being completely at peace in the moment.

After a while, Aubrey shifted, turning toward Y/N. “You know,” she said softly, “this is the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

Y/N looked at her, her heart swelling at the sincerity in Aubrey’s eyes. “I feel the same way,” she whispered. Then, unable to resist, she leaned in, capturing Aubrey’s lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

As they pulled away, Aubrey grinned, her eyes shining with something close to wonder. “I don’t care about the noise, Y/N. As long as I have you, I’m exactly where I need to be.”

Y/n beamed at her

"So, what are we reading today?" Aubrey asked after a few seconds of comfortable silence

"I thought maybe 'the catcher in the rye, its a classic"

Aubrey nodded before pulling the younger woman into another soft kiss.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other and the quiet beauty of the morning, with their book and hot drinks, feeling as if, just for that moment, they were the only two people in the world.

_____

Just a quick note:

i dont really think itll be a series, maybe a bunch of chapters that might actually work as a full story or at least the same like universe, but im not sure if ill continue to write it regularly or not so just an heads up.

Also im in love with Aubrey plaza.

[keeryhours]

for the very first time - steve harrington

Steve Harrington x Virgin! female! reader

Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You decide to give your first time to your boyfriend, Steve. He promises to make it special.

Warnings:

Smut (18+), p in v, loss of virginity, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, just mostly sweet sex with sweet Stevie

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N:

Can’t get enough of Steve <3 Requests are open!

—

You stood in front of the mirror, feeling like you were looking back at a stranger. The woman staring back at you was not someone you recognized.

You were wearing a lingerie set you had bought on a whim a month ago, no plans on when you’d wear it but you knew the time would come. And that time was tonight, apparently.

The pale pink lace covers your breasts, pushing up your tits to make them look extra enticing, you figured. There was a small white bow in the center. The matching panties clung to your hips, making your ass look round and cute. There was a matching small white bow on the panties, too. You felt like a present waiting to be unwrapped.

At least, you hoped Steve would see you that way.

You and Steve had been dating for 4 months now, and you’d known he wanted to take the relationship to the next level for a while now, but you weren’t ready. You had never been with a guy before, and you had to admit you were scared. The farthest you two had ever gotten were some heavy makeout sessions, sometimes ending with his hands beneath your shirt before you stopped him. You had told Steve you just wanted to wait for the right guy and the right time, and it seemed like you had finally found both. You trusted Steve, you wanted to take this next step with him - if you trusted anyone to take your virginity, it would be him.

So at school on Thursday, you told Steve this Saturday was the day. His eyes had widened at the declaration, before a wolfish grin slid over his features, his hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Yeah? You’re sure?” he searched your face for any sign that you weren’t being honest, that you still weren’t ready, but he couldn’t hide the glimmer of excitement in his eyes. He would have waited forever for you, you meant so much to him, but at the same time he wanted you badly, something that has tortured him for months.

“I’m sure,” you had said, and it’s true, your mind had been made up. You were ready. As ready as you felt you’d ever be.

Steve had smiled at you, pushing some of your hair behind your shoulder as he leaned in and kissed your cheek before pressing his lips against yours.

“I’ll make it special for you, baby,” he had promised.

Now, as you examined yourself in the lingerie, butterflies in your stomach going wild, you wondered if you truly were ready. It was now or never, you figured.

You dressed in an oversized sweater and a pair of jeans over the lingerie. You were waiting for Steve to come pick you up. In perfect timing, his parents were out of town for the weekend, giving you two all the time and space you needed. You had told your parents you were sleeping over at your best friend’s house. The thought of it thrilled you, you had never done anything like this before, lying to your parents so you can stay at your boyfriend’s house and have sex with him. You were always a good girl, so your parents trusted you wholeheartedly, which made you feel only a little guilty about what you were doing.

You noticed the time - 8pm, when Steve was supposed to be here - and headed down the stairs, overnight bag in hand. You said goodbye to your parents, and then you were outside, walking to the end of the block where Steve waited in his car.

You felt giddy as you climbed into the passenger seat next to him. It was cold outside but nice and toasty in Steve’s BMW. He wore a red sweater and jeans, his perfect hair tousled messily, and he gave you a smile as you slid into the car.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he greeted you with a kiss. You smiled against his lips, buzzing with anticipation for the night.

“You look handsome,” you complimented him, earning a chuckle from the boy as he put the car in drive and began heading back to his own house.

“Thank you, baby,” he said, reaching over to place his big hand on your thigh, squeezing lightly. It sent shivers through your body, straight to your core.

You were too nervous for conversation the whole way to Steve’s house. The radio was on, so you didn’t have to ride in awkward silence at least. Steve could tell you were nervous, and he kept shooting you reassuring smiles, rubbing your thigh.

When you got to Steve’s, the nerves were worse. It was finally time, and you were freaking out. Steve took your hand, leading you up the stairs and to his bedroom.

It was clean, tidy, looked like a guy’s bedroom. Nothing particularly special. You looked around, noticing the box of condoms sitting ready on the bedside table, which made you blush.

Steve closed the bedroom door softly, then walked over to you, placing his hands on your hips.

“You’re sure you want to do this tonight?” he asked, his voice low. You could tell he desperately wanted you to say yes, but he would have stopped if you asked him to, you knew perfectly well.

“Yes,” you said. “I want this. With you.”

Steve smiled at you gently. He placed his hands on either side of your face, looking at you with adoration in his eyes. “I love you.”

Before you could answer he was pressing your lips together, kissing you softly at first. This was something you were used to, something familiar, and you felt your anxiety slipping away as his lips worked against yours.

His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours as he kissed you deeper. His thumb caressed your cheek, fingers on his other hand tangling in your hair. You gripped onto his biceps, feeling the strong muscles beneath his shirt.

He pulled away, breathing a little heavier now as his eyes searched yours. He nudged you towards the bed and you took the hint, kicking off your shoes before you climbed onto it.

“Do you want some music?” he asked, walking to his stereo and looking through his collection casually.

“Uh, sure,” you said. That might be nice.

“I have the perfect mix,” Steve said, smiling to himself as he put a cassette into the stereo and pressed play. “Made it for you, actually.”

You blushed as Steve turned around, music now playing softly over the speakers. He sauntered over to the bed, causing the anticipation to build in your stomach.

When he reached the bed, he slowly crawled onto it, over you. He laid next to you on the bed, leaning over you with one hand on your waist as your lips met once again.

He kissed you for a long time, and you didn’t mind one bit. You and Steve did a lot of making out, and this was no different. You wondered if he was easing you into it on purpose, if he could tell you were nervous so he was taking his time.

Steve’s hand slowly started trailing up your sweater, feeling your smooth skin beneath his fingertips. It sent goosebumps across your body as you shuddered at his touch. He kept sliding his hand up, feeling the smooth skin of your back before moving to the front, feeling up your stomach until he gently grasped your breast. He massaged it slowly, which actually felt really nice.

You moaned into his mouth, earning one back from him, and you were caught by surprise when he pushed his clothed hips against your thigh and you could feel the bulge through his jeans. Your heart beat faster at the feeling, reminding you what you were going to be doing tonight.

“Can I take this off?” Steve asked, breathless against your wet, kiss-swollen lips.

You nodded, and he lifted the sweater up and over your head, tossing it to his floor. His eyes widened as he took in your bra, half of the surprise you had for him.

“Wow,” he said, eyes never leaving your breasts. He caressed the material of your bra, admiring the beautiful lace covering your perfect tits from his view. He loved it and hated it at the same time.

He leaned forward, pressing kisses to the tops of your breasts peeking from the bra, sucking on the soft skin, leaving love bites all over your chest. You moaned again, fingers tangling in his long hair, which made him groan against your skin.

“Do you always wear underwear this sexy?” he asked, pulling back to devour you with his eyes again. He slipped a finger between the strap of your bra, flicking it against your skin playfully.

“No,” you answered, blushing deeply. “I bought it for you.”

Steve’s face lit up at that revelation, another soft groan falling from his lips. He rubbed his palm all over your exposed body, over your sides.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he mumbled, then he was placing his hand on the back of your head again and kissing you deeply.

He tasted so familiar, so comforting, his breath minty and fresh like he’d eaten some mints in the car before he picked you up. The thought of Steve being even a little bit as nervous as you were for this made your heart flutter in your chest. You knew he had been with other girls before, and he was plenty experienced, but this would be your first time together and Steve was taking that seriously.

You decided to be bold, trailing your fingers up his abdomen beneath his sweater. You feel the firm muscles of his stomach, trailing higher until you’re pressing against his strong chest, fingers trailing through his chest hair. You always felt that made him seem so manly. Steve hummed against your lips at the feeling of your hands on his chest.

You tugged on his sweater, and he took the hint, leaning back away from you to sit on his knees and pull it over his head. You drank in the sight of your shirtless boyfriend, his chest heaving lightly.

Steve rubbed your leg, from your calf up to your thigh, rubbing over your ass before slapping it playfully. It made you gasp, and he gave you a mischievous smile.

He moved until he was settled on his knees between your legs, rubbing your hips. He reached forward, giving your tits some more attention before he trailed his hands down your stomach, landing at the buttons of your jeans. His eyes flicked up to yours, searching for permission. You gave him a small nod, which was all he needed before his long fingers were deftly undoing your jeans.

He pulled them down your legs and tossed them behind him, revealing your matching panties. A smirk grew on his lips at the sight and his hands went straight to them, feeling the lace over your hips.

“Cute,” he said, staring down at you appreciatively. He reached forward and trailed a fingertip over your slit over the panties, making you gasp and jerk away from him on accident. He had never touched you there before.

His eyes shot up to your face immediately. “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you stumbled out, “just surprised me.”

He laughed a little, his hand rubbing your hip again. “Just relax, baby. You don’t need to be nervous. I’m gonna make you feel good.”

You felt heat in your belly at his words, a throbbing in your core. Despite your nerves, you had to admit to yourself that you were excited for what was to come. You knew Steve wouldn’t do anything you didn’t like.

You only jump a little when you feel his fingers over your core again, gently rubbing against your folds, feeling how damp your underwear already was. The thought embarrassed you, but he didn’t seem to mind.

His fingers traveled up until they were pressed against your clit through your underwear. Your mouth dropped open at the feeling, tingles traveling through your whole body. He rubbed circles against it, and you began to writhe beneath him as the pleasure got more and more intense.

When he stopped, you whined, hips bucking up towards him as if chasing the feeling. Steve chuckled, leaning forward so his lips were right against your ear.

“I’m gonna take these pretty things off you now, baby. Okay?”

Your body tensed. “Okay,” you said, but you found yourself losing your train of thought as Steve kissed across your chest. His hands trailed up your back until they reached your bra strap, quickly and easily undoing the hooks and removing it from your body.

He immediately pulled back to take in your naked chest for the first time. He moaned at the sight, hands going to grasp your tits, pinching at your rapidly hardening nipples. You let out tiny moans and whimpers at the feeling, which nearly made his eyes roll back in his head.

“Fuck…” Steve breathed. He moved forward and wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, circling his tongue around the bud and sucking lightly. You whined, back arching and pushing your tits in his face. He moaned around you, fingers working the nipple his mouth wasn’t currently on.

He switched sides, paying equal attention to your other nipple. He grazed his teeth over it lightly, which made you draw in a shuddering gasp.

Steve popped off of your tits with an audible noise, moving back between your legs and hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties. He pulled them down your legs slowly, fingers feeling your smooth skin as he went, fabric discarded to the floor when he was done.

His hands landed on your knees and he slowly pushed them apart farther, revealing all of you to him. He licked his lips as he took in the sight of your bare pussy, his jeans uncomfortably tight.

“God, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined,” he said. His words made you feel good, but the attention he was paying to parts of you no one had ever seen before made your body flush with embarrassment.

Steve ducked between your legs, lips placing kisses on the insides of your thighs. He laid between your legs, big hands wrapped around your thighs as he kissed lower and lower.

You looked down at him. “Steve, what are you-“

You were immediately cut off by the feeling of Steve’s tongue dragging along your pussy, and you threw your head back, a strangled cry coming from your lips.

You swore you felt Steve smirk against you, but you couldn’t think too much about it because he had begun to devour you like he was starving. He lapped at your folds, tasting your wetness. His tongue circled your clit before he closed his lips around it, sucking gently.

You were wide eyed, body writhing under him until he was forced to grab onto your hips, holding you still. You had never felt pleasure like this before in your life, this was more than you ever could have even imagined. On instinct your hand shoots down and grabs a handful of Steve’s hair. He groaned when you pulled on it, and you pushed his face harder against your needy pussy, which Steve welcomed.

The noises he made as he ate you out were obscene enough to make you blush. He was sloppy with it, you worried that you were going to ruin his sheets. Steve didn’t seem to care, moving down to press his tongue into your hole, nose nudging against your clit. You cried out, pulling on his hair harder.

Steve pulled away to catch his breath. “God, you taste so sweet.” Then he was buried in your cunt again, that expert tongue driving you wild. You felt his fingertip pressing at your entrance, and your body tensed. You tried to focus on the feeling of Steve’s tongue as he slowly pressed it into you, the stretch burning.

He carefully thrusts the one finger in and out of your tight heat, and over time it becomes less painful and you start to enjoy the stretch, moaning with every movement. Steve can tell you’re feeling good, and he takes the opportunity to push in a second finger. The stretch is more intense this time but he works you through it. He pushed his fingers all the way in, curling them up and pressing against a spot that makes your eyes go wide. Once he realizes he found it, he presses into that spot with every thrust, his mouth never letting up.

There’s a tension building deep in your stomach, tightening rapidly. It’s more intense than anything you’ve ever felt. You hold onto Steve’s hair with one hand and a fistful of the sheets in the other, and that coil snaps, pushing you over the edge violently.

You’re glad Steve’s house is empty all weekend, because you scream out, body arching and stars exploding in your vision. You grind your pussy against Steve’s mouth, desperate for him to keep going as you come undone on his tongue and fingers. “Oh, my god- Steve! Oh, Steve, fuck, holy shit-“

Steve groaned loudly, rutting his hips into the mattress as he worked you through your orgasm, rock hard and desperate for some friction on his aching cock. When you came down, he pulled back, looking up at you from between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat as you saw him, looking up at you with your slick covering his mouth, chin and nose. His pupils were blown wide, his eyes wide and full of lust.

Steve sat back up on his knees and began undoing his jeans. You watched intently as he pushed them down his hips along with his boxers, exposing his dick, huge, hard and throbbing and leaking at the tip.

Your mouth watered at the sight of it. You wondered how the hell your boyfriend had been hiding all that in his jeans this whole time.

Steve leaned back over your body, and you could feel his length pressing against you as he moved. It startled you a little. You couldn’t wrap your mind around all of him being inside you, wondered how it would fit. If it would fit.

He kissed you again, and you tasted yourself on his lips and tongue. It was strange, you thought, different. Suddenly, you had an idea you couldn’t shake from your head.

“Can I taste you?” you asked him shyly as he pulled back a little, your noses pressed together.

Steve’s eyes widened. “R-really? Are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling at him nervously.

He kissed you shortly yet passionately one more time before moving to lay next to you. He couldn’t hide his eagerness as he got settled on the mattress. You giggled a little as you moved on top of him, grabbing the base of his cock in your hand.

The sensation caused him to jerk his hips up with a groan, so desperate for more already. You were surprised how sensitive he was, but it excited you, made you want to do more. You tentatively began to stroke him from base to tip, squeezing your hand around him. His eyes fluttered shut, groans slipping from his kissable lips.

You leaned forward, pressing your lips to his tip in a kiss. You licked the head experimentally, tasting the pre cum smeared at his slit. Steve lets out a whine, cock twitching in your hand.

You wrapped your lips around his tip, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked it. He started pushing his hips up again and you understood what he wanted (needed), lowering your head down his shaft. You felt Steve’s hand at the back of your head, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

He was gentle as he pushed and pulled on your hair, guiding your head up and down on him. You massaged the underside of his length with your tongue, making him shudder. He was so vocal, so responsive, it surprised you but you found it so hot.

Steve started thrusting into your mouth, eyes half lidded but not daring to look away for even a second. You looked up at him, moaning around his dick as you made eye contact. The look on his face was one of pure pleasure, his eyebrows furrowed, mouth hanging open, panting.

You relaxed your throat and took him deeper, all the way until your nose was pressed against the dark curls at his base. He let out a strangled groan, and you felt his thigh muscles tightening and trembling beneath your hands.

Suddenly he’s yanking you off of him by your hair. You come up, surprised. “Did I do something wrong…?”

“No, god no baby, I-“ he stopped, panting like he was trying to catch his breath. “I would have busted down your throat if you kept going for another second.”

You blushed, laughing a little. You crawled up his body and kissed him again until he was pushing you down on the bed, climbing over you again. He kissed you, but quickly moved down to your neck, biting and sucking and leaving visible love bites on your skin. Your mind was far too hazy to think about it, so you just enjoyed the feeling of his mouth instead.

He kissed down your body, taking the time to wrap his mouth around each of your nipples again for only a second - what can he say, he loved your tits. Farther down until he was settled between your legs again, pushing your thighs apart, taking in the view of your naked body under him after all this time.

He reached over to the bedside table, grabbing the box of condoms. Your heartbeat sped up rapidly as he took one of the foil packages out of the box. He ripped it open with his teeth, sliding it over his dick like he’d done this plenty of times before.

Your body was buzzing with anticipation as he lined his fat tip up at your entrance. You gasped, involuntarily tensing your entire body.

“You’ve got to relax for me,” Steve said, rubbing your thigh soothingly with his free hand, “or I’m not gonna be able to get in, baby.”

You nodded, taking a deep, shaky breath. You made an effort to relax your body. You felt him pressing insistently at your entrance, and you wanted to let him in.

“You ready?” Steve asked you, looking up at you with concern in his eyes. It warmed your heart that he cared so much about your comfort that he was willing to stop even though you could see how badly he needed you.

“I’m ready,” you told him, your voice laced with desire.

Steve smiled softly at you before he looked down and finally, finally began pressing into you, your tight, tight pussy wrapping around him and squeezing him like a vice. You gripped onto the sheets in your fists, body trembling as he stretched you out, and it hurt deliciously. You couldn’t wrap your mind around how something could be painful while you also never wanted it to stop.

Steve’s eyes clenched shut as he pushed in, a hiss of pleasure coming from between his teeth. He bottomed out and dug his fingers so hard into your hips it would surely leave bruises as he tried to control himself.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You are so fucking tight.”

You breathed through it, trying to relax your body completely, knowing the pain would be better if you could just relax. Steve moved a hand to your clit again, rubbing against it slowly at first.

His plan worked and it distracted you from the stretch, the intense feelings overtaking your body turning into pleasure. When you look like you’re enjoying yourself again, Steve pulls out until only the tip remains inside, and slowly pushes back in.

You moan as Steve sets a slow, gentle pace. You can feel every inch, every vein, every ridge of his cock as it slowly drives in and out of your pussy. He leaned over and kissed you as he slowly fucked you, his fingers continuing to work your clit.

You wrapped your arms around him, hands grasping onto his strong back. You loved the way he felt moving against you, his breath hot against your neck as he buried his face there. You wrapped your legs around his waist and started moving your hips up to meet his, making him groan.

Steve’s mixtape was still playing softly in the background as he made love to you, the sounds of the bed creaking and both of your pants and moans intermixing with the music. He peppered loving kisses against your neck, and you could feel his heartbeat against your chest.

“Can I move a little faster?” he asked breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yes, please, harder.”

Steve moaned again as he picked up his pace. You could hear the sound of your skin meeting every time he thrusted his hips into you, the sound of how wet you were around him, and it made you feel ashamed. But Steve was loving every second of it.

“God…you…you’re so perfect, so hot,” he moaned, his own mind going hazy as he feels his release building throughout his body.

“You’re so big,” you whined, arms wrapped around him and holding him tightly. “So deep. I’m gonna cum again, Steve.”

Steve’s hips sped up at your words, his fingers circling your clit even faster. “Yeah, baby. Cum on my cock for me, I got you.”

Your brows furrowed and you arched your back, your tits pressing against Steve’s chest. He buried his face in them, his groans muffled. His cock hit that perfect spot he was pounding with his fingers earlier, but this is even more intense, even better. You tugged on his hair as your body began to tremble, your eyes clamped shut and your moans got louder and more desperate.

“Steve…Steve…oh my god oh my god-“

Your second orgasm hit you like a train, and you came hard, your pussy throbbing around his cock as he pulled your intense orgasm from your tired body. You heard Steve’s muffled whine, his grip around your body getting even tighter. His thrusts pick up in speed and intensity until they’re ruthless, messy, frantic and he’s chasing his own release.

“I’m gonna cum,” Steve groaned, one hand moving up to intertwine with yours. He looked up into your face as he neared the edge, and you knew it had hit him when his mouth dropped open, his hips shoving back into you hard one last time as he let out a strangled groan, thrusting shallowly into you a couple more times as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

He stilled inside you, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. Both of your bodies still trembling. Steve peppered about a million kisses across your face, making you giggle, before he pulled out, disposing of the condom in the trash can and collapsing on the bed next to you.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you tightly into his chest.

“I love you,” he said, his words sounding like they were genuinely pulled straight from his heart.

“I love you, too,” you whispered back, a big grin on your face that he quickly returned. He pecked you on the lips sweetly. You stared into your boyfriend’s warm brown eyes.

“That was incredible,” he said, laughing breathlessly. “Thank you for trusting me.” He added the second part more seriously, brushing your messy hair out of your face.

“It was amazing,” you agreed, fingers drawing designs on his bare chest. “I wanna do it again.”

Steve laughed. “We will, believe me.”

He pulled you as close as you could get, your head laying on his slightly sweaty chest. The music still played in the background, relaxing you. Steve pulled the blankets over you both, and you were pretty sure you’d never been more cozy in your life.

There, in Steve’s arms, you felt safe. You felt loved. Slowly, you both drifted off, sleeping peacefully tangled up in one another.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Conrad Fisher x fem!reader

Summary: You've always felt inadequate compared to Belly, but it's possible you never had a reason to.

Genre: Fluff, kinda angst? hurt and comfort <3

Warnings: harassment, underage drinking, swearing

You'd always been second to Belly Conklin. Although it had been the five of you since you could remember, for some reason it seemed like in the end only four mattered: Belly, Steven, Jeremiah, and Conrad. You were always in the shadows, and now that Isabel had returned to Cousins as beautiful as ever, you wanted to disappear.

It was now apparent to everyone around that Isabel Conklin was the Sun. And you? You weren't even the Moon. You were dust at most, and who would choose dust over the Sun?

"You having fun lil' sis?" Jeremiah fisher asks, leaning against the lonesome wall you claimed as yours. You look at him and scrunch your nose in disapproval. Parties weren't your thing. You only came because Belly had convinced you. Jeremiah grins and points behind him, "Well, that cute boy hasn't stopped looking at you since we arrived, if that makes things a little better." Jeremiah winks and your eyes round. Reluctantly, you glance behind him and see a handsome boy with blond curls smiling at you.

You panic. No boy had ever looked at you like he was and you had never wanted any boys to look at you in that way before—not unless their name was Conrad Fisher.

However Conrad is Belly's now, it's obvious, and you aren't even competition. So, you smile at the boy. You learn his name is Alex and he hands you a drink the moment you walk over to him (upon Jeremiah's insistence). Alex seems genuinely interested in your conversations so when he asks you to dance with him, you don't refuse.

His hand on your hip is foreign and it makes you nervous. But, because the small amount of liquor in your system drowns out any anxieties you have and you lean into him and let him move your hips into his. As soon as Alex's lips skim your neck however, someone's hand is gripping your arm and pulling you away. You lose your balance and bump into the person's chest.

"What the fuck." Conrad hisses. It takes you a moment to understand it isn't you he's addressing, "She's sixteen, you creep."

"Conrad!" You shout, hoping his hand would loosen around your arm. It didn't and it isn't until you push him that he turns to you. His cheeks have blushed pink and the look in his eyes makes you pause. Conrad had never looked at you like that before.

"Did he hurt you?"

You blink at him, head shaking, "Excuse me?"

"Don't touch or even speak to her again." Conard turns around to threaten Alex and your eyes widen, "Now leave." To your surprise, and disappointment, Alex reluctantly listens to him.

"What? No! What the fuck, Conrad?" You curse, pulling your arm from his hand. You stumble but keep your gaze on his. Conard frowns and his hand holds your waist instead,

"You're drunk." He says and you narrow your eyes at him.

"I had one drink!"

"You're a lightweight then." Conrad deadpans and holds out his hand to you, "I'm calling your mom, Y/n. Give me your phone."

You shake your head, "Stop it, Conrad. You're embarrassing me." You murmur and look down, tears pricking your eyelids. Conrad has always seen you as a kid. He has never seen you as an equal, or as a girl he could potentially love, and at this point you don't know which hurts more.

His expression softens seeing your teary eyes. When you look up at him, he looks guilty. You hug your arms around yourself and muster up the courage to ask, "Why did you do that?" You pause, "Alex liked me, he liked me! For once in my life a boy likes me and not Belly and you had to ruin it for me. Why!?"

You look him dead in the eyes when you say, "I hate you Conrad, and I hate that I love you even more." And you mean every single word. All you want to do now is to run and hide, but all you can do is stand there, frozen in time, as you aggressively rub your cheeks with your palm.

Conrad doesn't know how to answer you. His entire body burns to hug you, kiss you, do anything to make you smile again. Smile like you had been when he saw you dancing with that boy. Honestly, he hates himself for being jealous — because yes he was jealous. He has no claim to you whatsoever but simply seeing another boy's hands on your skin made him see red.

Conrad knows your words have been spoken only because of the alcohol you drank. He knows you don't hate him, and he knows you don't love him. Only, some part of him isn't so sure you don't love him. Part of him is hoping you do love him because he loves you too.

But he can't do anything about that now, not when you seem drunk.

"Is she crying? Y/n, are you okay?" Belly suddenly comes rushing up to you both, Cam Cameron abandoned behind her. She puts a delicate hand on your shoulder and you turn around. Instantly, you bury your head into her shoulder and start sobbing. Belly wraps her arms around you as she mouths, "What did you do" to Conrad.

You don’t think he answers her, because she takes your waist and pulls you away from him and into the nearest bathroom. You crumble to the ground and hug your knees, muttering something. Belly slowly shuts the door and kneels next to you, "How much have you had to drink?"

"Apparently, I'm drunk." You sniffs, rubbing your hand under your nose. You look at her with tears in your eyes. "You're so pretty, Belly."

Belly looks surprised, her eyes widening, and she puts her hand over yours, "You're pretty, Y/n." she says, trying to reassure you.

"Not like you are, Bells," You exclaim, "No one has ever looked at me like Cam looks at you. Or Jere. Or even Conrad! And I want them—him—to look at me like that. I don't want him to look at me like I'm a kid he has to keep in check." You choke out another whimper and bury your head in your arms, hands clutching at your hair.

"You're in love with Conrad." Belly suddenly states, her hand disappearing from yours.

Your eyes widen and you look up, quickly shaking your head, 'What? No." You could see Belly's cheeks turn pinker. You'd known about Belly's massive crush on Conrad Fisher since forever and you had never intended to stand in their way. You never even intended to tell Conrad, or anyone for that matter, that you love him.

"It doesn't matter, trust me. Conrad loves you, Belly." You assure her but she doesn't look in any way convinced.

"I don't love him and he doesn't love me." Belly comments determinedly, standing up, "And I'm going to show you why."

You don't understand what she means until a few minutes after she left, the bathroom door opens again. Conrad runs in like he's seen a ghost. In a blur, his hands cup around your cheeks and he's moving your head around, "How did that bastard touch you? Y/n tell me now or I swear–" Your eyes must have been wide open because Conrad squints at you, confused.

"Connie," You say and hearing his nickname, Conrad's body relaxes, "Alex didn't hurt me."

"Belly mentioned you had a fucking bruise, Y/n/n." Conrad continues to roam his hands around your skin as gently as he can. You look at his face. His beautiful face and you notice how different the small freckles he gets because of the sun look in the darkness of this small bathroom. Conrad Fisher has always been so beautiful. If Belly is the Sun, then you're sure he's the Moon and that realization only breaks your heart more.

Conrad's thumb pads under your eye, "Don't cry." He says.

You look up at him and he can't help but think how beautiful you are. Conrad wishes he could give you his eyes, even only from a day, so that you could see yourself just as he sees you.

"I'm not drunk. I promise." You whisper and he cracks a smile. He nods, "I-Connie, if I tell you this can you promise it won't change a thing?"

"Sure." He answers and sits down in front of you, his hands draped across your knees.

"I meant what I said. I hate you," Conrad's face falls, "But I hate you because you won't ever love me the way I love you. I hate you because every time I look at you I want to be someone else, someone that would be worthy of your love. Someone prettier—"

"Y/n," Conrad interrupts you with his hand over your mouth, "Don't finish that sentence. Please. It breaks my heart that you can't see yourself like I see you." He removes his hand and you stay silent. His fingers run through your hair until he cups your chin, "How can you expect nothing to change now that I know you love me?"

You cringe and turn your head, "Because I don't want to lose you."

You hear him laugh and as beautiful as the sound is, it tears your heart into a million little pieces. "You could never lose me." He says and leans back, his arms now crossed over his knees. He's looking into space. You glance at him and he looks like the old Connie. His eyebrows are raised and it looks like he's smirking.

You sniff, "I am losing you."

Conrad tilts his head, "How?"

"Because you love Belly. Because she's the Sun and you're the Moon and I'm, well, I'm fucking dust." You exclaim and Conrad looks at you like you've suddenly grown two heads.

"What?"

"Don't make me repeat myself." You whisper.

Conrad inches towards you, his arms outstretched. You look at him curiously but still, you let him hug you. You're leaning against his chest now and he smells like laundry detergent and sea salt. His large hand rests in your hair and he leans his chin on your head, "I don't love Belly, Y/n. Not in that way. She's like my little sister. She has always been."

"Oh," You say and you think back to Belly's words: Conrad doesn't love me, and I'm going to show you why. You think back to how Conrad looked at you when he was pissed at Alex, or how he almost broke the bathroom door down to make sure you weren't hurt. "Am I like your sister too? Is that why you got so protective?"

You sense his body tense and there is a pause.

"No." Conrad breathes out, "Y/n, you're not like my sister."

You lean away and look at him. Your tone is serious now, "So what am I to you, Conrad?"

His eyes shine blue like the ocean and you almost drown looking at them. He's so close to you now and his cheeks are rosy. You both smell faintly like cranberry liquor and his hand is soft on the exposed skin of your thighs, "You're a Star. My Star."

You feel like you've lost your breath, "I'm your Star?"

Conrad nods, "You see, the Moon is lonely." He explains, expression serious, "He's usually all alone and sometimes it makes him want to cry. But whenever his Star comes out of hiding and shines into the darkness, the Moon is happy again. Unfortunately, his Star doesn't know how brightly she shines though. Most times, the Sun can't even compare because this Star," Conrad pauses, "his Star, isn't blinding. You can look at her shine all night and she'll always be the most beautiful thing. She's kind and brave and the Moon loves her more than anything." You have the sudden urge to sob and Conrad brings his thumb under your eye again, catching some tears, "Shh, it's okay." He says and you don't know how to react. You're suddenly wondering if, because of your crying, you have snot running down your nose.

Conrad Fisher has just declared his love for you and you're thinking about snot. It's all so funny you laugh. Conrad's nose scrunches, "Are you laughing at me?" He asks, mouth ajar.

You shake your head, "No!" You say but you start laughing again, covering your mouth and shrinking into yourself.

"Oh I see, you can make corny metaphors but I can't." Conrad rolls his eyes. Your mouth twists into a smile and you take his cheeks in your hands, pulling him to you until your noses are almost touching. In between your fingers you can see the tips of Conrad's ears turn pink.

"You can make as many metaphors as you want, Con. As long as you mean them."

He smiles, "I have never meant anything more in my life, Y/n/n."

You feel his hand find its way to the back of your head and he pulls you forward, his lips meeting yours. It's like a weight has been lifted from both your chests and you kiss him back instantly. It isn't like you imagined your first kiss with Conrad to go. You certainly weren't sitting on the floor of some random person's bathroom, dried tears on your cheeks.

But, it's still somehow better.

Conrad's hands now find themselves on your hips as he continues to kiss you, lips delicately moving to your neck. The situation is so ironic you chuckle. You move away and Conrad looks confused.

You fake a pout, "I'm sixteen, Connie. Isn't this a little inappropriate."

Conrad begins to panic, "What? I-I mean, I'm barely a year older than you! Are you uncomfortable because," He pauses seeing your expression and he suddenly remembers what he had said to Alex and he blushes, "Okay, that wasn't funny." He whines.

"Kinda was." You boast.

Conrad leans back and tucks some hair behind your ear, "So what do you say we leave this bathroom and go dance." He asks and your heart flutters. You nod. You had never wanted anything more.

* ~ *

Summer ended and came again quickly. It had been a year since Conrad kissed you in that bathroom and a year since he became your boyfriend. Since you didn't live in Cousins, long distance had been complicated. But this was Conrad—when he wanted something he was determined to make it work and luckily for him you had the same amount of determination.

It was Belly's seventeenth birthday, yours having happened a few months prior to the Summer, and Shayla was throwing her a party. Parties usually weren't your thing but having Conrad around made things better.

"Hey lovebirds, this is my make out spot now. Go away." Jeremiah exclaims, leaning on the wall you and Conrad had claimed as your own. He pushes you away from your boyfriend. You laugh as Conrad sends Jeremiah a dirty look.

"You're a freak, Jere. Why can't you find your own?" He asks, his arm remaining around your waist.

"Because this is the only quiet one, and she isn't the only one who wants privacy."

You look at Micheal, Jeremiah's boyfriend, and smile, "Hi, Mike." Micheal awkwardly smiles back.

"Why can't you find a bathroom?" Argues Conrad.

"Occupied." Jeremiah defends.

"Okay children, calm down." You say, taking your boyfriend's hand in yours, "Babe, I’m thirsty, do you think you could grab us drinks while I dance with Belly and Taylor?" Conrad sighs and looks down at you. He squeezes your hand.

"Of course, Starlight." Conrad says sweetly. He then turns around and ignores Jeremiah as he says a quick hello to Micheal and leaves for the kitchen. You smile sheepishly, "Sorry, here!" You move from the wall, "Have fun! I mean–um. Yeah!" You state, waving, and quickly leave to find Belly and Taylor.

"Y/n!" Belly shouts from the crowd and you push your way towards them. Belly hugs you and when she pulls away her cheeks are flushed and you know she's had one too many drinks. But, by the way Taylor is holding her hand you know she's in good hands. Literally.

"Hi, Bells'. Tay." You smile and start to dance with them. Taylor nods at you, gripping Belly's hips and moves them to the music. Just like last year they're wearing flower crowns and they look beautiful. Your mind wanders to Conrad and you remember how he'd offered to buy or make you a flower crown last year since Belly only had two. He'd been so kind. You smile. However, just as quickly as your smile came it disappeared because someone's hands touched your waist. You know it's not Conrad, you know how his hands feel and these aren't his hands.

You turn around only to be met with familiar blond curls, "Alex?"

"Hi, Y/n." Alex smiles, not moving his hands. You return his smile awkwardly. You don't know what to do. His smile makes you want to puke and you don't understand why. You look around for Conrad. "You wanna finish our dance, without interruptions this time?"

"Oh, I'm sorry Alex, I actually have a boyfriend." You mutter and shakily move his hands. Belly has turned around now and when she notices Alex, she drunkenly frowns. In seconds she's taking your hand and pulling you into her and away from the boy.

"Hi," She slurs, "I'm Belly."

Alex sends her a tight-lipped smile, "Hi," You look away but his hand gripping your arm makes you turn to him again, "I-" He starts but he's interrupted by Conrad yanking his arm, causing him to drop his hold on you.

"Don't ever touch her." Conrad snaps.

Alex squints at Conrad, "Not you again." He looks at you, "Does he even know you?"

"I'm her boyfriend, dipshit." Conrad exclaims, his arm going around your shoulder and you unconsciously lean into him.

Alex frowns, "Oh," He moves away, "My bad, man." Your hands clench. Suddenly it matters that you're taken? It hadn't only a minute earlier! When Alex leaves, you turn to Belly and Taylor and they look just as disgusted as you do.

"My bad, man." Taylor mocks, "Asshole." She says and continues to dance.

"Men suck." Belly mutters, taking Taylor's hand and spinning her around. You laugh. You would have agreed, had your boyfriend's hands around your waist not reminded you that no, not all men sucked. But then again, not all men were your boyfriend.

You spin back around and he pulls you into him, "You ok?" He asks, genuinely concerned. You smile and nod, "Good." He says, rubbing his thumb over your hips. His lips twist into a smirk and you tilt your head.

"You look like you enjoyed that." You say.

Conrad raises his brow, "I did not enjoy him touching you when you were obviously uncomfortable, Starlight."

You laugh, "No, I meant telling him that you're my boyfriend."

"I am your boyfriend." Conrad smirks and leans in to kiss your forehead. He looks at you, blue eyes shining, "Is it so bad that I want people, especially idiots like him, to know?"

You pretend to think for a moment, "No," You smile, "I don't think it's bad."

"Good because I want everyone to know." Conrad says as he kisses your lips. You lean up and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"Ew, gross." Belly groans, pulling on your arm, "Connie, leave her alone. It's my birthday and I want to dance with my best friends!" You chuckle as Conrad’s eyebrows scrunch but he doesn't protest, he only points to Belly and says,

"Only because it's your birthday."

Belly drunkenly points her tongue at him and Conrad smirks, amused at how childish she is when she's drunk. You look at them and your own smile curls your lips. A year ago, Conrad smiling at Belly would have made your heart sink and your insecurities spiral. Now, those insecurities are forgein because while Belly might be the Sun and Conrad might be the Moon, you were his Star.

And what is a Moon without Stars?

[bbydoll18xx]

Masterlist

Paige Bueckers

Series:

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader)

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Part 2) (Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader)

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Part 3) (Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader)

I'll Be Your Temporary Fix (Part 4) (Paige Bueckers x Media Team Reader)

Pet Names and Airplanes - When a very sleepy Paige lets out some interesting noises, you find that the lines of your friendship have blurred considerably.

Pet Names and Airplanes (Part 2) - The aftermath of the airplane ride leaves Paige moaning once more. (Contains smut)

Pet Names and Airplanes (Part 3) - It's Paige's turn to call the shots. (Contains smut)

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart - KK tries to set you up on live, and things between you and Paige go south.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart (Part 2): Fake It Til You Make It - You go out on a date. Paige gets drunk. Chaos ensues.

I Can Do It With a Broken Heart (Part 3): Grinning Like I'm Winning - The aftermath of a drunken confession.

She's Such a Good Girl - You move in across the hall from Paige Bueckers. It doesn’t take long before she tries to shatter your innocent persona. And you just let her. 

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 2) - Paige continues her assault on your innocence, leading you to spiral.

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 3) - You get drunk off Paige, and confessions come out.

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 4) - Paige makes you feel so good. (Contains smut)

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 5) - Paige shows you her strap. (Contains smut)

She's Such a Good Girl (Part 6) - Your newfound fascination with Paige's abs leads to some fun. (Contains smut)

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit - Paige stumbles into a sex shop you work at, and you give her some satisfactory customer service.

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2) - You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure. (Contains smut)

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 3) - Paige takes advantage of your employee discount. (Contains smut)

I've Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 4) - You show Paige the benefits of being with a dominant woman. (Contains smut)

Bonus one shot - Paige wants to try scissoring, but she’s too shy to tell you. (Contains smut)

Oneshots:

Guilty As Sin? - 'We've already done it in my head'

Keep The Edits Cordial - A tik tok edit of two best friends coaxes out admissions of feelings (and orgasms). (Contains smut)

Brats Get Punished - You choose to be a brat. Punishment ensues. (Contains smut)

Plotting and Scheming - When UConn’s wbb team gets tired of Paige’s pining, they concoct a plan to get you into her arms.

An Inch Away From More Than Just Friends - Your ex-boyfriend is quite literally the smallest man who ever lived, and Paige is there to pick up the pieces. (Contains smut)

Spike Me, Baby, One More Time (Paige Bueckers x fem!volleyball player)

I Love You (It's Ruining My Life) - ‘I took the miracle move-on drug. The effects were temporary.’

Short Stuff - Paige Bueckers x short fem gf

How Do I Get To Heaven? - 'Without changing a piece of me, how do I get to heaven?'

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own - When Paige falls apart, you're there to pick up the pieces.

She's an Angel - Pretty much everyone but Paige has noticed your pining, and the team decide to do something about it.

She's an Angel (Part 2) - You and Paige get locked inside a bathroom, the team likes to cockblock, and you finally get the girl. (Contains smut)

Baby, I Don't Want to Be Alone - Paige is the sunshine that cuts through your darkness.

I Try to Refrain (But You're Stuck in my Brain) - You have a dream about Paige, and it leads to some shocking revelations.

Azzi Fudd

This Is Me Trying - 'I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.'

*I am currently accepting requests :)

Thanks so much for reading and supporting me!!

[rainy-day-gracie]

- bloodlust - general marcus acacius x wife!reader

content warnings: shameless and utter filth, discussion/description of periods, mentions of pregnancy, pre-established relationship (married couple), soft!dom marcus acacius because he is husband, unprotected piv sex, rough sex, bondage (wrists and ankles), fingering, spanking (not a punishment), begging, verbal reaffirmed consent, praise kink, dirty talk, use of the word 'whore' as a compliment, discussions of canon typical violence, this man is a SLUTTT and we love him so much, porn with feelings <3

summary: Your cycle comes a month into your marriage to General Marcus Acacius, and he knows how to make you feel better.

a/n: so hi. this is the first fic i've released in four years, and my first time writing full smut before. i've never written for any of pedro's characters before but i've been reading them for a loooong time now, so hopefully this is up to standard! please be kind, i'm just a girl tryna write nasty smut.

______

"Shit, shit, shit," you whisper, despite the fact there is no shit at all. Only blood.

"Why have you not come to bed, my darling wife?" Marcus calls, not seeing the bloodied rag that you quickly hide in the wash bin.

Not meeting his eye, you leave the washroom, crossing over to the bed but making no move to tuck into it. Marcus strolls behind you, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. He wasn't aware, but the pressure of his hands on your belly perfectly eased the incessant cramping that has burdened you all day.

"I'm not sure I'll find sleep tonight," you answer, rolling over how to break the news of your cycle's arrival to him.

As far as you understand, husbands do not want to know about or deal with the monthly cycles of their wives, the cramping stomachs, the wicked mood swings, and least of all, the blood that taints the innermost parts of the woman. It's evidence of vulnerability, something that is out of the control of both the wife and husband-- and above all else, a gross imperfection in their respectable brides.

“You wish to sleep elsewhere?” Marcus mumbles, kissing your shoulder delicately.

“No, it is not that, Marcus,” you breathe, exhaling as he traced his mouth against your neck, sending shivers along your skin. “I just… I don’t want…”

Marcus stepped back abruptly, and you turned to face him. He looked almost… guilty. “I understand, I apologize if I made it seem as if I expected... if I forced myself onto—“

“My cycle started today,” you blurt out, unable to see your fierce general appear solemn for a moment longer. You cast your eyes to the ground, picking at the skin around your nails.

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you stammer, “i-it started just now. I was never going to keep it hidden, but I was- am, simply embarrassed. You have hopes for a child, and I have not full filled that desire of yours. Women’s cycles are not desirable, and can be quite a burden—“

Marcus speaks your name with such softness that you halted your rambling, and looked up at him again.

Warm brown eyes meet yours, and where you had expected to see anger or disgust, there was only sympathy, and… amusement. He took your fiddling hands, lacing his fingers within yours.

“You must understand me,” he spoke gently. “There is no need for embarrassment, or fear. Your cycles are evidence that your body feels at ease in our marriage, that you are properly fed, fucked, and cared for. We have only been married a month, and I do not expect immediate heirs, or heirs at all if you do not wish for them. There is no desire of mine that is not satisfied in this union, for I have a beautiful wife that carries herself with grace, and elegance, and matches my taste for occasional debauchery.”

You giggle, a bashful smile creeping onto your lips.

“There it is, that smile I breathe for.”

You grin fully, and squeeze his palms in yours. “You are too kind to me, Marcus. While you speak that my cycle is nothing to be embarrassed about, I do not expect you to share my bed tonight, or for the next few. I’m sure you know how… messy, it can sometimes be. I wouldn’t wish to sully the sheets, or you, for that matter.”

Marcus peers at you, looking between your eyes like he was searching for something. A ghost of a smirk graced his lips.

His grip on your hands moved closer to your wrists, and tightened slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you still. He brings your wrists up, holding them again your chest.

Adjusting his hold on you slightly, he keeps one palm wrapped around your wrists while the other hand reaches for the silken rope tied around his toga. Deftly, he undoes the rope, letting his toga come loose.

“Marcus, wh— what are you doing?” You asked, pulse quickening as he wrapped the rope nimbly around your wrists, tying them together while keeping plenty of slack at the end of the line.

“I wish to see for myself just how messy and sullying my wife can become,” he said, holding your gaze. “Unless you do not want me to?”

The thrill of having his hands on you like this, the silken rope of his toga binding your arms, and the lust brewing in his eyes like a dark storm… jolts of unfiltered want shoot downward, through your chest, belly, all the way into your core.

Swallowing, you nod.

Marcus walks you backward, pushing you by the wrists until your thighs meet the edge of the bed.

“Lie down, and put your hands up towards the frame of the bed,” Marcus commanded.

The general’s eyes held not the doting love of a husband, but the steely determination of a conqueror. The eyes of a warrior, a dominating force of nature, a man capable of ruination.

Desire wracked your body, and you tried to keep from trembling as you obeyed his command.

For the month of your marriage, the general had only ever been gentle with you, in both words and actions. At no point had you ever seen for yourself the fearsome general his reputation preceded him as.

But as he loomed over you now, shedding his toga and laurels, pinning you with his conqueror's eyes... this was the general the world whispered about like a god of war.

"You know what is so amusing about you, wife?" Marcus wondered aloud, moving to straddle you on the bed. Even though you were still fully dressed, and he fully nude except for a tented loincloth, he made you feel as if you'd never been more exposed with those dark eyes of his.

"What is?" You mumbled, breath catching in your throat as he reached up to tie your hands to the headboard.

Tightening the ropes, he continued on with his cavernous rasp. "I am a man that commands armies, orders slaughters, and washes his hands with the blood of men," he drawled, tilting his head to peer at you. Your blood pumped so fast through your body; his discerning stare made you wonder if he could truly hear every beat of your heart, feel every jolt of desire wracking your cunt.

Marcus pulled on the ropes binding you, shaking your wrists against the headboard. You yelped at the sudden movement, anticipation heightening your senses to every small shift.

Another dark smirk crossed his lips. "I have killed more men than I can count, and yet... you think I would shy away from a little bloodshed."

A full whimper escaped your lips at his words, blush rising to your cheeks at his knowing, devilish grin.

"Do I frighten you?" He questioned softly, glancing at your lips, your heaving chest, the pulse in your neck.

"No," you breathed.

"If you want me to stop, you will not be afraid to tell me so?"

A shake of your head. "I will tell you if I need to stop."

"Good girl."

And he melded his lips to yours.

Marcus captured your lips to his like an immortal, like he had all the time in the world. Brutal, powerful, unyielding, but slow, as if he were savoring every moment. His kiss left you breathless, needier for him by the moment, and you were already pulling on the bondage binding your wrists.

So caught up in his kiss, you forgot about his hands, and all they were capable of.

As Marcus sunk his teeth into your bottom lip, drawing a trace of blood, he ripped your stola open to reveal your peaked breasts, your nipples perking in the cold night air.

His hands immediately reached for your tits, more swollen than usual due to your cycle. His lips traced down your exposed throat, pinching your nipples slightly. A high-pitched moan escaped you, and your soaking, bloody core clenched around nothing.

"I never thought my wife capable of such sounds, but I suppose my devilry has rubbed off on you," he mumbled into your neck, marking you with teeth and tongue. The only response you could give is another unfiltered moan as he twisted your sensitive nipples again. "Such beautiful sounds you make when I am rough with you."

You gaped for breath as he sat up onto his knees once more, trailing his calloused fingers down your breasts, along your ribcage, and gripped the rip in the center of your dress.

"Shall we see what bloodlust has done to you, hm?"

Like parchment, he tore your dress completely in half, exposing your heated cunt to him. On instinct, you closed and curled your legs, hiding your wet and bloody core.

Marcus chuckled, wrapping a hand around each of your ankles in their curled position on the bed. "Pretty girl thinks she can hide from me. How cute."

Your legs tensed as he pulled them apart, your instinct to fight his advances taking over.

And a small, devilish part of you wanted to know what he would do if you tried to deny him what he so clearly wants.

"You're fighting me now?" He mused, easily prying your legs wide, his hold on your ankles unshakable.

His knees moved to rest on top of your thighs, not painful, but certainly keeping you pinned.

It distracted you for a moment where you missed the two long ropes that had appeared in his hands, the same silken rope that he uses to tie togas with.

Now, he glances up at you, not lustfully, but with a firmness, serious. "Is this something you want?"

Understanding what he meant, you swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I want this. Anything you have to give me... I want it. I want you."

Marcus groaned at the words, wrapping each of your ankles with the silken rope, and binding them to the posts of the bed.

Cool air hit your core, and you throw your head back against the pillows with both relief and slight delicious humiliation.

Knelt on the bed above you, Marcus studied your cunt with tunnel-vision focus. The world could erupt in flames around the two of you, and he wouldn't even notice.

"You've had me fooled all this time, my darling."

The rasp of desire in his voice made your toes curl.

"Here I was thinking that I could not possibly deserve a woman of such purity, such virtue," he murmured, as if he were speaking only to himself. "I believed you an angel, a nymph, a maiden of innocence, untouched by sin, or lust, but... it seems I was wrong."

He traces a finger delicately along your wet folds, making you whine with impatience. Your ankles strained against their bondage, the ropes holding firm against your skin.

You try to lift your hips, pathetically trying to create more friction against his rough fingertips, but to no success. He chuckles at the attempt, keeping his touch light against your aching cunt.

"Please... please, Marcus," you moan, chest heaving.

He cocks his head innocently and removed his finger from your skin. "Please... what?"

"Please touch me," you beg, meeting his eyes again. "Please touch me, general."

Any amusement falls from his face, replaced fully by that conqueror's gaze, the last face so many men see before they die.

Marcus plunges two fingers deep into your heated cunt, and you cry out in pleasure, desperate for more. He hooks his skilled fingers inside of you, searching for that one spot that will take you to Olympus and back.

"I was promised a noble lady as a wife," Marcus hums, pulling his fingers out of your weeping cunt slightly, "and somehow, I got a bloody whore instead, begging me to ruin her like I do battlefields."

Your cunt clenches around his fingers as he thrust back inside of you, pushing against that sweet spot of pleasure. He groans as you gush around him, pressure building at the bottom of your belly. "There it is."

The pace of his hand inside of you was brutal, punishing, and you moan and cry out, shameless. Your wrists and ankles ached deliciously, keeping you exposed, spread wide for your husband, your general.

The tipping point of your pleasure was so close, if he only were to have a bit of mercy and allow you to reach it.

"Please, general, I'm--"

He pushes in a third finger, not slowing down his pace for you to adjust.

"What is it, my darling whore?"

"I am so close, so close, please--" you whine, back arching off the bed.

As you suspected, his mercy does not come easily.

"Beg me for it," he commands, "beg for it like you would beg for your life. Beg me to finish you."

Your words come out strained with desperation. "Please, general, please, please finish me... I need it, I need you to finish me, I am so close... I'll be so good for you, general, please just finish me--"

A calloused thumb presses into your clit, and you go taut with desire. Your back arches off the bed, and your ankles pull tight against their ropes. High pitched moans escape from the depths of your throat, your cunt pulsing with relief.

He continued curling his fingers inside of you for several minutes after you finish, drawing out the release for as long as he can. It isn't until you whimper with sensitivity that he withdraws and moves to untie each of your bound limbs.

Exhaustion creeps over you, your hands and feet falling limply into the bed as he undoes the ropes and throws them onto the floor.

Propping himself onto his side, he leans over to kiss you again. This kiss was light, and loving.

"You did so well, my darling wife," Marcus praises, moving to kiss the top of your forehead. "You did perfectly."

You glance down at his groin, a tall tent risen in his loincloth. Guilt pangs at you. "You haven't--"

"I don't need to, this was about you," he says gently. "I can do it--"

"I am your wife, am I not?" You ask, your palm feather-light on his untouched cock.

He jolts from the simple touch. "Y-you are."

You lean towards him, lips brushing against his, sharing each other's breath. "A wife should serve her husband in the bedroom, should she not?"

Fast as a serpent, Marcus grips you by the shoulder, pushing you face-down into the bed. Mercifully, he leaves your hands free, and slides a folded pillow underneath your hips to allow pressure on your cramping abdomen. But this angle... your sensitive core clenches again, anticipating his cock pushing inside of you.

"Bless the gods for giving you to me," Marcus groans, not wasting a moment before the head of his cock traces up and down your already-fucked-out heat. "Your blood is mine, your desire is mine, you are mine."

A wanton moan releases from your lips as he pushes into you, the downward angle taking him deeply.

He grips your hips hard enough to leave light imprints and fucks you roughly.

"You are mine, as I am yours," he moans, his pace brutal and possessive. "It would not matter if you were a whore, or a lady, or a devil, because you are my wife."

You reach below you, propping yourself onto all fours as he pushes against your cervix and sweet spot with his godlike cock.

"You are mine, h-husband," you pant, arching your back for him, and pressing your hips harder into the pillow below. Gods, he was in your fucking stomach. "As I am yours."

You yelp in delight as he brings his hand down onto your ass, once, then twice. It sent thrills down your spine, clenching your cunt around him.

"The general and the lady," he moans, his hips beginning to lose their rhythm as he nears his edge. "The killer and the whore."

You laugh lightly, nearing the same edge but needing something else from him.

"Hit me again, please," you beg, cheeks heating. "I need it, please... hit me again."

Marcus had to hold himself back from finishing inside of you at your dirty request.

Breathless whines left you as he brought his rough hand down on you again, the sting of his killer's palm making your core gush.

Again, and again, and again, until tears streamed down your cheeks, and with each slap of his hand against your ass, angry red handprints remained in their wake.

At the delicious pain of his palms on your skin, and the unyielding pleasure of his cock pushing against your cervix, you finish with a prolonged moan, clenching around him until he reaches a breaking point.

Spilling inside of you, he pants heavily. "You are... divine."

Collapsing into the pillows with exhaustion, you smile, utterly giddy. "You flatter me, general."

Marcus cleans you up with a spare rag, blood and the remnants of your lust staining the fabric.

As soon as he falls into bed next to you, blessed sleep takes you both into dreams. Dreams of each other.

----

let me know if you enjoyed it!!

forehead kisses all around ,

gracie

[theragethatisdesire]

eren jaeger x reader, jean kirstein x reader - drabble, 18+!!!

wrote this a few weeks ago and i'm bored so have a little drabble of a jean x reader x eren threesome from...another angle<3 sorry i've been so dry lately, have this as my official apology :)

minors do not interact. this is nsfw and intended for those 18 and up.

wc: 1.6k

warnings: degradation, p in v, fem!reader, sorta dubconny if you squint (reader's just a lil shy), voyeurism;)

-

Jean’s girl.

It has a nice ring to it, one that you’re proud of. His parents’ friends refer to you as such, always going on about how cute you look in those sundresses you wear to Sunday dinner. When you stop by the office, paper bag in hand, the boys yell out, “Jean’s girl’s back! Got any lunch in there for me, sweetheart?”. Even Jean himself is guilty, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear and whispering that he “needs to see his girl’s pretty face”.

“Look at your girl, Jean,” Eren says with a cruel, barked laugh. It’s mocking, makes your cheeks burn even hotter, if that were possible.

“I see,” Jean says quietly, the lower half of his face disappearing behind his beer as he takes a sip, “I see her.”

You squirm in Eren’s lap, trying to adjust to the foreign weight of him inside of you, wincing at the slide of your thighs on his, made easy by the wetness he’s already coaxed from your body. Jean’s eyes are dark as he watches you wriggle, one hand palming over the bulge behind his zipper, slow and steady. You really can’t believe he let you do this—let Eren do all of this, this slow unraveling of your body, this tarnishing of your pretty title. Jean’s girl, spread out on Eren’s lap with his cock shoved up into her stomach. Your head spins.

“How’s it feel, baby?” Eren’s eyes are sparkling, wide and glittering like a mountain cat lying behind a bush, when he thumbs at your chin. You know now that his teeth are as sharp as they look, the aching blossom of fresh bruises thudding along your shoulders.

“J-Jean,” you stutter out pathetically, trying to turn your head to your boyfriend. Eren’s faster, large hand wrapped around your jaw and snapping your head back to him.

“Try again.” He thrusts his hips up, not too rough, but enough that you feel it, a weak mewl falling from your lips. Eren smirks. “That’s not Jean, is it?”

“S’alright, baby,” Jean says from across the room, from too far away. Hot shame clouds your eyes in the form of tears as you realize you want him closer, but you don’t want him inside of you, not yet; you’re growing unwittingly fond of the novel stretch of Eren between your legs, your muscles tense and flexing to keep yourself from rocking forward on to him. “Be sweet to Eren.”

“Yeah,” Eren coos, dripping with condescension as he rubs his thumb through the drool on your bottom lip, “be sweet to me.”

You nod shakily, wiggling your hips again and having to bite into your lip to stop the moan from escaping, but with the way Eren’s grinning at you, you think he knows what lies in the back of your throat. Well, he does know, to an extent– your jaw still aches from him fucking into your mouth earlier, stretching your lips wide around him.

“I’m gonna ask you again,” Eren says firmly, pressing his forehead to yours, “how’s my cock feel in you, hm?”

“Feels good,” you slur quietly, barely more than a breath. It’s enough for Eren, it seems, as he groans and throws his head back. You watch his Adam’s apple bob with the throaty noise, watch the furrow appear between his dark eyebrows. He really is beautiful, breathtaking even– he reminds you of that painting, what was it called? The Fallen Angel?

Eren’s head lolls back up, his bright eyes flickering over every part of you, like he doesn’t know where he wants to start, pretty creature that you are. He trails his hands over your breasts, stopping to tweak a nipple and grinning viciously when you yelp in surprise. His fingers move further, down over your ticklish rib cage and swirling around your belly button before settling firmly on your hips. Eren looks at you like he might eat you alive if you turn your back for one second, and your stomach twists.

“It’ll feel better if you move, won’t it? Want my help?”

You look questioningly to Jean, who shakes his head no at you, and inclines it in Eren’s direction. Not me, him.

Scary isn’t the right word for Eren, not when he has so much love in his stomach, but it’s all guarded under several strips of barbed wire. Poison drips from his tongue as readily as sugarwater might; he swallows it all the same. You’re sitting atop a creature with teeth, a creature that fights when it’s cornered, but god– isn’t he so pretty?

“Yes,” you breathe out to him, twitching your hips atop his as if to emphasize your point. Eren chuckles darkly in his throat, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bite. He rolls you against him once, twice, and three times is enough to have your jaw dropping, eyes flitting up to the sky.

“There you go,” Eren grits out, swearing under his breath when you tighten around him, “told you she liked me, Jean.”

“Knew she liked you,” Jean bites back at him, huffing a little laugh when you moan in protest, in embarrassment, “just wanted to see if she’d show you.”

“She’s braver than you give her credit for.” Eren thumbs at your chin again, chokes on a groan when you suck it into your mouth, run your tongue lovingly along the pad of his finger. “Look at that…beautiful.”

He’s rolling your hips faster now, enough to force a tinny whine from you. You can feel Jean’s eyes lingering, can hear the wet schlick of his hand on his now-freed cock; you’ll ask him later what you looked like, back arched and breasts shaking to the rhythm of your own haggard breathing, rocking your hips into Eren’s like your salvation depends on it. Jean’s girl, taking his best friend’s dick while he watches. Anything for your man.

Eren’s hand wanders down your tacky stomach, starts rubbing at your swollen clit gently. It’s so raw and sensitive after nearly half an hour of Eren prodding and sucking and licking at it with his tongue, that you jolt harshly, like you’ve been electrocuted.

“Eren!”

“Good?” Eren pants, and suddenly, you’re both moving so much faster than you were before. Eren’s bullying himself up into you, hitting something that reminds you of Jean, and your tears fall faster. “Tell me how good it is.”

“It’s– fuck, so good,” you whimper, cutting yourself off with a moan. Eren hisses in satisfaction, pistoning up into you faster.

“Listen to that dirty fucking mouth,” Eren chides, abandoning your clit in favor of wrapping his hand in your tangled hair, grabbing a fistful and forcing you close to his face, “you don’t sound like Jean’s perfect little girl to me, not anymore.”

A sharp inhale from across the room reminds you of your lovely, golden boyfriend, of the cock he’s fisting watching you fall apart in Eren’s arms. It brings a rush of fresh heat to your veins, one that’s mercifully absent of shame. It’s the sparks of your orgasm, white-hot and creeping along your bones like it means to pull your head under.

“I n-need to cum, please,” you admit, whining it openly in the air for Jean to hear. His only answer is a quiet swear, the sounds of his hand growing faster and wetter. Eren laughs again, pulls your chin down to him.

“So polite, aren’t you? Give me a little something baby, wan’ a taste.” Eren tugs your mouth open with his thumb, opens his jaw expectantly. Even amidst the rhythm of you bouncing on him, you find the presence of mind to spit, a long strand of drool swaying from your lips as it falls into his mouth. Eren’s eyes flicker at you menacingly when he swallows, growls deep in his chest.

“Good girl,” Jean murmurs from across the room, “good fucking girl.”

“Hear that?” Eren says, fisting your hair harder as your walls flutter around him, betraying just how close you are to going under. “He’s so proud of you, isn’t he? Taking my cock like a fucking champ.”

“Uh-huh,” you moan pitifully, hips moving with a mind of their own. Your eyes are out of focus, but through the bleary haze of your tears and pleasure, you can make out Eren, jaw slack and eyes sharp as he watches you start to truly lose it. His fist around your hair grows so tight you squeak, and he yanks your head down to rest against his shoulder. It would be almost sweet, if he weren’t tearing you apart at the seams.

Eren’s lips, his hot breath, ghost over the shell of your ear as he whispers to you. “Bet he’ll be twice as proud if you cum all over my cock, nice and pretty for us.”

That snaps the thin thread of sanity remaining in you, and you convulse around Eren, wailing into his shoulder. He makes no effort to shush you, to pet you gently and work you through it; no, Eren only curses loudly, bites into your shoulder so hard your body jerks even as it clenches and contracts around him, shoots his hips up into you– a warmth begins filling you from the inside out, sticky and balmy against the electric aftershocks of the orgasm wracking your limbs.

Once Eren’s hips have stopped twitching up into yours, he grabs your tired body by the shoulders, shoving you to sit up properly on his softening cock. You mumble something akin to discomfort, wiggling as disobediently as you can while Eren examines you. Your muscles are still quivering with the aftereffects of cumming, though, and you aren’t able to put up much of a fight, something Eren notices and grins at.

“You’re really something, aren’t ya?” Eren says to your limp form, rubbing his hands on your shoulders. “Might have to share your girl more often, Jean.”

-

just a little snack while i battle my way through the 1500 wips i have going!! <3 love you all

[poppy-metal]

arrange marriage with patrick where you know he doesn’t love you. this entire thing was cooked up by your parents, and you feel guilty for being the one that destroyed his freedom. so when he slips away for unexplainable periods of time, you keep quiet. you know who he’s seeing, what he’s doing, as he returns with a slack jawed smile and missed hair. it stings slightly, knowing you’re in a loveless marriage and that all chances of martial, conventional bliss were down the shitter, but what can you do? he doesn’t want to be with you. he owes you nothing, he’s just as trapped as you are. you’re polite and warm, you ask about his day, you want to be friends if nothing else. patrick gets frustrated, mostly because of the guilt. he is objectively awful to you, and you’re still so sweet. so sweet. you look at the hickeys on his neck and you don’t scream, don’t yell. all you do is cover it for him before you have to go to gala. you cover it! how can you be so forgiving? how can you not care? he fucks tashi 3 times a week. he’s being awful. and you still smile when he comes home. take his coat, kiss his cheek. any time he’s tried to have sex, tried to do the proper thing and produced another heir to the family fortune, you graciously turn him down, like you’re doing him some kind of grand favour. when sometimes, he just actually does want to fuck you. it’s hard. it’s weird. he kind of wants you?? but you’re so distant. he strangely feels a longing for you, missing something he never had. what did you look like, sound like when you laughed uncontrollably? what did you want to be when you were a little girl? who are you?

patrick knew hating you wasn't fair. it didn't stop him from treating you likes shit, though. didn't stop him from barely putting in effort during your wedding, from looking bored during the vows, from planting a stiff kiss on your lips, and then proceeding to treat you like you didn't exist.

it wasn't your fault, and yet it was. he couldn't exactly up and tell his parents to fuck off - though god knows he desired nothing else than to do just that. in the end, he was a conduit. a vessel to carry on a legacy he didn't give two shits about.

he knew it was coming.

he just wish he had more time.

more time to be reckless. more time to get drunk at parties. more time to be a general stain on society. more time with tashi duncan.

but destiny waited for no one or whatever the fuck, and now here he was, shackled to you and resenting every fucking thing about you.

at least you knew how to keep your mouth shut.

it would have been a bitch to deal with you running and tattling to his mother about how he hadn't fucked you yet - how he was still seeing tashi. as much as he appreciated your discretion, he also hated you for it.

you had no fucking backbone. you were nothing like tashi. she was bold and rash and clawed her way from nothing and took none of patricks shit. you took it all. mouth properly suctioned to his asshole just like every other spineless dipshit in his family.

he knew you saw the hickeys she left on his neck. knew you smelled the sex on his skin when he stumbled home at 4am and slid into bed, finally. he saw you register these things, the scratch marks down his back - saw your dainty little chin wobble and then still. saw your eyes dart away. and he felt something nasty claw at his chest - at your lack of self respect.

your husband was sticking his dick in a pussy that wasn't yours and you didn't have anything to fucking say about it? he saw the hurt in your eyes in the mirror. grinned at it. hoped today would be the day you'd snap and fight back, but you never did.

he found himself leaving tashis arms angry - angry about coming home to a brick wall and a wife who didn't seem to care what he did.

one night - he found himself drunk after a night out with tashi. sprawled out on his chair as he lazily watched you get dressed for bed.

he found himself hardening in his slacks. dick twitching with interest.

you weren't ugly, was the thing.

you were actually fucking hot. you had a plump sweet little body. you hid it under atrocious modest wear, but he could see it now in the outline of your fat tits outlining your nightgown. the curve of your waist. child bearing hips. he could laugh, if any of this was funny.

he tongued the inside of his cheek as he straightened, watching you.

“you dress like a 1950s housewife.” cutting. meant to embarass you, which he can see it does. he feels a thrill in his chest to get a reaction out of you at all. “it's fucking weird.”

your lips press together - you don't look at him as you uncap your lotion and spread it onto your fingers. “I am a wife.” you tell him softly.

“what was that?” he heard you. he's just annoyed by your mously little voice.

you flick a glance at him, and he sees a flash of irritation on your doll like features. it makes you look pretty, he resents to realize.

“I said I am a wife.” you say, more firmly this time. “just because you don't want to act like a husband doesn't negate what we are - what I am.”

you say it with a sense of pride. a lifting of your chin. and patrick - he has to fucking laugh then. licks his lips and downright giggles with it. his cheeks are flushed with alcohol and he drags himself to his feet, shaking his head.

“you're fucking unreal.” he approaches you, you've turned your back to him - slathering lotion onto your legs, the sweet vanilla scent hits his nostrils as he gets close, and he sways a little. “I mean. are you even real? or are you made out of plastic? did mommy and daddy make you at a factory? the perfect wife factory.” he stops behind you, touches the end strands of your hair, rubs them between his fingers. your hair is fine and soft like silk. it runs like water through his fingers when you tug your head forward.

“of course I'm real.” your voice trembles a little. he's gotten to you, he thinks. and he likes that he has. feels his cock twitch again. “why would you even say that?”

you're finished putting on the lotion but you stay with your back turned to him. he wonders if this is a small act of defiance on your part. he wonders if you were raised to be this fucking submissive and subservient and if any part of you resents it. wishes you could turn around and claw at his face and call him a bastard. but no. that'd actually make the evening interesting. and you were set on being as dull as fucking drywall.

“she's nothing like you, you know.”

he sees your spine stiffens. feels a cruel twist in his stomach that hearing about his mistress upset you.

you don't answer him so he continues, leaning in closer so his breath blows the wisps of your fine hair across your shoulders - “she's firey and confident. she lights up a room when she walks in it, grabs everyone's attention by their throat because she demands it. it's fucking sexy as hell.” he inhales your scent, warm vanilla, sweet and soft. he wants to crush that softness under his foot. crush it to dust. “and god -” he lets his voice get low and seductive, that scratchy quality “- her fucking pussy. it's the best thing I've ever felt. like sliding right into nirvana. I could fuck her for hours -”

your spin around - your eyes are burning. not with tears, though. with fury. they blaze with more life in them than he's ever seen before and it cuts his sentence right off - sucks any further words out of his chest -

“go to her then.” you hiss, venom from your lips. he thinks if it were possible, steam would be seeping from your pores. your cheeks are flushed and your lips are bee stung plump, the indents of your teeth marking the soft flesh. he realizes you'd been literally nawing on your bottom lip to stay quiet. “you think I want to deal with you like this? that I want to deal with a husband like you at all? go to your mistress and bury all your problems in here and leave me alone to run the house and do your job for you. like I've been doing. I don't need you here.”

you turn back around, your hair swishing and smacking him in the face.

he glares at your back. his fingers twitch as an anger worse than he's ever felt boils his blood.

“you can't talk to me like that.” he says, cold and deadly despite the liquid fire running through his veins. “im your fucking husband.”

you laugh - and despite everything - it sounds like bells tinkling. pretty and lyrical. he inhales again. steadies himself with a hand on your vanity.

“you haven't earned that title.” you shake your head as you walk to your side of the bed. you're dismissing him. ending the conversation. “I doubt you even know what the word means - if asked to define it.”

something about the condescending tone - one he'd grown up hearing from his parents lips, from everyone around him who told him he'd fail before he even began. how tashi talked to him sometimes, dismissing him as a privileged kid instead of a person with feelings whenever they disagreed - something about it - he finds himself suddenly in your space - gripping your arm and yanking you back against him -

“you want me to define it?” he asks, sounded half crazed. he rucks your nightgown up, and despite himself, he groans at the feeling of your soft and supple skin - never touched before and new and so fucking good under his hand - “you want me to act like a husband to you?”

he presses himself against your ass, hard and throbbing. he's been hard since he first stood behind you and inhaled your scent. his cock has a goddamn pulse - he can feel the head beating like a drum - fluid bubbling at his slit -

your breath rattles in your chest in a wheeze as you freeze under his touch, you're stiff under his palm and he feels a spark of anger at that - he fucking knows his way around a woman's body - knows how to make someone melt and cry and beg for it -

he shoves you face down on the bed with a hand at your back, comes down over you to straddle your ass on his knees, hands coming down to his belt.

“you want me to be a husband -” he yanks his belt through the loops I'm his jeans harshly, rips his zipper down and reaches in to grip himself where he's hard and hot and thick. “- want me to do my due dillengence and fuck you with my hard cock? fill you with the cum that'll give us an heir and make your life worth living? I can do that for you - pussy's pussy.”

he yanks your nightgown over your ass - grips your bare cheeks and spreads the flesh - bites his tongue till it bleeds at the sight of your small twitching asshole - and under it the wet lips of your cunt.

to combat the way the sight makes him feel, the sudden breathlessness in his chest - he tells you, “my dicks still lubed from fucking her earlier - should slide right in -” and he slots the fat leaking tip of himself at your folds, is just beginning to part that heavenly slick flesh when you curl your hands into the sheets and whisper -

“stop.”

and patrick is alot of things. alot of bad things, he can admit.

but he's not a rapist.

he pauses - hand wrapped around his hard dick - “what -” but you're shoving up suddenly, bucking under him, scrambling and wiggling until you're out from under him and yanking your gown back down over your ass, covering yourself.

he blinks at you, suprised. dick still in his hand.

“I thought you wanted -”

you squeeze your eyes shut and shuffle off the bed, wrap your arms around your body like you want to curl in on yourself.

“not like that.” you tell him. voice a fragile thing. you won't look at him. he softens in his hand, desire sapped from his body at the sight of your distress. “not - not when.” you shake your head. “things are fine how they are. I'm sorry for snapping at you, it was unbecoming. I'll sleep in the guest room tonight.”

and you're gone before he can even tuck himself back into his jeans and think of something to say.

he falls back against the bed and stares at the canopy above him. his throat feels dry. he thinks he should feel victorious. he'd intimidated you. humiliated you. made you feel as small as he feels all the fucking time.

but he doesn't feel satisfied.

he just feels like a dick and a shit husband. he scrubs a hand down his face.

fuck.

[entitled-fangirl]

So guilty.

Felix Catton x reader

Summary: An accident happens and the reader dies. Felix blames himself for it.

Words: 1,959

Warnings: spiked drink, death, drowning, cursing, makeout session, skinny dipping, guilty conscience

Author's note: Idea came from this request!!!!

Masterlist &lt;3

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

Felix and his girl had been together for what felt like an eternity. Truthfully, they'd been together a little over two years. But she spent many of her breaks at Saltburn with him, and his family adored her as one of their own. 

That’s what made things so difficult. She was practically one of them. 

Felix loved her more than the moon and the stars. She was his everything. He would eat, sleep, and breathe her if he could. She was his reason for waking up in the morning. And she was a beautiful sight to wake up to, indeed.

Like this morning.

Felix opened his eyes to see the sun peeking through his window, illuminating the bedroom. He leaned on one elbow to admire the sunrise before ultimately laying back down on his back. His head looked directly to his side to see his beloved girl. His angel.

She laid on her stomach, her face turned in his direction. Her cheek was slightly squished against the pillow, her hair an absolute wreck. But he found it so alluring. So perfect. Heavenly. Her pretty face lit up by the sunlight was the best thing his brown eyes had ever had the joy to witness. He let out a soft breath at the sight. One that woke her up.

Her eyes flickered open, before quickly closing again after seeing the sun in her eyes. She let out a light groan. “Mmm… ‘Morning, love.”

He grinned, his voice gravely from sleep, “‘Morning, angel. God, you’re such a pretty girl.”

She smiled, rolling over onto her back. A hand of hers came up to cover her eyes as she lightly rubbed them with the back of said hand. 

He wished he could save this moment in time forever.

But, like all good things, it must come to an end.

Duncan’s voice was heard outside the door. “Master Felix, breakfast is in thirty minutes.”

He leaned up on his elbow, his voice echoing, “Thank you, Duncan.”

They heard his footsteps retreat from the door.

Felix’s attention turned back to the girl in his bed. Her pretty face. Her perfect body. Her sweet sweet soul. “What do you wanna do today, angel?”

A silence fell over them before she opened her eyes again, staring at the ceiling. She thought for a while before turning her head to look at him, “Let’s drink the day away, huh? You and me?”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips pull into a grin before he gently kisses her forehead, “Anything my angel wants.”

…

Hours after breakfast, the two sat in the library, sharing a bottle of liquor. 

Felix’s parents didn’t mind. Not at all. They were the parents to encourage drinking in the house rather than out in bars and clubs, claiming it was best for them to realize their tolerance when safe at home. Felix didn’t care what morals they tried to teach. They could drink in the house, and that’s all he needed to know. 

The bottle sat half empty, the two feeling buzzed as they talked for hours. 

It didn’t really matter what the two talked about. Not at all. Felix could listen to her speak the alphabet for four hours and still think she was the most precious thing on earth. 

But it escalated after a while. The two lay on the couch, their bodies close as they made out. 

His hand was up her shirt, her hands pulling at his hair. He would never get tired of her pretty body. The small noises she made in pleasure. The way her body would react to his touches. He loved every second of it. 

She pulled away from him suddenly, her eyes staring at his lips. “Let’s… let’s go sw… swim, yeah? C’mon Lex.”

He takes a moment to consider, or as much as he could in his drunken state, “you sure, angel? It could be kinda cold…”

She nodded, “Pl…Please, Please Lex. Wanna swim… Wanna swim with you..”

He nodded, letting his fears go before they even became present.

… 

She pulled him across the dock excitedly. 

He set their basket and bag down before setting up their picnic. Well, as much of a picnic they could put together by themselves, two drunk college kids in love.

He laid out the blanket before setting down the other alcohol bottles he brought. He let her take a look at the bottles as he set each one down on the blanket. “Now, let’s waste the rest of the day like you wanted, angel.”

She quickly pulled off her swimsuit cover, revealing the cute red bikini she was wearing. 

He couldn’t help but stare. God, she was such a pretty thing. Too pretty. How he got her, he’d never know. She must’ve felt his stares because she grinned. “C’mon, Catton. You promised a swim…with…with me.”

He nods, opening one of the bottles in front of him. “I did. Just wanna… wanna buzz a little before I do… just…go…go ahead, baby girl….”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She grinned, running off the dock into the water. 

He grinned, laying down on the blanket and pulling the bottle to his lips. “Talk to me…”

She splashed the water around her, “Oh, Lex. This is incredible. This... yeah… good idea…”

His head nods, even if she couldn’t see it. He pulled his sunglasses on, not wanting to look directly into the sun above him. “Well… wasn’t my idea but… I’ll take… credit if it makes you happy…”

She giggles, “It does.”

Felix let the silence fall before changing the subject. “D’ya think Oli’s alright? He was acting weird yesterday…. Should… Should have I invited him to swim with us today?”

He could practically hear her grin in her voice. “Oh, Oliver doesn’t want to be here… this is for you…and me.”

He grinned, “What… what d’ya mean, angel?”

He’s hit in the face with a cloth. He pulls it up.

Her swimsuit pieces. 

He sits up, holding the pieces in front of him with a shit-eating grin. “Fuck, angel. You’re quite… quite wicked… aren’t you?” He took another swig of his bottle. 

She giggles from the water. “Aren’t you glad Oliver’s not here?”

He scoffed, “More than fucking happy… no one gets to see this but me, huh? Such a pretty girl…” He stood, stumbling slightly. How much of that bottle had he drank?

He shuffled forward on the dock until she was in his line of sight. The sight of her bare shoulders sent him into a frenzy. “Fuck…” He wished, just for a moment, that they were in a clean pool so he could see through the murky water. See her pretty body on display for him. 

She grinned, “Ya coming in, Lex?”

He let out a breath, “Jesus, angel. Yeah… yeah I…. I’ll be there.. Give me… give me a second.”

He walked back to the blanket, struggling to take off his shirt. He does so, tossing it in the bag before taking another swig of the bottle in front of him. 

He sets the bottle down and walks back to the end of the dock.

Where was she?

Oh, Fuck. Where was she?

“…Angel…?”

No response. 

His voice grew louder, “C’mon, angel. This isn’t funny.”

When he was met with silence, his mind quickly sobered him. His voice was loud, calling out desperately, “Angel… ANGEL!”

When no answer was heard, he jumped into the cold water. 

He surfaced, his head swiveling around to look for her. Any sign of her. Where the fuck was she?

His heart told him it was just a game, that she was hiding somewhere, but his head said differently. She didn’t play games like this. Not the worrisome kind. 

He began to swim further out in search for her. He hit the middle of the pond, looking around desperately. 

He had only turned his head for a second. A second. And she was gone. 

She was gone.

His family heard his heartfelt screams from the house.

…

A few days had passed, and Felix was beyond disrepair. His hair was unwashed, his facial hair grew in, and his eyes held a dull look compared to the bright shine they used to have.

He felt guilty. So guilty. 

He had killed her.

As much as people tried to convince him that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t do it, it didn’t matter. He still believed that he killed the one thing he lived for. And he killed himself in the process.

With Oliver’s party coming up, Felix couldn’t care any less. He felt guilty for not entertaining his guest, but what was he supposed to do? The poor mourning boyfriend couldn’t even sleep at night, his night terrors becoming worse every night.

Oliver broke the boy’s train of thought. “Felix?”

He looked up from the bottle in his hand, “…what?”

Oliver was saddened by the tired, heartbreaking look in Felix’s eyes. “I’m worried about you. You don’t sleep. Don’t eat… This isn’t what she would’ve wanted.”

“How do you know what she wanted” Felix’s voice growled. His hand tightened around the bottle. 

“I… I don’t know… It was just a thought, Felix. You really do need to care for yourself…”

The poor Catton didn’t even look up from the bottle this time, “You don’t know anything about me, Oliver. Now, get the fuck out.”

Oliver stumbled back, surprised by his harsh words before obeying them. 

…

Felix sat against the base of the statue in the maze. His eyes closed in thought. He should be happy. Partying. Having fun. Enjoying life. 

Life.

How could he enjoy his life when he ended hers?

He reached over to the newest bottle next to him, taking a big swig. 

He was a disgusting human being. How could he even be around a party after he did this? After he lost her? His angel. God, his fucking angel was dead. 

He finished off the bottle quickly, throwing it into one of the hedges. His head fells against the statue, his body relaxing. 

He heard rustling and opened his eyes.

Oliver rounded the corner of the maze, meeting Felix’s eyes. 

“Thought you’d be here…”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed at the sight of Oliver’s antlers. “…the fuck you… you wearing, Quick?”

Oliver’s head tilted, “It’s for the party? How much have you been drinking, Felix?”

The boy’s shoulders shrug, “Doesn’t fucking matter….”

Oliver nods, “Well.. you have the wings on. I’m not that strange for my antlers… unless, of course, you’re too drunk to remember putting them on?”

Felix turned her head to look. Sure enough, a pair of gold wings were on his back. When the fuck did they get there? This whole time? He let out a groan, “I’m fine, Oli…”

Oliver sighs, “Yeah, sure bud.”

Felix noticed the mostly full alcohol bottle in Oliver’s hand, his eyes wandering to it. 

Oliver noticed it too. He held it up. “You want this?”

Felix nodded, holding out his hand.

And Oliver happily handed it to him with a shit eating grin.

“Just… don’t drink too much too fast, Felix. Got that?”

Felix nodded, “Fuck off. I… I’m fucking fine…”

Oliver nods. “Alright. I’m gonna go back to the party. Just… sorry, Felix.”

Felix took a large drink from the bottle, “What the fuck for?”

Oliver shrugs, “Everything, I guess. You got handed the wrong cards in life.”

He scoffed, “Go back to your party.”

Oliver does just that.

…

In the morning, Felix’s body was found in the maze, exactly where Oliver had last seen him. The bottle laid empty in his hand.

Oliver found peace knowing the two lovers were reunited in a much different place.

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

[sinning-23]

Hot Tatted Uncle Pt.3 (Uncle!Sukuna x Teacher!Auntie!Reader)

Alright yall pt.3 also the FINALEEEE lmao I hope you guys enjoyed this lmao and uhhh thank you for the love n support!

This part is a bit longer than the other ones so I hope yall enjoy ll I got a lil crazy wit this. Just for reference this part is NSFW so uhh minors get tf gone lmao.

Warninga: Obviously nsfw, fingering, p in v, slight choking/biting? Very faint, mild overstim, bathroom sex lol, saliva as lube?, try to be quiet trope?

ENJOY!~

Part 2 here

____________________________________________________

He's got his hands busy with the flesh of your thighs, kneading them as your mouths work against one another in unison. He groans the feeling of you seated against his clothed length enough to drive him crazy. Sukuna'd be lying if he said he didn't love how you'd whine at his slight upward thrust, your thighs clenching a bit.

The true task at hand here was to not wake Yuji who was sleeping rather soundly in his room. However, that was becoming increasingly difficult. Sukuna insists on lifting you up a bit just so he can roll his hips into yours, desperate enough to have you both basically dry-humping on the couch.

Your nightshirt keeps slipping down your shoulder so he takes it as a sign to press kisses there, your head lolling back and he skilfully captures the back of your head, his canines scraping against your pulse, his breath hot against the flesh there.

"W-Wait shouldn't we-" You begin, feeling a bit guilty about being intimate on someone else's furniture.

"Nuh-uh, you tryna find excuses now ain't you? Don't wanna mess up my brother's nice couch?" He grins, successfully forcing your eye contact.

"I just don't wanna be rude." You admit, whimpering again when he grinds up into you, vocalizing a groan in response himself.

"That's fine. I got a better idea." He admits, not only standing but easily hoisting you up long with him, his bulge pressed deliciously against your clothed cunt.

"What? Where?" You're clinging to him, your ankles wrapped around his waist as he keeps a firm grip on your backside.

You're traveling a bit down the hall now and he takes a swift turn to the bathroom you'd used earlier.

"I know it's not ideal, and if I had it my way I'd take you to my place right the fuck now." He explains, setting you against the countertop before hiking up your shirt.

"But I know you don't care." He huffs, lifting your boobs with each of his hands, squishing and teasing them, his mouth already latched to one as he covered the space in large, deep-colored bruises.

"I know you don't care that much about being rude as to keep from having his pussy fucked either." He growls, using his free hand to cup it, this thumb touching just over where your clit should be, only held back by your pajama pants and the sheer fabric of your panties.

"F-Fuck. Okay, okay, you're right." You whine, twitching when he applies more pressure.

"Atta girl." He grunts, pulling your pants down along with his, a hiss leaving his mouth when you trace your hand down his chest.

He takes your wrist, guiding it further, your body practically vibrating when he let's you touch it over the fabric of his boxers.

"Uh huh, you feel that?" He moans, Your manicured nails raking over his shaft, the feeling of it twitching in your hand making you gasp.

He cant help but give a quiet, 'fuck' as if rests in your hand.

" I-Its big. I don't know how I'm... Jesus." You whisper, swallowing in anticipation.

"Imma make sure you can handle it mamas, promise." He encourages, letting you dip below the waistband and actually feel it. He whines, bucking into your hands warmth at the feeling.

Fuck it's thick... You can feel a couple of the veins that run along the sides and soon you're able to pull it out of his boxers, truly getting a chance to admire it. God damn it, it's pretty too?! It was easily 7 inches, a nice curve upward with a slightly pink hue at the tip. And apparently, his hair color was natural cause the curtains matched the drapes.

"You gonna stop staring at it and- Oh fuck." He growls, his head lolling back when you start moving up and down, squeezing just enough at the tip to make him thrust into your touch.

"And what? C'mon Ryo, what happened to all that shit you were taking a second ago?" Your voice, newfound confidence, and pure unbridled lust flowed through each syllable.

"F-Fuck, here I thought you'd be shy about this." He huffs, looking down at how your hand held him so nicely, your lips parted, tongue out to let saliva drip down as you sloppily stroke his cock.

"Oh, you're nasty." He encourages, gripping the counter for dear life at this point.

The sounds is so wet, salive mixing with precum as you continue to keep up the pace, multitasking as your mouth works hickeys to his neck.

"See cause now I gotta-" Sukuna begins, his hand quick at your throat as he captures your lips, moving your hands to the side so he can access you.

His free hand works to pull your panties to the side and he easily slips two fingers past your folds, a slippery squelch sounding as a result.

"S-Shit-" You whine, the thickness of his middle and ring finger alone stretching you deliciously.

"What happened Miss Y/n? Huh?" He teases, curling his fingers upward, using the hand that was once around your neck to lift your face and force eye contact.

"Huh?" He asks again, his thumb moving circles around your clit as he continues to move his fingers in and out, the pace making you rock your hips in seek of more.

"I d-dont, I can't, fuck Ryo." You whimper, clutching his bicep as he gives that menacing grin again, pressing kisses to your jawline, occasionally sucking just to liter you with more hickeys.

"Yes, you can. Answer me, c'mon mamas I know you can. Or does it feel too good?" He asks, only getting a gasp in response when he proceeded to do the same thing you did moments prior. Warm saliva travels from his pierced tongue, down to your already sopping wet cunt.

"Hm? I'm making you feel good baby?" Oh he was definitely fucking with you now, knowing good as well at this rate you'd be cumming all over his fingers if he kept this shit up. All you could do was nod, resting your head against his tatted shoulder as he chuckles darkly.

"Gonna cum already? I can feel you squeezing." He notes, not stopping however. And sure enough you do, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound of your orgasm, stomach spasming as he slows down, smiling against your neck.

"Y-You suck." You huff, still coming down from your high, opening your legs a bit to look down at the mess you'd made on his fingers when he removed them. The sudden emptiness makes you suck in a breath.

"Oh yea?" He laugh, soon becoming hyperfocuses on how close he was to your entrance.

There's a silence for a moment like neither of you wants to be the one to ask for more in fear of coming off as greedy or desperate.

"Are you, done?" he asks, almost unsure, his hands gripping your hips now, dick twitching at the fact that he's so so close.

"No, you?" You laugh, scooting forward just enough that his tip is touching your slick folds.

"Fuck no...Can I?" He asks, and with a nod of your head, he pushes in, a hiss befalling both of you.

You pull in him further, your legs wrapping around his waist to do so. He swears, watching how you'd taken all of him with no issue.

"Shhhhit you feel good." He compliments, pausing when he hears you hiccup.

"Mhm."You respond quickly, adjusting to being so full all at once, tears pricking the corner of your eyes,

"Shit, let's just- just wait a second. Damn, what did you think was gonna happen?" He chuckles, kissing the tears away, massaging the back of your neck with his free hand.

When he said a second he meant that shit, because right after he trusted ever so slightly, slow, soft, calculated, letting your pussy memorize the curve and every vein. The pace was set, soon increasing bit by bit the more you moaned, feeding into his ego. If the sounds before weren't absolutely filthy, these were, every time he pulled out resounding in a wet-sounding "shhlick". You both swear.

"Feel good? I can fuck you a lil harder now?" He asks, both answers being yes.

And as soon as it is, he helps you reposition, the mirrors now in front of you instead of behind. Your nightshirt is half off, the rest of it now bunched up near your upper back as he massages the fat of your ass, squeezing with hiss before landing a firm smack that makes you yelp. He only laughs, massaging it before pulling all the way out.

"R-Ryo wait I'm gonna be too lou-"

Too late, he bottoms out, your mouth opening as you're too late to cover the moan he'd just ripped from your throat.

"Holy shit, nah you gotta keep making noise for me, lemme know how good I'm making you feel." He growls each time his pelvis meets your ass you moan.

All you can do is lean against the bathroom sink and take each unrelenting stroke. He’s got your hair in a fist, your neck craned upwards to look at yourself in the mirror. God you don’t remember looking this pretty when you’re being fucked. Then again it had been a while-

“Look at you,” He chuckles, throwing his head back when your squeeze him.

You manage to let your face all against your forewarn to try and muffle your koans. It proved to be useless and he slams back into you again, a raged, “Fuck!” Sounding from the male behind you.

“Close, fuck don’t stop Ryo.” You hum, rolling your hips against his and he follows your pace, although it doesn’t last long when his hips begin to stutter.

“S-Shit, do that again baby, doing so good for me.” He praises, waiting until you fall apart to pull out, only then spilling onto the curve of your back.

Your legs wobble, a feeling of euphoria befalls you as you seem to somewhat blackout, vision blurring. It's messy, you're practically dripping down your thighs and all he can do is watch in awe at how fucking gorgeous you look like this.

He’s massaging you now, a soft apology falling from his kiss bruised lips as he wipes his mess away, planting kisses against your shoulder. The sweetness is nice, but he quickly reminds you that he’s a fucking goofball when he smacks your ass with a laugh,

“You okay mamas? You can stand up?” He asks, helping you stand up a bit with that stupid glaring on his face, knowing that he definitely did his big one after you fail to keep yourself up.

——8:36am————-

You’d forced yourself to wake up a little earlier, Ryomens' grip on you not softening after you'd fallen asleep together on the couch. He insisted you wear his shirt after your nightshirt had been stretched out from the night’s escapades.

So here you were in an oversized beater and your night shorts (which he had to help you put back on cause you were so fucked out)

On the stove were some pancakes you managed to make before Yuji woke, his plate already set along with Sukuna’s.

The light pitter patter of feet alerts you that the culprit you’d just thought of is awake and he reached up as far as his little hand could grasp to tug on your shirt.

“Uncle Sukuna said to ask Auntie Y/n if I can have some pant cake.” Yuji repeats, your eyes snapping to Sukuna’s frame on the couch.

Of course his eyes were closed, a smirk playing over his stupid gorgeous face.

All you go is laugh, scooping up the boy to put him in his high chair.

“Of course you can have some pancakes sweetie.” You hum, pushing him in and feeding his pancakes with a bit of syrup.

“Make sure you tell your TeaTea thank you.” Sukuna grumbles, peaking at you with a smile.

Yuji only does at he’s told, giving you the biggest brightest smile as you process the fact that this man has Yuji calling you Auntie already. You’d be sure to ask about that later.

“Thank you Auntie Y/N” Yuji shouts.

————————————————————-

Authors Note: HEY YALLLLL I tried to end this like kinda cutely? Lmao thank you so much again for all the love and support on the last two parts I wasn’t thinking this would BLOW UP like how it did lmao!

As always my inbox is always open so! If you have any ideas you wanna se written or anything feel free to leave me a message!

Anyway I hope you all enjoyed!

Taglist: @manikosii @ya-boi-v @tergyri @ninacutebee16 @kriegsumire-blog @peachhiz @khaotic-luca @samisfunky @minaloq @teupaidecalcinhasblog @gurutoru @snail-squasher @molita111 @rowrowrowyourboat13 @acidrefiux @ryomensgirll @artistesimp @s-l-u-t @isaacdaknight @sterzin @fushipurro @bakuhoes-bxtch @itsinherited @call-memissbrightside @thedondiva45 @wr4inn @theobsidianempress @sad-darksoul @moonjellyfishie @sukioyakio @mageeko @spindyl @skunabby @rixo-19 @the-haitani-baton @eliyuu @urfav-cupidon @h0nz06 @lem-hhn

[satocidal]

𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳ * ࣭ 𓂂 ˚ ☆ ꙳“15 missed Calls”—Geto Suguru

Synopsis: Suguru wasn’t a jealous or angry man but then you usually didn’t flaunt your ass a round in a tiny dress either- but hey, Halloween’s every girl’s pass at being a whore, right?

── ˚₊✩‧₊ A/n: ok yeah I’m late to post for Halloween but it’s like barely anything to do with it so <3 also I did stray away from what I’d planned to write but then hehe👉👈 also, thanks to @romiyaro for beta and in general (I swear I’ll get pouty! Reader in some Drabble now💀)

── ˚₊✩‧₊ word count: 3.9k

── ˚₊✩‧₊ warnings: MDNI!!smut!!fem! Reader x Suguru; pussy inspection; degradation; jealous (but totally not toxic) Suguru; orgasm denial; hinted power dynamics; reader is more or less a brat; spitting; Suguru is almost a soft dom? It was supposed to be just smut but idk (PWP)

“Crawl”

You stared at him blankly, “Now,” Suguru added, brows raised- a smirk wide on his face as you drop to your knees.

“I’ll be back late, don’t wait up on me Su’”

A nod he passed mindlessly—“Sure thing babe- just lemme know if I have to pick you up and don’t get wasted, send me a message if you change locations and-”

A heavy pause settled in, you walked in skittishly—a bashful grin on your face, “This ok?” Question which referred your dress in place.

Mostly, it wasn’t ok—definitely not appropriate in the way the small little satin piece hugged your body, so short Suguru was sure you would flash somebody after two drinks.

But it was Halloween—every girl’s free pass at being a whore.

A sigh Suguru let out, “it’s gorgeous, you’re gorgeous…”

Your smile, guilty, only spread further, “..but?”

He smiled, shaking his head, “Nothing, just take care ok?” A step towards you and a turn of his finger to give him a spin—chuckling as you twirled excitedly and then hugged him—he was very sure it would be a long night.

-

15 missed calls, 25 messages with the same connotation of “are you ok?” And “where are you?”

A single slurred reply to you 40 messages with a “suguwu :)):) m’ kay. Pck me up im 20?”

And with all obviousness, it wasn’t well received at all—so evident in the way tension hung heavy in the car, your seat belt properly holding you in place—his piercing gaze, and the certain placement of his hand on your thigh that kept you as sober as possible.

“Mm sorry,” you slurred out again, head lolling to the side to look at him—stuck at the way his jaw clenched at your words.

Not a word he passed, not a word after that, did you.

And hence, ride back home was quiet, awkward and…in some way, scary.

Click- the door fell shut, locked, entrapping what was of you and Suguru alone in the house.

And just so suddenly, every stitch in the hem of your flimsy red dress began seeming interesting—“What did I tell you?”

You winced and groaned, internally at his tone—“The fact that I trust you to- to, gods,” he paused as if searching for the right words—but you saw it, the switch in his eyes as they darkened just the slightest—“To leave the house dressed as a cheap little whore, one thing I asked for. Your fucked out lil’ brain can’t even do that?”

You stood there in the middle of your apartment, frowning and loosely, berated as a little kid, it seemed.

“Mm’ sorry Su’ it’s just- the girls-”

A sharp glare from him, enough to make your excuses die down your throat—“The girls this and the girls that right? Why was there nobody when I picked you-”

“-I ordered them all Ubers,” you muttered under your breath, a silence resting again.

“And you couldn’t one for yourself, why?”

You paused, hesitated—never once looking at him, “I thought…I thought I had you so…”

That was when Suguru took notice of the pout you held—the one you did all the time, The one he mostly loved.

“Besides,” you began—attention strained on the memory as you thought hard, “I’m not a child to be taken care of, or someone who’ll get lost-”

What you had assumed would quieten everything down only seemed to uproar a side of him you barely saw.

“Excuse me?”

You gulped, hard—“well yeah-”

“Shut the fuck up.” He snapped, moving all so close—“You were down right freezing and shivering when I pulled up, I don’t care what your girls do but your tits were almost hanging out, like a damn slut. Hell, why did you have those 20 dollar bills stuffed in there?”

You almost wanted to chuckle at the last part- it would make for a funny story, but the look on Suguru’s face screamed that it would have to wait till at least, the next day.

“I was alright,” you scoffed, a hand pushing him away—not a budge that it caused in his stance, “The bartender…he was nice- didn’t even let no one come near our drinks and- and even offered me lemons after closing and-”

“-woman,” Suguru interrupted quick, a long sigh withdrawn, “it was me who offered you lemons,”

You waited—a pink tint already dusted your face, ears burning at his words, “oh.”

He sighed again, seemingly recollecting his thoughts as you bit your lip—gods how he adored you—especially when you wobbled slight, wrapping your arms around his torso and pulling yourself into him, head resting in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled softly, against his body—his hands resting on your sides, “I know you’re a big girl alright? I know you can look after yourself,” he pulled away slight, a kiss landing on your forehead, “but it’s my responsibility too you know? And it was majorly annoying to have you gone like that,”

A nod you passed, again an apology mumbled except this time you were met by the shake of his head.

“No you’re not,” he mumbled, “you do this a lot you know?”

And you do, not informing him of the late night work sessions and what not, not informing him on time of a date cancelled, he was rightfully tired.

“Now, here on I’ll just punish you doll, you can deny it and we’ll go off to sleep and deal with it another time or you can be a good girl, my good girl and take everything because frankly, I’m a little too mad to sleep right now,”

You looked into his words, it wasn’t a bad idea, particularly, you would of course never utter a no.

But then, you knew what it entailed, you knew how it ended last time, how embarrassing but then just how much you loved it too—a nod, all the affirmation provided.

“Strip,” a command from there on, “quick,” he added, eyes boring into your form as he did so.

And strip you did, it wasn’t anything new but just the way your fingers trembled, as did your thoughts as you pulled down the satin dress down—Suguru’s groan was loud, sounding throughout the apartment—your breasts well out easily, “No bra?” And you wanted to snort at the obliviousness of the question, of course, no bra.

“At least tell me you’ve got your panties still on,” you licked your lips, face warmed up at his words—it wasn’t anything new, but then why did that certain tone of condescension feel just so right?

Suguru held back another groan as the white g-string came to his view, the one that he bought, “such a slut,” he whispered.

Over the couch, he motioned you—the sound of his tongue clicking as you stepped forward.

“I’m sure only good girls get to be with dignity,” there on his face, he held a grin which you wanted to slap away too—but all to no avail.

“Crawl” everything in his voice assured you that a brat was not what he would appreciate tonight.

You stared at him blankly, “Now,” Suguru added, brows raised- a smirk wide on his face as you drop to your knees.

It was simply embarrassing, in the way your hips swayed a little as you moved, all that was your dignity remained flitted to that small piece of clothing that you knew Suguru would probably tear away.

Your gaze remained downturned, too ashamed, humiliated to even look him in the eyes—but just one glance and you’d see that amused smirk, the satisfied expression on his face as he took in the sight displayed for him.

You halted near his feet- a ginger lick of your lips, unsure, uncertain on the sequence to be followed, tugging on the hem of his pants in a confused manner.

“Hm? Don’t know what to do? My, and here I thought the big girl was all so smart to do as she pleased,”

You let out a loud whine at his words, startled a little too as he squatted down to your level—“sh,” he muttered, pressing a finger to your lips, “all I want to hear tonight is an actual apology,”

Another nod, tersely you snapped your eyes away, knowing that’s as all you could do tonight.

He hummed along as well, getting up and motioning you with a finger too, “on the couch please doll,” and you were sure what was to come here on.

Across the arm rest you lay, biting your lip—so exposed, so vulnerable and to think he hadn’t shed a single piece of clothing himself.

His fingers were gentle in the way they touched you, you knew he wasn’t mad—but you knew you’d also end up crying by the time he was done.

They traced you gently, over your back, feathery touches to your spine—tickling almost, he bent down just at that too, down to your ear, “Feeling ashamed hm?”

A hum was all to add to his words as you lay yourself easy, tension ebbing away with the way he massaged you—“you know,” he began, “you should be more ashamed of your actions, acting like a brat rather than being ashamed of your pussy and bare ass on display,”

Just at that you wanted the couch to engulf you, you knew that he knew you did—that was the purpose, “You deserve some punishment eh?” A squeal you let you as his pinned you inner thigh, pushing it apart—“should get your pretty little girlfriends too eh? Make em watch since all of you seem like a bunch of sluts to me,”

All in good humour, you reminded yourself, but a small pout found it’s way along your features, as it always did when Suguru got degrading.

“15 spanks,” he mused, “just pink enough right?” — the sentence was ended with another pinch, 15, you but your lip—there would be something more to it.

“15 and you thank me for each, yeah pretty thing? Your pretty head can do that f’me tonight?”

you bobbed your head, not daring to even turn your head and look at him once.

A patient quiet settled in, your body relaxed further—Suguru smiled wide as he looked at you, so perfect for him, “remind me why you’re here sweetheart?”

The sweetness in his vice was sharp still, condescending in every way, “b-because I uh- I…I was out late? Didn’t—did not call o-or inform you-ah!”

-smack!

Your words simply fell short as the slap landed hard on your ass, so sure to grab it right after and and squeeze—Suguru pulled back, and waited.

“Thank you, Suguru,” you sighed, and you waited right after, expecting the next hit.

“We can stop if it’s too much-”

“-I’ll take it, wanna be a good girl, please i-”

A sharp slap on your right cheek and then the left, aimed carefully, accurately proportional, “atta girl,”

“Thank you,” you groaned at his words, eyes clenched shut, surprised in the way he chose not to hold back in midst of your words—but then, typical Suguru.

Just so, many a times Suguru landed the flat of Palm down on your ass, dusty pink to a rosy one, the process was slow as your backside gained its hue, so pretty.

18 spanks in, Suguru never spanked just the amount he promised, always more—the 19th spank sounded like a crack against your warmed up ass, you didn’t bother showing your gratitude.

A small pause, Suguru chuckled, “nothing? Why don’t I just-” a sharp pain elicited in you bottom half as another slap sounded in the room- a hard spank on your pussy, just hard enough to have you gasping.

“Thank you,” you mumbled out—tears forming at the brink of your eyes now,, form slumping onto the couch, exhausted and spent, sore from the position he’d had you hold so long.

“Bet you are, especially from all this wetness,” another slap on your pussy, “getting wet from your punishment?” Another slap, the tears threatened to spill, at this point, “that’s how sorry you are?”

You wanted to scream at him, thatyou were sorry but it was Suguru and this conversation was nuts to begin with so you remained your quiet, the pout slowly turning to a frown.

“On the couch, legs wide apart,” scrambling to your feet, you detested the way he chuckled as you grabbed onto him for support, the booze never helped and the way you were all so sore from hefty time spent in that uncomfortable position, nothing helped at all,, but that was fine, Suguru was gentle in the way he helped you settle.

“Just a small inspection, ok doll?”

The words and the fate of it came crashing down on you fast.

You gritted your teeth at his words, you knew what that meant—he would find your arousal, shame you for it, punish you maybe and you loved the process, every bit of it.

Sprawled across the couch, feet planted to your side onto the couch, while Suguru rested in the place between, warm breath tickling you, making your hole clench around nothing.

“If I slip these panties down,” you’re weren’t sure why he even bothered asking, the wet spot was all so apparent, “will I find you wet?” Even so, you lay audacious—a shake of your head, his smirk widened.

Fingers hooked into the waist and of your g-string, he pulled quick, not a second wasted , he’d been wanting to do this all evening.

An amused raise if his brow, eyes stuck at the string of your juices that worked its way from your pussy to the gusset of your flimsy panties.

There, finally, in all its glory, your pussy lay glistening with arousal under his gaze—“liar,” he grinned as he stared at it hungrily, “such a fuckin’ liar,” he repeated, almost in a daze.

Subconsciously though, your hips rolled, almost lifting to feel his touch, another set of clicking sounds, “don’t act like a cheap whore, you think I’ll just touch your pussy like that?”

Your eyes watched him, confused, as they stared down at his form in between your legs, kneeling for you, hair tied back.

“Need to see if this pussy’s still worth it babe,” and soon enough, everything made sense—a whine of disagreement rose through you, a glare from him acted enough a filter.

“Please, I’m sorry-”

“-prove it doll,” was all he muttered as he dove his fingers onto your pussy, mindful to only cause discomfort as he prodded at your folds, no more or less.

“Let’s see…” he snickered, “gods,” he chuckled, “think I gotta clean all of this before I can even start eh?”

Your eyes bounced around ditzy, you wanted just him, anything—“but the question is do we do this the right way and I wipe you clean? Or…” and all before the statement even came to its end, Suguru had dived in, pressed his hot tongue flat against your folds, basking in the gasp that you let out.

A sharp inhale you took as he pulled away just as fast, his eyes stuck onto yours, “I think cheap whores like you shouldn’t get the better end of the stick so…” with that, you cursed internally at the box of wipes that Suguru and you kept on the coffee table all the time—you cursed as the pulled out three tissues with ease.

“It’s supposed to cause discomfort so be prepared for that but if it hurts or is too much, let me know, ok?”

You nodded at his words, nervousness flickering on your face and he chuckled, squeezing your wrist slight—little comfort that it provided.

The first dab was ginger, as if testing his boundaries, soon came the second and then the third—until Suguru was easily navigating and cleansing you, almost felt infantilising.

How so very humiliating indeed.

“That’s your apology hm?” The smile jo longer rested on his face, “look at only me when I’m down here,” he added, noticing the slight hang of your head and almost closed off eyes.

“Such a naughty girl that you are,” he mused, “am I to believe you got this turned on from a spanking? Or was it something your girls did hm?” A sharp smack that ended on your hardened clit, he stroked it a little while he was there, “how absolutely pathetic doll,”

Shame blanketed you slight, not covering all of what you wanted for you still remained absolutely naked and open on for him, a satisfied hum he passed, tossing away the second tissue after dragging it from your slit all the way down to your other hole.

“Now that I begin inspecting my girl,” he chuckled at the pout you’d held the entire while, “you brought this upon yourself baby,”

And you had, but particularly, Suguru did think you held up better than most times.

You watched as he eyes your pussy, unsure of how to embarrass you further—he grinned, “my my, it’s so pink underneath all that slick hm? Almost as pink as your sweet ass,” with that he landed a sharp slap to your ass, just as a reminder—giggling at your squeal.

Thick fingers spread apart your folds slowly, tracing it over your pussy lips—a tickling sensation, “is your cunt clean enough to be used hm?”

You let out a sigh as he pulled at your folds, making sure to not once lay a finger on your clit—yet accurate enough to just pull back the hood of it.

“Is it clean enough that I can use your little hole now as a cum dump?” His fingers patted down onto your bare cunt, relishing in the wetness that seeped out your hole—“maybe you don’t deserve it all hm?”

With that, Suguru spit on your cunt, the wetness only ever grew as he Smeared it around, “had to make sure,” he snickered mischievously, “that this pussy’s still mine.”

You wanted to whine and groan, shove his head into your pussy so he eat you until you cried—but you know, you knew all too well that any attempts would only get your hands tied and mouth gagged with your soiled panties.

Suguru hummed, snapping his fingers, “eyes on me doll—now, I think, from the outside, you’re ok,” he smirked, “but I’d need to check the inside too right?”

You nodded at his words mindlessly, of course anything he said would he correct, “you’re lucky I’m not mad at ya, would’ve made ya bounce on that dildo of yours till ya’ cried,”

And by now, your patience was running low—Suguru was a tease, apparent from the way your clit itself twitched for his contact, your hips rolled and hole clenched uselessly—you were dying to fight back.

But you wouldn’t, because Suguru demanded a good girl tonight.

A finger moved into you slow, very slow, hips bucked only to be pushed down harshly by Suguru at that—“Take only what I give you,” he warned, loving the feel of your walls clenching about his finger.

You were to watch him, sure but nothing mattered anymore as your head fell back—“please,” you whimpered, “just a little more.”

He smiled at the way your face contorted about his thick finger, slow as he moved it about, a circular motion and then pushing it against your walls before pulling away entirely.

The slick coated his finger just as before, only this time He brought to his mouth still, tasting you right there and humming.

“Good as always,” he muttered, eyeing carefully your ministrations, “please Suguru,” you cried out, “touch me p-please,”

Tricky slope.

Suguru was going to touch you anyways, of course he would but your statement only ever pushed away the ebbing orgasm he would’ve provided.

“Of course, my love,” he grinned—slyly before pushing in two fingers roughly into your hole—loving just how you gasped and mewled about it.

Then again, nothing mattered to you anymore.

"S-S—Suguruuu, harder... please. Moremoremore!" your begs fell in a hoarse voice.

“A sweet spot already?” A toothy grin he held as he pumped the two fingers into you slowly, loving the way your eyes rolled back at his touch.

Your thighs were spread out wide on the couch — raised now in the air as he leaned his body close, reaching knuckle deep and curling his thick fingers up into a gummy spot that made you shudder and grip a cushion.

"Ouh, Fuck! Sugu—"

“Ah, ah, ah, only apologies I said, right?” His tone was so soft even so, almost heavenly that you felt.

You pinch your bottom lip between your teeth as he hits deep strokes and massages his fingertips into your gummy walls— sticky juices are all over his hand because of all that cleansing he worked out of you earlier. Suguru smiled to himself, knowing you wouldn’t appreciate getting that couch wet with your juices in the morning—to hell with that.

You looked cute, as you gasped and moaned in his fingers—he took note of the ever present pout on your lips, oh how he wanted to fuck it out of you—but then, the mean thrusts diluted down to gentle strokes soon enough, boy was he soft for you.

Suguru was doting still, knowing that no way you could’ve taken his cock without prep—struggling with even his fingers tonight, he loved being bigger than you.

Bigger, faster, harder and merciless as they pursue your orgasm.

"Gonna cum and make a mess for me again? Yeah?"

"Yes! Please, pleasepleaseplease — make me cum!" you whisper frantically against him.

He chuckled when you moan, pumping his fingers faster and faster, fingering at your clit with his other hand to tip you over the edge.

“Nothing unless I allow it,” he announced finally, ah—that was why he’d been lenient earlier���gods how you hated him.

He studied you intently as your orgasm built up, if only that was his focus onto other things— maybe if he would have had the same determination in general as he does now when finding your G-spot, then he perhaps wouldn’t have struggled with daily life issues as much as he had to.

Suguru's dampened forehead rested against your thighs. He felt the radiating heat of your pussy in this proximity. Those dark eyes never stop staring at you, making sure you're as flustered as possible even in this pleasure-drunk state.

"Fuck... you're gushing..." he says in awe, " 'promise to lick my fingers clean after, yeah?" he rasps against you.

"Yes yes yes!" you say. He's pretty sure that you would have said yes to anything right then; you were so blissed by the way his fingers worked into your soaking hole, by the way they stretched you open just right.

The apartment was filled entirely, with the sound of your gushing pussy squelching with his thrusts—so tempted to attach his tongue onto your cunt but he knew you’d never be able to control yourself after that.

But to tease you was the goal—just slightly, almost a feathery touch he lay on your clit as he began rubbing it again, “shit doll, I do think your pussy’s worth turning a cum dump into,” you groaned at his words—mind almost mush as you chased your high, clenching at his fingers—until he pulled out immediately.

Until your high entirely ebbed away.

A confused and betrayed look you passed him, “wa-wait what? Suguru-! I-”

He simply giggled at your state, slapping your ass one more time as he got up and away, “you’re an idiot if you thought you’d be cummin’ t’night,”

All of this work is entirely original and my own—please refrain from copying or reposting.

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