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iniquitousyearning · 3 months ago

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SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 15th. mattheo — brat taming / daddy kink.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: play bratty games, win…uh, your boyfriends cum down your throat?

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, glove kink, fingering under the table at a family dinner, dom!mattheo, denied orgasm, SLIGHT mutual masturbation, an absurd amount of dirty talk, daddy kink, ROAD HEAD (how tf does this man keep the car steady? idk), blowjob.

Malfoy Manor has always been stunning—the kind of stunning you've grown used to over the years of being with Mattheo, but that somehow still manages to take your breath away every time you step foot inside. It's perfect in a way that almost feels oppressive, the heavy weight of generational wealth clinging to everything.

The chandelier, the delicate flowers in the center of the table, even the soft scent of roses in the air—it's all so much. Too polished. Too grand.

You pick at your dinner, the taste lost on you.

On any other night, maybe you'd let the beauty sweep you up. But not tonight. Tonight, everything grates. The low hum of formal chatter, the fake, forced laughs that drift through the air—you hear it, sure, but you don't care. You can't care. You're too pissed off to care. It all sounds like nails on a chalkboard.

And the cause of your irritation? He's sitting right beside you, perfectly at ease. Mattheo's been charming the room for hours now, playing his part, all smooth smiles and well-placed comments. He was crafted for this. Moulded into it. He can waltz through these evenings like it's second nature, like he doesn't even have to try.

And that pisses you off too. Truthfully, everything about him tonight pisses you off.

But you sit there anyway, like the dutiful girlfriend you are, playing your role—smiling when you're supposed to, making small talk when you're supposed to—all while on the inside, irritation is bubbling, simmering just beneath your skin.

And maybe it's stupid—trivial—but you're mostly just mad that he dragged you here. Ignored your exhaustion. Dismissed it with that look of his, the one that said you'd survive, as if surviving was the same as being fine. And now, you're stuck in this perfectly orchestrated evening, playing a part you never wanted.

And you'd almost hate him for it—if it weren't for those fucking gloves.

Leather, black, soft and sleek. They move with him, something that masks his ruggedness and makes him almost look presentable—graceful—hiding cut knuckles and the strength within them as he picks up his glass, adjusts the napkin in his lap, brushing his fork like it's nothing.

You almost scowl in frustration of it all. Who the fuck let him wear those? You've been staring at them all night. You don't even want to, but it's like they've trapped your attention, pulled you in without asking.

You're mad at him. The gloves don't change that. But they do something. They make everything harder.

And still, you fight it.

It starts small. The attitude. A quiet, sharp kind of rebellion that only he'd catch onto. Your fingers tap your glass a little too hard when you set it down. Your words come out flat when he leans over to make some passing comment. You give him clipped responses, not looking at him, not giving him what he wants. You can feel the brittle edge of your smile, and you know he can too.

Mattheo notices everything. He always does.

After a while of this, a gloved hand slips under the table, brushing your knee.

A question without words; what are you doing?

You don't react. Not at first. You just shift your foot, barely nudging his ankle, pushing back in the smallest way. He tightens his grip on your knee—a warning, a silent conversation between the two of you, invisible to everyone else at the table.

"Dinner's been nice," he's prodding, testing, his voice smooth as ever. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You feel him watching, feel the weight of his gaze as he picks you apart, dissecting your mood. He knows you too well for this. You finally meet his eyes, and for a second, the room fades into the background. Just him and that damn hand on your knee, the soft leather brushing your skin in a way that makes your pulse stumble.

You try to shake it off, shrug it away like it's nothing.

"Hmm," you hum, pretending you're not affected. Your fingers tap your plate, and your eyes drift again—down to his other hand, resting on the table, playing with the edge of his glass. "I suppose."

His brow arches, just enough for you to catch it—another challenge posed to your audacity. He knows exactly what you're doing—you can see it in the way his lips twitch, the faintest hint of amusement. He's letting you play your game, but you know he's already winning.

"You're mad at me." His voice is low, slipping beneath the hum of dinner conversation.

You blink, keeping your gaze trained on the flicker of candlelight rather than him. It's not a question, not even a statement—he says it like a fact, just a certainty, a declaration dripping in the smugness that comes so naturally to him. And that pisses you off even more.

He’s always too goddamn sure about everything.

"Mm, no." You lift your glass, cool rim kissing your lips as you take a slow, languid sip, the taste biting your tongue. You let it hide the smirk threatening your face. "Nothing to be mad about."

His hand shifts higher, fingers tightening just enough to remind you he's there—dipping into your skin, the silent warning you can feel vibrating up your spine. You should be used to this by now, should be used to the way he takes you apart—but you aren't. How could you ever get used to this?

"Uh huh." He's not buying it. He never does.

His eyes flicker around the room, yours follow, mirroring his movements in a habit you loathe as you let him have that win. Everyone's busy—forks clinking, soft laughter bubbling up like champagne, far enough away to give him the nerve to push you harder. Your breath catches when you glance at his free hand again—black leather tapping idly against the tablecloth like it's got all the time in the world.

Gods, what's wrong with you tonight?

When had his gloves become the focus of your desire? They're just fucking gloves. Stupid, soft leather molding perfectly to those big hands—you’re chewing your lip without realizing it, and his eyes catch yours before you can look away—

Fuck.

"You keep staring at my hands," he's leaning in again, and your pulse skips, trips over itself like it's running from something. "Got something you'd like to say?"

The pit of your stomach tightens, twisting with a familiar dread, a sick kind of anticipation. Of course, he's noticed. The bastard catches everything. Nothing slides under his radar—not when it comes to breaking your attitude.

He likes to say he was born to tame brats—and you, of all people, make him prove it. Sometimes you hate him for it. Most times you don't.

"No, actually." You shift in your seat, trying to shake his hand off your knee, but he's relentless—doesn't budge, doesn't even flinch. "I don't."

Christ. His grip is ironclad, like those gloves were made for this kind of hold. For making you feel every fucking inch of them. You exhale as you gather yourself—you hate him tonight, hate him for dragging you here, for dismissing you so easily—and you want to let him know it. Want him to feel it.

"No?" His fingers slip higher. You glance down the length of the table, nausea curling at the edges of your vision when you spot Lucius' blond head gleaming under the chandelier. Mattheo's voice is low, just for you. "Nothing at all?"

"Mattheo." Your voice is a hiss now, strained, your composure hanging by a thread. You want to slap the smug look off his face, but you don't. You can't. "Leave me alone, okay? I'm here. For you. I'm not happy about it, but I'm here. Just let me be. You're being—"

He cuts you off with a tilt of his head, jaw clenching at the exact moment his hand slides further up your thigh.

Your words catch in your throat, suffocate on themselves, die there.

"Maybe you're being a brat because you want me to choke you, huh?" The words land heavy, like an accusation, but worse because it isn't a question. He knows. "Maybe that's why you keep staring at my hands?"

Your body goes hot—alive in ways it hasn't been all night. The room erupts into laughter, some joke you missed, but it only heightens the tension wrapping tight around the two of you. His fingertips are teasing dangerously close to where they shouldn't be, and you're suddenly very thankful for the tablecloth draped over your lap—

"No." The word slips from your lips, barely a breath, lacking conviction. "No, I—"

"A brat and a liar," he hums, not letting you finish. He's enjoying this now. "You're really racking up the bad decisions tonight."

Salazar save you—his fingers slip higher still, and you clamp your thighs shut, a last-ditch effort to keep him from pushing this into dangerous territory. He responds by hooking a foot around yours to spread you back open—you bite your lip so hard it hurts.

"Maybe I'm just annoyed because I had better plans for my evening," you can't let him win so you spit the words out, voice quiet, hoping he doesn't catch the tremor in it. “Not that you care.”

You don't look at him. You can't. More laughter fills the room. Drowns out the shake in your breath.

He huffs, wine breath brushing your ear. "Keep this up and you may just end up with the evening you deserve."

"And what evening is that?" You spit back, ignoring the way the leather sticks to the heat of your thigh. "The one where I'm stuck here, listening to Draco prattle on about his latest Quidditch practice? Or perhaps another mind-numbing dinner, this time with Dumbledore and friends?"

The flicker of irritation in his eyes is subtle, but you see it. Oh, he's seething now. Dread pools, thick like syrup. You drop your eyes to the table.

"Oh no, not even close," if anger was a voice, it'd be his. Right now, in your ear. "I was thinking more of the one where I keep you cuffed to the bed all night. How does that one sound?"

Your pulse hammers, too fast, too loud—you can feel everything—the candlelight burning your skin, the way the chandelier's glow twinkles overhead, the way his hand is still, still so high on your fucking leg.

No one at the table notices. No one cares. But the feeling is crushing you, pulling you deeper into this private hell of his creation.

"You lost the chance for that when you brought me here," you bite out, hand darting under the table to try and pry his fingers off your thigh.

But his grip only tightens, his foot hooking tighter around yours, keeping you in place. He's relentless. And you hate it. You hate how much you don't want him to stop.

"If you're going to act like a brat, just say so," he growls, his voice a low rumble, "you know I'll deal with you later."

You roll your eyes. "Promises, promises."

You can't help it. You're baiting him now, pushing him just as hard as he's pushing you. The inevitable looms over you, and you know you've already lost. He's not budging. He never does. And you know—God, you know—you're in for it.

If this is the hell of his creation, you were the muse.

"More than a promise," his patience is gone, you can feel it. You wonder just how close you are to him dragging you from the room by your hair, not caring who sees. "Count your blessings."

“Oh, I'm counting."

And with that, you reach for your wine glass again, taking another slow, deliberate sip, letting the bitter liquid slide down your throat—you're oblivious, don't even notice the line you've crossed until it's too late—

His hand moves fast, leather fingers slipping past the last scrap of dignity you were clinging to. You choke on the wine you'd barely had the chance to swallow, the world tipping, spinning, crumbling as his thick, gloved finger glides through your slick folds, sinking into your cunt without a moments hesitation. You hadn't worn panties tonight—a decision that felt normal in the beginning but now screams of poor foresight—but there's no time for regret.

Not now, not with your boyfriend fingering you under the table at a family fucking dinner.

"Quiet, brat," he mutters, eyes twinkling as you cover your mouth, still half-choking on your drink. "Keep making sounds and someone is going to notice.”

Your heart skips, the pulse between your legs responding to the threat, clenching involuntarily around him. You're soaked, the heat of it spreads shame across your cheeks, burning like wildfire in your veins. Why are you this wet? This shouldn't turn you on—it's humiliating, degrading—

"Then maybe don't make me make sounds," you hiss, gripping the table so hard you think the wood might crack. "This is on you—"

He cuts you off, slipping a second finger into your cunt—and the sentence dies in your throat, swallowed by a sharp whimper you disguise as another cough.

"I said quiet." His voice is thin, dangerous. His fingers slide deeper, knuckle deep, and the heat threatens to tear you apart. "Bite your tongue or so help me—"

You bite down, but on your lip instead, trying to school your expression into something neutral, something that won't betray the war raging inside you. You two haven't fucked in days—you're more sensitive than usual—and this forbidden thrill only makes it worse, heightening every nerve, every pulse, as his fingers move in slow, deliberate thrusts inside you.

"You can’t," you breathe, the words coming out weak, a poor imitation of protest. "Mattheo—"

"Shhh," he replies, voice low, a quiet storm gathering in the pit of your stomach. He leans closer, his breath hot against your neck. "Keep your sounds for later."

You snuff a groan, mind racing a million miles a minute—eyes darting around the table in a panic, scanning the faces for any sign that someone might notice. But no one does. The conversation moves on, unaware, the oblivious hum of normalcy in stark contrast to the chaos brewing beneath your skin.

This is crazy. It’s crazy in a way that only Mattheo Riddle could manage and you’re so fucking lost in it you don’t ever want it to stop.

He's not even looking at you anymore, fingers moving steadily, thumb brushing over your clit with the kind of casual cruelty that makes your body shudder. He's laughing, speaking to Draco as though he's not knuckle-deep inside you. The audacity of it makes your head spin. You're teetering on the edge—so close, dangerously close—and if you fall now, if you let go, you'll be too loud—you won't be able to stop yourself—

"Mattheo—please," you whisper, your voice trembling, barely holding on. His thumb rolls over your clit again, teasing, torturing. "You're gonna make me—"

"Yeah," he hardly looks at you. "I am." He crooks his fingers, pumping in slow, agonizing drags that send your brain spiraling into static. "Gonna make you lose the attitude. Gonna make you be good.”

Oh, you loathe him right now, deliciously. "Matt—"

"And you’re going to take it, like it’s not killing you." He continues—leaning in slightly now, examining the way your breath is coming in shallow, broken gasps. “Just like I’ve had to take seeing you in that dress…and pretend it hasn’t been killing me.”

Your eyes flicker around the table again, still desperate for any sign that someone might notice, just to give him a reason to stop—but the conversation continues, oblivious. The leather of his gloves is slick with you now, a wet sound breaking through the steady hum of voices with every movement of his hand.

You part your lips to hiss another pathetic plea—a warning to stop before you explode—but he cuts you off—

“One more word and I'll make sure not a single person at this table leaves without hearing you scream.” He pulls his fingers out nice and slow, rubbing some of the wetness down your thigh before he moves back and pushes back in. “Do you want that?"

You shoot him a glare, but shake your head nonetheless.

"Didn't think so," he mutters, his voice dropping even lower, fingers working deeper, faster. "Look at them," he hisses in your ear, and your gaze flicks over the table again. "They don't even care. Too caught up in their own bullshit to notice, aren't they? But I see you. I see how flushed your chest is—" his thumb presses harder, sending a shockwave through you—"I know what that means."

"I'm not—" your thighs tremble, you’re denying it as though you have any power to stop it. He’s just too goddamn good at this. "I'm not going to—"

"You are," he whispers, and you almost let your eyes roll. "I can feel you soaking my hand. Little cunt is begging me to finish this, isn't it?" His fingers thrust deep, hitting a spot that makes you work to choke down a sob. "You and that fucking attitude can deny it all you want, but I feel how close you are.”

The room erupts into laughter, a sudden burst of noise that pulls all eyes to the other end of the table. Your breath comes out in a trembling exhale, letting out a whimper you know won’t be heard over the commotion—the distraction your only saving grace as you fight to keep still, to keep from rocking against his hand and giving him what he wants.

You lean into him, pleading. "Mattheo, please—if you don't stop, I'll—"

"You poor thing," he hums, his thumb circling slower now, torturously precise. "Sounds like a you problem, princess. Shouldn't have been such a brat tonight."

"I'm sorry," you choke out, words barely coherent but you see the flash in your boyfriend’s eyes. It’s the two words he’s been looking for all night. "Please, just—"

And then—his fingers slip out of you. As abrupt as a cold bucket of water over your head.

You blink, almost gasping at the loss, just as the table erupts into another fit of laughter and you're left aching, disoriented, while everyone begins to stand. Merlin help you—dinners over and you had no goddamn idea. You feel like a robot moving in slow motion as you watch Mattheo wipe his slick fingers off on his thigh, smirking. The room is a blur of goodbyes and handshakes, and before you can even catch your breath, he's got you by the wrist, pulling you away from the scene, dragging you out to the car.

The passenger door of his blacked-out Audi flies open, and you're urged inside, your legs trembling, the evidence of everything he's done to you still slick between your thighs. The leather seats beneath you remind you all too well of the feel of his gloves, of the fingers that had just been inside you, and your cunt clenches at the thought, still throbbing with unfulfilled need. Mattheo slides into the driver's seat, a silent inferno of fury, not sparing you a glance as he throws the car into drive, tearing out of the Malfoy estate.

His leather-gloved hand rests on the stick shift, and you stare at it, unable to look away.

"You're staring again," he breaks the tension, his voice tight.

"Yes." This time, you don't even bother denying it. Not after what he'd done. He’d long tamed your attitude. You can’t fight it anymore. “I am.”

His chest rises sharply, his grip on the gear shift tightening. You bite your lip, feeling your core throb painfully in response.

"Learned your lesson, I hope," he mutters, eyes focused on the dark road in front of you.

"I suppose," you murmur, still breathless. The wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, and so you reach for his hand—tracing your fingertips over the smooth leather before curling your fingers around two of his, stroking them. "I suppose I learned something."

His breath catches when you jerk his fingers, and he sucks in a shallow breath of air through his teeth. You clench at the sound of it. Oh, how you goddamn love being a little tease.

"Mm." His voice is gravel, rough and uneven—you notice the bulge in his pants, his cock straining against the expensive fabric. "You want to cum, don't you?"

You nod, your fingers still stroking his. "Yes."

"Yes?" His voice lowers, a prompt you recognize all too well.

"Yes, Mattheo—daddy—" you correct yourself, your breath hitching. God, you’ve been here so many times with him. You know what he’s looking for. "I want to cum."

His jaw tightens, and he wets his lips. "You want my cock. You need it."

"Yes, daddy," you repeat, the words spilling out easily, exactly what he wants to hear, and exactly what you want to say. "I want your cock. I need it."

"Then finish yourself off," he growls, his gaze flicking toward you for a brief moment, his eyes blazing. "Make your filthy little cunt cum, and if you’re a good girl, I'll let you suck me off."

The command sends an insatiable fucking thrill through you, and without a second thought, you move to obey him—night air biting your skin as you shift your dress up and your fingers find the slick mess between your thighs. A long, long over-suppressed moan escapes you the moment your fingers graze your clit, and Mattheo‘a eyes flash over, jaw working as he watches for a split second before focusing back on the road.

"Fuck," you groan as you push two fingers into your soaked cunt, your head falling back against the seat, back arching. "Oh, fuck—"

"That's it," he murmurs, free hand moving from the gear shift to palm his erection through his pants. You swear you hear him moan. "You wish it was me, don't you? Wish it was my cock inside you."

"Yes, daddy, I do," you whimper, your hips rocking against your hand, fingers fucking deeper into your pussy, lewd sounds filling the steamed space within the car. "I wish it was your cock…inside me."

"Fucking brat with a dirty mouth," he hisses, his fingers working at his belt, eyes darting between the road and you. "Cum for me. Show me how you’re good for me.”

You groan, unable to believe how fucking wet you are, slick coating your hand and thighs, dripping all over your boyfriends expensive leather seat—Gods, you’re so close, the edge that he'd left you teetering on earlier now drawing closer with full force. You add another finger, curling them against your throbbing walls, and Mattheo's breath stutters, his focus wavering as he watches you unravel.

"Look at you. So fucking shameless." His hand slips inside his pants, and he starts stroking himself, his cock already leaking. "I bet you wish I’d pull this car over right now, huh? Fuck you like you deserve to be fucked.”

You moan at how goddamn wrecked he sounds—forcing a smirk through your open mouth, words coming out shaky. "And how do I—ah—how do I deserve to be fucked, daddy?"

The car jerks, just slightly, Mattheo groans.

"Like the nasty little slut you are," his eyes flash to you again, his grip tightening on his cock, pumping faster. "Until you forget how to talk. Until you can't say anything but my fucking name."

Your world spins, orgasm roaring in. "Mattheo—daddy—oh fuck—"

"Earn it," he snarls, his voice raw. "Earn my cock."

One, two more deep pumps into your cunt and you erupt, finally—body seizing, orgasm crashing over you with violent force, leaving you gasping, your back arching off the seat as your wanton moans fill the steamy car. Mattheo watches you through hooded eyes, stroking his cock faster as you whimper and moan his name, orgasm intensified due to him edging you all through dinner—somehow managing to keep the car steady throughout all of this.

Part of you wonders if he’s charmed it.

"Good fucking girl—there we go," he purrs, and his hand reaches over, seizes the back of your head, urging you toward his lap. "Now take your reward."

You’re buzzing—breaths scattered, but there’s no hesitation, no argument. You shift to your knees on his seat, your mouth watering as you wrap a hand around the base of him, tongue teasing the tip before his hand in your hair directs you deeper—lips wrapping around his throbbing cock as he slides into your mouth, hot and heavy. He groans, his hips thrusting forward, just barely, and you gag slightly as he hits the back of your throat.

"Fuck, that's it," he grunts, his voice low and strained. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be choked on my cock. To be shut up like this."

You can't answer, your mouth too full of him as he directs your head to bob along him, as he thrusts into you, each movement deeper, harder. Tears prick your eyes, but you don't stop, your hands gripping his thighs as you suck him down, hollowing your cheeks and drooling.

"Fuck—yeah, that’s it. Choke on it," he snarls, other hand keeping the car impossibly steady. "Wanna see those tears, baby. Wanna hear you gagging on it."

You moan around him at those words, the heat of them shooting straight to your still-soaked cunt, tears spilling from your eyes as his hips buck up, slamming the back of your throat. Mattheo is the most impatient man you’ve known, and it shows in moments like this, when he’s sick of your attitude—when he drops the seat back, one hand in your hair and the other gripping the wheel, his knee keeping it steady as he thrusts deep into your throat. You’re gagging and moaning, working your tongue along the length of him, until with a final grunt, he spills into your mouth and you swallow every drop, his shaking breaths and gutted groans filling the car as he rides out his release.

"Fuck. That’s my girl. My good fuckin’ girl," he pants, his voice rough with satisfaction as he releases you, your lips swollen and wet as you slump back in your seat. "You earned that."

You know you did.

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pseudowho · 21 days ago

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Fever

18+, whimpering!Higuruma, mmm.

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In the small lonely hours-- those which should have been silent and sacred-- Higuruma Hiromi groaned to wakefulness again. You felt the fever pounding off him, abed with your own furnace. Rolling over with a whisper of sheets, you murmured in the dark.

"Can't sleep?"

"Can't...can't fucking sleep," Hiromi moaned. His palms, hot and dry, pressed over his face. He groaned into them, panting and shivering. "God, anything-- anything to sleep-- drugs, a hammer, just hold a pillow over my face--"

You laughed into your pillow, but Hiromi just grimaced. With one forearm concealing his eyes, his mouth puckered like a child about to cry. You felt a wave of pity, and sighed against his chest, kissing the downy black hair upon it until he shivered. His shivers deepened as your lips grazed over his nipple.

"I could help," you whispered, scratching your fingernails through his hair. Hiromi's eyes fluttered closed, his cock flooding with blood to thicken, too dumb for reason.

"You could just...lie there looking beautiful--" Hiromi laughed, rusty and mirthless, "--and I'll make you feel good--" His breath hitched, his cock beginning to tent beneath the sheets, now, "--and you could sleep."

With one arm still over his eyes, Hiromi gripped the plush of the thigh that you had begun to glide over his lap, grinding his half-thickened cock against his belly. Hiromi swore beneath his breath, and revealed one eye, rueful and stern.

"...s'not very fair," he tutted. His one revealed eye glimmered at you, smudged coal and embers, his jaw shaded with stubble. "That's against the rules."

"Ah yes. The sex rules."

"Rule Number One--" You laughed over Hiromi, licking his nipple into your mouth until his voice stuttered to a halt. His hips flicked up, in a pathetic attempt by his fever-wracked body to pleasure itself.

Hiromi, too pissed off to accept being rendered so base, still didn't notice you reaching over him to the bedside drawer as you suckled on his chest, flicking your tongue over his nipples and leaving petals to bloom.

You rose above him, straddling his pyjama'd lap, and hitching your oversized t-shirt up only enough for him to glimpse the edges of your bare sex. Hiromi dropped the arm from his eyes fully, his jaw slack, his sight fixed on the promise of your pussy. He swallowed hard, his throat sore, his spit hot, his head throbbing.

"...rule...rule number one..." Hiromi continued, only half committed. He faltered, his head arching back and shuddering himself to a full erection when you waggled a vibrator idly before you.

"Rule number one," you parroted, shifting his pyjamas down just enough for his cock, roastingly hot, and filled with fire and blood, to bounce, heavy, onto his belly, "nobody gets off while the other does not."

"Oh...f-fuck--" Hiromi whimpered, his arm back over his eyes the moment your hand encircled his cock. You pumped him, stroking slowly, and gently, until veins traced his length like the River Styx. "Please--please, please...want you to..." Hiromi broke off, swallowing his guilt for such needy demands.

You pre-empted him, shifting to wetten his cock head between your folds, stroking back, and forth, stealing his gasps with a pussyjob that made his toes curl. He whimpered again, bucking up into your hand, begging into the night.

"Shhh," you whispered, raising just enough to notch him at your entrance, and lower yourself down with agonising tenderness, "just...let me."

Hiromi moaned his pleas for every inch that he penetrated you.

"--unnnnghhh fuck-- haaah...that...that...should be illegal, I..."

Hiromi's mind had gone blank. In his feverdrunk daze, all he could feel was the slick, tight grip of your pussy, moulding around his cock until he could feel every ridge of you; the way your core licked his foreskin down until the most sensitive parts of his cock were pleasured. He bucked just once, weak and mewling your name.

Too lost in ecstasy, and certain he'd fill you with his seed in a pathetically short time, Hiromi felt the buzz of a vibrator laid on the patch of black hair above his cock. Arching and panting, Hiromi jerked his head forwards, staring at where you were joined, and felt you sink until your clit fell flush with the vibrator.

He melted back onto his pillows, looking up at you in worship, to hear you moan.

"Oh m-my god...if you think I'm getting nothing out of this, Hiro, I swear to god..."

"...most gorgeous...so gorgeous...good girl..."

Riding him like this, with every last millimetre of his cock inside you, stuffed you all the way to your belly. Seeing how Hiromi panted, half pleasure and half fever, you knew he felt the kiss of his cockhead against your cervix just as much as you did. His tip squelched deep, in a tight little vacuum, sucking the pleasure from him.

With the thick, insistent buzz of the vibrator against your clit, you hand to plant your hands on ribs just to stop your knees from shaking.

Hiromi's murmured pleas were half-baked, addled and aching for release; you caught only jumbled words-- tight. Come. Please. Sorry. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Love you. Thank you.

You didn't ride Hiromi, as much as grind him deeply within you. Too greedy for fullness, and knowing that all he needed to orgasm was to feel you milking him, you barely rose off his cock. The rhythmic sucking noises, hushed by the night, sounded belly-deep and sinful. The vibrator barely broke the silence, either, so muffled was it by your pussy.

Hiromi's arms ached to the bone. With one draped above his head, the other lifted only enough to pleasure himself with squishing the plush of your thigh, where it embraced his hips. He stroked you, tender, and hoping he could convey his gratefulness through that touch alone.

When you whined his name, fucking down harder and pressing your nails into his skin, Hiromi felt the hook behind his navel, and the beginning of the end.

Hiromi bit the back of his arm, muffling his own pitiful moans. Pleasure dragged through him, unbidden, the ache in his back and balls dreadful and desperate for release. He couldn't stop his impending orgasm if he tried; he could have spilled over his own belly, just from the grip of your hand.

"--f-fuck...my love, I'm...so sorry-- I'm..."

"...s'okay...close...I'm close-- Hiro--"

---u-ungh...c-coming...fuck...fuck-- best drug, s'the best...so good..."

Hiromi jerked within you, filling you with hot, sticky spurts of cum, thickened by dehydration. He moaned in time with the convulsions, inky black commas of hair across his forehead, and his head plunging back into his pillow.

He couldn't remember the last time an orgasm had wracked through every fibre of his body like this, rendering him electric, alive with crackles and sparks.

His face contorted in bliss, the depth of him inside you, and the lazy spurts of seed, sent you over the edge with him. Your knees splayed out sideways, impaling you onto him completely; combined with the vibrator, you came hard enough to make him whimper, as your pussy twitched the last few drops of cum from him.

Sighing, and trembling, your hands fumbled to turn the vibrator off in the dark. You let your head fall back in peaceful reverence, stroking patterns on his tummy. Eventually, you whispered in the dark, with his still hot cock plugged inside you.

"...feel any better?"

A pause...and a soft little snore.

With his arm over his eyes again, pale and exhausted, Hiromi slept. You smiled, languid. You snuggled down, nestling him and his release within you and covering him with your body.

"...good. Sleep...sleep well, Hiro."

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lilacxquartz · 4 months ago

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eat you up;

toji fushiguro x f!reader

a/n: smuturday is now in session — i’ll be posting these on occasion whenever i have a piece ready, usually these wont go over a wc of 1k.

tags/themes: reader insert, drabble, cunnilingus, oral, praise, smut • w.c: ~800 • masterlist, read on ao3

“And you’re sure you’ll be able to breathe?” you asked Toji, who was staring at you from the bed with a half lidded look.

He hummed, curling his lips into a teasing smile. “Babe, trust me. Even if you do, that’ll be the way I want to go.”

“Not helping…” you sighed, staring down at your bare legs. This was so much hotter when it was something you were both talking about, but now you had cold feet.

Toji propped himself up to his elbows, serving you a slightly annoyed look. The man loved everything about how you were, from your personality to your body to everything else in between; it was almost insulting to him with how much you doubted yourself.

“I got you,” he murmured, patting down his chest as though to get you closer. “My beautiful doll, let me worship you.”

You tried to bite back your worries and shuffled closer towards him, kneeling and crawling over the bed and hovering over him with your bare skin.

His smile widened, taking in the sight of you on top of him. “Now there’s a sight I can’t get tired of…”

“How do I do this anyway?” you fretted, staring down at him.

“Keep crawling,” he encouraged you, “quite literally just… straddle my face.”

You whined a little bit but did as he told and climbed over him, leaning forward against the headboard while your knees anchored opposite his head parallel to one another.

“Like this?” you quietly asked.

Toji flicked his lips to a half smile, taking in the sight of you hovering above him. Your scent of arousal was right in his face and he was loving every second of it, feeling completely in his element. How lucky he had gotten with you, he couldn’t help but think.

“Exactly like that, babe,” he hummed, raising his chin up slightly as his fingers delicately parted at your sex, “just like that…”

The second his tongue found your clit, you couldn’t help but gasp slightly; Toji was an expert seemingly at knowing what he was doing and where to point and how to move to get you to squirm right above his face.

“So responsive,” he muttered, slightly sounding muffled in between your legs. He could feel himself growing warm in all senses of the word—slight hints of redness crept onto his face—while something far below stirred. God, he was growing so hard at the thought of getting you off.

His large hands moulded into the soft contours of your ass, squeezing at your flesh like it belonged to him. His eyes were half lidded and almost zoned out, as though he was already lost in the moment. Toji lapped up at your now fully swollen bud, sucking at the skin in a crazed fervour, intoxicated by just how much you squirmed.

His voice was low and almost breathless as he on and off whispered pretty snippets of loving praise. It was a miracle that you had even heard of these musings, given just how hard your heartbeat thundered in both your chest as well as pulsating in your ears as well as just how needy, whiny and almost pleading your moans were as they slipped out.

“You taste so good,” you would hear him mumble out, his grip on your legs tightening as much as he could without hurting you, “relax for me, let me take care of you…”

Your body started to quiver as your sense of balance quickly weakened; your hands gripped at the headboard that you kept yourself steady on but that was all quickly faltering. “You’re too good at this,” you added in a strained gasp, feeling the tightness in your stomach begin to contract and pass in radiating waves. “Toji… I’m gonna—“

“—keep going, let go for me, doll,” he almost growled between laps, his voice coming out as barely coherent but by his motivated tone you could just about make it out.

His hands guided you even further down so that you were essentially burying him with your sex, but he couldn’t have been happier; he licked at you like a man thoroughly starved, relishing the sensation of the way you grinded against jaw with anticipated hunger.

Unable to contain it for a second longer, your body convulsed and came undone, feeling all of the rising pressure in your core sweep into an apex point of gushing, shuddering release.

Toji of course only pushed himself further inward, so proud of you for finally getting more comfortable but also in a state of complete and utter bliss.

Finally, he could show you again and again just how much he appreciated you and he could hardly wait until the next time.

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evilgwrl · 4 months ago

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Neighbour!Simon Riley x Reader

Girl Next Door (Five)

CW: Oral (f receiving), squirting, second hand embarrassment

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

Thickened hands worked against your flesh, kneading your hips like softened dough, working it between long fingers that itched to feel every crevice of you.

You radiated heat, slick gushing between your thighs, evidence smeared across the dining table as you felt Simon’s hot breath kiss your clit, brown eyes examining your most intimate areas before he finally licked a long stripe against the middle of your cunt, slurping the taste of you into his mouth, staining his tongue with a mix of arousal and sweat.

A guttural breath left your lips as you bucked your hips, two hands quickly ushering them down onto the hard surface as he licked and kissed at your exposure, saliva stringing between your slit and his own mouth as his nose rubbed against your sensitive bud.

“O-h my god,” you hissed at the sensation, whining at the way he slobbered against your mound, his tongue finally reaching your clit as he sucked it into his mouth with a loud sound, gushing around every inch of you with an obscene amount of spit and sound.

He panted against you, practically aching in his own pants as he got off on just tasting you, having you so docile under him, so completely willing under his tongue.

Long digits pressed against your weeping entrance, smearing around your wetness before they pushed inside, your own hand fisted into your mouth as you concealed the pleasured squeal that tore from your dry throat.

Simon pulled away, a hand slapping down against your clit as you winced. “Ain’t doing this if I can’t hear all the sounds you make. Got it?”

You replied in a desperate whine, nodding your head as you urged him back to your throbbing cunt, completely fixated on his touch. The air grew thick with the sound of your moans and the sound of the man devouring you, licking you with a profound urgency.

His fingers worked inside you, gummy walls breached with your slick as he rubbed against them, feeling against all your sweet spots as he curled deliciously, eliciting a raspy moan from you.

Simon would die right here, suckling against your clit as he caressed your cunt, moulding his fingers inside you before he could replace them when you were ready, with his cock. The tangy taste subsided against his tongue, his spit mixing in with your slick as he worked against the hood of your clit, nerves rattling against his pink muscle as he smiled when your thighs wrapped around him closer.

Your knees crossed around his head, desperate for the building high that coiled in masses, simmering in the pits of your stomach. Sweat built at the back of your legs, working in teams to swim down your salty flesh, sizzling into the nape of Simon’s neck as he worked against your heat, caressing it with hot, wet kisses.

“I’m close,” you murmured out, almost falling on deaf ears as he focused on the taste of you, his hand giving a reassuring grip to your thigh as you whined and spluttered around foggy air.

“That’s it, honey, taste so fucking good,” he slurred, almost pussy drunk on you as he growled back a gasp for air before resuming. Your fingers coiled in the ashy brown roots, tugging the base upwards as you writhed, spitting out expletives in an attempt to cool your orgasm off, fuelling your body with the absolute pleasure your neighbour was providing for you.

You came with a pornographic sigh, almost resulting in a wail as you convulsed around his fingers, sweet sap spilling from your heat as it splashed against his forearm and the lower part of his face. You swore you could hear Simon moan as he lapped at it, the overwhelming need for release taking over you as you writhed under his harsh grip, no doubt subtle sweeps of purple would paint against your skin later.

You finished with a loud cry, your legs shaking as the muscles twitched and worked down the upcoming high you just experienced, a satisfied grin lacing Simon’s face as he pulled away, tongue darting out to lick at his drenched lips before he pulled you into a kiss.

He was stained with the taste of you, working your own slick back into your mouth as he worked his lips against yours, stubble rubbing against your stache area as you clamped nimble digits down on his forearm, feeling the pure form of muscle he had worked years for. You both pulled away with a pant, eyes crossed on each other, lashes darting up and down as you let out a dorky laugh, suddenly self-conscious.

“Was that okay? You feel al’right?”

“Simon… I literally squirted.”

Your face burned with humiliation at your own crude words, his own laughter filling the damp air as he rubbed against your thigh affectionately. It had been a while since Simon had done this, too busy with deployment and working, focusing on himself and his team. He never had time for any of this, he wasn’t even sure if he had time for it now. All he knew was he strangely enjoyed your company, pulling him in with a quick glance and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

He fetched you water as you hopped off the table, a slight wobble in your step as you hobbled over to the couch. You noted your desperate need for a shower as you readjusted your nightgown, the fabric stained with sweat and your own wetness as you shrugged off the grimy feeling.

You almost felt like you were moulding into his couch as you twitched uncomfortably, skin coated with a light sheet of salty perspiration as Simon raised a brow. “Do you want a shower? I can clean up and join you?” His tone was gruff but his eyes were gentle, almost softening into a darker shade of brown as you smiled, offering him a polite nod as you scurried off.

Silk left your skin, the back of your neck smothered by your hair that had tangled into a knotted mass, a grunt leaving your pursed lips. Your stomach settled with flushed tingles, nerves coiling through your veins, pumping into your bloodstream as they streamed to your cunt, subtle throbs beating in your clit as you imagined Simon nude, steam slicing through the glass pane of the shower as flesh tangled between wet limbs, lashes clamped with water as he fucked into you, strong hands holding the backs of your thighs as he guided you along his length with ease.

You heard the front door open, rushing you back to the presence as you examined your hair from behind, in desperate need of a brush. You turned the sink on, opening his cabinet to look for anything to wash your face with before landing on a basic line of skincare, a gel cleanser staring back at you, almost mocking you. You fumbled with the lid as you scrubbed away at your tender skin, eyes burning with the animosity of the face wash before thick suds followed down the drain.

You could hear Simon’s voice, almost calling out to you as you flicked off the tap. Fluffy grey cotton wrapped around your frame as you huddled out of the bathroom, following his voice.

“Did you need me?” You asked, barely looking up as you readjusted the towel around you, tucking it in.

“Ay, Simon didn’t tell us he had a missus waiting at home.”

The voice was painfully unfamiliar as you let out a squeak, eyes bolting towards three unruly men standing in the living room, your neighbour nowhere in sight. Your face paled as your eyes bulged, fingers gripping the material that barely covered you as you took in Simon slamming the front door shut, a hand slapping against the back of a man’s mohawk as you rushed away, humiliation exuding through you as you cowered away in his bathroom, wet tears of embarrassment streaming to the surface of your eyes as you let out a painful whine.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

This is not the best piece of work I apologise my beautiful people. :’)

#evilgwrl #call of duty x reader #141 x reader #simon riley #ghost #ghost smut #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x female reader #simon riley fluff #simon ghost smut #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost #simon riley x you #simon riley smut

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forlix · 11 months ago

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𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・741 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・chan x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes so mdni / 𝗮/𝗻・inspired by our beautiful boy's bbl texts about the nylon shoot. he is so loved. i hope he knows it ♡

𝟬𝟵:𝟬𝟵 — Chan is nervous.

He doesn’t say so out loud. He doesn’t say anything out loud, actually, simply appearing in the kitchen to pluck a slice of toast off the counter. Damp curls dripping into the towel slung around his neck, brushing against your cheek when he leaves a good morning kiss there.

But there’s a squareness in his shoulders. A muted glaze over the brown of his eyes and a tightness in the smile he gives you as he pulls away. The images linger in your vision after he disappears back down the hallway, presumably to get ready for the big day ahead.

Words. There are times when they embrace Chan like orchestral musicians awaiting their conductor’s cue, like sunflowers swiveling eastward in the halcyon morning—but there are other times when they haunt him, like the faceless sea of spectators instead of the hopeful performers, like the shadows that comprise the fathomless night rather than the rays of sun that follow.

You rise out of your seat, a quiet sigh leaving your lips. Chan needs the sun, today.

Inside your bedroom, Chan’s towel sits atop your duvet, right beside the white material of the T-shirt he slept in. The bathroom door is ajar and spilling yellow light onto the hardwood. You nudge it open further.

Free to roam after the towel’s removal, transparent waterdrops pave silvery trails down the sides of Chan’s neck, over the gentle incline of his collarbones and the naked hills of his chest. His palms are pressed flat on either side of the sink, his eyes glued to the mirror before him, his jaw set as squarely in his reflection as it is on his person.

He jumps when your reflection joins his. Parts his lips, prepares to speak. But his whole vernacular evaporates when your hands find his waist, when your breath hits the nape of his neck.

“Baby,” he breathes.

There’s a question embedded in the word. The only answer you give him is the quiet drag of your fingertips down the center of his back. He expels an involuntary shudder, and with it the muscles beneath your touch shift like fields of marigolds tousled by a kindred breeze.

You kiss the highest ridge of his spine, letting your lips linger against the smooth skin for a few moments before doing the same, just below his ear.

“What—” He pauses, swallows. “What are you doing, angel?”

When your hands return to his hips, they request something this time. He complies, lets you turn him around, his lower back meeting the marble with a soft bump.

You bring yourself close to him. Close enough to gauge his blushing cheeks and trembling breath and brown, brown eyes, crossed from trying to look at you. Close enough that you only need slightly dip your head to mould your lips to the hollow right under his jaw.

He moans, the sound melodic and low and quickly muffled by the lower lip he bites down upon. You suck lightly, careful not to leave a mark yet entirely fine with the alternative, then graze your teeth over the tender skin, pull away. You don’t go far, though, as your next destination is his Adam’s apple, which you reach not by boat or by plane but by short, wet kisses that resound in the silent bathroom, that draw from Chan’s throat another gorgeous whine.

As you progress in this fashion, traipsing across the plane of his clavicle, the valley of his pectorals, you want to tell him that he’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful when he laughs so hard that his smile turns boxy and his voice gets all squeaky. He’s beautiful when he’s trying not to cry and his eyes look like mirror pools because he’s failing. He’s beautiful in front of the cameras; he’s beautiful away from them. He’s beautiful always, your Chan, your Chris.

That is what you want to tell him.

But you don’t. Not even when his back hits the mattress moments later and he looks like your every wildest dream come to life underneath you: pupils blown so wide that they’ve swallowed his irises, lips glistening and quivering and inconceivably kissable as he sighs your name, chiseled upper body rippling when he props himself up on his elbows. Straining to look at you as you lower your mouth to his navel, undo the knot of his sweatpants with a gentle tug.

You’ll show him instead.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp・@automaticpersonabatpaper・@aceofvernons・@linos-kitten・@newhope8・@weedforthoughtz・@hyunverse

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xvysarene · 4 months ago

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𝕊𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕕

Pairing: LADS Men (Main 4) x Fem!Reader Prompt: When the boys are feeling needy 😏 Words: ~1.7k || 400-500 per LI Genre: Suggestive (Explicit), Established relationship Notice: Mentions of sexual acts A/N: The boys' version of Parched since it's Kinktober.

[ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST] || Parched (When you're feeling needy)

⊱ 𝕏𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕖𝕣

The adrenaline from the mission still thrummed through Xavier’s veins as he unlocked the front door. He couldn’t wait to cuddle with you, you always had that strong effect on calming him down.

But the sight of you sleeping soundly, one leg bent, with the oversized shirt riding up just enough to reveal that you weren’t wearing any panties, zapped all his blood straight to the south of his body.

Inviting. Begging. To be touched.

“𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑚𝑒, 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦?”

You stirred slightly but did not wake, a soft sigh escaped your lips as if you were aware of his presence even in slumber.

No time was wasted as he quickly took a shower, not bothering to put anything on before slipping into bed and nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent.

“𝛸𝑎𝜐…?” you stirred, blinking sleepily when you felt his fingers brushing the bottom curve of your ass.

Your body instinctively pressed closer to his wandering hand as it moved up and down the bend of your spine. It then slid to the back of your thigh, lifting your leg up to drape over his.

“𝘚𝘰𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝐼 𝑤𝘰𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑢𝑝,” he whispered, though there wasn’t much regret in his tone.

Xavier knew he should have let you drift back to sleep, but you were too soft, too responsive to the slightest touch.

Soon, the soft gasps and sighs you emitted only fueled him to delve into your silken folds with an increasing urgency.

“𝛭-𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑒,” you plead.

God, you’re too much.

Your hands clung to his shoulders, gripping him tightly as if you were afraid he might pull away. Instead, Xavier leaned in, his teeth nipping at your neck, whispering words that made your core throb with excitement.

“𝑊𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 ℎ𝘰𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼’𝑑 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢?” He kneaded the soft flesh of your rear. “𝐿𝑒𝑎𝜈𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝘰𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵.”

Eyes half-lidded, pretty lips slightly parted, you nodded at him. “𝑌𝘰𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵,” you breathed.

To emphasise your point, you arched your back, hips canting up toward him, your body a clear invitation for him to indulge in.

“𝛮𝑒𝑥𝘵 𝘵𝑖𝑚𝑒,” he grunted softly, “𝐼’𝑚 𝑤𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑢𝑝 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢.”

But for now, he wanted to feel you writhe beneath him. For now, he wanted nothing more than to hear the sweet melody of your cries as he lost himself in your heat.

⊱ ℝ𝕒𝕗𝕒𝕪𝕖𝕝

Ever since you walked into the hall escorted by Thomas, you never left Rafayel’s peripheral vision even once. The person talking to him droned on, rambling on about upcoming projects, but the words were a blur.

The dress he bought clung to all the right curves, silky fabric embracing your form with a sensual ease, cascading down your body like a gentle ripple of a stream.

When he saw you slipped to the balcony, he cut in with a curt, “𝛦𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒 ��𝑒,” before making a beeline across the room to follow you.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝘵𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑑𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝘰𝑢𝘵 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?”

Your chuckle at his antics quickly transformed into a gasp as he crowded you, pinning you against the railing. He moulded himself further into you, leaving no space, and you could feel his hardness pressing insistently on your backside.

“𝘚𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑠𝑒𝑒.” You lightly slapped at his hand that had slipped around your waist, fingers splayed across your stomach, holding you in place.

The shadows were obscuring both of you just enough. To any wandering eyes you’d appear as nothing more than a couple sharing a quiet moment away from the buzz of the party.

“𝛢𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑎𝑑𝘰𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠”—his breath hot as it caressed your ear, sending shivers down your spine—“𝐼’𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑖𝘵 𝑏𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑟𝘰𝑢𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑠𝘵 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑓𝑢—”

“𝑅𝑎𝑓𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑙, 𝑏𝑒ℎ𝑎𝜈𝑒!” you whispered sharply, though it wavered, the reprimand weak in your voice.

He chuckled, hips rolling against yours in a slow, deliberate grind that had your legs turning into jelly.

“𝛭𝑒𝑒𝘵 𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝘰𝑎𝑘𝑟𝘰𝘰𝑚, 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝘵𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙.” He placed an innocent kiss on your cheek, a jarring contrast to his proposal. “𝐹𝑖𝜈𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑢𝘵𝑒𝑠.”

Before you could argue, Rafayel quickly slipped off to disappear into the crowd.

It wasn’t long before he heard the familiar rhythm of knocks on the wooden door—a secret code the two of you had devised for moments just like this.

He opened the door just enough to pull you inside, making a quick work of locking it before his lips were on yours in an instant—hungry and demanding, tasting of impatience and greed.

“𝘚ℎℎ,” Rafayel murmured when an unbridled moan escaped as his nimble fingers pushed aside the slit of your evening gown, squeezing the fat of your inner thigh. “𝐷𝘰𝑛’𝘵 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝘵𝘰 𝑐𝑎𝘵𝑐ℎ 𝑢𝑠 𝑛𝘰𝑤, 𝑑𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢, 𝑐𝑢𝘵𝑖𝑒?”

A deep, satisfied hum rumbled from his chest as your slickness coated his fingers, smearing your wetness around. The metallic clink of his belt buckle sounded so loud inside the small space.

“𝛣𝑒 𝑎 𝑔𝘰𝘰𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑒𝘵 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑚𝑒, 𝑦𝑒𝑎ℎ?”

⊱ ℤ𝕒𝕪𝕟𝕖

He should have felt ashamed when he felt the intense stirring in his nether region, staring at you like a man starved.

It was already semi-hard when his eyes popped open earlier, catching the lingering scent of your shampoo still clinging to the pillowcase.

But damn, you were just too alluring right now.

Zayne’s eyes were glued to the sight of you, on your tiptoes, reaching for his mug on the upper shelf.

Your shorts had ridden up, revealing the creamy expanse of your thighs, and the hem of your pyjama shirt lifted just enough to expose the curve of your hips—hips that he held when he pounded into you last night, with your moans echoing in his ears.

“𝛢𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑠𝘵𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝘰𝑟 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑔𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵𝘰 𝑎𝑐𝘵𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑚𝑒?”

You didn’t even bother turning around to look at him. You knew exactly what he was doing.

He pulled you flushed against his chest, one hand toying with the hem of your pyjama, while the other swept your hair aside and left a lingering, open-mouth kiss to the column of your neck.

He still hadn’t reach out to assist you.

You huffed and turned slightly to face him, eyes narrowing. “𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵’𝑠 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝘵𝘰𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑝𝑢𝘵𝘵𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑢𝑔 𝑢𝑝 𝑠𝘰 ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒊𝒏?”

Busted.

A small smirk tugged at his lips. “𝐼𝘵 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑎𝘵 𝜈𝑖𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑛 𝘵ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝘰𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔.”

You rolled your eyes at him, though he noticed a smile creeping on your face when you saw his infrequent playful demeanour coming out.

Turning around in his embrace, your fingertips traced the lines of his chest through his shirt, teasing, pushing his restraint.

“𝘚𝘰…” you drew out the word, “𝑑𝘰 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑠𝘵𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝘰𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑒?”

Zayne brought your hand to his mouth, nipping at your fingertips. “𝐼’𝑚 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑—”

He felt a thrill when you started to squirm, no doubt feeling his rigid arousal sandwiched between you both.

“—𝑏𝑢𝘵 𝑛𝘰𝘵 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑐𝘰𝑓𝑓𝑒𝑒.”

A wanton gasp ripped out from your lips, feeling his large hand sneaking underneath your pyjama, palming your mound, teasing your nipple until it stiffened into a pebble.

“𝘚𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵, 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑎𝜈𝘰𝑢𝑟.”

With a low growl, he lifted your chin and crashed his lips against yours. Tongue prodding, demanding entrance, until you welcomed him in for a dance with yours.

“𝑍𝑎𝑦𝑛𝑒,” you breathed, half a plea, half a demand.

Dropping to his knees before you, his hands tugged down at your shorts with an urgency. “𝛨𝘰𝑙𝑑 𝘰𝑛 𝘵𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵, 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟,” he warned, before diving in, mouth lapping on your most sensitive spot without hesitation.

He knew he’d put the mug back on the higher shelf tomorrow, just to have you like this—arching, mewling, and completely his.

⊱ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤

Pushing his chair away from the desk, Sylus nearly choked when you sank gracefully to your knees beside him, your movements slow and deliberate.

Without a word, you gathered your hair into a ponytail, drawing his gaze to the elegant curve of your neck that he liked to mark.

“𝘚𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝘵, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑑𝘰𝑖𝑛𝑔?” His voice was rough when you bent down, peering under his desk, your skirt riding up just enough to leave his mind reeling.

Your voice, frustrated, came muffled from underneath the desk. “𝛭𝑒𝑝ℎ𝑖𝑠𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝑘 𝘰𝑛𝑒 𝘰𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼’𝜈𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝘰𝑟 𝑖𝘵 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒!”

Sylus swallowed hard, trying to focus on your words, but the second your knees hit the hardwood floor, his length had sprung to attention. It was now straining uncomfortably against the confines of his trousers.

“𝐼𝑠 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝘰𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝘰𝑟𝘵 𝘰𝑓 𝑔𝑎𝑚𝑒?”

Who could resist when temptation was laid before them on a silver platter? His hot palm smoothed over the back of your thighs before smacking it, caressing the skin to soothe the sting.

He heard your stifled yelp before you promptly moved back, glancing up at him with wide, innocent eyes, completely oblivious to the effect you were having.

“𝑊ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝜊𝑢 𝑑𝘰—𝒐𝒉.”

A pretty red blush bloomed on your cheeks as your eyes dropped down to the unmistakable, rock-hard outline of his erection.

“𝑌𝑒𝑎ℎ, 𝒐𝒉,” Sylus drawled, amused by your sudden fluster.

Sometimes you were just too naive, too pure, that it awakened an irresistible urge within him to taint you.

Effortlessly, he pulled you into his lap. One hand splayed across your lower back, pulling you flush against his chest, as he rolled his hips to chase the delicious friction that had both of you teetering on the edge.

With a tilt of your head, you met his gaze, your lips hovering dangerously close to his.

There was no mistaking the dampness beginning to soak through your underwear, dampening the fabric of his pants. Clearly, he wasn’t the only one excited.

“𝑇𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝘵, ℎ𝘰𝑛𝑒𝑦,” he rasped, black pupils almost entirely consuming the red in his eyes as his thumb pushed past your lips, and you wrapped your mouth around it, sucking. “𝐼’𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 ��𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝘰𝑢 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝘵.”

A good girl ready to please, you nodded vigorously, and lowered yourself off his lap, sliding down between his knees.

Sylus’s fingers tangled in your hair, and you could hear the low growl of approval rumble from deep within his chest when you looked up at him, tongue out, his length heavy and throbbing in your hand.

“𝛣𝑒𝑠𝘵 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝜈𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑟𝑒𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑎𝑓𝘵𝑒𝑟 𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑠, 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑒𝘵ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝘵.”

⤷ ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST || Parched (When you're feeling needy)

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pierregazly · 9 months ago

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smile kisses ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x reader

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, a lil steamy towards the end [751 words]

request: if possible can you do a mix of 3 and 10 from the 🫶🏻 prompt list with oscar (if not, just 10 is fine 😽) [3. SMILING during a kiss & 10. "tell me what you want, baby." in the deepest, nearly inaudible murmur]

note: this was so cute!! the prompts??? i died 🤭 this is part of my 1.5k celebration! feel free to request away!!

There wasn’t much that could be said about the way Oscar spent his mornings. He was an early riser, always had been; his breakfast’s pre-planned and pre-made for him; a routine that hadn’t seen change in years.

Until you came into his life, of cour

Oscar had, more than once, affectionately commented about how you had blown up every routine and regime he followed. He would always finish off the joke with a soft kiss and the reaffirmation that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Winter breaks for the Australian had especially changed. While before he could’ve been found back home, enjoying the summery, hot weather of his hometown; this time around he was found wrapped around you in bed, eyes following the streaks of rainwater that littered the window and gave view to the dreariness that often overtook London this time of year.

He wouldn’t change it for anything in the world, though. Lazy mornings in bed with you on a cold, dreary day was exactly the type of change he was alright with. Especially when your body moulded against his own so perfectly.

Tracing shapes on your bare shoulder, he placed kisses against the imaginary spots after the completion of each one. A smile gracing his lips with every press of them against your skin, as small giggles erupted from inside you at every action.

It was like heaven, hearing your reaction to his ministrations, to the way he professed his love for you. He wasn’t great with words, but he knew how to make you feel loved, how to make you feel wanted.

“Having fun, Osc?”

Murmuring a soft agreement, he continued the game of bringing bumps to your skin as shivers consumed your body. A soft smile continued to grace his face, difficult to keep at bay whenever he was around you.

Tapping at the hand that was placed delicately against your stomach, you gestured for him to let you turn around to face him. Which he begrudgingly did, a mock glare directed at you before a smile broke across his lips as he traced the shape of your face with his eyes, a hand gently cupping your cheek, rubbing a thumb across the skin.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

Feeling your cheeks warm at his words, you pressed your head into the junction of his neck to stifle the giggle of adoration that was bubbling out of you. The beat of his pulse was so delicate against your lips as you pressed a loving kiss to it, a smile still stretched across your features.

“And just so adorable, really,” emphasizing his words, he pressed a finger into a known ticklish spot that instantly prompted you to flinch away from him.

You were easily overpowered by him, Oscar’s body hovering over yours as his fingers dug into your sides, loud squeals of laughter left your lips. It was hard to focus on anything as you tried to maneuver your body out from underneath him, but the large smile on his lips was infectious.

“Osc… oh my god, please. Enough! No more,” you begged, using all your weight to shove him off.

Relenting, the Australian held himself up with his now unoccupied hands, looking down at you as you caught your breath.

He couldn’t help the urge to press his lips down to yours, unable to keep the smile from his face. You couldn’t express in words how much he meant to you, but the feeling of the smile pressed against your lips was really all you needed to know how much he loved you. You couldn’t resist smiling back into the kiss, your fingers weaving into the locks of his hair, trying to show the love he was giving you, right back.

The passion in his kisses, in everything he did, was wondrous. It always felt like he was trying to form every thought, every feeling, every emotion, into the connection of your lips; especially through the never-ending smiles he always had for you.

Practically mewling into his mouth as he deepened the kiss, you felt him start to press his lower body against yours, a soft groan leaving his lips.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” he murmured, his voice deepening from the arousal coursing through his system.

You couldn’t help the small whimper that was let out as you looked up at him; eyes hooded and clear with his intention, lips plump, practically begging to be kissed more.

“You, Osc. Always want you.”

AH this isn’t as long as i would’ve liked, but i just wanted it to be tooth-rotting fluff with a lil spice of an ending. i hope you all love it, and thank you to everyone that’s been requesting and celebrating with me 🫶🏻

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 writing #f1 imagine #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #mclaren #oscar piastri fanfic #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #oscar piastri blurb #pierregazly's 1.5k celebration

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boytearscore · 5 months ago

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i dare you to try. — chris sturniolo.

summary: you finally decided to join a car video with the triplets after years of them trying to convince you to, but when the topic “who’s more stubborn, you or chris?” is brought up, things take a peculiar turn in which chris is sure he can be the first guy you beg for, so you dare him to try.

warnings: fem!dom, chris!dom, smut, teasing, foreplay, swearing, choking, orgasm denial, size kink, bdsm.

taglist: @chericherrybaby, @fratbrochrisgf, @sturncakez <33

author’s note: so... funny story, girls... i got home from work last night and started writing but fell asleep with my phone on my face. hope you can forgive me, though. anyways, enjoyyy! xo 💋💋💋

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 (𝟸/𝟸)

friday night, 9pm.

you smile excitedly as you are getting ready to a party at the triplets house, eyes and hands are focused on the eyeliner, red lipstick already highlighting the lips and a black short dress moulding your curves. on top of that, underneath it, you were wearing orange lingerie. chris favorite colour, was it a little petty? yes, but you’re not about to lose this dare. absolutely no fucking way.

when you finished recording the video with them, nick had the idea of throwing a party the next day, he wanted to see chaos between you and chris for his own entertainment and so did matt. chris, on the other hand, has already been sending you risky texts and some pictures of his covered hard dick and other parts of the body he knew you were attracted to with captions like “give up already.” and “can’t wait to hear you beg and moan my name.”

you ignored all of it just to give him the impression you were threatened and shy when in reality, there was a whole plan ready to be put in action since he opened his mouth.

finally, you’re done. everything looked impeccable: hair falling over your chest that was mostly exposed by the dress cleavage, a pair of black tights that were connected to the lingerie and black leather boots that went to your knees, not to mention you smell incredible.

after checking yourself one more time in the mirror, a smirk painted in your lips, chris was not ready for that.

it was 10:30pm when you arrived at their house, loud music playing and people everywhere dancing, drinking and even throwing up.

you calmly go through the crowd of people when a pair of hands suddenly grab your hips pressing both bodies and you feel lips into your ear. the person didn’t even need to say anything, you could tell who it was by their scent.

“ready to be my little slut?” you feel the hot breath caressing your skin and the deep voice with a stupid cocky chuckle.

“not even in your dreams, christopher.” you reply, turning to him. matt and nick behind him laughing, that’s definitely the most fun they’ve been having in a while.

he smirks and you couldn’t stop yourself from eyeing his body, he has a black tank top that was complimenting his collar bones, shoulders and abdomen.

and chris would notice you savouring him, but he was too busy staring at your boobs. his mind racing with the thoughts of cumming all over them.

“it feels like i’m watching a porn without the sex part, just the eyes.” matt says and you both break glances at each other laughing.

“is no one gonna grab me a drink?” you ask, rolling your eyes and nick give you a “excuse me?” look.

“you’ve been here more than our parents, go get it yourself.” he replies and you just shrug.

“fucking worst host ever.” you murmur making sure he heard before going to the kitchen and opening the fridge, all you could think of was chris.

he looked so hot wearing that damn black tank top, why didn’t you notice how attractive he was before the bet? it’s like a blindfold was taken away from your eyes, you imagined him on his knees, pleading and whimpering in front of you. things got even more interesting now.

you grab a drink and take a huge sip, ignoring the burning feeling in your throat and walking again through the people, some you knew, some not. you danced either way, a few guys eyeing you from afar and then one came behind you, dancing.

“you alone?” he whispered into your ear and you smiled, turning to him and grabbing his hands to dance.

“always.” he smiles back at you, rolling you around and grabbing your hips. you started dancing, he was cute and really hot.

that didn’t last much, though.

someone abruptly grabbed your hand, making you look behind you with an angry expression.

“today you’re not.”

it was chris.

the guy just stared at chris and vanished away not wanting any trouble, you glance at the blue eyed boy, giving him the dirtiest look.

“what?” he shrugs, smiling. “i’m not sharing you with anyone today, whether you like it or not.”

you give him an eye roll but you’re not mad, it’s not like that guy was hotter than chris anyway.

“don’t ever grab my hand like that again.” you tell him with a serious face and he just nods, looking apologetic. “only if i allow you to.”

you get closer to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and rocking your body to the music. chris instantly smiles, his hands pressing hard on your hips. your fingers running to his hair, and you can’t help but push them back making him gasp.

“you’re such a menace.” he whispers, a hand sliding to your ass and turning you around.

you could feel everything, his hips crushing into yours and his dick getting harder everytime you brushed your ass while dancing. part of your plan was working and you didn’t even get started yet.

you turn to chris and place your hand around his neck, nails scratching it slightly causing him goosebumps.

he couldn’t resist the temptation, grasping your back and leaning in for a kiss, but you stopped him with a finger on his lips.

“not yet.” you smirk at him and he stares at you confused. “just shut your mouth and just follow me, or you won’t be having any fun tonight.” he thinks for a while and nods, not saying anything, the finger drawing a straight line down from his lips to his collar, dragging him upstairs.

when you both get to his room, he closes the door and throws you on the bed, getting on top of your body and pressing his torso against you.

you smirk, just watching him trying his best to be dominant, suddenly, his hand slid underneath your dress, touching slightly your inner thigh. you let out a small sigh, his hand was so warm and it felt so good.

“look at ya.” he mumbled into your ear, moving his hand closer to your pussy. “i’m not doing anything yet and you’re already gasping.”

you don’t say anything, just letting him play his game before yours starts. chris chuckles, amused by your unusual reaction, that motivated him to keep going.

his face close to yours, eyes staring at your lips before shutting them down and brushing both slightly against each other.

you wrap your arms around his neck, messing with his hair and he finally kisses you. not a gentle kiss, an obscene one. tongues fighting and wet sounds, chris can’t help but moan when he feels your nails digging on his back.

his hand finally touches your pussy covered by the lingerie and you moan biting his bottom lip. he laughs, breaking the contact and looks at you, usually that would be the perfect moment for a cocky comment, but he couldn’t fight the urge to tear apart your black tights and pull the dress to your waist, revealing the orange lingerie.

he’s stunned by a second, moving away from your body to take a better look.

“you fucking bitch.” he says, grabbing your chin and bringing you close to his face agresseviely. “you did this on purpose, didn’t you? to tease me.” he asks while using the other hand to undress you completely. “you’re such a slut, ya know that?” he throws you again on the bed, an expression on his face you’ve never seen before.

you smile, opening your legs in front of him and looking beneath lashes, still not saying anything. too bad for chris, but you knew him more than himself. he loves to talk shit and act all nonchalant, but he hates when people don’t engage or ignore it.

chris frowned, staring between your legs and to drive him even more mad, you placed a hand on your inner thigh, slowly going up until it got to your pussy, your fingers teasing it over the lingerie and moaning and making faces while staring intensely at his eyes.

the boy is speechless, he never got so hard and never felt this urgent need to fuck someone before. the sound of your voice moaning and the way you touched yourself, he was mesmerised by everything.

“chris…” you finally use one of your cards, biting your lips and moaning his name.

he can’t hold himself anymore, chris takes off his shirt and pants, still wearing boxes and walks towards you, the smirk on his face vanished a long time ago, all you could see was pure lust.

“you’re driving me crazy by doing that.” he leans against you, using one knee to support himself over the bed, making sure to rub your wet pussy with it. “that’s a dangerous game, i’m warning you.”

you can’t help but laugh, lifting one leg up to reach his dick and rubbing it slowly, his lips parted into a loud moan, tilting his head to the back.

“it seems to me you’re the one about to beg, chris.” for the first time in minutes, you spoke. he immediately looks at you, not liking your comment one bit but feeling his dick twitch.

“that’s rich coming from someone who just moaned my name like a slut.” he replies, grabbing you leg and dragging you to him, now you are completely laid down on the bed, he bends over to reach your waist and slides your panties till your ankle.

“i’m keeping this.” he smirks and throws the orange lingerie on his nightstand. “alright, i’m gonna eat you out till you cum all over my face.” he gets on his knees, leaning closer to your dripping wet pussy. you could feel his breath hitting the sensitive area and that made you shiver.

“thought you were gonna make me beg.” you say, watching every single move he makes. chris licks your clit without warning, causing loud moans from you. “fuck.”

he laughs, staring at you between your legs, hands spreading them as much as he can.

“no silly, i’m gonna make you beg me to fuck you.” he groaned, finally eating you out deliciously, his tongue alternating between flexing the muscles while inside you and letting it loose when sucking and licking all of it.

you grab his hair violently, pushing it hard while rolling your hips into his mouth.

chris was getting harder by second, to the point his dick started to hurt a little. he was moaning and eating you out at the same time, the vibrations causing you an insane amount of pleasure.

“fuck, chris.” you whisper, biting your lips to hide how much you were enjoying it. no guy has ever eaten you out like that before.

so much so that you were about to cum into his mouth, your legs started shaking and the grip on his hair got tighter. he notices your body reactions and smirk, licking and sucking even more faster and intensely.

your moans get louder, you feel contractions through your whole body, soon releasing all the pleasure and cumming into chris mouth.

he licks everything, letting your pussy clean and gets on the bed, crawling on top of you. you smiled at him and he could sense something coming but decided to ignore, all he wanted was to hear the magic words from your pretty mouth.

“i bet i’m the first guy to make you cum that fast, huh?” he says finally being face to face with you, his hard covered dick brushing against your bare pussy and both arms on each side of your head, you were so close that you could feel his heartbeats pressed over your chest, he reach your neck, kissing and sucking on it making soft gasps come out of your lips.

“beg me.” he murmured in your ear, one hand grabbing your boob and squeezing it hard. the pain felt so good, but you’re not about to lose. “beg me to fuck your little pussy.”

he stares at you, his hand going lower until it reaches your core, sliding one finger inside. your back curves, but you smile at him not showing signs of redemption.

and that’s when you decided it’s time.

with a quick move, you revert the positions, thanks to all the self defence classes you took a long time ago, getting a man off top of you wasn’t hard.

chris was shocked, his eyes widened and his lips suddenly opened like he was about to say something but couldn’t.

“you’ve failed.” you tell him, smirking. both of his hands were on top of his head, held by yours. with an evil expression, you press your ass against his dick and he melts under you. “it’s my turn now.”

you go for his lips first, and even though his ego was bruised by the fact that you could easily turn the situation to your favour, he’s too horny to care.

both lips were crashing hard while tongues enlaced, the grip of your hand holding his writs got even tighter when he started to move them, the other one was slowly creeping to his abdomen, chris moaned and gasp onto your lips and when you finally reached his dick, removing his boxers to expose his hard cock.

and then something slaps your back, making you look behind.

“holy shit.” you opened your mouth, turning yourself completely to make sure you saw correctly. “you’re fucking huge, chris.”

he laughs, finding your reaction cute and sitting on the bed when you let his hands go.

“think you can take it?” he asks and you stare back at him, smiling.

“only if you beg me first.” you reply, grabbing his dick and teasing the tip of it with your finger, chris closes his eyes and moans a curse word. “c’mon..” you whisper, slowly pumping him and his back curves. “beg me.”

“please…” he murmured, avoiding your gaze.

you smirk, feeling your pussy dripping. he looked so fucking hot doing that.

since chris was sitting, you easily extended your arm to his hair, pulling it hard to make him stare at you.

“say it again.” you order him spreading all the pre cum over the base of his dick and pulling harder his hair, chris was losing his mind at this point.

“please, let me fuck you.” he asks almost politely with his eyes glued on yours, his cheeks were a slight shade of pink and his red glossy lips parted, letting out shaken breaths.

you don’t answer, just push his shoulders to the bed making him fall and lifting yourself up to get on top of him again, the gaze between both of you was so intense and sexual.

you positioned his cock on your entry, teasing him a little by rolling your hips and chris bite his lip, you didn’t wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to fuck him.

and so you did, sliding his dick slowly inside you with a frown expression and eyes closed.

“does it hurt?” he asks worriedly, grabbing your hips with both hands and fighting the urge to make you jump hard on him.

“yes.” you reply opening your eyes, starting to bounce at a slow pace. “that’s how i like it.”

you feel his dick twitch inside you with your comment, he slaps one of your ass cheeks hard, and you moan loudly.

“you like that, huh?” one more slap, this time harder. you were already bouncing crazy on his dick and both of you were moaning so much that if the loud music wasn’t playing downstairs, everyone would hear. and honestly, none of you cared.

“shit.” chris growns, digging his short nails on your waist. you leaned a little to wrap your finger around his throat and he closes his eyes, gasping.

“so much for a dom.” you say with a shaky voice from the bouncing, tightening the grip around his neck.

he doesn’t say anything, his mind was fuzzy and raced. all he could do was moan and whimper loudly.

the twitches got stronger and you could tell he was about to cum.

“gonna cum?” you ask him and he nods desperately, but then you stop moving. he looks at you, a mixture of annoyance and pleasure. “say you’re my little slut, chris.” you incline over, rolling your hips in slow motion and biting his bottom lip. “say it.”

he lets out a huge sigh with the painful feeling of holding an orgasm, his eyes locked into yours, a few hair strands falling over them and sweat dripping from his forehead.

“i’m your little slut.” he whispers, pressing his hands hard on your waist.

you smile at him, finally moving faster. chris feels the lack of oxygen with the combination of an insane amount of pleasure get to his head. he looks at you like he’s about to say something and you notice his hesitation.

“what?”

“can i please cum on your boobs?” he avoids your gaze again and you feel like squeezing his cheeks, finally you nod. bouncing a couple more times and when he finally starts shaking, you get off of his lap, sitting on your knees.

chris gets up, he tries to grab his own dick, but you slap his hand.

“who the fuck said you could touch yourself?” you smirk, leading a hand wrap around his cock and begins to leisurely pump, chris tilts his head back, coming all over your boobs while you could capture every detail, his husky voice and his dick twitching uncontrollably while lots of cum shower your boobs, you made sure to get it all to your fingers and lick until there’s nothing left there.

slowly, his moans got quieter and he finishes cumming. he looks down at you, smiling and lending you a hand to get up, you smile back and grab his hand getting up.

“i fucking hate you.” he groans, pushing you closer to him by the hand and you laugh.

“that’s what someone who just lost a bet would say.” you reply and give him a little peck, he just rolls his eyes and laughs too.

“i’m doomed.” he slapped himself while you were putting back your dress, making you chuckle.

“don’t worry, my little slut.” you say calmly while putting back your boots. “you’re safe with me.” you say, giving him a wink and grabbing his tank top, throwing it at him. “you should use this more often though.”

chris squinted his eyes and a grin formed on his lips.

“will i fuck you everytime i wear this again?” he asks and you get up, turning to him.

“no, i’m the one who’s gonna fuck you.”

when you both were properly dressed, chris opens the door so you two could go downstairs, but something was waiting for him right outside.

“i believe you have something to say, chris.” nick and matt were leaned against the wall, arms crossed and lips pressed trying hard not to laugh.

but you can’t control yourself, letting a loud laugh come out of your lips, making them unable to control themselves as well. the only one serious was chris, who rolled his eyes and stared at the three of you, sighing loudly.

“fine…” he groans and turn to you, at least he got the best fuck of his life, so he wasn’t that mad. “i was wrong.”

you, nick and matt burst out laughing again and chris holds in for a while, but soon enough he’s laughing too.

#chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x fem!reader #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #strong female lead #strong female protagonist #fanfiction #fanfic #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #smut #chris x reader #chris sturniolo x you

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peachyysainz · 7 months ago

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NINE IN THE MORNING | op81

SYNOPSIS: This bed shares us, and in this bed, we share one another.

PAIRING: oscar x fem!reader

GENRE: smut (18+), fluff

CW: unprotected sex, fingering, hand job. it’s pretty tame and soft but oscar luvs u and u luv him so! i’d say it’s pretty sweet <3

WORD COUNT: 1,497

a/n: this is my first post on my new blog! (this is pretty tame, enjoy it whilst it lasts)

Through the crack in the curtains, early morning sunlight floods gently into the room. A golden line lands itself along the crisp, white bedsheets, only slightly exposed sections of skin being caught under the light.

Oscar is sleeping, undisturbed. His face has no expression, and you find it easing in moments like this, where his face does nothing to contort in its usual ways when he’s in thought — angry, sad; instead, just his mouth slightly agape as he hums in peace.

Bringing a hand to his jaw, your thumb stroking gently upon the surface of his skin, he stirs slightly. He’s warm.

He’s on his side, facing towards you. The slight kinks in his hair fall over his forehead. Your fingers brush them gently and suddenly — he twitches, and slowly awakens from the movement.

“Sorry,” You hum. Quiet. Soft.

“C’mere.” Oscar mumbles back, still half-asleep, arms reaching out to grab you and pull you into his embrace. He knows your intentions.

His eyes are closed, breath fanning the outer shell of your ear as you pepper delicate kisses along the junction of his neck and shoulder — a spot that is Oscar’s favourite, that you’ve kissed many a time, yet never fails to melt him into your grasp.

Hands trailing down to your hips, Oscar takes the time to feel every inch of your skin. The warmth radiating from the surface; the minuscule rise and fall of your breaths, all as he awakes slowly.

It’s early morning, you can both tell that much. Finally an off day for the pair of you, there’s no requirement to rush right now.

Your hips grind softly against his, both of you entirely bare, the movement unhurried. Oscar’s hands on your hips don’t interfere, until he turns you so that you’re on your back, his figure above you.

“You’re needy this morning,” he grins at you. His hands rest on either side of your head, “Can I take care of you?”

You nod, a breathy ‘Yeah’ leaving your mouth before his lips gently mix with yours. Oscar is always gentle in the morning. He’s tender, careful, and he’s your favourite when he’s like this.

His tongue moves timidly against yours. You reach a hand between the pair of you in order to stroke Oscar’s length. With the action, he sighs into your mouth.

You’re slow, tantalisingly slow, and it makes him grow more needy. You’re taking the time to feel every part of him, each small vein, artery, ridge of his Oscar’s shaft. The way his body stiffens under your touch yet moulds to you.

Oscar rests his forehead against yours, and it’s the first time he breaks the kiss. You’re breathless.

“Need you inside now.” You continue stroking his length, until he takes it from your grasp to position himself properly between your legs.

Oscar enters you, hands guiding himself to where he’s needed the most. He sighs at the contact, at the feeling of you stretching around him; at the way your fingers etch further into his bicep with each inch he slips inside. He mumbles, verging on a moan — yeah, oh, God.

The tightness, but the stretch, a juxtaposition he loves with you. The way your body invites him in, and always makes sure he feels everything. Oscar can’t get lost in the sensation, instead, he must constantly be presented it. Over, and over, and over, he feels the way you almost drag him back inside you.

His thrusts aren’t too hard. He’s gentle, but passionate. He wants to push sounds out of you that are loud enough for him only. Breathless and serene, comforting and tranquil in one another’s vicinity.

Oscar moves his forehead from your own, looking down to where he can watch himself slip in and out of you. A hand comes to hike one of your legs up higher, calloused palm pushing against the back of your thigh. It doesn’t seem possible, but it feels deeper.

“That’s it, there?,” he talks you through it gently, awaiting your response.

Throwing your head back into the pillow, your fingers come to roll circles on your clit, “Mmm, Osc, like that.”

Now, you can feel his eyes on you. Watching your face contort in pleasure, he’s not sure what he enjoys focusing on more — the lewd image of your pussy inviting him in, skin colliding and slapping, or the way your breasts bounce slightly from the impact of his hips rutting into yours, or even the way you struggle to keep your eyes open, and even when you do, your eyelids are hooded and your mouth is agape.

Oscar moves your other thigh, pushing against both now so that they rest atop your stomach. If he was fucking you with more vigour, he’d be damn near bending you in half.

“C-can,” fucking hell, “Can you see better now?,” You’re whining. You’re unsure what you grab now that you can’t continue at your clit anymore, instead aimlessly grasping the sheets.

The man above you has to look at the ceiling for a hot second, convinced he could cum alone from your voice and another moment looking at the way you’re unravelling beneath him.

He curses, “So pretty,” when he finally looks back at you. And you take that as an attempt at answering your question.

A part of you would feel guilty for the fact he’s giving everything to you without a need for you to move, but you needed him, and he’s providing for you.

Oscar is close now, you can tell from the way he now brings his chest flush to yours, allowing your legs to rest. His breath is hot on your neck, and you can hear his soft moans. He’s telling you he’s close now, that you’re so pretty and good for him.

You cling to him, arms wrapping around his shoulders, nails digging in slightly. It’s a plea without words — cum now, let me feel you.

With a few more grunts, each increasing in volume, Oscar pulls out suddenly, in near perfect timing. His cum lands in ropes along your stomach. It’s warm.

He rests back on his heels, a hand wiping at his forehead. Sweat. He laughs, “God, I’m out of breath.”

He makes you giggle, and you’re led now, stiff so that his seed doesn’t spill onto the bed sheets. He plants a kiss onto your lower stomach, before he disappears into the bathroom.

It’s not long before he’s back, sitting close to the edge of the bed, wiping you gently. Your fingers trace over his thigh, and you thank him in a quiet voice. Oscar discards the tissues he wiped you down with, coming back onto the bed to lie next to you and pull the duvet back over you both.

One hand props himself up against the pillow, the other sneaks carefully between your thighs. You plant kisses along Oscar’s jaw as he rubs calming circles into your clit, his fingers dipping inside you, curling with a ‘come hither’ motion that makes you grip onto him and call out his name.

The arm keeping his head up comes to snake underneath your neck against the pillow, turning you slightly so that your back is flush with his chest. His fingers continue, as if at a speed tuned perfectly and just for you, and you open your legs wider to invite him to continue.

“Keep your legs open for me,” Oscar kisses atop your head, “‘M gonna get you there.” He promises, and you know he will deliver.

Your moans, mirroring Oscar’s before he reached his climax, increase in volume and desperation. You clutch at his forearm that is wrapped at your collar bone.

Oscar talks you through it again, his lips at your ear, kissing the shell and praising you as he feels your body tense, “Cum for me, please.”

As if by his command, you jolt suddenly, feeling the waves rip through your stomach, a warmth coating your body, and hearing Osc, Osc, Osc! fill the room as he fulfills his duty and lets you ride it out.

You can feel where you’re stuck to him from sweat, the room becoming stuffy and almost unbearable suddenly.

You turn to face Oscar. He’s smiling at you, crinkles forming at the corner of his eyes as you look at him with a slightly dazed expression.

He peppers you with soft pecks to your lips, smiling between each one.

If one of you would break this bubble you found yourself in, and you’d check the time, you’d realise it’s only around 9am. There was plenty more of the morning for you to spend engrossed in one another.

But alas, you stay looking into one another’s eyes, giggling and humming silly little love drunk comments at each other.

Oscar is your favourite when he’s like this. When he’s gentle and kind and caring.

When he holds you again and waits for you to fall back asleep in his arms.

Before he then does the same.

#f1 smut #formula 1 smut #formula one smut #oscar piastri smut #op81 smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #peachyywrites

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anantaru · 1 year ago

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SWEET AND SOFT — WRIOTHESLEY

you know wriothesley won't let you get out of bed, he was insatiable and couldn't take his eyes off you. wc 700

・✶ ｡ warnings — lazy morning sex, clingy wriothesley, fem! reader

"‘m-more, just a little more," wriothesley whispers and offers you a suspiciously cheeky grin. although he was seemingly still fatigued due to the fact that he has just woken up, something else was quite persistent when creeping up on him, more so pestering his limbs and muscles until he's flushed, a pitch of lust pursuing his glazed eyes.

with pleasure, he continues and rests his head against the crook of your neck so he could lazily circle his arms across your waist from behind. the sudden bolt of electricity that crawled through your nervous system was enough to make you lean into his touch before you quiver into his strong grip, something hard and throbbing grazing against the plush of your ass as your slow breathing becomes a little faster.

"mhm, you're so insatiable baby," you giggle, delightfully as you feel his muscular body press against you when your boyfriend smears a couple wet kisses on the crook of your neck, the thrill of him being so content with your frame was igniting something deep within your chest.

as it was, your boyfriend really was insatiable, he's truly unbelievable! but so were you unarguably desiring of him touching you on all the saccharine coated places.

with a quick, single movement of his fingers curling into the waistband of your underwear, wriothesley drags the fabric down and leaves it draped around your knees before he does the same to his boxers, at last freeing his painful erection as he presses it in between the fat of your ass, feeling your silky flesh welcome him dearly.

he really cannot wait any longer— it's a given that he has to act now, because you turn him so utterly mindless with each and every moan slipping past your plump lips, breaking into a million pieces and when you begin to grind your ass back— oh well, he was done for.

wriothesley continues and wraps one hand across your upper chest as the other strokes his dripping cock up and down, slow and lustfully up and down, up and down while smearing the pre over his shaft.

his face was still nuzzled in your neck when he targets your skin, biting and suckling all over the flesh as you arch your back away from him only for your boyfriend to harshly press you against his chest again, parting your legs a little so he could slide himself in perfectly fine.

"there we go, that's better, don't you think, hm?" the duke sighs, dreamily as his voice shakes when you mould your walls around his thudding shaft, your crushing heaves and silent sobs driven by lust as he notices how your body was slightly struggling to take him, all of him— he's so big and the usual morning cold dies down when you quiver at his teeth mercilessly grazing along your skin as he rocks himself into the warm cradle of your walls.

the helpless clamp of your pussy was to die for, it feels like you pull him in with one single throb of your cunt until his entire length was buried in you, your silky walls battering your slick along his cock when he sinks himself deeper, your hole forcing him inside for more, more and milking him so sweetly, so perfect that it almost brings him to tears.

not to mention those sweet, little pleas of yours— they might be his utter favorite after all, and your boyfriend just needs to listen to them over and over until he can pump you full of his gift, with his erection rutting through the sore constriction of your hole so mercilessly that you're shaking, shoving your head back so hard that your back arches through his strong grip.

you just need him so bad that you feel hot crystallines pearl at your lashes— and the duke knows, he always did, never faltering nor losing the strong chains of thrusts he targets your sex with as he purrs deeply against your ear— that being the last puzzle piece that made you spiral into a hot daze.

#genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact smut #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #wriothesley x you #genshin impact drabbles #genshin drabbles

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theemporium · 1 year ago

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[2.4k] when pictures from a past relationship come to light, the whole world decide to weigh in what they think. but it's your boyfriend who is right by your side, knowing who you are and who he loves. it's you and him against a world of scrutiny, hate and jealousy.

based of this request!

You were honestly surprised you hadn’t chucked up the contents of your stomach in the toilet yet, though you suspected you were close to doing so soon.

It was meant to be a normal day. It had started off as a normal day. By some grace of a superior being above, you had the Monday off and you had spent most of the morning just lazing around the flat. You tidied, you sorted out a food shop, you did the laundry you had been holding off on for the weekend. You sorted the place out a little in preparation for Lando coming home.

You hadn’t been able to fly out and join him due to some projects you were working on for university. You decided it would be easier to stay home to finish them off, and Lando respected it even if he pouted incessantly before he left in hopes you would change your mind.

He had messaged you that his flight would be landing later that afternoon, so when lunchtime came and you were fighting back a yawn, you saw no harm in a nap. You had been curled up on the couch in one of his hoodies and a thick blanket over your body, slowly blinking as you tried to focus on the documentary playing on the tv but it was a losing battle.

You didn’t even know what time it was when you woke up. All you knew was that you could hear your phone buzzing and pinging and it was hard to enjoy the warm comfort of sleep when you could have sworn the whole building could hear your phone. You blindly reached for it, your vision still bleary when you peaked them open and saw more notifications than you ever had in your life.

Your heart stopped when you saw the notifications spread across all your social media platforms.

But it dropped to your stomach when you saw the reason behind your trending name.

It was a series of misconceptions, twisted lies and bitter words that were overwhelming your phone screen. Every tweet was worse than the last, every insult stung a little more, every stranger thinking they had a place to say or assume anything about you absolutely fucking sucked.

And you get it. You were dating someone in the spotlight, it was stupid to assume you could stay in the shadows. You could handle being photographed in the paddock. You could handle fans wanting to follow you on social media. You could handle people tagging you in cute edits and wholesome posts. You could even handle the offhand hate you knew most people only posted due to jealousy.

But this? This was something else.

SLUT. WHORE. CHEATER. CLOUT CHASER. DISGUSTING.

The words were blurred and intertwined between photos that you recognised, photos that were indeed yours. They were photos from mere months before you met Lando, making them recent in the eyes of the public. They were photos that shouldn’t be posted for someone who’s happily in a relationship.

Your vision welled with tears, your breathing became erratic and every part of you knew you should’ve just thrown your phone across the room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop reading all the comments. You couldn’t bring yourself to stop putting yourself through that pain.

You felt like your whole life was being thrown in your face.

Suddenly, all your female friendships and interactions were being analysed and scrutinised. They were pulling up pictures with friends from over the years, pointing out the ‘obvious’ signs that they should have noticed before. They were pulling up comments you had left on friends’ posts, claiming that you were blindly unfaithful to Lando for everyone to see.

Suddenly, your integrity to your relationship with Lando was being questioned. They didn’t see you as a fit match for the Brit. You didn’t fit the mould of a perfect WAG. You were an anomaly, you couldn’t be trusted, you weren’t good enough for him.

Suddenly, every piece of your life was being torn up, criticised under a microscope and judged for the whole world to voice their opinions on.

Suddenly, you weren’t a human anymore. You were just an object for them to throw their insults, judgements and abuse at. They didn’t care for an explanation or a response or a story, they had made their minds and they seemed inclined to push that narrative to anybody who would listen. And that narrative only seemed to be solidified by the fact you had missed the most recent race weekend.

Everything blurred into a mess.

You didn’t know at what point you slid off the couch and curled up on the floor, or when the sun started to set outside. You didn’t know when your thumb started to cramp from scrolling, or when the strain behind your eyes started to become more stabbing and irritating. You didn’t know what time it was, or even acknowledge the sound of the door lock turning.

“Babe?”

It was like a distant sound, like your head was underwater.

“Baby?”

And a part of you wanted to say something, to open your mouth but you couldn’t even bring yourself to utter a word.

“Hello?!”

And then, like the fogginess had been lifted away, he was kneeling in front of you. He was in front of you, his expression hinting confusion and his brows furrowing in concern and his touch was so soft and gentle as he reached out towards you.

“I–” A choked noise left your lips, like the words got stuck in your throat and muddled together. But it was enough for Lando to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. And as much as your mind reeled at the idea, your body sunk into his embrace.

“Hey, hey, shhhh,” he cooed in a gentle voice as his arms tightened around her even more. “It’s okay. Take your time. There’s no rush.”

And it felt twisted, in a weird sick way. Here he was, comforting you and holding you and reassuring you. Here he was doing to you what you should be doing to him as you reassure him everything wasn’t what it seemed, that they don’t have the facts—that nobody believed the truth, that you would never cheat on him in a million years.

“It—” You took in a gasping breath, your lungs burning for some fresh air. “It—It’s not….it’s not true. I-I promise. Lando—”

He pulled back, the crease between his brows deepening slightly as he looked even more discombobulated than he did moments ago. “What? Baby, what are you on about?”

You froze, your body tensed in his arms as a wave of discomfort washed over you when you realised he had no idea. He hadn’t seen the pictures. He hadn’t seen the comments. He had no idea, and somehow, that made it even worse.

Scenes flashed before your eyes of him looking through them, of him seeing them for the first time. An image played in your head of his gentle comfort quickly turning into bitter anger. You imagined him pulling away, scoffing, tearing up. You imagined him believing them instead of hearing you out.

You imagined him saying the same bullshit the rest of the world was saying.

And deep down, you knew he never would. That’s not who he was, that’s not your Lando. But for a split second where fear clouded your judgement and your stomach twisted in discomfort, you imagined that maybe your boy was capable of the same hatred that tainted the world.

“Baby?” You heard his voice gently calling out, dragging you back into the moment as coldness seeped into your body. The concern was back again, overwhelming and engulfing and something quite like guilt bubbled inside you about the whole thing for reasons you were unsure of.

“I was in a relationship before I met you!”

The words were blurted out, a few beats of silence passing between you before Lando even seemed to react to the outburst. He nodded, his hands still holding onto you like he was keeping you together.

“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding his head. “I know, babe. I was in a relationship before I met you too.”

“No, I—” You shook your head, letting out a shaky breath. “A few months before we met, I…was seeing someone.”

“Okay…baby, I’m not gonna lie to you, I don’t know where this is going or what this has to do with why you’re upset,” Lando admitted, something in his chest aching at the sight of your puffy, red eyes.

“Because,” you took a moment to pause, to bask in the few moments before you felt like your life was truly about to hit the fan. “Because she was a girl. I…I was with a girl before I met you. Well, she isn’t the only one I have dated, but she was the most recent one and some pictures got leaked and the world seems to think I just used you and—”

“Deep breaths, babe, deep breaths,” he said in a soft but commanding voice, watching the way your chest heaved with the staggered breaths. “Just like that f’me.”

“Lando,” you whispered, your whole body practically shaking from the overwhelming emotions inside you whilst he remained completely calm.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, and this time it was your turn to be confused.

“What?” You blinked a few times. “Why are you apologising?”

“Because being with me puts you in a spotlight you didn’t ask for. It makes people think they have some right to snoop around in your life and voice their opinions on it,” he confessed as his hands stroked down your arms before taking both your hands in his. “I’m sorry I have put you in that position. And I’m sorry they don’t value your privacy, I can understand how upsetting that is when you never asked for this kind of attention.”

“I—”

Yet, you cut yourself off for a short moment. His words weren’t completely false. It was a big change in your life from going as a nobody to a somebody for such a large group of people. It was weird having aspects of your life picked apart. It was weird that people felt they were so entitled to parts of your life. But out of everything you said, the fact he was holding onto that alone made you almost feel like you were going insane.

“And you’re…I just…” You shook your head, looking down at your joined hands where Lando’s thumbs were tracing random circles on your palms. “And me being with a woman is okay?”

Lando frowned a little. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

And it was such a simple question.

Because he was right. Why should it be such a problem? Why shouldn’t it be okay? Why should you having previously been with a woman be such a scandal or detail to latch onto?

And maybe it was the years of feeling like you needed to hide who you truly were. Or maybe it was the shifts in behaviour whenever you did open up about your sexuality to someone. Or maybe it was all the times it was held over your head that made you feel like you had to keep it a secret, that you had to hide the truth, that you had to make sure the least amount of people in the world knew that you were attracted to men and women because of the countless people who made you feel utterly shit in every being secure in that fact alone.

Maybe it was the realisation that there were people out there—people like your Lando—who would accept you without any questions asked because whilst your sexuality is a part of you, it’s not your whole identity.

“I don’t know,” you breathed out, a shake in your voice as the overwhelming urge to cry once again washed over you. “People just said—”

In seconds, Lando pulled his hands away from your grip and raised them to hold your face, the touch gentle but comforting as his thumb swiped away the few stray tears that ran down your cheeks. He gave you a soft smile, and something about it seemed to ease some of the tightness in your chest.

“People are gonna say a lot of things, that is an unfortunate reality I have come to learn over the years. But, the only people’s opinions who should matter to you are those of the people you love and the ones who know you,” he spoke, everything about his presence so soothing in contrast to how you were before he arrived. “I know you, baby. And I know what kind of person you are and how amazing you are. And I know that people can say what they fucking want about you, but I know the truth.”

You let out a small, breathless laugh.

“I’m sorry they made you feel like something was wrong with you,” he continued, a small frown on his face as he uttered the words. “Baby, it’s a part of who you are. And I love every part of you. And if you like men and women, then so be it. I am just grateful that I am one of the people you have decided to love,” he confessed to you, something like a cheesy grin on his face when he said it. “I am one of the luckiest fucking guys about because of it.”

“I love you,” you murmured, your eyes falling shut as he rested his forehead against yours,

“I love you too, baby,” he murmured back, his nose brushing against your affectionately until he saw your lips twitch upwards. And just when the silence had passed for a few moments, he spoke up again. “Plus, I haven’t seen the photos but I am pretty confident in saying that I am probably way hotter than your ex—”

You snorted, the noise loud and unbashful but it made your boyfriend grin at you as you tried to stop yourself from grinning.

“You’re impossible,” you grumbled, laughing as you shook your head.

“Yeah, but I’m right,” he replied with a cheeky smile, so boyish and so Lando.

“You’re much hotter,” you reassured him, even if you rolled your eyes a bit.

“Knew it,” Lando grinned as he leaned down to kiss you, finally happy to give in to the one thing he had been craving to do since he left over a week ago, with social media and the world a distant thought in both of your heads for the time being.

Lando knew you and loved you, and that was all that mattered.

#lando norris #formula one #f1 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fic #lando norris one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

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kurogxrix · 2 years ago

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Enjoy the Silence

Dad!Neteyam x Mom!reader

IN WHICH Neteyam realizes that he’s ruining the relationship between you two by putting his duties first, making your little family fall apart in the process.

Warnings: ANGST, arguing, neteyam is a lil dumb, eventual fluff.

A/N: IM BAAAAACK with a little shitty filler story for yall 🤭

Yours and Neteyam’s relationship had not always been this messy, filled with unresolved arguments and crying toddlers to tend to in the midst of the night. Matter of fact you both had been somewhat of a popular pair amongst the Omaticaya while Jake still ruled the clan, and it wasn’t like that had changed much throughout the years.

Two young, star-crossed lovers bound to fall for each other, bonded for life under the eyes of the All-Mother. There had been little complications in your relationship as you both grew with each other, accepted by both parents and blessed by Eywa herself. You complimented each like you both had been moulded in the sole purposes of completing one another, while you brought some gaiety into Neteyam’s life, he was always there to ground and guide you.

Amidst the instances that life had brought you to, the Great-Mother had been nice enough to bless you both with a new life, a son that had soon been accompanied by his very own sister. Though as Neteyam’s duties began to catch up on his poor soul, his duties as a father and mate have ignorantly been left in the dust.

Your heart ached at the many nights that you had spent alone at night, tending to your two young children while your husband was outside, treating some unrelated matter. Though you knew that being affiliated with the Olo’eyktan’s son would surely mean a future with many obstacles and unforeseen trouble, nothing could’ve prepared you for the rocky stages in your relationship that you were currently facing.

Now as you left as quickly as you arrived, a bowl full of threading needles and feathers in your arms that you had deposited to your mate, Jake could already tell that something was wrong. The tense silence that lingered around you both was suffocating, and low for any pair that shared a bond. Plus it was not like Jake was a stranger to you, he knew you and your talkative mouth, so this was truly odd.

“Your woman cannot even look at you in the face.” Neteyam’s ears flicker towards the sound of his father’s voice, startling him in the process as his calloused fingers graze the tip of the arrow that he was currently working on. The edge is sharp and draws blood from underneath his layers of skin, but an injury of this size does little to phase a warrior.

Neteyam shakes his head at Jake’s words, not finding it in himself to care at his father’s vague words. “What goes on in my home is anything but your concern.”

Jake winces internally at his eldest son’s harsh tone, differing from the usual tenderness and care that laced it. He knew not to take anything to heart, that the constant frown on his son’s face was probably the main source of it. The frown that he had brought amongst himself, though he fails to realise it for now, Jake is persistent on making his hard headed son understand.

Jake’s experienced fingers swiftly threaded a piece of string around his fletching, securing the feather onto the lower part of his arrow. His yellow eyes trailed towards his tall pile of finished arrows, while his son’s harboured a pitiful amount of 5.

“What’s wrong, son?” Jake sighed as he watched his son’s ears fall at his question, his hands pausing their work once more, this time free of any new injury.

“My mate is upset at me,” Neteyam breathed out loudly, and the pause in his voice made it known to his father that he was not quite done talking yet, so observant silence was what he was met with. “We have arguments nearly every night when I come home, and I'm sure that it’s affecting Nikko and Raylu just as much as it’s affecting us.”

Jake watched a sliver of a smile make its way onto Neteyam’s face at the mention of his two beloved children, before quickly fading away at the situation.

The sun had nearly started to leave place for the moon, eclipse bound to fall upon the lands of Pandora. The soft orange hue kissed the father and son, complementing their vibrant yellow eyes. Jake was no stranger to his eldest son’s trouble, for, it was easy to notice the absence of your mate in your family tent, late at night.

Jake didn’t believe that his son had been unfaithful to you, being deceitful was a concept that had been brought to Pandora by the humans, and unlike them, the Na’vi were loyal companions. He knew by the way that Neteyam’s muscles tensed at every move that his son was staying out all night to work, whether it was helping with village work or to help and train the newbies.

Hard-headed just like his mother, Neteyam had let his duties overtake the time that he was supposed to be at home, supposed to be a husband, supposed to be a father. No, instead he used that time to be The Future Olo’eyktan. Though nobody is born perfect, sometimes even people like Neteyam had to be guided to the right direction at times.

“Y’know, it’s never too late to head back home right now, forget about those duties that you have put amongst your own back and be the man that your family craves for.” and with that, it takes a little amount of thinking before Neteyam is up and running, his feet running towards the familiar dirt track towards your little shared hut. He sends a hurried ‘thank you’ and an apology for running off so early, though Jake can only be bothered to chuckle at his son, a sense of pride swarming his chest as he watches his eldest son be the man that he should. The man that you and your children deserve.

Neteyam observes as your eyes widen at his early entrance, clearly not being used to having him in your family tent at this hour. The sun had barely started to set, and both your children were just starting to wake up from their afternoon nap. There in your hand laid a tray of fruits, presumably to feed the roaring bellies of your two bundles of joys. Asif on cue, Nikko’s stomach growls as though he had never been fed before and a shushed giggle escapes your throat at the sight of him attempting to grab the fruit from your higher-form.

Neteyam watches with adoration in his eyes as you bend down on your knees to offer him a fruit on the platter, trying to stifle down his own laughter as your son attempts to grab the whole tray instead. Grubby hands gone and chubby stomachs full, the children are now playing on their own. Though your back is turned towards your husband, he knows that you fear the sight of him. Not that you fear him himself, but the conversation that would obviously have to ensue. He wasn’t here early for no reason, and you all knew it.

“I have saved you a special meal, I knew that you’d work until late again tonight,” you whispered out the last part and Neteyam’s ears twitched towards your direction. Though before he could say anything, you corrected yourself. “Or so I thought, but that doesn’t matter because here you are now.”

Your tone was soft and almost too caring for a woman that had spent the last few nights of her life arguing with her husband about his whereabouts, but he was here now, and there was no need to cause a scene.

Neteyam’s eyes observe as you turn around with two bowls in hand, both of them overlapping with steamed Teylu that you had previously prepared. Though the Teylu was the last thing on his mind at the moment, the sight of you had Neteyam practically to his knees. His mind and eyes raced between every single aspect of you, from the way that your clothes hugged your body in every good way possible, to the way your ears were flickering slightly as you awaited for him to say something.

“I’m surprised that the kids have not come running to me yet,” his voice cut through the sudden silence, choosing to ignore what you had said earlier. His eyes were very much still on you and he looked like a lost man. He looked like a fool in-love, and that was most probably what he was anyway, there was no shame in showing it. The both of you had now sat down in front of each other, bowls in hand as you feasted on the delicacy.

“They are too busy caring about their playtime to even notice the both of us, but it’s the age for such behaviour so don’t think anything of it.” you turned your head to take a look at your children once more, a soft smile gracing your face as you watched them carefully play with their carved toys. Toys that their father had hand-carved for them with love.

“They love you” you reassured him, somehow believing that his previous statement was because he thought it wasn’t the case. You turned your head towards your mate, though you weren’t expecting his eyes to meet yours so abruptly. You couldn’t help but notice the swirl of emotions that ran through them, like he was trying to speak to you through them because he couldn’t do it with his own mouth.

“I love you.” Neteyam blurted out before his brain could even process, though the look in his eyes proved that he meant every single word. The lack of hesitation in his voice made your heart thump hard against your chest, so hard that you could’ve thought that Neteyam could hear it. Your ears lowered at his sudden confession, though they were three words that you had heard many times throughout your relationship, they still had you reacting like you did the first time that he uttered them to you.

“I love you too, Neteyam.” you shyly muttered to him, your ears now raising as you stared your husband down with adoration. Neteyam released a breath that he ignored he was holding at your admission, a pressure upon his chest lifting. Bless Eywa, the way that you stared at him with those blown out pupils made him almost need to grip onto the floor to keep him from pouncing on you. Though now was not the time to get all riled up by you, he had a well awaited apology to deliver to you, and a role of husband to take up back on.

“Listen, I know I haven’t been the best mate as of recently, and I know that you have been suffering because of my actions,” Neteyam trailed off, watching you with attentive eyes to see if he could continue. “I know that I have not been present enough for my family, that I have put my duties at a higher position than they should've been. And I'm sorry for all of this, all that I've been causing to us.”

No words could come out of your mouth at his apology, though you wished not to speak. Something about hearing Neteyam being able to apologise and admit his faults had your hard thumping even harder than before, though he was not hundred percent forgiven in your heart.

“I’m sorry for causing unnecessary fights between us when I knew that you just wanted the best for me, or leaving you alone at night to take care of our children. I promise that as of now, I’ll give you all the time that you deserve. Or, pull my head out of my ass like Spider would say.” You both take a moment to laugh about the said man, Neteyam’s human cousin that you strangely adored.

“I love you and this family, there’s no other place that I'd wanna be right now. I don’t care if you don’t forgive me now, or ever in that case. I’d spend the rest of my life trying to fix my wrong doings.” Neteyam whispered to you.

It didn’t take you much after his whole essay-of-an apology for you to drop your half empty bowl to the side, crawling towards Neteyam that was just in front of you. The sudden throw of your arms around his neck was much unexpected for the Sully son, but he’d take that over anything else. His larger palms pulled you further into the hug, pulling you onto his lap with one hand upon your waist as the other laid across your lower back.

Eywa was he so warm, and how much had you missed the natural heat of his body. His arms engulfed your body into his embrace, making you feel much more protected than you needed to. Neteyam couldn’t help the pur that left his throat as you rubbed your cheek against his in a loving act, his heart felt like it could melt at any moment now. You nuzzled your face into his neck, the tip of your nose touching his skin as your breathing tickled him, and his chuckle was the proof of it.

You didn’t know exactly why you had rushed into his arms so quickly, after the amount of time that he had made you wait for him. But you knew that Neteyam was a good man, he was raised by good people, and he would never do anything to harm you or your little family on purpose. Nobody was perfect and neither was he, he’d make mistakes too, and you’d be here to correct him upon it. You deemed that it was probably your bond that led you back into his arms so fast, or the fact that you had missed him so much.

Though you didn’t care, you’d have all the time of your life to sulk and have him work to make it up to you later on.

“I don’t want to talk about it right now, It hurts just to think about the many nights that i’ve spent without you, Neteyam” the said man faltered upon your confession. He felt his heart tighten at the thought of you all cuddled up under a woven blanket as you waited for him to come back home, tears breaching your waterline as you clutched the soft material for comfort. Although when Neteyam opened his mouth to apologise once more, you were cutting him off again.

“Right now all I want is to enjoy this moment with my mate.” With that, the rest of the evening had been spent with laughter and loud catching-up conversations that you were sure that your neighbours would be complaining about tomorrow. By the end of the night, your little family had all ended up cuddled up together with your head resting against Neteyam’s chest, your children squeezing in between you both.

Neteyam craned his neck down in a weird angle to take a look at your snoring form across his chest, a fond smile spreading across his face as he admired his beloved family. All he’s ever wanted and all he’s ever needed was right here, in his arms. And for once in weeks, your family tent was not filled with blaring arguments or children’s wailing past eclipse, and Neteyam would gladly enjoy the silence.

i’m back after a month with the shittiest ff ever and a peter parker phase that’s coming back after years.🤭

@letsloveimagines

#neteyam x reader #dad!neteyam #atwow #avatar #avatar 2 #neteyam sully #neteyam #neteyam oneshot #avatar x reader #neteyam x you #jake sully

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