#the next one will be pretty simple i promise

[camerahaterlittle]

Jealousy Jealousy | Lucy Bronze

Summary: Lucy feels something she shouldn't after she first held you and had to give you back to Millie

Warnings: Bad writing grammer and honestly I think that's it if not do tell me so I can adjust this a bit oh this is pretty short since this was supposed to be a small headcanon but I turned it into a mini fic

Notes: if you've requested something i promise I'm gonna get to it but I'm being destroyed by uni work so I have to post finished drafts also apart of the Squish universe but can be read alone

When Lucy got the call from Millie that she was going to the hospital because her water broke, she never left the training grounds so quickly in her entire time of playing professionally she was in her car faster than anyone could possibly blink.

She broke a few traffic laws just to get to the hospital, ignoring the honks from other people on the streets as she sped down there all the way to the hospital.

Lucy ran inside, walking up to the counter and looking at the worker in front of her she took a few deep breaths before speaking her arms, resting on the counter. "Millie Bright, I'm here to see Millie." Her words came out at a rapid pace. The worker only stared at her sighing. "Only family of the patient can be let into the labor room." The worker stated as she looked back at her computer screen starting to type up a storm once again.

The English woman sighed, sitting down in the waiting room, not wanting to argue or lie about who she was to her friend, so she waited and waited up until it was well into the night the workers at the hospital now overly tired Lucy waited for her chance to bolt down the hallway looking around for a moment before she ran hoping to find Millie's room without a problem.

"Ma'am! Stop you can't-." Lucy ignored the calls from one of the doctors not stopping for a moment until she reached the labor part of the hospital at least that's what the sign she passed said.

She finally stopped running, her breathing ragged as she looked around, trying to find some inductor on where her teammate was she pulled out her phone, texting Millie, hoping she wasn't asleep just yet asking her what her room number was.

It didn't take long for the fellow defender to respond texting her back with a simple "my room number is 125" not really questioning why Lucy was asking her this question at all.

Lucy rubbed her forehead as she looked at all the numbers on the doors, finally finding the one Millie was in entering the room immediately shutting the door behind her as she made her way to sit next to Millie groaning as she sat down in the uncomfortable hospital chair her and the fellow English woman falling into an eqsy conversation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't make your appearance until the early hours of the morning, Lucy being 95% sure that Millie messed up something in her hand when she was in the process of pushing you out of her body.

The cries subsided as you were cleaned off and handed to Millie being placed on her chest immediately calming down when you made contact with your mother's skin the new found mother smiling as she let out a sigh of relief much like Lucy did as Millie finally released her hand.

Lucy didn't get to hold you until it was well into the night, and you started crying for an unknown reason at the time (she soon realized it was because you were rudely awoken by the people outside of the room) your aunt immediately walking over to your little crib next to your mom's hospital bed picking you up shushing you as she lightly bounced holding you close to her.

She walked over to the bed/couch she was lying on, sitting down singing a random lullaby that she remembered off the top of her head almost immediately. You stopped crying, sniffling as you settled down in her arms, liking the slightly rumble in her chest from the singing.

"I've got you bubs, your aunt Luce is here." She whispered in your ear, looking down at you as she pressed the most gentle kiss to the top of your head seeing that you were almost out like a light.

Lucy smiled softly when she looked down at you after singing another random lullaby. Seeing that you were back asleep, she glanced over at Millie to make sure she was still asleep, thankful to see that she was still, in fact, knocked out she most definitely needed all the rest she could get after having you.

She ended up staying up for the rest of the night watching over you as you slept peacefully on her without stirring once Millie eventually woke up immediately looking over at your crib when she didn't see you there she started to panic as she looked over at Lucy ready to wake her up but she was silenced when she saw you and Lucy together just laying there.

"Luce, you could've woke me up. i would've stayed with her." Millie spoke suddenly, feeling guilty that her teammate had to say up half the night with you just so you could sleep peacefully.

"No, you needed sleep, and I just wanted to hold her for a bit." She said her words were coming out as a soft whisper, so she didn't wake you up.

Millie was somewhat shocked by her words and the care by which she was holding you in her arms. The sight to her was the best she knew right then, and there that she wouldn't ever have to be alone when it came to you, not when Lucy was there willing to lose sleep for you like this.

You finally stirred, starting to cry once more. Your mother opened her arms, Lucy slowly getting up and walking over towards the bed, handing you to Millie, then sitting back down watching as you latched onto her immediately, getting what you wanted.

Lucy felt an odd feeling as she watched this happen in front of her one that she wasn't used to feeling at all she knew exactly what this feeling was, but she didn't know why exactly she felt this way as she watched you with Millie.

She tried thinking of every possibility of why she was feeling jealous over the scene, but she was still clueless on why she felt like this it was unknown to her in the moment all she knew was she was jealous and that was a fact.

[wwwildberries]

Shoelaces 🍎⋆｡

young!Caleb x young!F!Reader/MC

Summary : Reader and Caleb went out to play in the park, but at some point, you weren't listening to him when he was warning you about something, causing you to get injured.

[U guys r around 6-9 here. idk up to you, but just keep in mind that the reader and Caleb r still tiny]

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 : Mentions of blood

╭────── · · 🩹 · · ──────╮

"Grandma! Can Caleb and I go out to the park to play?! We promise not to get lost!" You ran up to her with hope, hoping for her to give in. "Yeah, we won't get anywhere that's too far away from home." Caleb chimed in from behind you with a toothy grin.

She looked down at both of you, taking a moment to think as she put down her cup of tea and the newspaper that she was reading on the coffee table. After seeing the puppy eyes both you and Caleb were giving her, she sighed and nodded in reply. "Alright, alright... promise me that none of you will get hurt, too, though. Caleb, look out for [name] as well."

"Yeah, I will, like always! There's no need to underestimate my awesome protecting skills!" Caleb proudly puffs his chest dramatically with his hands on his hips. Grandma chuckled at his cute anticipation and poked his stomach lightly. "Alright, young man... You two run along now. Go home before dinner time, alright?"

"Yes, grandma!" Both of you said in unison. Both of you grabbed each of your shoes and put them on securely on your feet. After that, both of you said your goodbyes to grandma before walking out of the house.

When you guys arrived, you excitedly gasped while jumping excitedly, pointing at the swings. "Caleb, Caleb! Look! They finally added swings here!" You exclaimed and didn't hesitate for a second to pull him by his hand, guiding him to where the swing was. He giggled along with you as you guys made your way to the swing.

"They added a swing." He corrected you smugly. "You want to go on it first? I'll help you swing on it by pushing you!" He offered since there was only one swing at the park where you guys were playing in.

"Yeah! I'll push you too after I'm done!" You got on the swing with little of Caleb's help.

After a while of going on back and forth on the slides, swings, seesaw, etc, Caleb brought up the idea of playing tag, and of course, you couldn't say no to that! Although, after a few rounds of playing tag together, your shoelaces became undone by itself without you knowing it. Caleb saw your untied shoelaces and tried warning you about it. "[Name]! Your shoelaces—" He yelled as he chased after you, trying to reach for your arm to stop you.

You thought that he was only playing tricks on you just so he could win the game, so you kept running away. "No! I know you're lying, Cale–" You then cut yourself off when you felt something keeping one of your legs still, just as Caleb expected, you accidentally stepped onto your untied shoelaces. your body hitting the ground with a loud 'thud' after you fell.

A wave of worry washes over Caleb's face. He quickly ran towards you to check if you were alright, squatting down next to you, lowering his head to see your face better while wrapping one of his arms around your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you.

"[Name]?.. Are you okay? How bad does it hurt? Do you think that you can still walk back home? Would you want me to carry you instead?" He attacked you with simple questions that are filled with his worried tone. His hand was about to touch your cheek, wanting to wipe the tears away even though there aren't any.

You quickly swatted his hand away and mumbled, "I'm not crying." Before slowly sitting down, checking your knee that has a pretty big scratch after falling and scratching it against the concrete. Your eyes widened at the sight of your knee, panicking when you saw it bleeding.

"C-Caleb! Quickly! Help me clean it!" Your eyes kept darting back and forth from his gaze, then to your knee.

"I-I don't have anything to clean it with!" He stood up and looked around the park, hoping to find something that could help and clean your wound. His eyes landed on a faucet that was attached to the wall near the entrance of the park. Without a second thought, he picked you up, carrying you to the faucet, earning a surprised yelp from you.

Afterward, he puts you on your feet, turning on the faucet. He was supporting your body by pressing your back against his chest. His hand holding one of your wrists and his other hand held your side. "Just put your knee in the water."

"No! It'll hurt—"

"Do you want it cleaned or not?!" He cuts you off while gently pushing you closer to the running water.

"Hmhp..." You winced as you felt the running cold water stinging your wound even more. "Caleb– done! Enough– it stings!" You whined while moving away from the water.

Caleb sighed and gently pulled you away from the running water, reaching out to the faucet to turn it off. "Alright, pips... does it feel better, though?"

"A little..." You respond quietly, shaking your head in case he didn't hear you.

"Let's go back home, yeah? I'll give you a piggyback ride so we get there faster. Come on." He said softly, letting you go to crouch down. He patted his back, silently signaling you to hop on. You hesitated for a few seconds before hopping on, wrapping your arms around his neck lazily and your legs around his waist.

"Alright, cleared for take off, let's gooo!" He grinned as he began to walk at normal speed, not really wanting to make you feel worse because of him by walking with you on his back while speeding. You giggled at his saying and finally relaxed on his back, though you were still in a slight pain.

Caleb walks into the house with you still on his back and stopped when he saw Josephine walking over to you guys with worry in her eyes. "Sweethearts, what happened?!"

"My guess is that she didn't tie her shoelaces tight enough... so it went untied. I warned her about it, but she didn't listen, so she tripped because of it while running." Caleb explained sheepishly.

"Awh.. sit down, you two. I'll clean you up, [Name]." You watched Josephine walk away to the kitchen to grab the first aid kit.

Caleb sat down closely by your side the whole time with an arm around your shoulders, an attempt to make you feel somewhat better. You leaned against his touch as both of you waited for Josephine to come back.

"There.. all better now?" She asked softly as she makes sure that you didn't have any more injuries on your legs.

"Yeah, thank you, Grandma... and Caleb." You gave both of them a sincere and grateful smile. Caleb only smiled back at you and a nod in response.

"You're welcome, [Name]. Next time, listen to Caleb, okay? And be careful whenever you play outside or this might happen again." Josephine warned.

"Yes, Grandma..." You sighed with a nod, signaling her that you understood what she just said.

"Good. I'll go and cook us some food for dinner tonight, and both of you take a shower." She stood up, patting both of you and Caleb's head before walking back to the kitchen.

Caleb unwraps himself from you and begins grinning like an idiot. He stood up from the couch and immediately ran upstairs to his own room, making his way to the bathroom while yelling, "The first person who finished their shower gets to pick what show we're watching after!"

You groaned, slowly catching up, afraid to make your injured leg worse. "Caleb!" You whined in annoyance.

.

.

.

.

.

This took me 3 months to finish cause I lost all of my motivations to make any more fics

Sorry but I hope u guys like it :P

[disapprove]

She smiled when he collapsed next to her on the bed, a slight bit of tension rushing through her stomach when his arm came to rest around her. Abigail didn't react to it, though. But she had to admit to herself that she was kind of disappointed when he created the space between them. The dark blonde got up then at his suggestion and nodded. "As long as I won't find any nasty things in there..." She mumbled before chuckling, opening a drawer and picking literally the first black shirt she could find from it. While it already seemed to fit her at knee length,she did fish out some sweatpants, too.

"Don't peak, okay?" Abigail said, waiting for him to turn around before she turned her back to him aswell. She undid her jeans, pushing it down her pants and revealing some simple black panties she wore before pulling her top over her head and removing her bra. Taking one of Chase's black shirts, she pulled it on, and since it pretty much fitted her like a dress, she didn't bother put on the sweatpants. She did collect her clothes and the sweatpants to rest to one side of the bed and turned to look back at Chase while pushing her hair over her chest from out the shirt. Her cheeks were a little rosy now as she returned to the bed. "Think I look cool?" She asked with a chuckle, but she soon lowered to take off her socks and slid underneath the covers to hide herself. "Don't even try and tease me now. I look like a little kid who just threw up, wearing her father's shirt."

"Next time, I'll promise I'll brush my teeth." Next time? "As like, hypothetically, because I brush myself- my teeth before bed." Really, Abby?! Abigail just scooted a bit down, watching Chase his every movement. Fuck, she was so nervous. And she didn't even know what for. "You can just- do or wear whatever. I won't look or judge."

Abigail chuckled in amusement at his words. It was cute. "Getting all possessive over me, Chase?" Was all she teased him with. "Last time I checked I had, like, fifty followers. So unless our little show tonight has suddenly blown up my Instagram, it's just my friends and family." She shook her head with a smile. "Don't worry though, I won't do anything you're not comfortable with. I promise that." It truly was the least she could return since she was being as kind and gentle with her, too.

Once again she was chuckling at his words, this time at the mention of her picking him. Abigail took his hand and got off the swinging chair with him. "Maybe one day I'll turn you into a nerd. There's still hope to make you my dream guy." Abby smirked softly, holding his hand while they moved back inside. "Don't be so pouty. You don't have to lay on the floor, silly. We can share a bed.' She reassured her while squeezing his hand softly. Once inside, there were still some people doing drinking games or knocked out in a corner or making out. Abby let go of his hand, only to wrap an arm around his waist while they moved to his bedroom where her backpack still stood. It felt safe as they approached more people.

"Now- I might come back on what I said before..." abigail said while letting go of him and letting herself fall backwards on his bed instead. "Because I don't think there's enough space for you." The bed surely felt as comfortable as it looked.

[kamitv]

Tutor!Nanami who steadily became more of a private fuck for you instead of a tutor and utters things like, “If only you followed directions as well as you take my cock.” while he's fucking you over the very desk you're supposed to be studying on.

Tutor!Nanami who's been sick of how awful you are at following his overly simple directions whenever he tries to go over course materials with you so, he figured he'd have to fuck these lessons into that pretty head of yours.

Tutor!Nanami who wasn't even the one to suggest this kinda thing. He just went along with the way your eyes focused more on the tight blue-collar shirt and khaki-colored slacks he wore on a day to day basis instead of the notes he was reading to you. You made it so painfully obvious that you only agreed to these tutoring sessions so that you'd have an excuse to ogle him.

Tutor!Nanami who, after fucking you that first time, decided to use the sex as more of a reward for every time you studied properly with him. If you could last an entire session without your eyes lingering elsewhere, he'd reward you by laying you out against the desk and eating you out like a man starved.

Tutor!Nanami who groans into your sopping cunt about how, "This is what happens when you focus on your work instead of," pausing, simply to reel back and shoot at messy wad of spit right in between your slippery folds, "Thinkin' about filth all day."

Tutor!Nanami who kisses just about every inch of skin his lips can reach as he fingers you 'til your legs are shaking around his hand and your fingers are curling around his wrist, pushing at him to give you a break.

Your back is arching up off the desk and moan after moan of his name is slipping off of your tongue whilst you writhe beneath the skillful curl and twist of his thick fingers inside you.

Tutor!Nanami who praises you like it second nature to do so, all against your ear with his warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and his slightly fogged glasses brushing up against you as he tips his head every which way just to get different looks at you.

Tutor!Nanami who promises to fuck you how you really wanna be fucked as long as you ace your next test. And when you come to him a few days later with that gorgeous A printed atop your paper, he's left to completely and truly live up to his own promises to you.

Tutor!Nanami who's mouth is filthier than you could've ever imagined once he's got you at his place. Fast forward past all the sloppy make-outs that led you to where you are now and here you are standing before him with soaked panties and heavy lungs as he unbuckles that thick belt of his.

Clank after clank and you're nibbling on your lower lip in pure anticipation, awaiting the moment he tugs that belt through its annoying loops and tosses it to the side.

But of course, Tutor!Nanami still has you anxious at every given moment because suddenly he's tipping his head to the side and nodding his chin toward your legs, “Bend over n’ show her to me."

You've never moved faster in your life--tugging off what little clothing you have on, discarding it to the floor and doing exactly as he's instructed you to by bending over his bed and leaving your cunt on full display for the man.

Tutor!Nanami smirks and runs his smooth textured fingers over the curve of your ass first before settling his greedy palms on your hips and leaning over just to whisper to you. "I wanna see if this pussy’s worth taking my cock exactly the way she wants it,” He tells you with a mean emphasis of his straining bulge against your exposed cunt.

You're unintentionally drooling all over him, and no, not by your mouth at all.

It only takes a bit of messy grinds back against him before Tutor!Nanami gets the idea that you're growing impatient. He was trying to drag this whole thing out with you, truly. But how can he possibly do that when you're turning your head back and begging him to fuck you??

Yeah, this is Tutor!Nanami who gives you exactly what you want and feeds your eager cunt with his fat cock after only a short while of listening to you beg for him.

Tutor!Nanami who fucks you better than anyone else ever has, making your eyes roll to the back of your skull, and your fingers curl into the expensive sheets below.

Tutor!Nanami who's naturally the best at aftercare, and returns to his usual composed and stoic state not too long after fucking you to tears. Treats you the way he did when you first started studying with him and even asks you if you're gonna ace all your tests after this...

Of course, he only asked that because he want you to do well academically. Not because he wants to do this again.

[lady-lauren]

❥ SHOTA AIZAWA X FEM!READER

❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k

❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: cam girl!reader, former student/teacher relationship (but you're still his ~favorite~), praise, mutual masturbation, sex toys, use of "good girl", lots of dirty talk, aizawa is a pervert and we all know it

→ Kinktober Masterlist ←

“Look how far you’ve come.” Shota loves how you still tremble at his praise, fingers faltering on the screen. “Remember when you used to be so shy? And now you’re just spreading your pussy open for me.” 

His gaze follows every movement, breath in his throat as you part your labia and slide your fingers down your folds.

He really thought it was just a rumor that the young generation of heroes had taken to social media to make money. Less villains meant less pay, sure, but he never thought he’d find you on one of his favorite sites, using the body he trained to stuff yourself with toys.

“You were always one of my favorites. Always such a good girl.” 

“I’m still a good girl, Sensei. Promise.”

You prove your point by smearing your fingers over your clit, moaning as your hips buck.

“Yeah? Then show me your face, sweetheart. Wanna fist my cock to every inch of you.”

It’s so wrong. He feels like a dirty old fuck in his bedroom, sweats shoved down to his knees and his laptop screen glowing in the dark on the bed next to him. His camera faces the muscles of his chest, angled just perfectly so you can see the dark trail of hair that leads down to his cock. The frame captures the pump of his bicep as he strokes his dick, yet he leaves it up to your imagination to piece together what’s happening off screen. 

“Then you have to show me your face too, okay?” 

There’s the nervousness he’s used to hearing crackle in your sweet voice. Always so studious, so sweet, the most pleasant of all the brats to deal with. You only ever wanted to please. 

He knew it was you by your bedspread in the thumbnail to your page. You still have the same pillows you used to have at U.A., all plush and girly with a memorable stuffie tucked off to the side.

“Maybe next time,” he offers, watching your tits heave and nipples tighten as you debate fulfilling his request. 

Your camera lens is focused from the bottom of your bed, allowing him the perfect view from your spread thighs to your delicate collarbone. You never show your face, not to anyone, not even in one-on-one chat rooms. He read your rules, but he’s special—he’s no scary stranger, just a perverted sicko who wants to watch his former student fuck herself for him.

He shouldn’t be doing this. But god he can’t help himself. He’s seen you flourish as a pro hero, tight suits and bright smiles to the public, and all he’s ever thought about is how fucking pretty you must look naked. 

“Then at least show me your cock, Sensei.”

You have got to stop calling him that. Yet his cock throbs and leaks at the honorific. 

“Fine.”

His simple answer is enough to convince you. You sit up on your knees on the bed and lean forward, making his mouth water as your breasts fill his screen. 

Shota strangles his cock in his fist as all of you comes into view. You raise the camera high enough to show your whole bed from an upward angle, letting him leer at you from head to toe. 

“Atta girl.” He groans as you lean back against your pillows with one hand anxiously running a finger over your lips. You stare right at him through his laptop screen and it makes his balls swell. “I’ve missed your pretty face.”

He watches how his words make you press your already sticky thighs together, like his voice shot straight down to your cunt.

“Oh yeah? Have you missed me, too? Do you think about your old Sensei?”

Moaning, you’re unashamed to slide your hand down your stomach, spreading your thighs so you can relieve the ache he’s building between your legs. 

“Mhmm, I do. Right now I’m thinking about what your cock looks like.” 

He’d almost forgotten his promise. Shota looks down at his length, sucking in a deep breath at the sight of himself swollen and drooling for you. He pumps himself a few times just to feel the pleasure, to gain the courage to drag the laptop with his free hand just enough to bring his dick into the picture.

A sharp little gasp from you echoes into his room and he’s suddenly far too self-satisfied. He admires how you writhe on your bed, pulling your knees up so he can once again see the full image of your wet pussy. 

“You’re so big,” you whisper like you mean it, like you’re wishing you had his cock in your hand instead of his. 

“You think I’d fit inside you, hm?” 

You’re like a curious cat eyeing him across the screen, lashes fluttering as you glance him over from base to tip. You must have a screen set up right next to your camera because your gaze is still meeting his as your head bobs up and down with the way he strokes his cock. 

“I dunno,” you moan as you spread your legs wider, two fingers dipping to prod at your hole, “you’re bigger than my toys.”

“And I bet that little cunt is so tight. Put your fingers in and show me.”

You still listen so obediently, just like when you were his student. 

He thumbs the head of his cock as he watches you sink two fingers into yourself, the microphone picking up the wet squish of your cunt. Your belly tightens with pleasure as you start to pump the digits into your pussy, slow at first and then picking up pace as your bliss builds. 

“Tell me what you would want me to do to you if I was there.”

There’s no filter for him now, not with your messy cunt filling his screen and your hand now plucking at your nipple. 

You take a moment to think, pretty head falling back to the pillows as you moan for him.

“Always wanted to kiss you, Sensei. Want to feel your hands all over me, ah,” you press the palm of your hand against your clit as you talk, making you nearly whine between breaths, “and I’d want your cock in my mouth.”

“You like sucking dick, sweetheart?” 

He starts matching the pace of his fist to your fingers, picturing his cock sliding between your plush, parted lips.

“I like having my face fucked,” you admit and it makes him groan. 

His noise spurs you on, makes you grab your tit and squeeze as your fingers move faster. 

“I’d love to slide my cock past your sweet lips and into your throat. Want you to gag on it, spit running down your face as I take what I want.” 

“Yes, want you to take what you want from me. Want you to use me, fill me up and fuck me with that fat cock, Sensei.” 

He nearly chokes at your words, blushing at how filthy your mouth is. He pumps himself faster, picturing having your soft body in his lap, your sloppy cunt sinking down onto him. 

“How do you want me to fuck you?” 

The moan that sounds from his laptop is so lovely, the slick sound of your fingers in your pussy making him shiver. 

“I can show you?” you ask more than state, pausing to look straight into the camera feed. “With a toy, I mean. Y-you can pick.” 

God, you’re such a delightful little minx. Shota squeezes the base of his cock as the mental image of you fucking yourself on a toy nearly topples him over the edge. He doesn’t know how he will handle actually viewing it. 

“Get your biggest dildo. Let’s see how it compares to me.” 

Any ounce of guilt he feels fades when you return to your bed with a purple, silicone cock, long and thick but not nearly as fat as the throbbing flesh he holds in his hand. 

“Guess you weren’t lying, were you, sweetheart? I’ll be the biggest thing that little pussy has ever taken.” 

Shota doesn’t care if he’s stepping beyond the realm of hypotheticals—he’ll get his hands on you, one way or another, all in due time. 

“Wanna see how I want you to fuck me?” you ask with the cutest smile, like you’re hiding such a naughty secret. 

“Show me. Fuck yourself for me, tell me every little thing I’m doing to you.”

He props an arm behind his head to get comfortable, the muscles of his abs and lats rippling in the dim light of the screen. He threads his fingers through his long hair and tugs the moment he sees you turn and get on your knees, bending until you’re in the most sinful doggy position he’s ever seen. 

“You start slow,” your voice drops to a sensual note, thick like honey, “cause you want me to feel every inch go inside me.”

The hand wrapped around his cock is moving before he can even think to stop, squeezing hard as he watches you reach around your body and start pushing the dildo between your pussy lips. 

Shota gets too close to the screen, strands of black hair grazing the edge of the camera, face still out of sight. His gaze scans from corner to corner, watching as if he intends to commit every single detail to memory. 

Your pussy sucks in the tip of the dildo, making you mewl, and slowly, torturously, you shove the length of it into your hole. 

“How do I feel?” 

“So good, want you to move, want you to fuck me hard.” 

You take the initiative to start bouncing the dildo in your pussy, sliding it in and out, building speed. The sound is licentious, wet, all mixed together with the short, airy moans you let out with every push into your body. Slick is starting to build on the silicone, creamy and thick. 

“Do you always get so wet or is it just for me?”

“All for you, Sensei. Cause you feel so good, you fuck me like I’ve always wanted.” 

Shota smears his thumb through the pre-cum freshly leaking from his cock, using it as lubricant as he starts a brutal pace on himself. He can hear the repetitive slap of his wrist hitting his thigh echo into the laptop microphone.

“That right? You’re a dirty girl for wanting to fuck her teacher.” 

“You’re so good to me, you rub my clit just how I like it.” 

He examines how one of your hands reaches under your body, two dainty fingers swirling around your clit before kneading it quickly, like you’re just so desperate to cum for him. 

The strokes he gives his cock are furious, other hand now coming down to cup his balls and roll them in his palm. His stomach flexes at the pleasure, picturing how that perfect cunt of yours would be squeezing him so tightly. 

“You wanna cum for me? Wanna cum all over your Sensei’s cock?”

“Please,” you groan into the sheets, hips now bucking with the pace of the dildo slamming into you, “will you let me cum? You said I’m such a good girl? Ah, ah, one of your favorites?” 

“Always my favorite, sweetheart. Show me how you cum, let me see you make a mess of yourself.”

Your knuckles are tight against the base of the dildo, using all your strength to fuck into yourself. You’re so close to the edge, panting, whining, hole stretched and practically weeping around the purple silicone. 

“You know I’ll fuck you faster, right? Harder. Just wait until I get my hands on you.”

Your tongue falls loose, “Want your hands on my hips, want you to spank me, oh god, pull my hair, kiss me and fuck me and tell me I’m all yours.” 

“You’re gonna cum for me, scream for me, all for me, got it?” 

He can see the way your head shakes on the bed, mascara dripping down the side of your face that he can see. Tears are in your lashes, your lip caught between your teeth, and even still you’re looking back for him, watching him tug and pull his cock with your name in his mouth. 

“God you’re so hot, your cock’s so big—”

A beautiful, strangled noise comes out of you as you finally come apart, your cunt clamping down around the dildo and your motions stilling. You scream into the mattress, all high-pitched and fucked out. Slick squelches from your stuffed hole, dripping down your thighs. 

With the scene before him, it only takes a few more pumps before he’s unloading, cum spurting out over his knuckles and up onto his stomach, rope after rope spilling out for you.

His room goes quiet, his pants and your whiny breaths the only sound he hears over the pounding of his heart. 

Finally, you shift on your bed, and he does his best not to look at the mess he’s made in his hand.

“Um,” you awkwardly clear your throat, looking away from him as you slide the dildo from your cunt. He can’t help but watch the way your pussy lips drag along the length. 

The post-nut clarity hits him like a steam roller. His clean hand grabs his laptop, ready to shut the screen and pretend none of this ever transpired except in the guilty pit of his daydreams—

“Shota,” you mumble, sitting on your knees and holding your body, “this was, uh, well really…hot. I…I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”

His ears perk, unsure if he’s ever heard you call him by his first name. 

Before he changes his mind, he drags the laptop on his bed until the camera catches his face. You blink so prettily at the sight of him, dropping one of your hands from your breast like you’re just so comfortable seeing him. 

“Next time will be in person.” 

You give him the most genuine little smile, “Promise?”

[no-144444]

new meetings- o.piastri

summary: oscar is terrified for you to meet his family, funnily enough, you already know a few of them...

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! famous! reader

a/n: PRAYING FOR AN OP81 WIN TOMORROW

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Mae was a very convincing person when she wanted to be, and being her big brother, Oscar genuinely wanted to give her whatever she wanted. But meeting you? That was something he was dreading. 

He’d made the mistake of leaving his phone on the counter unlocked when he was making dinner, and she saw your messages in his phone. What followed was a very awkward explanation that you two had been seeing each other for the past few months, but he wasn’t going to introduce you to his family yet, he just… wasn’t ready. Which was fair. But Nicole protested, and so did all of his sisters, so he had no choice but to offer you a paddock pass for Australia, and hope you were busy. 

You weren’t. And you were much too supportive of him to not attend. So he was, in simple terms, fucked. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

“You can’t be weird,” he sighed as he walked his sisters through the paddock. “Just be… normal.” 

“We are being normal, you’re the one sweating right now,” Hattie chuckled. 

Oscar pulled at the collar of his team kit, and genuinely prayed hiss otters wouldn’t be so awkward with you. He didn’t want to scare you off. 

“Come on Osc, we’re cool!” Tim chuckled, clapping a hand on his back. “Jesus, you are sweaty,” he mumbled as he wiped his hand on his shorts. 

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

You sat with Alex Dunne, one of the development drivers who was in F2, just chatting casually. 

“Osc, hey,” you smiled easily, wrapping your arms around his neck, then grimacing. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, but his voice was much too high, and his grip on your waist was much too tight. You raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry about what’s going to happen now,” he whispered and kissed your cheek. 

You turned your head and saw his family, but also your great Pilates buddy, Nicole. Your jaw dropped as hers did at the same time. “Nicole? Shut up!” You clapped a hand over your mouth, a soft laugh coming out. She walked up to you and wrapped her arms around you in a gentle hug. “How are you?” You asked, hugging her back. 

Oscar looked between the two of you, shocked. 

“I’m great! How are you sweetheart?” She asked, looking you over. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled brightly. “You look gorgeous, by the way,” you smiled. 

She pulled you in again. “When are you coming back to Pilates?” She begged and you giggled. 

“Soon, I promise. I just finished filming in Toronto so I’m back in Australia for the foreseeable, lest Oscar needs my support at races,” you beamed, looking at him with all the pride in the world. His face was contorted into one of confusion and mild disgust? You stared at him and cupped his cheek, curious. “What’s wrong?”

“You know my mum?” He questioned. 

“Of course I do,” you shrugged. “We do Pilates together.”

Again, he was perplexed about the fact neither of you had mentioned it. “I know I’m bad at telling people things, but this is next level.”

Nicole scoffed. “Who didn’t tell me they were extending their contract?” 

He was pretty quiet after that. 

“I’m Mae!” She interjected, walking up beside you and Nicole. “I’m a huge fan.”

Oscar face-planted. So cool. 

“Nice to meet you Mae, I’m Y/n,” you smiled, pulling her in for a hug. 

“I’m Hattie,” she smiled, greeting you. “I got you this,” she handed you a sticker of Oscar as a sonny angel. You gasped, taking it from her hand. 

“I love it!” You beamed. “It’s so cute, thank you so much!”

Never did Oscar ever think he’d see himself as a sonny angel, but he did know it was right up your alley, and some of the anxiety in his chest eased as he watched you effortlessly mix with his family. 

“I’m Tim,” he stepped forward. 

“Fuck off Tim,” you chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “How are you?”

Oscar was once again confused. 

“I'm great, Bug, thank you,” he smiled. “How are you?”

“Bug?” Oscar commented, but it was drowned out by the conversation flowing freely, Eddie joining in. 

He watched for about 30 minutes with a bright smile on his face as you mixed in perfectly with his family. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

His hands trailing up your shirt, exposing skin as the sun set outside the window. The way his lips were moving against yours, the way his hands felt on your body, the way he reacted to the things you were doing. He was addictive. 

“How do you know my stepdad?” Oscar questioned as he pulled back from kissing you. You looked up at him, unimpressed. You propped yourself up on your elbows. 

“You think about Tim when we’re making out?” You questioned and the look on his face was enough to tell you he didn’t. You chuckled. “I’ve worked with him before.”

“Where?”

“On a film,” you explained. “When I was really young.”

He nodded, and lay beside you. “How didn’t I know this?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, Ithink I would’ve mentioned it if I thought it was important.”

“And you know my mum?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded and kissed his cheek, trying to get him back into the mood. “Pilates.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist as you lay on top of him, pressing kisses to his neck. “And I didn’t know this?”

“Evidently not,” you smirked. “Did you feel the need to?”

“I don’t know,” he huffed. “I was just so…-”

“Nervous? For today?” You stifled a laugh. He shot you a dirty look and you chuckled. “I didn’t notice, actually.” 

He huffed and nodded. “It was pretty obvious,” he sighed, burying his head in your neck. “I don’t know, maybe I would’ve just… been a little less stressed if I knew you knew them already,” he shrugged. “I just… maybe wouldn’t have been so-”

“Anal?” You offered. “Militarial?”

“Worried,” he finished for himself as he shot you yet another dirty look, making you laugh, yet again. 

“Why would you be worried?” You questioned, cupping his cheeks. “I love you.”

He rolled his eyes, trying to stop his heart beat from racing and attempting to ignore the butterflies in his stomach. “I love you too,” he admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m going to scare you away.” 

You stared at him with a raised eyebrow, and sat up (aka you straddled him which meant this conversation was going to be a lot harder to keep his mind on. Also, harder- did you see what I did there 😝). “Why would you scare me away?” You gently pulled a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I don’t have a regular job, I’m weirdly famous, I drive very dangerous cars, I’m extremely awkward at all of your events, I’m-“ 

“I love you, Osc. Anything you say won’t change that,” you shook your head. “I love you.”

It hit him deep in the chest, so much he was sure it would’ve made him double over, had he been standing. A soft smile crept its way onto his face and he pulled you down to kiss him again. Your hands traveled under his shirt, and the kiss was back. 

“I love you too,” he mumbled against your lips. You pulled back and tried not to notice how beautiful you looked with swollen lips and smushed lipstick, but it was pretty hard not to. “So fucking much.”

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mclaren masterlist

navigation for my blog :)

[ssorenz]

༯ warnings. mature content, fem!reader + toji fushiguro, unprotected sēx, piv, pwp. minors do not interact, please and thank u.

wc. 1.7k (not proofread 🥸)

toji fushiguro is a nice guy.

not in the annoying “i’m a nice guy why won’t women date me” way, but in the “i’ll fix your sink, walk your dog, and probably kill a man for you if you say please” kinda way.

the ex-assassin (and your next door neighbor) is always doing something for someone— mowing the lawn for mrs. takada across the street, teaching the neighborhood kids how to patch a flat tire like he’s not patched gunshot wounds with duct tape before. probably hand-knits blankets for stray cats behind closed doors too.

so when he sees you wrestling with a massive ikea box on your porch that you honestly never stood a chance against in the first place, he doesn’t even hesitate.

“fuck is in here, a whole corpse or somethin’?” he jokes, like he didn’t just pluck the box from your arms, like it was filled with feathers and not the broken promises of swedish furniture.

you give him an airy laugh, wiping sweat from your brow as you tell him it’s your new bed from ikea.

“ikea?” he repeats, like you just told him it really was a corpse in that god forsaken box. “yeah, nah. you’re not building that.”

you blink. “i’m not?”

“uh, did i not just say no? i’ll handle it. don’t want a pretty lil’ thing like you losing a finger over some overpriced planks and an allen wrench.”

and listen. you could’ve argued. you could’ve said you’re an independent woman, with your crappy youtube tutorials and a rusty ol’ hammer.

but instead you just say,

“. . .do you want water or beer?”

god, you swear your bedroom has never felt this small.

toji’s presence takes up space like he was built for it—one knee down, the other bent, thighs straining against those well-worn jeans like they’re one bad movement from tearing right at the seams. his tank is drenched, clinging like it’s got a personal vendetta, outlining every broad inch of him like a glove.

he’s hunched over the partially assembled bed, brows furrowed, scarred lips parted in quiet concentration like he’s studying scripture, not step six of some swedish-coded nightmare.

and it’s filthy, the way your brain strayed, drinking in the way he moved—tight, efficient, obscene without even trying.

every low grunt, every flex of his arms, every time he shifts and that heavy chain around his neck clinks against sweat-slick skin—it’s like you're watching the start of a bad porno.

your gaze drops, uninvited, right to the swell of his chest—broad and heaving—and lower, past the way his shirt clings to his dreadfully slutty waist, all the way to the waistband of his jeans.

the way they sit, low and loose, slung across those hips like temptation incarnate—

“you good over there, sweetheart?” his voice breaks through the haze, all casual and smug. “been eyein’ me reeaall hard over there.”

you choke.

“oh, uh—i was…” you mutter, blinking like an idiot, “just… making sure you’re not screwing m- it up.”

he hums, not even looking at you, allenkey twisting slow in his grip.

“mm. real thorough inspection you’re doing.”

your a/c is blasting, full arctic tundra, and yet here you are—skin flushed, thighs clenched, your mind absolutely nosediving into the filthiest trenches imaginable.

you open your mouth about to retort back, but he cuts you off with a simple, expectant:

“wrench.”

just that. hand out. palm grasping. not even looking at you.

you pass him the tool, and your fingers brush his. his hand is warm, rough - those thick, ragged fingers that have probably shot bullets into yakuza leaders skulls, probably broken bones, lingering just a beat too long.

and suddenly you’re not thinking about this stupid swedish furniture anymore.

you’re thinking about those same fingers digging into your hips.

gripping the back of your neck.

pressing into your thigh as he—

“you gonna let go, or you just like holdin’ my hand?”

you snap out of your. . trance, retracting your hand like the wrench had transformed into molten lava and burned it. “just um, didn’t wanna drop it. s-safety first, right?”

“riight, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

even though it’s your bed, he hasn’t let you touch a single piece of it. 

not one panel. not one sad screw.

and it’s not like you didn’t offer to help—you did, multiple times!

yet every single time, he just waved you off like you were a gnat.

“jus’ sit n’ look pretty. this ain’t a group project,” he utters, dead serious. you open your mouth once more to argue, and all he sends you is a glare— playful, yet still warning.

and after three long, sweaty hours,

you—

no.

he is finally done.

toji leans back on his heels, wiping beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand “there,” he grunts, satisfied. “all done miss.”

you glance at the bed. it does look good. solid. intimidatingly so. 

“looks sturdy,” you murmur, and toji hums in agreement. thick fingers drag slow over his stubbled chin as he leans back, marveling at his piece of work.“mm. might wanna test it out first, though.”

you blink. “…test it?”

he nods, rolling his shoulders, towering and terrible, that glint in his eye nothing short of criminal.

“how ‘bout i help ya out, yeah? call it uhh, ‘mandatory safety inspection’ .”

ᥫ᭡.

“ngh, to-tojiii,” you mewl, nails grasping helplessly at the cushioned mattress beneath you, your glossed dolly eyes fluttering back with each filthy fuckin’ thrust. his strokes are relentless, sharp, each one leaving a raucous snap from his toned v-line on your poor sore thighs.

for such a ‘sweet’ and ‘beloved’ guy, his dick game sure was mean as hell.

“atta girl, look at that,” he grunts, “takin’ me so fuckin’ well.”

your swollen bottom lip is caught between your teeth, an embarrassingly desperate attempt at concealing these lewd noises toji is managing to string out of your chest.

but with the way he’s fucking into you like this, those calloused, worn palms spreading the fat of your ass to give him a front-row view of how his cock is sinking in and out of you, before raising his hand to give it a nice hefty spank—

it’d be damn near impossible to not stay quiet.

your body feels so hot, practically melting as your spine arches further with each roll of his firm hips. the pads of his fingers are digging into the plush of your waist, burning against your skin like he’s trying to brand you with his hands alone.

toji sloows his pace, not enough to give you a break, but enough to make sure you feel all ten inches of him, that evilly thick stretch making your walls stutter. his chest dips down your spine, peppered stubble scratching at the nape of your neck as his full weight sinks over you.

“uh uh, shhh,” toji croons hotly, his breath warm as he leaves a wet kiss along the shell of your ear, “you hear that?”

“h-huh?” you hiccup, and he’s got you soo dumb off his dick that your surprised your still coherent.

“girl. listen.”

and you do. or try to, atleast.

your breathing slows just enough to catch it, between the wet slaps of skin and your pulse bursting in your ears—

creak… creak… creak….

“looks like she’s startin’ to talk,” he murmurs. “guess i forgot to tighten all the screws. oops.”

haha. you'd roll your eyes if they weren’t already damn near in your skull.

toji’s body shifts, swole chest hefted on your back as his beefy arms cage you in. he’s got one hand curled around your wrist, pinning it to the matress, while the other bruisingly grips your waist.

your plushed thighs quiver, ass rippling back with each fluid snap of his hips. he’s so deep, his entire length bottoming out in your sobbing cunt. landing countless blow after blow on that poor spongy spot of yours.

“f-fuuck,” it slips out breathy, caught between a gasp and a whine, your voice cracking with each draaag of his cock. “s’too much— i can’t—”

“yea you can,” toji huffs. “already are.”

creaking turns into clattering, death rattles now, and he’s still not stopping nor slowing. every hit leaves the mattress screaming, legs of the frame wobbling as it lurches underneath the weight of you both.

and your bed isn’t the only thing ready to give out eithet.

“ ‘m gonna, hnnghh— m’ gonna cumm, toj’ ” you sob, shuddering as your core tightens.

“shiit, thaaat’s it,” he pants as your pussy swallows him oh so snugly, and you can feel him start to throb inside of you. “ let ‘toj’ feel you cum ‘round his cock, baby.”

toji’s strokes sloppen, grinding now, likes he’s trying to engrave each and every inch of his cock into your unforgivingly tight cunt. your hips begin to spasm as your pretty glossed lips sputter out mindless, repetitive catches of his name.

he sends one more thrust, mean and s—

crack!

that poor lil’ ikea bed of yours sinks beneath you with a jarring snap, the headboard dipping rudely as one stubby leg snaps completely off— making you and toji slip forward with it.

you yelp, yet it slips into a broken moan as splotches of white fill your blurred vision, body jerking as your saccharine juices spill out onto him.

you let out a pouty whine, lashes fluttering as toji groans, gutturally, his posture stiffening, jaw hanging slack before you feel him begin to spill into you—sticky hazed shades of white rudely painting your insides like his own personal canvas.

the scent of sweat and sex hangs heavily in the air, the only sounds being you and toji left panting. he stills momentarily, assuring his sticky load is plunged deep enough inside of you before easing out with a sharp hiss.

“guess she, uh, failed the inspection,” clicking his tongue as he breaks the silence, acting all disappointed despite the way he’s grinning like a fucking fool— as if he didn’t just knock all you and your beds screws loose.

“you’re buying me a new bed.” you mutter, voice hoarse as your shooting him a mascara stained glare over your shoulder.

“ ya’ gonna let me break her in too?”

and it’s not like you decline— it’d be rude if you did. .

because toji fushiguro is a nice guy, after all.

@ssorenz™ do not, copy, repost or translate anywhere without my knowledge.

[yundeob]

A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— IN THEATRES

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you were working part time at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— IN THEATRES

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x formerstripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

11/1/25 update: i apologize for how slow this is taking😭 yes, i still am 100% fully committed to finishing this series! I ask for your patience and understanding🫶🏼

[norrisradio]

little spoon

⚡︎ PAIRING: lando norris x reader | ⚡︎ WC: 1.1K ⚡︎ GENRE: fluff! ⚡︎ INCOMING RADIO: based on the latest landolog and the chicken shop date where lando said he'd never been little spoon // dedicated to @tsunodaradio, to whom i promised little spoon! lando

Lando melts into you before the door even shuts, his body sagging forward, forehead finding the curve of your shoulder like a prayer answered.

His breath is uneven, frayed at the edges, warm where it fans against your collarbone. His entire body trembles—fine, imperceptible shivers rolling through muscle and sinew, the remnants of a day spent wringing himself out to the last drop.

You feel it in the weight of him, how he isn’t just leaning against you but pouring himself into you, a slow and silent collapse.

He smells of sweat dried into fabric, of rubber and asphalt, of adrenaline still lingering in his bloodstream. His shirt clings to his back, damp and heavy, and when your hand slides up his spine, your fingers meet heat—his body still burning from exertion, from the sprints, from the bike, from pushing himself to his absolute limit just hours ago.

“Tough one?” you murmur, pressing your lips into his curls. They’re damp too, still tangled from his helmet, still holding the weight of everything he’s had to endure today.

He exhales, the sound thin, almost empty. “Yeah.”

Just that. No complaints, no details, just the word. But his body tells the rest of the story—the way his fingers twitch uselessly against your waist, the way his knees buckle slightly, how his weight leans into you so fully, so completely, like standing on his own is simply too much.

“You made it through,” you say, voice soft, coaxing, the way you would speak to something fragile.

Lando hums, a sound low and breathy, like the simple act of existing is a burden.

You let him stay there, let him take from you, let him breathe in your presence, let him feel you. Your fingers card through his curls, untangling the mess left behind by hours of training, hours of pushing, hours of his body being reduced to numbers and stats and thresholds. He shudders when you scratch lightly at his scalp, his body sagging further, breath hitching on a sound that’s almost embarrassing in its relief.

“Felt like I was dying,” he mumbles. “Lower body stuff first. It wasn’t too bad, at the start.”

You hum in sympathy, fingers still moving, and he leans into it, like a cat seeking warmth.  “I know. Keep going.”

“Neck strength test was next,” he says, voice muffled against your shoulder. “Thought Jon was going to pull my head clean off.”

You smile softly at the absurdity of it, but Lando isn’t smiling. He groans instead, and you can feel his body tighten with the memory.

“Then the VO2 max test…” He swallows, and you feel the shudder that runs through him. “They make me run on a treadmill, but they keep pushing the incline up, and the speed’s faster than I can keep up with. It’s supposed to push me to exhaustion, but by the end, I was pretty much… ready to just collapse right there.” 

You press your lips into his temple. “But you didn’t.”

“I should have,” he argues, and you laugh softly, rubbing little circles into his scalp.

He sighs, body finally slackening, boneless in your arms.

You sigh in sympathy, brushing your lips across his temple. “And the heat test?”

He groans. “The worst. Forty degrees. I had to ride the bike for 30 minutes under that heat, my body was a furnace. I nearly couldn’t finish it.” His voice drops into a whisper. “But I did. Nearly threw up.”

You press your lips into his skin, and he leans into it, a little shaky, like your touch is the only thing anchoring him to the floor.

“You’re incredible,” you whisper.

He hums, barely a sound, and it feels like he’s gone somewhere quieter now, somewhere inside himself where the noise of the day doesn’t reach.

You let him stay there, holding him as he starts to fall into the silence, and when he finally looks up, his eyes are tired, but there’s something softer in them—something more vulnerable than you’re used to.

You press a kiss to the crown of his head.

“Come on,” you murmur. “Bed.”

It takes effort to peel himself away from you, but he follows, sluggish and heavy, through the quiet hum of your apartment. He moves like his body doesn’t belong to him anymore, bumping into corners, misjudging the distance between the doorframe and his shoulder. You let him trail behind you, watching him in the mirror as you wash your face, and when you glance over, he’s just standing there, blinking slowly, watching you.

“You’re staring,” you say, voice light.

He shrugs. “You’re pretty.”

His voice is a whisper now, something slow and weightless.

He moves on autopilot, brushing his teeth, stripping out of his sweat-dampened clothes, tugging on one of the old shirts he keeps here. And then, when he finally climbs into bed, he does something he never does.

He turns onto his side, pressing his back against your chest, curling into himself.

It surprises you. Because Lando isn’t this—he isn’t the one who seeks comfort, he isn’t the one who clings. He’s the protector, the one who holds you. The one who fits himself around you at night, arm draped over your waist, fingers skimming your ribs, lips pressed into the back of your neck. That’s how it always is. That’s how he likes it.

But not tonight.

Tonight, his body is heavy with exhaustion, his mind still buzzing, and he just wants. Wants to be held, wants to be soothed, wants to let go for once.

So you let him.

You press yourself against him, wrap an arm around his waist, nose nuzzling against the nape of his neck. Your fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt, tracing slow, gentle shapes into his skin.

He exhales, long and slow, like all the tension in his body is finally bleeding out.

“You wanna be the little spoon tonight?” you tease, voice half-laughing, warm against his skin.

Lando makes a small, sleepy noise, the kind that makes your chest ache with fondness.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice muffled against your sheets.

“Always,” you murmur. “You’ve got me.”

Your lips press against his shoulder, soft and lingering, your touch featherlight where it maps the lines of his ribs.

And in this moment—after the sprints, the heat, the tests, and the pain—you both drift into a quiet, steady rhythm. Because no matter how much he gives of himself, no matter how much he sacrifices for his dream, this is the part of the day that truly matters.

He has you.

And tonight, that’s all he needs.

[polarisjisung]

ꨄ X-O, KISS ME, DON'T SAY NO

KISSES WITH ENHYPEN

pairings: enha x fem! reader genre: fluff wc: 1k warnings: use of petnames, slightly suggestive notes: I wrote this for dream had to do it for enha too ! | LIBRARY

HEESEUNG — desperate, flirty kisses

A simple peck doesn't exist for Heeseung. You're like his drug, once he gets a taste, he's addicted. Quick morning kisses are impossible. One peck on your forehead easily turns into a full makeout session and suddenly you're late for work. And not for a second is Heeseung worried about your impending anger, instead he'll try and convince you to call in sick, no work meant more time for kisses, right?

“Heeseung, I have places to be” You know it's no use arguing but you seem to try anyway.

You'd been in this situation countless times before, and it ended the same way each time. In your defence, Heeseung was pretty good at convincing.

“Yeah, want me to list a few?”

Something about a kiss-driven Heeseung is so exceptionally flirty. You both know that you're never getting out of this your way. “My arms, the bed, against the wall if you're into that.

Okay maybe you didn't take much convincing either.

“All of the above?”

Heeseung can't dispute that.

JAY — forehead kisses

Jay's kisses are spontaneous, but so tender and loving, like a scene cut out straight from a high school romance.

You're perched up on the sofa with your nose stuck in one of those picture-perfect romance books you love so much.

Jay can barely make out your face from the material of the hood pulled over your head.

You look cute. There's a pair of blue light glasses resting on your nose and your eyebrows are furrowed with concentration. Jay couldn't help but leave a soft peck against your forehead. He takes a couple moments to just sit beside you and stare, truly wondering how he ever got so lucky.

Next thing you know, his hand moves carefully to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb positioned just under your chin, guiding you into a slow, soft kiss.

JAKE — messy kisses

Jake kisses like a man starved.

Hands tugging at your hair, arms around your waist, loud, shallow pants filling the room. It's like he can't get enough.

He pulls back to stare at you, breathless. But only for a moment.

To Jake, catching his breath seems awfully difficult when you're staring up at him with swollen lips and a sultry gaze.

“I could kiss you forever.”

His words are more a promise than a statement, and how could you not believe him when he pulls you back in so impossibly close, letting his cold fingertips run across your skin.

Both his hands cup your cheeks, passionately. Lips moving over yours with an unsteady, fervent rhythm, and so much urgency, you swear you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

Each time you kiss is like the first, brash. But Jake always holds you so tight, like he's afraid you'll disappear the second he lets go.

When he does finally pull away, Jake exhales a soft laugh, giggling almost.

“You alright?”

You can only nod, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

SUNGHOON — distracted kisses

Playful fights or debates like whether orange juice is better than apple (it's not) or whether milk comes before or after the cereal always seem to arise with you and Sunghoon.

Part of it has to do with the fact that Sunghoon thinks you look so insanely fine when you're passionately arguing your point forwards.

But somewhere along the way Sunghoon stops listening to what you're saying, eyes zeroing in on your lips when he'd come to a sudden realisation. That shade of lipstick suited you, a little too well maybe.

“Hoon, are you even listening?”

He nods, he's not listening.

He wouldn't have this problem if the lipstick wasn't there. But you were still explaining in full detail, hand gestures and everything. And as much as he loved to hear you ramble, Sunghoon could not concentrate.

He was going insane— he needed to kiss you. Now.

You don't really know why you continue, seeing as Sunghoon's clearly not present, but you can't help but gasp when he pulls you in close and crashes his lips to yours.

“You're right, I wasn't listening”

JUNGWON — soft morning kisses

Soft and intimate, that's what kissing Jungwon feels like.

There’s quiet whispers of ‘I love you's’ and the sweetest compliments.

Even if you've just rolled out of bed, when your hair's a mess and your eyes can barely open all the way, Jungwon thinks you're beautiful.

“Good morning my love” he presses a kiss to the back of your head, just below your ear as he slips past you on the couch, making his way to the kitchen so he can check on breakfast.

But he can only stay away for so long, running back a few minutes later with your morning coffee and a couple kisses to keep you occupied while you wait for it to cool down.

“I love you.” he'd keep it short and sweet, holding your face in hands with so much care. By the time breakfast is ready, not a single inch of your pretty face remains unkissed and that's an achievement Jungwon is insanely proud of.

SUNOO — giggly kisses

You and Sunoo are like the epitome of PDA— cuddling, quick pecks on the cheeks, always holding hands— you have to have your hands on each other at all times. It's sickeningly sweet.

And matters only get worse when your behind closed doors, Sunoo would spend all his time with his lips glued to yours if he could.

He's obsessed with you, and your strawberry flavoured chapstick is anything but helpful. He needs kisses, no matter what it is you're doing.

“Sunoo, I'm busy.” You roll your eyes at him playfully, but he only shrugs, spinning you around on your desk chair.

“Too busy for kisses?”

When you nod, it's Sunoo's turn to roll his eyes.

“Wrong answer.”

And he crashes his lips to yours just as he had intended, illiciting a few giggles from you, laughing at his urgency.

NI-KI — kisses in the rain

Kisses never last too long with riki, quick pecks, passionate and loving but short. Long kisses, something you'd both be down to try but had never actually made the effort to. It's felt scary, awkward, maybe?

The two of you always had a more easygoing relationship, so your more affectionate gestures had always been kept to a minimum.

Until one night when your car broke down and you found yourself stranded in the middle of nowhere.

Rain pelted down from the sky and the wind whistled loudly, but even so, you'd be a fool not to step out of the car and watch the sunset in person.

You and Riki sat with your legs crossed, dangerously close to the cliff edge, bodies pressed against each other as an attempt to conserve heat.

There was something about that moment— maybe the soft glow of the sky as the sun dipped just below the horizon — or the way your eyes beamed and sparkled as each strand of your hair slowly grew wet. Something so raw.

Riki couldn't even bring himself to hesitate, pulling you into his lap in one swift motion and kissing you urgently.

One hand reached back to grip your hair, and another cradled your chin, guiding your lips further into his.

Safe to say, kissing in the rain might just be his favourite.

taglist: @chenlezip @nanawrlds @mystverse @jenobubbles @flaminghotyourmom @lotties-readings

[xiaq]

Story time: Amazon can go fuck itself, and other genteel thoughts.

Good evening. I’m angry.

Up until now, I’ve purchased the majority of items I can’t thrift from Amazon because it’s easy and cost-effective, despite the moral qualms I have about the company. Previously, support was simple. If an item was damaged or a package didn’t arrive, you hopped on chat/the phone, provided proof, and they gave you a refund or return label.

But some shitstain from on high has introduced a new “incident report” process when something goes wrong. You submit your details, you wait 72 hours, and then they give you a refund. This would also be fine. If it fucking worked. But I have, at this point, irrefutable evidence that this is not actually how the process is intended to work. It’s meant to drive you so far up the wall that you either die from a stress-induced heart attack, or rage quit, and they get to keep your money.

In the last several months, I’ve had to submit three incident reports for damaged and undelivered items (I’m also encountering a lot more issues with item delivery, but that’s a different story).

ALL THREE TIMES, the process has taken weeks rather than days because ALL THREE TIMES they conveniently “had no record” of multiple incident reports I submitted despite the fact that I had confirmation emails each and every time.

Now, I’m a petty bitch, so even though the hours I was spending checking in, waiting on hold on the phone, being passed from agent to agent, was not worth the $10 and $20 refunds I was trying to get them to honor, I wasn’t going to give up. This last time, though. Oh they really tried.

So. My item isn’t delivered. I submit an incident report on the 12th and get my confirmation email of the submission on the 12th. I haven’t heard back by the 14th so I call and check. Shockingly, they have no record of my report. I submit another one, get another confirmation email. I call back the next day to check they received it. They have not. I beg them to let me forward the confirmation emails I have. I ask what else I can do different. They tell me to submit a new report and hang up on me. I submit another report. I receive another confirmation email. I call the next day. Can you guess? They have no record of it. This time, I ask for them to stay on the line with me while I submit a new report and confirm it’s been received. He confirms receipt and promises I will receive a response by the 21st. I record this conversation because I have a suspicion.

Hello. It is the 21st. Have I received a response? No. I call back. THIS ASSHOLE, who I’m pretty sure is reading this shit from a script, says, (are you ready for this) “There’s no record of an incident report, you’ll need to submit one.” I insist that I had confirmation in writing and verbally. She insists it does not exist.

So I tell her. I now have four confirmation emails. I have a recording of an Amazon support person with their credentials assuring me with the product number stated, that they’ve received my report. I also have been recording this conversation. And if she cannot assist me, I will be posting those emails and both recordings to every social media platform I have, filing a BBB complaint, and checking with my lawyer to see what options I have for legal action (do I have a lawyer? Of course not. But she doesn’t know that).

Immediately, she is backpedaling. “Oh, let me check again, maybe I missed it.” Less than 30 seconds later she’s back on the line. “I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding, I do have your report here. I will process a refund now.” Shocking. I am shocked.

IT SHOULD NOT TAKE THIS MUCH EFFORT TO GET A COMPANY TO HONOR THEIR PROMISED LEVEL OF SUPPORT.

Jesus Christ.

B and I will be finding different local places to purchase items we tend to buy via Amazon now, because I have every intention of ending our Prime membership. It looks like between Costco and Target we should be covered.

Anyway. No point to this except to rant. Thanks for reading if you got this far. I’m going to go lay under the weight of my dog and try to get my heart rate down.

[sincerelyneo]

no control | l.jn

“i can't contain this anymore, i'm all yours i've got no control”

💿now playing: no control by one direction

❯ summary: The guy sitting at the bar next to you seems pretty smitten - and Jeno hates it. He wants to be the one making you blush…or more accurately, scream his name.

❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader

❯ genre: smut, friends with benefits

❯ words: 3.7k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), jealousy, arguing, wall sex, swearing, back scratching/marking?, possessiveness, public sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, slight begging, a bit angsty, porn with feelings, literally just jeno being petty and jealous.

Jeno hates to admit it, but Mark was right. Casual, no-strings-attached sex does in fact suck. And God does he know it. It’s hard to forget when his friends keep bringing you up.

“Who’s she talking to?” Renjun asks.

Jisung replies with a simple shrug before Chenle chimes in with a quick, “I don’t know, haven’t seen him before.”

Him. Jeno feels that pronoun hit harder than expected, but he forces himself to keep cool. He doesn’t turn around to see who’s got your attention, even though every fiber of his being screams and begs for him to look.

His spying friends keep giggling amongst themselves as they sit on the stools at the bar. But it wasn’t until Renjun throws back the last of his whiskey and says: “He looks pretty into her.” That Jeno’s gaze is forced to find you.

Jeno’s too proud to admit it but he finds you instantly, you’re like a magnet, a force that he’s drawn to. And truthfully, he considers it a talent that he can seek you out of a crowd in seconds.

There you are, with some guy. Some guy he didn’t know. Some guy that, from what he could see from the side of his head, was probably good-looking. The good-looking ones always liked to try and talk to you.

Not that it matters, Jeno reminds himself, dragging his eyes away from you for his own sake. You hadn’t come to this party with him; he never even asked you. He agreed to keep this casual. You could spend your time with whoever you damn well pleased.

Even if that wasn’t him. And even if that’s a bitter pill for him to swallow. 

“Leave him alone guys,” Jisung finally speaks up. “They’re probably just talking. Besides aren’t you staying over at Y/N’s tonight anyway Jen?” He asked. 

Jeno takes his eyes off you for a second to look at his friends, he’s thankful for the reminder that he was supposed to be coming over to your place tonight. But now his mind is racing. Maybe you would change your mind, ditching him to hang out with that good-looking man instead.

You’re not like that, he tells himself. While you hadn’t attended the party with him, you had promised to spend the night with him, and you weren’t one to break promises. Besides, you didn’t bring strangers you just met home, either. He had nothing to worry about.

Except…what if he did?

When he dared to glance over to the last spot he had seen you across the lavish bar, he wasn’t expecting to still find you there. Surely, you would’ve found an opening to excuse yourself and re-join the friends you’d arrived with, but there you were. Still talking to that asshole. Smiling at him. Enjoying yourself.

Maybe it was just the whiskey talking, but Jeno felt like he was being replaced as if he was across the world and not merely across the room. Because it had been well over half an hour since he had first seen them together. And who knew how long you two had been talking before he or his friends even noticed?

Jeno doesn’t like this feeling. So he orders another drink.

He tries to ignore you – tries to focus on his friends but they keep mentioning it. Mentioning you. Which makes it so damn difficult to stop his eyes from sliding over, and noticing every little detail about you. 

The short dress that had ridden up from where you’d sat down and crossed your legs, showing off more than enough of your toned thighs. The deep black of it suited you, and not just because it was Jeno’s favourite colour, but because it complemented the tumble of hair falling over your shoulder. You looked like a goddess, untouchable. Especially when you smile. God, he loves when you smile. 

Just not when he’s not the one doing it. He should be the only one to make you laugh, to make you feel more relaxed at a party. Because he knows you, all the little things and your quirks.

But not once did you glance his way; and he’s fully aware of that because Jeno has definitely been staring. You’re ignoring him, and he hates it. So fucking much.

Maybe the alchohol was catching up to him, finally settling into his bloodstream and mixing dangerously with his jealous streak because he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he has to do something. 

Impulsively, Jeno abandons the conversation he had already half checked out of with his friends, and doesn’t waste a second marching over to you and the man. Ideally, Jeno wanted you to be thrilled to have him sweep you away, but when he arrived at the booth you and him had been sitting at, Jeno sees your eyes flash with an undeniable ‘what the fuck are you doing over here?’

“Nice to see you, Y/N,” Jeno greets you charmingly, sliding right into the booth on your side without an invitation, blatantly interrupting.

“Hi, Jeno,” you reply, keeping your tone polite despite not moving to give him more room.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” It hasn’t. “I thought I’d get you a drink and we could catch up?”

Jeno’s attempt to get you away is feeble, but it’s not exactly like he had enough time to devise a good plan. He was being impulsive, jealous, reckless – acting on instinct and he instinct was telling him that he need you, by his side. 

“Maybe later, yeah Jen?”.

“Why? You having too much fun already?” he asks, which was rather a loaded question, considering you had company sitting right across from you. 

“I’m having a lot of fun,” you emphasise a little more than necessary, glancing at the brunette across the table and playfully rolling your eyes. It had the man smiling in understanding, which was quick to piss Jeno off. 

“Really?” he said flatly. “You don’t look it.”

“Maybe you don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.”

“I think I know better than most.”

That’s when Jeno squeezes your knee, and you want to disagree, but you couldn’t. Because Jeno knew, alright. He knew pretty damn well.

The guy opposite you shifts in his seat, probably aware that he had suddenly become a third wheel, thanks to the flirty tone in Jeno’s voice. Jeno gets a sick sense of enjoyment watching the man get uncomfortable – all the confirmation that whatever little plan he had going on was working. It made him only want to do it more.

So Jeno oh so casually reaches to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. You try not to react, but your head tilts slightly towards him, and your features soften. 

“You look beautiful,” Jeno compliments, fingers trailing down your hair, brushing over your shoulder before they settled back on your knee. “Black suits you.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. 

“Are you two friends?” The man asks, reminding you both of his presence.

“Sort of,” you began to say, just as Jeno declares, “Very close friends.”

With your cheeks now flushing, you cut him a look that he largely ignores, before feeling the need to explain yourself to the friendly guy you had just met. “We catch up sometimes. Occasionally.”

“We’ve known each other for ages.” Jeno emphasises because he liked that fact. Liked knowing he was here first, having that leverage and advantage over any guy you’d ever meet.   

“I should leave you to it then, let you two catch up,” the man says through a tight lipped smile as he began to slide out of the booth. He knew exactly what Jeno was trying to do. “Nice meeting you, Y/N. See you around sometime.”

“I hope so!” You reply trying to sound enthusiastic. You didn’t want to give Jeno the satisfaction he was clearly hoping for. 

Once the man turned his back on you, you grab your glass and take an extra generous gulp of your drink. 

Before Jeno had the chance to open his mouth and say something else that was only going to irritate you, you lean into him. 

“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Out. Get out. Let me out.”

Shuffling along as he was told, Jeno watches dumbly as you hastily slip out of the booth after the stranger, tugging the hem of your dress down with one hand and clutching your nearly empty glass in the other.

Jeno blinks for a second as you try to parade away from him. Then it registers in his mind and he’s chasing behind you and out of the bar. That’s when he tugs on your arm to stop you in your tracks. 

“Y/N. Stop, please.”

Much to Jeno’s surprise, you do as he says, turning around and holding up a commanding finger.  It almost seemed like a joke, but there was no humour in your tone when you asked, “What were you thinking?”

Jeno tilted his head to the side, tonguing the side of his cheek. 

“We weren’t at that party together! You knew that,” you continue your rant.

“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak to you in public,” Jeno replies naïvely with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

“You know that’s not what we do. We don’t hang out at social events, Jeno. We agreed on casual. I don’t want a relationship.”

Casual. Yeah, you seemed to really not want a relationship when you were chatting up that guy for ages. The thought makes Jeno scoff, his gaze dropping to his feet. 

 You cross your arms over your chest, exhaling, “What?”

“That guy,” he simply says, his eyes flashing with a slight fury when he looks back up at you. “You were with that guy.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 

“Who was he?”

“It doesn’t matter!”

“It does matter when you refuse to even speak to me in public, but spend your whole night with him.”

Jeno’s smile is long gone, and almost, almost, you wanted to forget this whole thing and bring it back. You hated when Jeno was mad at you, not that he was very often, but he was being irrational right now. 

“I just met him, it was all friendly” you explain. “I can’t believe you’re jealous!”

“I’m not jealous!”

Jeno knew he was, but there was not a chance of him admitting that seeing you with any other man drove him absolutely insane. Every single damn time. Still, you know better.

“You obviously are! Jeno, you know how I feel about you–”

“Do I? You didn’t seem to be into me tonight.”

“Because you came out of nowhere and acted like I was all yours!”

“You are mine!”

That was the wrong thing to say. Jeno knew it as soon as it came out his mouth, saw it in the way your expression tightened slightly. Even so, he wouldn’t take back what he thought was true.

“We haven’t defined anything–” you fumble, “Infact, I think we did the opposite—” 

“How would you like it if I’d been flirting with another girl all night?” He cuts in.

“It wouldn’t matter,” you lie. “You can do what you want.

Jeno takes a few steps towards you, and it makes you unconsciously hold your breath. He’s so tall and intimidating and goddam sexy—wait you’re mad at him right now! 

“What I really want, Y/N, is to be with you,” he spells it out frustratingly slowly. “Seeing you all night long in that short dress that barely covers your ass and knowing I can’t touch you, claim you, fucking kills me.” 

Your eyes betray you, because despite every brain wave in your mind telling you to yell at him for that slightly misogynistic statement—your eyes still soften. 

“Well, you should’ve just said that,” you try to explain instead of lecturing him. “If you’ve been feeling like that you should’ve talked to me instead of acting like a caveman.” 

“You don’t listen.”

“I’m listening now.”

Jeno blinks at you, his jaw loosening as his eyes watch your gaze drift down to his lips. The action is loud enough for him to not waste another second before his hands move to your waist, pulling you in to the kiss he had been dying to give you all night. 

It’s harder than he would’ve given you earlier, more possessive – oh, definitely possessive when he forces your back against the brick wall at the side of the bar and your arms have no choice but to hastily wrap around his neck. You stumble a little, but he keeps a firm grip on you.

If you wanted him to tell you how he felt, well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.

He tells you in the desperate way that he kisses you, lips parting and unwilling to leave yours. He tells you by the way he presses his body flush against yours, pinning you to the brick so you can’t slip away from him, not again. He tells you in the low moan that escapes him when your hand tangles up in his hair and your own lips work just as eager.

When he breaks away for a moment, he takes his time to just look at you. So pretty, so desperate, and so undoubtedly all his. 

And when you gaze back at him through long lashes and eyes radiating with lust, he has to groan because he’s the one making you like that. He’s the one getting you to bite down on those pretty lips, lips that were made for him, belong to him. 

But you’re feeling too desperate and he’s taking too long. So within a mere few seconds, you’re reaching for him again. It has him thinking maybe you’re trying to tell him the same thing. But there was no need to do that. Jeno had made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 

There was still a lingering frustration fuelling the two of you – mostly from you; it was jealousy for Jeno. He is jealous that someone else – another man – had gotten to spend the night at the party with you. He needed you to know that he hated to see you with him, and that this – this was never going to be better with anyone else. 

No matter how hard a man would try, they could never know you the way that he did. They could never make you feel the way he did. 

Ridiculously, you want to apologise despite him reading the situation all wrong. You hadn’t been flirting with anyone else, and you thought it didn’t matter who you chose to simply talk to. You never knew he’d feel this threatened. Never suspected it would upset him this much. 

You proposed the idea of keeping things casual to not get hurt. Jeno was unbelievably attractive and could have his pick of any woman. You thought keeping him at arm's length would protect you—figures it’s only hurting him. 

Regardless, no matter the context there was no denying that he was being a jealous ass tonight and the two of you had argued. An argument that you were both getting very turned on by and had you conflicted between getting down on your knees for him or letting him fuck you against the wall, outside and all. 

You always found great thrill in surprising him: breaking from the feverish kisses, you reach up under your dress and yank down your underwear. The delicate fabric falls around your ankles, and you kick them off to the side, inviting him to what he so clearly wanted.

I’m yours right here, right now, your eyes tell him.

And you really thought you had won at the whole surprising thing, until he hooks your legs around his waist and presses his hips harder against you. You never pegged yourself or Jeno for being an exhibitionist but something about him taking you against the wall of the very same bar he thought a man was flirting with you at, awakens something feral inside him. 

All of a sudden the wall seemed like the perfect spot for make up sex. Honestly, Jeno just wanted any sex. As long as it was with you. 

He exhales heavily when he starts to ease his pants down and you fumble to undo his shirt buttons. But you get far too distracted by his lips beginning to trail down your throat. He reaches for your thigh, smoothing up your soft skin, as he hitches up your dress around your hips. 

You’re so desperate for him you can’t help but whimper. And just when you think ‘Yes, finally,’ a cocky grin spreads across his face as his finger slips effortlessly (and too goddamn slowly) over your centre. His teasing is somewhat annoying, but it’s so hard to be pissed at him when he’s touching you like that. Hell, it’s hard to be mad at him in general—you’re weak to him and that’s exactly why you’re pushed up against a wall. 

Jeno picks up his pace as soon as he begins stroking you with another finger. You squirm against the wall and he watches that hungry expression grow as he rubs you rhythmically, fingers sliding up and down, up and down, so easily from how wet you are. Pride swells in his chest because he did that. 

Every moan that leaves your lips is his own little reward, one that he is dying to receive more, and more, and more of. Forever. 

Jeno knows you’re close. It would’ve been easy to get you off right there, and he would’ve, had he not abruptly pulled away from you. You curse under your breath at the loss of contact. 

“Jeno!” 

He smirks, loving the way you squirm as he nudges your legs further apart. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Got to tell me what you want, baby.” 

You groan frustratingly, since apparently he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said something. “I want you, now. Just need you inside me.”  

He smirks, the grip he had on your thighs tightening and the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt. He shifts his hips, pushing the crown of his cock against your entrance — slowly, sensually, tormentingly. 

You lean into him, nails digging into the fabric on his back as he presses his forehead against your neck, soft hisses escaping him as he feels you — wet and tight. 

“This pussy was fucking made for me,” he growls, cock buried to the hilt. He could stay there forever, selfishly he wants to, but he can hear your whimpers and the need to please you becomes priority. 

He bottoms out and then his hips are snapping forward hard, fast, possessive. Whatever words you wanted to say dissolves into a senseless moan. His thrusts become more erratic and needy and the pace has you clenching down around him. Fuck. 

Jeno stills. His breath ghosts over your collarbones and his fingers dig even further into your hips. You know that look, he’s struggling to keep himself under control, which, given the circumstances is the last fucking thing you want. 

“Not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby.” 

He’s trying to reason with you, but before you really have time to think about what you’re doing you’re clawing at his back, tightening your legs around and digging the heels of your shoes into his back hard enough that he growls, low and frightening in a way that makes your spine tingle. 

“Fuck,” he grits out thrusting into you hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is loud and vulgar in the middle of the street, but you don’t care and can’t care because fuck, all you can think about is how it feels as he rocks into you, again and again and again. 

“Jeno,” you gasp out, grip digging into his shoulders as he fucks you, ruthless and unforgiving. 

He’s relishing in it, you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s trying to fucking burn the sight into his brain forever, the sounds you’re making and the way you shiver in his arms and the sheer force of it all. He groans and when he kisses you again it’s nearly violent, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. 

“All mine,” he groans against your mouth. He hisses as you bite at his bottom lip, retaliating with a growl and driving his hips into yours with a newfound ruthlessness. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Oh—fuck please,” you gasp out, breaths coming out in little huffs in time with the movement of his body. 

“Not what I asked,” he lowers his voice, serious. His pace slows down and it has you squirming and crying out.

“Fuck yes—yours Jeno. Always been yours. Just please don’t stop—” 

Jeno groans and kisses your neck. He picks up his pace again. The same low tone in his voice as he promises, “I’m all yours too.” 

You swear those three simple words were the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Your walls flutter around him and you don’t miss the prideful grin on his face as his hand moves down from your hip and his thumb presses against your clit.

His fingers move hurriedly and the pleasure is suddenly blinding and white and fuck fuck—

“Jeno yes just like that I’m gonna—”

“Good fucking girl,” he chokes out, your orgasm shaking him to his core, making his thrusts half-desperate. 

His rhythm falters and his own breath catches. He digs his fingers into your hip hard enough that it makes you hiss and then he falters and slows and gives one, two, three more thrusts before pinning you harder with a shaky, breathless sigh.

The two of you stay like that for a beat before he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your dress. Then slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks, tasting you with a roll of his eyes. 

“I mean it, you know,” He quietly says. “I’m all yours.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a revering kiss, and you tell him the exact same thing back. 

[moonstruckme]

fae!Sirius asks for your name and you give it to him immediately because he's just so pretty wtf and he feels too bad to steal it from you because you're looking at him like he's a god and sure, it's not uncommon for his 'victims' to think he's beautiful but something about *you* just makes his little fae heart race-

I'm so normal about him I promise <3

Babe you have no idea how this has sat in my brain since you sent it all those months ago. I am not normal about him. Thank you! <3

fae!Sirius x whimsical!reader ♡ 804 words

Sometimes, when you leave your gifts in the forest, you’ll think you hear movement behind you. A soft crunch of the leafbed, or a rustling in the trees overhead. You’ll catch the rich scent of soil after a storm, though it hasn’t rained for days and the sky is blue and cloudless. Sirius will watch as your head lifts, noticing these things, but then you’ll simply carry on with what you’re doing, stand up, and go home. 

One day, you stand up to go home and find him waiting for you. 

“Hello, lovely,” he says, watching in amusement as your human face stills with awe. Your lips part. 

You know instantly what he is. No human carries themselves like the fae do, like Sirius could melt into the foliage at whim and you’d never find a trace of him. None of your kind have features quite so fine, or hair so dark it eats the sun. Or eyes like his, ever changing, shifting colors like a fish’s scales. No, you recognize him with one look. 

To your credit, you recover quickly. “Hello,” you say back. 

Sirius smiles with his too-white teeth. “What have you brought me this time?” 

You look behind you, to the tree hollow where you leave your gifts, as though you’ve already forgotten. “Oh. It’s a new cheese I found. Sea salt and honey.” 

Sirius cocks his head, intrigued. “I’ve not had that before.” 

“I thought you might not have.” Your initial surprise is wearing off, giving way to a sweet airiness. Your smile is soft as fresh snow. “I try to bring new things for you to try. I didn’t realize how small the portions would be, though; you’re bigger than I thought.” 

Sirius looks at you, making his eyes flash. He expects you to flinch, but you gasp softly, leaning in as if to see better. Strange. 

“You think that because I’m this size now, I must always be,” he says. 

“Aren’t you?” 

He tsks, teasing. “Best not to make presumptions.” 

Once again, curiosity rules your expression. Your eyes squint and your brows twitch towards each other, but before you can ask more questions Sirius goes on. 

“You’re beautiful,” he says, a simple truth. He wonders if you know he can’t lie. “If you’d let me repay your generosity, I’d like to give you a gift in return.” 

Again, your lips part, but you hesitate. Such pretty lips, Sirius thinks. So expressive. 

“That’s alright,” you say after a moment. “I don’t need anything. They were for you.” 

Sirius hides a smile. Clever thing, not to accept gifts from the fae. 

“If that’s what you want.” He asks, in a voice like spidersilk, “But what should I call the beautiful girl who’s left me so many gifts?” 

You smile and give him your name without reservation. Perhaps not so clever after all. 

Sirius says it back to you, rolling it around in his mouth. It leaves a sweet aftertaste on his tongue. You nod in clueless confirmation. 

“Can I ask yours?” 

“No,” says Sirius, “you may not.” 

You don’t appear offended. Your eyes are placid and trusting. Maybe it’s that look that makes him hesitate. Sirius knows what he’s meant to do now, what he’s done to others before you, but he finds himself tempted to wait. To see what you do next. 

“Well,” you say after a long silence, “I hope you like the cheese. If you want more, I can bring you some next time, but I should probably be getting home now.” 

“So soon?” Sirius asks. Though the breeze is cooling, and the sun’s dying rays tangle in your hair. 

You smile, almost apologetic. “Yeah, but—oh. Here, I forgot.” You reach into your bag, drawing out a long feather. It’s onyx black and shines like oil in the fading sunlight. “I found this at a friend’s house a few days ago, I meant to leave it with the cheese.” You look at him, shameless in your appraisal. “It sort of looks like your hair.” 

Sirius smiles, feeling the stretch of his lips with an odd sort of amusement. “It does,” he agrees. He lets you place the feather in his hand and feels the warmth of your fingertips on his skin with something like awe. A human has never been so bold as to touch him before. 

“I’ll visit soon,” you say, granting him one last, serene smile as you turn to go. “I hope you come out and say hello.” 

He thinks that he might. As you walk away, feet padding softly on grass and the shadows of trees falling over you like loving touches, he considers stealing the name you gave him so freely. 

But you’re lovely, and Sirius is a hedonist. He wants a taste of those lips given of your own free will. 

[carebearbussy]

𝙘𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙧𝙚𝙩𝙡𝙮 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝙙𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙖 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙜𝙚.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛, 𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙚𝙩 𝙣𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 1.4K

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

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You were bored out of your mind.

You were cozied up on Sukunas lap, while the two of you were laying in bed. His back was pressed against the headboard, as he indulged in a book Uraume had gotten him for his research. One of his hands held up the book, and another rested on your hip.

"Next page.", he said, waiting for you to flip the page after every single one. You weren't the least bit interested in the book he was trying to read. But instead, with your head resting on his left shoulder, turned to look at his pretty face. He had his reading glasses on, which really brought out his eyes. You remember when he asked you if he would look good in glasses, and when you had said yes? He got multiple different pairs hand made in your favor. You found it somewhat cute that he reserved your opinion.

You turn the page obediently, but still thinking of something else to do. Of course, being with the man you were head over heels with was enough, but you could do more of course. You noticed his hand holding his book letting go of it, then going to rub his shoulder, a slight discomfort indicated in his face.

"Whats wrong, 'kuna?" You say, looking at the way he rubs his sore shoulders from under his robe. "Nothings wrong, keep reading instead of focusing on my face." He says, clearly noticing your staring. But you couldn't help but stare at the sharp features that grazed his face. And the way his eyebrows ever so slightly furrowed whenever he maneuvered. But then, a lightbulb lit in your mind, and you came up with a brilliant idea.

"You're lying to me. Is it your back? Let me help, how about a massage?" You ask him, not letting a golden opportunity like this pass. He uses his lower set of eyes to look at you, his upper ones rolling in a fake annoyance, then returning the focus onto his book. "Do not make me repeat myself, brat. It is merely nothing." Lies. You knew Sukuna like the back of your hand. His pain was practically your pain. "Pleaseeeee just let me give you a nice massage... I promise it will feel nice!" You say, a fake pout grazing your lips.

"I can just call a servant to do that, foolish woman. And besides, if there was something wrong with my body I would know." He says, still not giving into your proposal. But you were determined. You turn your body around to face him, giving him a curious look before poking into his shoulder blade. "Shit, what was that for?" He says with a slight hiss, awaiting a response. "See! I am fully capable of doing it myself, your back must be sore, big guy."

Looking at you, he sees the way your eyes glisten. Something you know he is weak to. He closes his eyes for a good while, before he made his decision. He closes his book, as he gently picks you up by the waist as places you down on the ground. He then gets up himself, throwing the top half or his robe off to some other part of the room. He then gets on his stomach, placing his head in between his hands.

"Hurry up before I regret my decision."

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"Giving a simple massage does not require so much unnecessary attention."

The bedroom had been meticulously prepared for this moment. Especially since this was something you had wanted to do to Sukuna for a long time. You had candles placed all over the room, as well as white sheets over the bottom half of his body, including the smell of incence blaring through the room. It was overboard, sure, but it was perfect.

"Whatever, as long as your wife is happy." You say, teasingly. "You aren't my wife yet. Don't get too excited woman."

"Maybe not now, but after this it's gonna be on your mind." Doing something this domestic for Sukuna makes you feel so warm inside, as you make it your mission to relieve him of his pain. You rested your body on his back, each of your legs on either side, as you used your thumbs to massage the knots in his upper back. You kneaded each crevice of his back, making sure to pay extra attention to each part.

"Where exactly does it hurt?" You ask him, as his head lays down into the pillows, his four arms resting next to his head. "Figure it out." He says, clearly not wanting to talk all too much. But you knew him too well. You press down on his upper back in his right shoulder blade, and his body ever so slightly shocks up. You smile at this, knowing you found his weak spot. "I'm not gonna hurt you, 'kuna." Reassuring him gently (as if he needs reassurance.) Whenever he was around you, he turned into an adult baby.

Gently rubbing out the knot in his shoulder, you hum to yourself at the reactions his body is giving you. His fingers grip the top of the bedsheets, trying not to give you the satisfaction of his fleeting demeanor. "It feels nice, doesn't it my lord?" You say, a giggle falling from your mouth at the silly nickname.

For you, it feels strange to call him anything but 'kuna'. Usually, if somebody else would refer to him, it would be, "My Lord" or "Sir". But you had a rare exception, which made you feel special.

"Don't call me by that name, brat. And I don't recall telling you to stop." He never wanted to indulge you, but here he was. Letting your hands work absolute magic on his back. To him, you weren't doing a great job. Sure, some handmaiden could do a way better job. But since it was coming from you, it just made it all the better for him.

You look over at your bedside table, and you grab more oil and rub it into your hands, then slowly molding it into the rough skin. Also seeing a boquet of flowers made your head ponder, as you grabbed a flower and picked it. You placed it in his hair, thinking it was cute on him, especially if he didn't notice.

Moving your hands lower on the slope of his back, you traced your finger along the black marks across his back, admiring them in all their beauty. "Kuna, why do you have all of these black marks?" You asked him, genuine curiosity pondering your mind. You see the marks glisten under the coat of oil, making them stand out even more. You massage your hands into the marks, running over them as if they were tracks. "You ask strange questions, little one." He says, as he relaxes further into your treatment. Your hands move lower, as he lets out a gruff groan in response. "Right there, thats it, good job." He says, taking one of his lower hands and guiding your wrist towards where he wants you to go.

Your hand kneads the tight muscle of his back, as you make a sudden stop. "I need to use the bathroom-" You say, but you were disrupted as he grabs hold of both of your wrists with both of his lower arms, and turns his head to the side. "You aren't going anywhere until I say were done. You hear me? Now go ahead and finish your pummeling." You slowly nod at his words, as you continue your tricks on his lower back. "Good girl."

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"Did I do a good job?"

You ask him, as you two lay back in your original position. You snuggled flat atop of his chest, listening to his heartbeat while slightly looking up at him, as his hand slowly played with your hair.

"You did okay, it certainly was not the best."

"You can't lie to me, Kuna. I did amazing, didn't I?"

"I do not like when you make me feel like this."

"...Like what?"

"Weak. You had the King of Curses groaning from your handiwork. You are supposed to be the feeble one, brat."

"Thats just the magic of these hands. They can do a lot more, y'know."

"Go to bed, woman." He said, blowing out the candles, the insence smell still lingering.

"Goodnight, Kuna, love you." You said, earning yourself a particularly aggressive pat to the head.

"Your fondness has no effect on me." He said, a slight smirk not being shown by the dark.

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[https-lvesick]

⎯⎯⎯ ﹙ 엔시티 드림﹚ their kinks .ᐟ ㇹ.

𝒑. bf!dream × 𝒇.reader ｜ 𝒈. smut ｜ 𝒄. just smut... the title is actually pretty self explanatory :3 ﹕ bookshelf

⸝⸝ notes. idk since when i have this ready, sitting prettily in my drafts... but here it is, finally! hope you guys like it 🤭🤭

﹙ぉ﹚mark.

PORN⎯ it became your guilty pleasure together after that one unforgettable moment. the day you walked in on him — flushed, panting, and achingly hard — his embarrassment was palpable. when he stammered out that he was watching to learn new ways to please you, your heart raced. from that night, it became your shared ritual. now, his hands roam your body as you both watch, whispering filthy promises of what he’ll do to you next.

PRAISE⎯ he lives for your praise, craving every soft-spoken word of admiration. whether it’s a simple “you did so well” or a breathless “you feel so good,” it makes his heart race. his pout is irresistible when your praise doesn’t come quickly enough — he’ll whine, tugging at your attention until you relent. and when it’s his turn, he overwhelms you with devotion: beautiful, perfect, mine. he wants every inch of you to know how loved you are.

THIGH RIDING⎯ he notices how your eyes linger on his thighs — how you bite your lip when he wears those tiny, dangerous shorts with nothing underneath. it’s a game now. he spreads his legs wide, lounging like temptation incarnate until you lose control. once you’ve climbed onto his lap, grinding against him, he’s hooked — loving every desperate gasp as you chase your high, his hands gripping your hips while he watches his pretty girl come undone on his thighs.

RECORDING⎯ it started with voice memos and teasing photos while he was away. you couldn’t resist sending a clip of yourself trembling with pleasure, calling out his name. when he came home, you barely had time to speak before his hands were all over you. “can i record you?” he whispered hoarsely, his phone already out. you agreed, imagining how many times he’d lose himself watching later. now, it’s a shared addiction — capturing every moan, every arch, every filthy moment of you being his.

SPIT KINK⎯ his eyes darken when he tells you, “open up, baby.” but it’s not just the act — it’s what it reveals. when his spit lingers on your lips, untouched, he knows you’re wrecked and raw for him. when you swallow too quickly, he takes it as a challenge. “not done yet,” he growls, determined to break you until there’s no trace of control left — only need, desire, and surrender.

﹙ぉ﹚renjun.

FACE SITTING⎯ he lives for the weight of you, the warmth and wetness of your pussy smothering his face. nothing compares to the feeling of your thighs trembling against his cheeks, your scent filling his lungs as he devours you. and when you hover, hesitant, he growls in frustration. “sit,” he demands, pulling you down with strong hands. “don’t hold back. ride me like you mean it.” the pleasure of being used by you leaves him drunk with desire.

BREAST PLAY⎯ your breasts are his sanctuary — soft, perfect, utterly addictive. he could spend hours touching, squeezing, and tasting. but when you tease him — dragging your breasts over the sensitive tip of his cock — it drives him to madness. his resolve crumbles as he cums hard and fast, groaning your name while his release paints your skin. the sight of you covered in him? pure heaven.

THIGH JOB⎯ when the need overtakes him, he doesn’t wait. you could be cooking or working — it doesn’t matter. he slips between your thighs, cock slick with precum as he thrusts desperately. “don’t move,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded, gripping your hips. the squeeze of your thighs, the soft praise you whisper into his ear, your fingers running through his hair — it all pushes him to the edge. he cums hard, trembling as your words echo in his mind: “my good boy.”

CUM PLAY⎯ despite his usual preference for clean, controlled passion, the sight of his cum mixed with your sweat-covered skin awakens something primal. he smears it across your chest, your stomach — his breath hitching as he admires his handiwork. sometimes, he captures the moment with a discreet photo, though he’ll never admit how much he treasures them. tasting you both, however? that’s no secret.

MUTUAL MASTURBATION⎯ it’s a shared race to the finish line. his fingers pump inside you, matching the rhythm of your hand wrapped around him. the room fills with ragged moans, the heat between you spiraling out of control. the thrill of cumming together — trembling, overstimulated, desperate — is intoxicating. he��ll keep going until you’re both wrecked, craving every last second of shared ecstasy.

﹙ぉ﹚jeno.

SIZE KINK⎯ the contrast between his sheer strength and your smaller frame drives him wild. nothing makes his cock harder than the sight of you fitting so perfectly in his arms, so easy to toss around. he loves keeping you perched on his lap — whether you’re simply relaxing or grinding against him for relief. but his favorite is standing sex. lifting you effortlessly, holding you up as he pounds into you, flexing just to feel the way your body melts, dripping with want.

BELLY BULGE KINK⎯ every inch of him stretches you to your limit. no matter how often you’ve taken him, you always need time to adjust. his large hands tease and prepare you with agonizing patience — long fingers stroking your insides, his tongue working you open until you’re shaking. and then, finally, he slides inside, filling you so deeply that the bulge in your tummy becomes his undoing. the sight of it makes his eyes darken and his hips snap harder, spilling deep inside with each thrust.

MORNING SEX⎯ he lives for waking up to you. the heat of your body wrapped around him, the way your lips close around his cock — it’s his idea of heaven. sleepy hands grip your hips as you ride him, your warmth pulling him into a blissful haze. mornings without your touch feel incomplete; he claims it’s the only way to guarantee a good day, and his slow, lazy thrusts show just how sweet he plans to make yours.

BREEDING KINK⎯ he daydreams of you pregnant far more than he’d admit. his eyes linger on your stomach during sex — not just because of the bulge from his cock but from imagining it round and full with his baby. every thrust is deliberate, a silent promise of filling you with more. and when you moan daddy, it’s over. his hips lose rhythm, his control snaps, and he’s fucking you with abandon, all purpose and no restraint.

OVERSTIMULATION⎯ he can’t stop. you’re so soft, so wet, so intoxicating that he keeps pushing, even after you’ve come. his fingers curl inside you, coaxing more pleasure from your trembling body. your cries make him harder, his breath ragged as he feels your walls flutter around him. when you coat his hand in your release, he’s a mess — groaning, needy, tasting you like a man possessed, determined to have every drop again and again.

﹙ぉ﹚haechan.

MARKING⎯ he wears your marks with pride, turning every mirror into a shrine of your love. hickeys, scratches, and bite marks — they all make his heart race. he traces each with a grin, and when they start to fade, he’s immediately begging for more. “claim me,” he whispers, desperate for your touch. nothing makes him happier than knowing he’s yours — his body, your canvas.

DEGRADING⎯ “you’re pathetic,” you sneer, and he shivers. he’s a slut — your slut — and he needs to be reminded. he loves the sting of your words, the humiliation of your hands slapping his face or his cock. when he’s whining for mercy, tears pricking his eyes, he’s in bliss. he doesn’t want you to be gentle. he wants you to use him, ruin him, leave him begging for more.

DIRTY TALK⎯ his tongue is wicked — sharp, teasing, utterly filthy. he knows how to make you melt with just a few words. before it starts, he whispers sweet nothings, luring you in. then comes the switch: vivid, lewd promises of what he’ll do — bouncing you on his cock until you’re babbling nonsense, stuffing your pretty mouth full while your cunt clenches around him. his hand snakes up your thigh, fingers pressing, pinching, pulling until your head falls back, his words turning into pure sin.

CUM PLAY⎯ he’s obsessed with the mess — your slick on his skin, his seed marking you from head to toe. when jealousy burns, it’s worse. he covers every inch of your body, smearing it into your skin, reminding himself — and you — who you belong to. he doesn’t need proof, but he craves it. “look at you,” he murmurs, voice dripping with possession, as his cum drips down your thighs.

FACE SITTING⎯ he’s addicted to your pussy. it doesn’t matter where, it doesn’t matter when — he needs you on his face. hovering is not an option. “don’t hold back,” he growls. “fucking sit.” he dives in like a man starved, tongue relentless, hands gripping your thighs as he pulls you down harder. your arousal coats his face, and he loves it. the wetter, the better. suffocate him. ruin him. just don’t dare deny him.

﹙ぉ﹚jaemin.

DOLLIFICATION⎯ he loves turning you into his perfect little doll. hands gentle but deliberate as he styles your hair, fastens delicate accessories, and selects the softest, most seductive lingerie. he even adds a touch of blush to your cheeks, taking his time to admire his work — a masterpiece of prettiness before the chaos. but by the end? you’re a beautiful mess. smeared lipstick stains his chest, mascara streaks your cheeks, and your innocence is completely ruined. that’s his favorite part: breaking his delicate doll after crafting her to perfection.

BREEDING KINK⎯ jaemin’s love for the idea of being a father isn’t just a fantasy — it’s an obsession. the moment you tossed the condoms and stopped the pills, it unlocked a new level of hunger in him. every thrust is purposeful, every orgasm focused on filling you with his seed. he watches with dark, hungry eyes as his cum drips from your swollen cunt, mesmerized as he pushes it back inside, determined to keep you full. “how will you get pregnant if it keeps slipping out, baby?” he groans, already fucking you again.

DUMBIFICATION⎯ the way you go blank for him — eyes glassy, mouth parted, words reduced to babbled nonsense — makes him smirk with pride. his cock turns you into a perfect, pliant mess, your mind too far gone to form thoughts. he murmurs depraved things, cooing softly as drool trickles from the corner of your mouth. “my sweet, dumb girl,” he praises, kissing you as you fall apart, fully lost in him.

MANHANDLING⎯ you’re too delicate to handle yourself — at least, that’s how jaemin sees it. shifting positions? not your job. that’s what he’s here for. he lifts, twists, and bends you exactly how he wants, effortlessly maneuvering your pliant body. you love it, and so does he. you’re his to move, to control, to mold — and he takes full advantage, whispering how weak and perfect you are as he fills you to the brim.

RECORDING⎯ a camera roll full of you, his greatest treasure. every arch of your back, every moan, every needy cry — he’s captured them all. each orgasm is immortalized, every sex tape carefully curated for his private viewing. he replays them when he’s away, hand gripping his cock, desperate to relive every moment. “smile for me, baby,” he grins, phone in hand, knowing exactly how pretty you look when you’re cumming just for him.

CORRUPTION KINK⎯ he’s the reason you know how to touch, how to kiss, how to suck — and he loves it. teaching you was the greatest thrill of his life, and the thought of corrupting you over and over again still makes his blood rush. “you don’t know how, do you?” he teases, eyes dark. “don’t worry, baby. i’ll teach you.”

﹙ぉ﹚chenle.

DADDY KINK⎯ the soft, breathy way you call him daddy wrecks him completely. the sweet innocence in your voice, the way you cling to him like he’s your last salvation — it feeds his ego and his darkest desires. he knows he’s the one ruining you, yet you say it like he’s your savior. and deep down, the idea of really being a father someday only makes it hotter.

BREEDING KINK⎯ chenle is determined to make you his — completely, irrevocably his. every time he fills you up, he dreams of the day you’ll carry his baby. he’s long since discarded the condoms, and you’ve caught him more than once browsing baby products online. when he’s fucking you, his mind is already decorating the nursery. “we’ll need another,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper. “one won’t be enough if they don’t look like you.”

DIRTY TALK⎯ the sound of your honeyed whispers — the filth you pour into his ear while your hands roam his body — it makes him dizzy. your need, your shameless craving for him, leaves him breathless. you cling to him, desperate and feral, telling him exactly what you want. his voice grows rough, words tumbling from his lips as he promises to ruin you, to give you everything.

DEGRADING⎯ you’re his princess — his perfect, precious girl. but sometimes, you push too far, teasing him until his control snaps. in those moments, you’re no longer his sweet love — you’re his slut. his to punish, to take, to wreck. “you’re mine,” he growls, voice sharp as his hand marks your skin.

EXHIBITIONISM⎯ possessiveness burns hot in his veins. your pretty moans are for his ears alone, your body belongs to his eyes only. but sometimes, proving that you’re his requires an audience. if someone watches, hears, knows exactly who owns you? he makes sure it’s unforgettable — pounding into you, marking you with every thrust, leaving no doubt in anyone’s mind.

﹙ぉ﹚jisung.

SIZE KINK⎯ he didn’t know how much it would turn him on until he saw the way his hands dwarf yours. you’re so small, so soft, and he’s so big. your tiny fingers barely wrap around his cock, your body stretches perfectly beneath him, and your mouth struggles to take him. it’s intoxicating — the contrast, the vulnerability, the way you whimper when he fills you to the hilt.

BELLY BULGE KINK⎯ “look at that,” he whispers, pride swelling as he presses his palm against the outline of his cock in your tummy. he pushes gently, relishing the way your body reacts, eyes rolling back as pressure intensifies the stretch. he drags it out, slow thrusts keeping you full as you beg for more, too wrecked to think of anything but how deeply he’s buried inside you.

ICE PLAY⎯ the moment ice touches your heated skin, your shiver sends a thrill straight to his core. you gasp, squirm, and cling to him, vulnerable and exposed, and he lives for it. the contrast between the cold and your warm body drives him wild — a game of sensation that leaves you trembling and begging for his touch.

DRY HUMPING⎯ he’s addicted to how desperate you get, grinding against him like you can’t help yourself. he watches, smirking, as you ride his thigh or rut against his lap, chasing pleasure even through layers of fabric. public places are his favorite — subtle thrusts, barely restrained moans, your panties damp as he whispers how pathetic and needy you are.

SEXTING⎯ the first time made him blush so hard he could barely breathe. now? he’s a master of it. teasing you through the phone, describing every filthy thing he wants to do, sending pictures that make you squirm. it’s become a game, a wicked build-up to the nights when you’re finally together, messy and breathless from all the waiting.

did you like the reading? why not like, reblog or leave a comment? this way i know i'm doing a good work and will keep up with it!

﹙ぉ﹚@jungaji @spacejip @lyvhie @sinisxtea @jirsungs @polarisjisung @chenlezip @ayukas @leleszn @mystverse @prologue-ae @hibernatinghamster @kj-kts @nctrawberries @peterm4rker @ant-onie @lovesuhng @haechanahceah67 @jeonghansshitester @hyusun @ncthoe69 @dawntyun @snowyseungs @bunnysoonie @haechansssun @n0hyuck @yvaniile @nahyuckers

[bbyseok]

the final conclusion of this post, where your boyfriend gojo satoru always starts floating because of his powers whenever you kiss him…

some time in your second or third year, satoru got ahold of his powers and no longer floats up into the air after you bestow him a kiss on the lips. it’s a funny endeavor that you’ll miss, but it did make your make out sessions a whole lot easier.

it’s years later.

he’s older now—you both are; your seemingly carefree high school days are long behind you now, but the two of you still find yourselves at jujutsu high as teachers.

gojo satoru couldn’t ask for a better partner than you to help him navigate his dream in supporting a new generation of sorcerers, and he gets along with his students very well (so he says).

your life is far from perfect… plagued by dangerous curses, riddled with the higher ups’ stupidity, getting through every day not knowing what could happen next—but it’s enough for you, especially with satoru at your side.

but it seems like it’s not quite enough for satoru.

it’s some time past midnight.

even after all this time, gojo still craves those stupid, overly sweet candies and late night snack runs. old habits die hard apparently.

he claims that it keeps your love life spontaneous, and who are you to deny him?

“‘toru…” you groan, rubbing at your eyes groggily as he tugs you along.

you’re clad in one of gojo’s hoodies that thrown over you in his haste, and it’s much too big on you with your hands that are drowning in the arm sleeves. (but for the record, you look like the epitome of perfection in your boyfriend’s eyes like this.)

but the snowy-haired man pays little attention to your weak protests, his boyish laugh being carried on the evening breeze.

it’s a fond sound you’ll never tire of as he says, “come on, sweetheart! i promise i’ll get you whatever you want.”

he always does.

and after you’ve secured snacks and whatever gojo had been craving for, you’re back outside. but you only take a few steps when it strikes you that this place seems somewhat… familiar.

the artificial light glows strongly from the convenience store, paired with the glistening moonlight pouring down from the night sky. it’s simple and pretty, but you’re distracted by the way it highlights satoru’s eyes.

this is the very same place where you and satoru had your first kiss.

it’s been a while since you’ve both been here—life is like that. the lights and windows have been altered in appearance, and the building itself has aged… but it’s obvious that it’s still the same place.

“satoru?” you sputter out, surprised.

he merely grins at you, his head tilting to the side bashfully with his snowy bangs falling over his eyes. “i never forgot about this store,” he confesses, glancing at it briefly.

your gaze softens, following his gaze. “me either.”

gojo grabs ahold of one of your hands, his thumb gently tracing over the lines of your knuckles as he meets your stare again. “you know, i think i fell in love with you that night you kissed me here,” he tells you, followed by a quiet chuckle.

his words cause a flurry of butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he always manages to do that, even after all this time. “yeah?” you hum softly.

satoru nods. “mhm.” after a moment, he continues. “so i… i think it’s rather fitting that i do this here too.”

you blink at him. “..do what?”

with his free hand, gojo digs into his jacket pocket for something. there’s a permanent smile sketched onto his lips as he finds it, and then—

he slowly sinks down on to one knee.

there’s a ring held delicately in his fingers, glistening in the dark. your breath catches.

you hadn’t expected for him to propose to you like this—way past your bedtime next to the convenience store with a grocery bag full of candies in your hands but now that you think about it… it’s very gojo satoru for you.

at the look of bewilderment painted over your face, satoru laughs.

“well…” and he utters your name with a tenderness that you and only you know, “will you marry me?”

a wobbly laugh leaves you then, your heart caught in your throat. “—!? yes! yes, satoru, i’ll marry you.”

gojo slips the ring onto your finger with ease, like it had always belonged there. you immediately pull him up to his feet as the two of you eye how the gemstone glimmers against your skin.

when your eyes meet his crystalline blue ones, it feels like the stars are under your feet, meeting him halfway in a passionate kiss.

you’ve kissed him probably more than millions of times in this lifetime—through the good and the bad; some are somber, some are silly.

and tonight?

you’re— oh, you’re floating.

sure enough, satoru’s feet are off the floor due to his powers for old times’ sake, dragging you up with him in his arms, and it makes you giggle against his lips.

“‘toru?!!”

but gojo seems just as surprised and amused by this circumstance just as you are. you can feel the puff of his laughter, the kind of laughter that makes his shoulders shake.

“guess you still sweep me off my feet,” satoru cheekily remarks.

to which you only respond with a fond roll of your eyes—and another kiss that steals his breath away and keeps you both in the air.

oh, well—soon, he’ll be your husband that occasionally floats when you kiss him.