#the way they just hold and rub each other’s back

[gojosprettyprincess]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI!

Tw - STEPCEST, cheating, age-gap(early 20s n early 40s), anal play, daddy/dad kink, oral, some really inappropriate and gross stuff. Stepcest isn’t blood related. Not proofread.

A/n - “Toji wouldn’t do th-“ I don’t give a shit, goodnight.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who secretly rubs your little pussy through your thin cotton panties from underneath the blanket while you're having a movie night with your family in the living room.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who tells your clueless mother that he’s taking you on a daddy-and-daughter bonding trip for a few days so the two of you can spend more time together and get to know each other more which only ends up with his hefty cock being stuffed deep into your innocent pussy— filling you up to the brim in some random hotel not too far from your house.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who instantly gets rock hard whenever you'd call him “dad” or “daddy”. He just can’t help when a sweet young thing like you is innocently batting your eyelashes up at him and asking him for his assistance. God, you’re so helpless, you can’t do anything without the help from your dad, not even cumming. :(

Which is why he has to sneak into your bedroom dead at night and skillfully poke his stepdaughter’s g-spot with his fat tip till you can finally cum and make a big mess on his cock.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who's obsessed with you sitting on his face, your warm dripping pussy nestled in his mouth while his eager tongue skillfully laps at the essence of your arousal from your glistening entrance. His nose presses into your rim purposefully, causing your adorable hole to wink against his nose in playful response to his inhales and breathing. He needs you on his face at least once a day :(

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who you coincidentally encounter in the bathroom, late at night while he’s pissing so that quickly escalated with his girthy cock now being shoved down your throat and he's thrusting it rhythmically in and out your mouth. Your eyes begin to well up with tears which only fuels him even more to use your mouth to his favor as he deviously grins down at you when he notices how you're helplessly playing with your drenched pussy with your fingers.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who gets off from being risky, especially when your mom is dozing off on the couch and he has you forcefully bent over the cold marble kitchen counter with one of his muscular hands pressed firmly against your lower back so you won't escape from his hold. His fat thumb is clogging your ass and his veiny cock is stretching your little pussy apart around his shaft while his angry tip is exploring the depths of your cunt.

He'd be such a mean man and force his thumb deeper and deeper into your asshole just so he can get a cute reaction from you and hear you whine while you desperately claw at his beefy forearm for him to stop :( He only chuckles and laughs at how scared you are as if you don't love it as much as he does.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who loves referring to himself as Daddy while he's balls deep into your slippery hole. Your trembling knees are knocking against your soft, bouncing tits and you're desperately gasping for air while your nails are sinking into his strong hand that's encircling your neck. "Shh shh c'mon be a good little step-kid f'daddy and take my cock". He whispers, trailing a thumb up to your glossy lips before inserting it into your mouth for you to suck on.

His cock is crammed into your tight pussy, and the way you keep sucking him in deeper and deeper every hazy second makes him not want to pull out anytime soon. He just can't get enough of your pussy. "That's it, that's baby, yer making daddy feel sooo good".

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who has developed a habit of sniffing your cunt and ass, he just can't help it :( he just loves your natural scent and can't get enough of you when he's bending down behind your small figure while you're engrossed in cooking dinner for the family and pulls your shorts down to bury his pointy nose in your moist pussy.

A plague of worries clouds your head when you feel his nose prodding into your tight entrance in the open. "T-toji! n-not here, she'll see!", you pleaded as you attempted to push his head away from your rear only for him to clasp both of your hands into his larger ones with just a chuckle rumbling against your cunny. soft whimpers escape your lips when you hear his loud whiffs of your pussy.

GRIMY STEP-DAD TOJI! who loves nothing more than licking his step-daughter’s little pussy at any given chance he gets :(

It's so prohibited and “taboo” and the older man is very much aware of that but he just can't help it when he's quietly slipping into your bedroom late at night to run his salivating tongue over the sapping mound— He’s been practically thinking about it the entire day.

His clothed cock immediately starts twitching uncontrollably every time his grimy thoughts clouded his vivid imagination, all he could do at work was discreetly palm his hardened bulge and give it a hard squeeze for friction and temporary relief.

He barely could wait till everyone was asleep to taste your delicious pussy again.

A deep involuntary groan leaves his lips from the taste of your creamy pussy melting on his tastebuds. The sensation of the sticky slick clinging onto his tongue stirred a desperate throbbing in his cock, yearning for more. God, every fiber of his being ached to plunge his hard cockhead into your warm, virgin pussy and ravish you until you painted his shaft with your cream but he won't... at least not yet.

Luckily for him, you were sleeping on your stomach and the tranquility of your slumber allowed him to cautiously lower your adorable panties down, gently resting it at your lower thighs, and parted your plush cheeks using his thumbs to peek at your delicate pussy. The glossy sheen veiling your folds glistened in the dim light, making his fat cock throb with urgency.

“Fuck, so pretty” he whispered breathlessly, sticking his tongue out to lap at your messy folds, his tongue flickers back and forth, licking up at your wetness and replacing it with his spit and intertwining saliva. Unfortunately for him, you weren’t a heavy sleeper so the sensation of his soft, wet tongue wiggling against your most intimate place was enough to stir you awake.

Your eyelids flutter open weakly, giving way to the heavy fog of slumber that still clung to your countenance. Sleep is evident in your features as your tummy tingles from the continuous sensation of the stimulation. Your vision was clouded with fuzziness but you could still make out the muscular silhouette of your step-father.

He was huge and muscular, he wasn’t built like some ordinary man so there was no mistake that it was him.

“Daddy?”You mumbled innocently, rubbing your eyes in hopes of having a clearer view after.

“W-hat are you doing?”

“Shh shh, go back to sleep doll. Dad’s gonna take care of ya” he lightly chuckled before caressing your ass and placing a few wet kisses on your soft cheeks.

[nosferatuv]

_ stepmomcaitlyn

cw ; stepcest. porn. fingering. edging. manipulating. mommy kink.

you thought you were alone— you swear you heard caitlyn's keys rattle as they always do before she leaves for work. you barely hesitated before spreading your legs and going to work.

she caught you, of course she caught you. you were being horribly loud, even had the audacity to have the porn movie playing on your laptop instead of your phone. and when she caught you, it wasn't pretty— well, not for you.

caitlyn however, seeing her stepdaughter of all people, spread out on your bed with your face scrunched up, it intrigued her. poor girl, you were clearly struggling to keep up with your demanding arousal, your desperate touches giving a second of relief before chased off with another flood of need.

it's rare you're home alone, so there's often a lot of build up. with your dad and his wife at work, you assume you're in the clear.

and by the time you realize she's pushing open your door with an eye roll, it's already too late. you're caught in your own perverted pool of slick and desperation.

and now the laptop plays obnoxiously loud in front of you, doing your best to watch the two women grind their hips together. your legs are hooked over caitlyn's, back against her chest as her long fingers tease over your clit.

you're a mess— in fact, you're probably more horny now then you were before. and when her fingers slip inside you again with a wet squelch, it's embarrassingly easy.

"keep watching," her voice is quiet but demanding, causing you to blink through your frazzled vision to watch the close up of the two women, their cunts slowly gliding over each other. its so sinfully beautiful, the way the lips part and the folds press together with strings of wet slick.

caitlyn had seen a lot of porn in her days, this was painfully mediocre. but fucking her fingers into her stepdaughter at the same pace as the two women seemed to give her a little enthusiasm, her palm rubbing against your achey clit.

she hums softly, almost in thought. her lips hover beside your ear, pausing for a second to listen to your whimpers and moans before speaking; "i'd go slow first..." she begins, gradually slowing the pace of her fingers. "if that were us. i'd make you beg for it,"

she is really not helping. you thought she'd come help you, make you cum and swear not to tell your father. but this was next level.

"...hold your legs open... keep you right there." her fingers withdrawal completely, a smile creeping onto her face when your hips instinctively chase after her touch.

"caitlyn.." your voice is barely a sound, just a meek, desperate whimper for an orgasm.

"what is it, princess?" she coos mockingly, watching your slick drip off her fingers. "what's wrong, hm? tell me."

you almost whine, your hips shifting on the bed in a failed search for friction. caitlyn had always been so proper— strict. you weren't her child, but that didn't mean she let shit slide. and you certainly weren't allowed to whine in hopes of getting your way.

"'need to cum..." you murmur, face flushing in embarrassment.

caitlyn hums, her gaze flickering to the laptop that played the vulgar scene of lesbian sex, and then down between your legs. she watches your needy pussy pulse and drool for her.

her fingers slip into you again, right up to the knuckle and rubbing them against your walls. you squeak, grinding into her hand.

"poor girl.." she murmurs, watching how your body reacts to her. "no mommy to take care of you, hm?" that's when her digits resume pumping in and out, the wet sloshing sound almost drowned out by the moaning on the screen.

you're so close, you have been since she sat behind you and swatted your hand away, but she keeps ripping the orgasm right out from under your feet.

she feels your walls throb and clench around her, leaking around her fingers and onto the bed. "it's alright, sweet girl..."

your breathing gets shakier and heavier, your thighs twitching around her hand as your stomach clenches and tenses. her soft words, condescending or not, almost wreck you on the spot.

"mommy's here. i'm here."

╋━ taglist.

@uhh-lana @pearlcigs @abbyspup @sunrxxyz @evabby @graciedollie @starrrcane @lilyyx0 @444fernz @abbysbae @tqlepatia @nvr4getme @lesbodietcoke @starting6over @2012wannabe @sapphicloverwlw @lesbpup @danfelog @ocharavitys @trizxyp @aelizreal @luxmith @imlovewithpixels

[kirbmey]

⠀⠀ ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ cockwarming w husband!sylus ⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: school was too much, exams were the only thing you could think about and sylus wanted to help you relax and drift away ( 〃．．)

tw: smut but fluffy, sylus is so delicate with reader, cockwarming duh, mentions of size training, breeding, reader is babied, etc.

again you found yourself with both your elbows propped on top of the desk, reading and rereading every paragraph from the notes you took in class, the sentences mixing between each other.

you made sure your sleeping gown was already on, skincare already done and hair put together in two messy braids, telling yourself this was going to be the last day you’d stay up so late to study. well, you told yourself that yesterday too (*￣∀￣)

on the other hand, sylus was done with todays duties, sending luke and kieran off to some sneaky mission, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked towards your shared room. he knew you were stressed, and he knew you needed some aid from him since you were too fixated on getting the best grades. he told you several times that you didn’t need to study at all, that he could provide you for every lifetime, but you complied.

as he approached said room he noticed a faint warm light peeking through the gap under the door, sighing and entering silently, finding you almost asleep on top of your notes, the dinner plate he left you before heading to his office untouched.

he took off his belt, throwing it aside and got close to your smaller frame sitting in the big desk chair, caressing your messy hair as he leaned to leave small kisses along your cheek, taking in how you opened those pretty eyes he loved so much.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“kitten, how are you feeling?” he whispered against your skin, feeling the vibration of his low voice against your face. you stir, rubbing your eyes with a weak fist before straightening your back, looking up to him with a pout while nodding lazily.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“can’t study m’re, sy.” you blurred out, eyes almost tearing up because you wanted him to feel proud of you, to cherish every single perfect grade you pulled.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“that’s fine, princess, you did great, but you have to eat and get some sleep, hmm?” he coaxed you into his body by holding your hips and lifting you up, leaving you to rest on the comfort of your king sized bed and its silky sheets while he traveled to the kitchen to cook your favorite dish instead of the one he gave you hours ago.

after some minutes he went back with a tray, said dish resting on it with some chocolate to eat after, knowing that you needed something sweet after eating.

he sat next to you, caressing your cheek to gain your attention; you were mindlessly playing with the fabric of the sheets while waiting for your husband. you noticed how he spred his long and fit legs along the mattress, indicating you to sit on your favorite place, his lap.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“can we… y’know.” you voiced shyly after a few bites he hand fed you, expecting the classic teasing he always gave you. sylus knew you wanted him inside you, just to warm you up, something you two started practicing not so long ago to size train you, finding comfort in this along the way.

so he didn’t tease, knowing how tired your little brain was for anything at all, holding your hip with one big palm to make you momentarily stand up before pulling himself out off his dressing pants, cock soft at your sight.

your smaller hand tried reaching it to give him a few strokes, being stopped by the white haired man and looking at his crimson eyes, pupils heart-shaped as he did it himself, allowing you to sink on him at a really slow peace after putting your slightly wet cotton panties aside.

⠀ ⠀ 　　　“there you go, good girl.” he encouraged you while you took him fully, his dick not entirely hard anyway. he then went back to feed you, cleaning up your mouth when it got dirty and bringing the glass of water to your lips when you where thirsty.

you finally finished the dish after long minutes; he didn’t really care about how much effort it took you, having the patience of a saint when it came to you. sylus put the tray aside on the table next to your shared bed, not forgetting about the chocolate he brought.

a cute smile crept up your juicy lips, opening your mouth when he fed it to you ounce by ounce, subtly sifting on his lap when he grew bigger inside you at the sight of your sleepy face enjoying the sweet.

sure, he should’ve brought you to the bathroom and wash your teeth after that, but how could he wake up the little bunny who fell asleep against his naked chest right after, quietly snoring and holding his opened shirt between week fingers?

he just comfortably sat down there, buried deep inside you, one huge hand massaging your nape while the other held a book, reading it while resting his chin on your head.

the way he slowly thrusted into you in the morning while licking your oh so sweet lips and filling you up after holding it in for the whole night is something i’ll keep private, though (シ_ _)

a/n: wanted to make this some daddy writing but I’m reserving that for zaynie (⇀ ‿ ↼ )

— masterlist.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

How you reward the JJK men after they won their game

Tags: JJK men x fem!Reader, sports au, college au, smut, mention of mental health, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, oral sex (male receiving), heavy exhibitionism, dirty talk, use pet names, mdni

Incl - Satoru, Suguru, Nanami, Choso, Toji, Sukuna

<< prev |

SATORU

“Fuck baby, that’s it…” Your large sweaty boyfriend pants underneath you. His hands are firmly wrapped around your hips, guiding your movements up and down his massive shaft.

The music and loud chatter from the after party is still raging on down stairs. Your college football team had managed to win the homecoming game against their rival team. It was a close game ending in 45-42. Your team had managed to kick a field goal as a last ditch effort to not go into overtime for a tiebreaker.

The party would soon be looking for the star quarterback to cheer him on, but little did they know he was too busy getting his fill of your pretty cunt.

The bed creaked beneath you two, and the air was filled with soft pants and hushed moans. Satoru was always on such a high after winning games like that. This was your second round. He barely got you through the door before he started on the first, taking you right up against the door — fast and hard to get the adrenaline out.

Now, it was time for the big celebration. “Sh-shit… so big, Toru. I-I can’t take it!!” You whined, but you and Satoru both knew that if he even thought about stopping right now, you’d probably cry from frustration.

The sound of skin slapping against skin was somehow heard over the blaring music. His shaft was coated in a thin slippery sheen of your arousal, easily impaling you over and over on his thick length.

“You can.. oh fuck- you can take it, sweets. Take it for me, yeah?” His pale blue eyes shined up at you as his skin was flushed. His white feathery hair was messily displayed on his head. He was always such a mess for you. “Just like thaat~ take it like a good girl. You’re my good girl, aren’t you?”

You were nearly drooling from his filthy words. Satoru was always so chatty when he was getting close, and judging by the way his swollen tip was frantically diving in and out of you and how his hands were holding onto you, jerking you around with little concern — he’s very close.

Satoru removed one of his hands to gently rub tight circles onto your sensitive clit. “Let me fill you up. Please — just one more time. Fuck, one more time of me filling up my girl’s pussy.”

Your head was spinning. How could you say no to that when your whole body was consumed in pleasure by him? Satoru could ask you to do whatever in that moment, and you’d happily agree.

“Yes.. fuck yes, please Toru..”

With the mention of your little nickname, Satoru lets out a groan, and his length pulses inside your spongy walls, pumping you full of his cum. It’s a mere seconds later before you’re spasming on top of him — gasping for air as you clench down on his length.

You two take a moment to sober up in each other’s arms — panting for breath and whispering loving words of praise. “You looked good out there tonight.” You murmured dreamily into his chest.

“Aren’t you suppose to say I did good?” Satoru asks with a small laugh. His hand is entangled in your hair, gently rubbing your scalp as he softens inside you.

“Eh. Same thing.” You respond with a happy laugh. It’s not long after that someone is pounding on the bedroom door — telling you two to take a break so they can celebrate Satoru’s victory.

SUGURU

“Mmm, sh-shit, sweetheart.. Gonna make me cum early if you keep that up..” Suguru groans as his oversized veiny hand holds a tight grip on your hair.

There was something so exhilarating about sucking your boyfriend off in the locker room after every basketball game he won. Any of his teammates could walk in right now and see you on your knees in front of him, his back pressed against the cold metal lockers as he guides your head slowly up and down his length.

He’d let his teammates watch too if they walked in. You’re so pretty when you’re in your element. It’s truly a sight to behold, and he doesn’t mind giving his teammates a little morale boost by watching his pretty girlfriend giving him head.

He’d break their hand and put them out of a career if they tried to touch you though.

His eyes are fixated on you. He always gives you such a loving look while you work hard on your knees for him. He knows you’re trying so hard to fit all of him in your throat, but he’s just too big.

With every whine and gag, Suguru growls in approval. His hand continues petting your head. “That’s right… Gag on me, sweetheart. Doin’ such a good fucking job." He pants, leaning his head back against the locker.

He can't help but slowly pump his hips back and forth, forcing himself further down your throat because he loves seeing the tears that gather in your eyes. He loves seeing how completely ruined you are after sucking him off.

You look up at him with such a pitiful look he can't help but shove your head down as far as your throat will let him, and he unloads completely down your throat. He lets out breathy moans and growls as his cock twitches, spurting ribbon after ribbon of cum.

"Good girl." He praises huskily before yanking your head back so he can press his lips to yours, hungrily seeking out your taste.

Before you know it, Geto has you bridal style in his arms. "Just you wait, sweetheart. I'll return the favor once we're back in my dorm." He teases with a smug grin on his face. If you performance wasn't enough to motivate him to win each game, your thighs wrapped around his head definitely was.

NANAMI

The first time Kento took you to the press box after having won a game and railed you until you couldn't think anymore was out of sheer convenience and adrenaline.

Now? It was more of a tradition. You don't even know why the school trusted him with the keys to the press box, but you didn't question it.

Your boyfriend was normally so gentle and doting. The only time you got to see this more rough, primal side to him was after a big win, and Nanami's team just won the game needed to make the championship game.

"Mmmph... you feel so g-good, darling." He enunciates his praise with open mouth kisses to your neck. His hands have yours pinned above your head as he has your back laid out on the control desk. Your pretty white skirt was hiked up to your waist, and he was stood between your legs.

Your hands try helplessly to grab at the desk, but his thrusts were too heavy for you to grab onto anything. The wood creaked beneath each brutal movement. Your legs were already trembling, and he had just started.

The sounds of wet slapping noises filled the press box. Luckily, no one was in the stadium right now, or they'd see their star baseball player filling up his pretty girlfriend so full right now. If either one of you pressed the mic accidentally, the speakers would blare from the sounds of your whines and lovemaking.

"K-ken~!" You whimper as your body squirms beneath his, trying to find the smallest bit of refuge from his heavy cock bullying its way between your velvety walls, thumping obscenely against your womb.

He releases your hands with a small grunt, grabbing onto your hips to try and keep you still. His muscles ripple with each forceful thrust. He just has all this energy after his games that he has to release somehow, and this wasn't enough.

"Fucking... come here." He suddenly demands before grabbing you up and lifting you effortlessly off the desk. There's nowhere for you to run off to anymore. Soon, the entire rhythm is set by how fast and hard he can yank your body up and down his cock.

You're quickly reduced to a whiny puddle in his arms, only able to stutter out his name followed by various curses. His hips quickly jackhammer into you, pistoning deeper than he ever has before.

You can't even choke out a single word before you're spasming all over his cock. Your walls clamp down impossibly tighter around him like a vice, causing him to groan in satisfaction.

"Thaaat's it~ That's a good girl. Shh, I have you." Kento purrs in your ear, still fucking you through your orgasm to prolong your pleasure as much as he can. Soon, he could feel his balls tightening, demanding that he empty himself into you. "I'm gonna cum, sweet girl. You... you're gonna take it, right?" He pants.

One frantic nod and a pitiful hum of affirmation later, and Nanami's pulling you down onto his cock as hard as he can, making you take him as deeply as possible whit his cock pumps you full to the brim of his hot sticky cum.

"Did so good for me.." He praises as he presses a sweet kiss to your temple. "You're a work of art, darling."

CHOSO

"Cho, you were amazing out there!" You happily praised your boyfriend as he carried you in his arms. You knew he never stuck around long after games, figuring it was just in his introverted to want to leave so soon.

"Mhm.." He shakily hums, cradling you closely to his chest as he was on a mission: get you back to his dorm as soon as possible.

"Are you okay, baby?" You ask in a concerned tone, hoping he wasn't having another panic attack like he did after that one game.

Sometimes the adrenaline of winning and the concept of having everyone's eyes on him was too much for him to handle. He was beyond lucky to always have either you or Yuji by his side to talk him down from whatever had triggered his panic disorder.

"I'm okay." He hoarsely whispered. No, it wasn't anxiety that had him nearly trembling while carrying you. It was something else entirely.

*** *** ***

"You said I did good, right?" He huskily whispered as he pawed at your pants. He had you trapped beneath him on his bed. The room was dark, only warmly illuminated by a small bedside lamp. The scent of Choso's cologne as well as the natural musk from sweat was heavy in the air between you two.

"Yes, baby. You did so good." You hummed in agreement as your heart pounded against your ribcage. There was something off about Choso tonight. His nervous yet assertive energy had you feeling on edge.

"I deserve a reward then, right?" He asks, slowly tugging down your pants. He holds your gaze, looking for any sign of hesitancy or discomfort.

"I-" You weren't opposed to what he was suggesting, but honest, you were just taken aback. Your normally sweet and loving boyfriend was trying his best to be almost condescending towards you. "What are you wanting as a reward, Cho?"

Now, it's Choso's turn to nervously gulp. He's sweating even more now -- so incredibly nervous to directly tell you what he wants more than anything in the world right now.

"I want you to sit on my face." He finally blurts out like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"You want me... to sit on your face... as a reward?" You question.

He eagerly nods, looking like an excited puppy.

You can barely get out the word 'okay' before he's tugging his hair out of the messy buns he had it in. His strong arms grab ahold of you and roll to where he's on his back, and you're straddling his chest.

He's put a lot of thought into this. In fact, he's fucked his fist more times than he can count to the thought of you riding his face, using him for your pleasure.

"Cho- my p-panties aren't even off!" You squirm to release yourself from his grip, but he just hauls you up closer to his face.

"Leave them." He demands lowly, looking up at you with lust-blown dark eyes.

... and that's how you end up marathon cumming on your boyfriend's face more times than you can count... as a reward for him.

TOJI

Win or lose, Toji bends you over and fucks you hard and fast in the penalty box after every hockey game.

Even if his team won the game, he still usually has so much pent up aggression to where he needs to let out some steam, and your pretty pussy is the perfect punching bag for his cock.

"T-toji-! Slow down-" You choke out in a whine. Your cheek is pressed up against the glass as his hands are wrapped around your waist, completely ravaging you from behind. You can feel your tears smearing against the penalty box, and your legs are starting to tremble. It's hard enough trying not to slide around on the ice.

Toji was seething. He had sat a good portion of the game in the penalty box for fighting one of the opposing players.

Apparently, the opposing team had a little strategy to get the best hockey player, Toji, out of the game, which included goading him about his pretty little girlfriend.

Not surprisingly, Toji was quick to take the bait and nearly tried to stomp on the fucker who dared to utter your name.

"You want me to slow down?" He laughs as his hips continue their frantic rampage. "You don't like it when I'm mean to you? Don't be a liar, girl. Your fucking pussy's trying to clamp down on me. 'm starting to think she won't ever let me go."

And the worst part is, he's right. You're uncontrollably fluttering around him, leaking all around his cock and even dribbling onto the ice because your body loves how rough he is.

You're crying now out of sheer pleasure and overstimulation, unable to even choke out a response. Luckily for you, your boyfriend isn't a complete monster, and he hunches over your back, wrapping his big thick arms around you so you don't have to worry about slipping and falling.

"Answer me, girl." He grunts, using his new position to pinch on one of your nipples. "You love this shit, don't you? Say it."

"I love it-!" You cry out, allowing yourself to be free and vulnerable in the moment with him where no one else can hear you. "I love you-" You add as you don't have the mental capacity to hold yourself back.

The sudden warmth of your confession has Toji's hips stuttering. For once in his life, he's off balance. In a quick movement, Toji sits down on the bench, and he slams you right back down onto his lap, his cock impaling you on your way down.

"I'm gonna ruin you, doll." He growls into your ear, wrapping a hand around your throat as he pins your back to his chest. His hips rock back and forth, still pumping you so full. "You're mine -- mine to ruin. I fucking love you."

He came to the realization of his own feelings when he was ready to risk it all - his place on the team, his hockey scholarship, his freedom over some sad sack of shit who spoke your name in a foul way.

SUKUNA

Sukuna’s a little deviant when it comes to his rewards.. As soon as the kicker scores the last field goal needed for his team to win, Sukuna is charging out to the stands with a face of stone.

People literally make way for him, terrified of the way he looks. Plus, they all saw what a monster he was out on the field. It doesn’t take a genius to know not to fuck with him.

The only person who doesn’t move or dodge him is you. You give him the biggest hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and praising him for how well he did out on the field tonight. I mean, he only crushed three peoples’ ribs tonight. He was learning how to control his temper.

He doesn’t respond to your praise, only giving you a grunt before he unceremoniously slings you over his shoulder. He’s come to claim his prize of the night.

No one notices you two slip off into the darkness of the night — far away from the Friday night lights. Sukuna carries you out to where some random person’s car is parked, and he can’t resist himself anymore.

It’ll be a while before anyone makes it out to their cars anyways.

Bending you over the hood, you quickly start to protest and squirm, whining about how you will be caught, but Sukuna doesn’t seem to be listening.

“Be good.” He demands in a low grumble as his oversized fingers hook into your waistband, pulling your shorts and panties down around your knees in one tug.

“Sukuna-“ You plead once more, but as soon as his fat fingers swipe across your cunt, gathering your arousal, you know you’re done for.

“Hm? What is it?” He asks with obvious amusement. He finds it cute how you still deny liking being manhandled, but your pretty glistening pussy says otherwise.

“We can get in serious-“ Your breath hitches as his fingers delve inside, slotting right between your warm velvet walls. He’s already filling you up so good, you can’t even find your words anymore.

Sukuna just smirks, knowing he has you where he wants you. You’re so addicted to his touch, you’re willing to slut yourself out on the hood of some stranger’s car for him.

He’s convinced now. You were tailor made just for him. No one will complete him the way you do, and even if they did, Sukuna would end them just to find you again.

He pumps his fingers in and out of your slippery cunt while keeping his other hand firmly planted between your shoulder blades, forcing your face down onto the cool metal of the car beneath you.

His hips roll and grind against your backside, letting you feel his raging erection through the tight spandex pants of his uniform.

He’s working you so perfectly, curling his fingers just the right way and thrusting them so hard he’s practically lifting you up just by his fingers in your cunt. You’re nearly drooling against the car, letting out the most erotic sounds as you can’t be bothered to care anymore.

The pleasure builds and builds, and you start to hear voices in the distance. For whatever reason, it only heightens the experience.

“Come on. Give it to me.” Sukuna growls as he pushed his hips harder against your ass. “Give me what I want.”

“Suku-“ Your cry is quickly interrupted by Sukuna shoving his fingers into your mouth. His other hand is pounding your g-spot to no abandon, making fat tears well in your eyes.

He’s leaking gossamers of pre-cum in his pants, and he growls from the thought of making you lick it up later. For now, he’s going to indulge ruining you against this stranger’s car.

The voices grow a bit louder, and it all becomes so much. You cry out against Sukuna’s fingers as you feel yourself clamp down on his fingers, and the sound of water hitting the ground is heard as your release washes over you.

“Did you just- Fuck me..” He groans, seeing now as your clothes are soaked, and you even managed to get some on the car.

He withdraws quickly, knowing he’s running out of time, and he bends over, pulling your now soaked panties and shorts up over your waist. He makes sure to fasten your shorts before he throws you over his shoulder again to haul you to his dorm room.

“You’re going to do that for me again as soon as we’re home, flower.”

[cheyisagirlkisser]

mdni. ellie williams blurb.

Thinking about Ellie’s obsession with skin-to-skin contact. She needs to feel the rush of your pulse beat onto her lips, feel your grabby hands all over her body when she fucks you, she needs to drown in the feeling of your lips against hers. Even when it’s not sexual, she needs to feel you completely naked, legs entangled in hers and arms wrapped around each other. She thinks about how your chest feels completely against hers, tits smushed together and oddly comforting. When she feels horny and needs more, though? A strap-on works wonders for skin-to-skin. Having you in a prone bone, she can’t help but just lay her perky tits against your back. She gets even more worked up with the extra contact, her hips trying to push even deeper into you as if she can’t bury herself deep enough in you. Something is really, really special about your pussies making contact, though. Both of your folds probably wet from the foreplay, clits swollen and in need of each other’s.. Ellie loves to hear the way her pussy sounds as it rubs against yours, and the feeling has her actually feeling flustered in the moment from how intimate it truly is. It’s just the way you respond to each other, too. Your hips involuntarily buck against the feeling, and she gets truly pussydrunk alternating between savoring the heat of your cunt against hers, brushing clits and essentially creating a slow but steadily burning bonfire between your bodies and rutting against your pussy as if it’ll disappear if she doesn’t get to cum. Most importantly, Ellie loves the aftermath. She gets to just hold you close after all is said and done, feel every inch of skin connect until she falls asleep.

taglist: @kaykeryyy

[trickbxbes]

Hey girl!

Love your work, especially the Dae-ho stuff and I’m so glad I found your page!!!!

If I can, can I request more smut… WHO SAID THAT

I don’t know if you need an idea, maybe if you do what I’d Dae-ho and fem reader are in an established relationship and they haven’t had sex in a WHILE, you got it from there ;)

-🦑

Omg I’m so sorry I didn’t see this but yes >:)

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐬 (18+)

[𝐃𝐚𝐞-𝐇𝐨 𝐗 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫]

Summary: You and Dae-Ho have been extraordinarily busy trying to stay afloat from all the debt. It led to long days, and shorter nights. Both of you spending less and less time with each other. But one argument actually helps release some long built tension :)

Warnings: Smut, Minor arguing, angry turned passionate sex, kitchen fucking, p in v, fingering, unprotected sex,

Word Count: 1,703

Your shoulders slack as you finally get home, holding your purse close to you as a reminder to stay awake. It was a long night at work. Your eyes stung from the dryness. You fumble for the keys to your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Dae-Ho. Debt had been weighing heavily on both your shoulders and his. Many times did you come home to your lover already asleep, and many times did you wake up to an empty bed.

Entering your home, you’re surprised to see the living room light still on. Dae-Ho was sitting at the dining table, back hunched slightly over his laptop. He turns to see you arrive, squinting his eyes and then rubbing them.

“Hi, honey. Wow, is it that late already?”

He checks the clock on the screen. You nod, rubbing your head. A migraine had creeped its way to the left side of your skull. You flick on the kitchen light to get yourself some water. But you’re greeted by a ghastly sight, dirty dishes stacked up in the sink. The chronic stress you were under turned your minor irritation into full frustration.

“Dae-Ho, I thought I told you to clean that…!”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. Dae-Ho leans back in his chair, getting scolded making it harder for him to not get defensive.

“‘m sorry, I thought I did it already. I have a lot of stuff to do too, you know.”

His tone made him come off a little more self justifying than he intended, which further amplified your annoyance. You hum, looking to the ground.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure.” You mutter sarcastically. Dae-Ho’s eyebrows furrow as you go and grab a glass. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He sat up a bit straighter. “It means I’m not the one in 250 mil debt, Dae-Ho!” You knew you’d regret being so harsh but right now you couldn’t care less. A dry chuckle leaves his lips. “Don’t act so innocent. You’re in mil debt territory too!”

“I just wanna come home to a clean house!”

“You want me to do it so bad? Fine!”

Dae-Ho gets up from his seat and storms to the sink. “Y’know more than half of these are yours, though.” He’d say quietly, wanting an end to the conflict but also wanting to get that point across. You grip at your hair, your teeth grit. “Why are you making this so difficult? You think I like coming home super late and being so tired I can’t do anything but crawl in bed? I miss you!” You raise your voice, but lowering your volume mid shout. As angry as you were, you didn’t forget your boyfriend’s discomfort with shouting and aggression.

He’s about to turn on the sink, still heated. “I miss you too—!” Until he saw you pulling your hair, making him instinctively grab your wrist. “Stop that-!”

You jerk, trying to release yourself. “I wouldn’t be this pissed off if you had just did what you said!” Your struggling made you step back, now feeling the cold kitchen counter on your back.

“You think I like going to bed alone too? Barely being able to see you, huh?!”

His breath is hot on your face, the close proximity being mere inches. You find yourself staring up at him. Being pinned to the counter, his rough grip on your wrist, it made a certain heat rise in your stomach. You both don’t say anything for a few minutes, just glaring at each other. Until you use your free hand to grab the side of his neck and pull him in for a searing kiss.

Dae-Ho makes a surprised sound before reciprocating, groaning against your lips. He lets go of your wrist, instead choosing to grab your hips and pull you closer to his body. He presses you further against the counter, making you moan lightly as you had your hands tangled in his hair.

You lift a leg up, giving Dae-Ho a chance to grab your under thigh and lift your leg higher. You feel his bulge against your wet core, he was already getting hard. Had it really been that long since you two have done it?

You hook your leg around his waist, grinding against his body. A deep rumble leaves Dae-Ho’s throat, he pulls back, a string of saliva connecting you both. “Fuck…” He pants for air. Disappointment and anxiety creeped up faster than you could’ve imagined. This was the first time you two were this passionate in awhile. You couldn’t let him pull away now.

You grab the cuff of his shirt and yank him back toward you. Oh that shirt, you always hated it. The design reminded you of some clown graffiti you’d see in a sketchy part of town. You’d rather see your boyfriend without it on.

As you kiss him again, you slide your hands up underneath his shirt. His skin was hot, his hips stuttered as you ran your fingers over his abs. Dae-Ho shuddered a little. But he leaned closer, his tongue dancing along with yours. He’d attempt to speak to you in between your hot temperature kisses.

“Wait—is this… okay?”

You cup his cheeks and look him in the eyes, you could see you both were much less angry. But the passion brewing was one you couldn’t let simmer. You needed that shit to over boil.

“Dae-Ho. Fuck me. Now.”

Dae-Ho did not have to be told twice as he dived back into your lips. The passionate exchange only broken for a moment as you made him take that ghastly shirt off. His hand slowly slid down your pants as your hands slid around his neck. Dae-Ho groans in your mouth as his hand feels your soaking folds. You whimper in pleasure, trying to somehow get closer to him. He starts to rub your clit in smooth slow circles. You whine out, Dae-Ho letting your sounds fill the room so he could hear you clearly. His mouth was slightly open, as if mimicking the shape your mouth was making.

He slips in a finger, curling it and making you bite your lip. Dae-Ho thumbs the bottom of your lip. He leans in close.

“Don’t. I wanna hear you.”

His tongue swirls around yours before his lips connect for a quick peck. He inserts another finger, now drawing out all your sounds. He plunged them in and out of you in a steady rhythm. You still had both your hands on the back of his neck.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck… Dae-Ho…!” You couldn’t take it, you needed more. You took off your shirt, and aggressively pulled down your bottoms. You’re left in just your bra and underwear for him. His fingers didn’t leave your dripping cunt, continuously finger fucking you. You felt yourself getting close, but this isn’t how you wanted to go. “Dae-Ho~! Get… inside!” Your command somehow made the male even harder, his cock stirring in his pants.

He removes his fingers so he could lift you up onto the kitchen counter. While you desperately removed your panties, he took off his pants and got his member free.

Dae-Ho lines up with your entrance. Your wetness being more than needed for a lubricant. “Fuck, you’re so wet. All this cause of me?” He’d remark with a light cocky smirk. You glare up at him, still needing your nerves fucked out of you.

“Shut up.”

The male narrows his eyes and enters you with one thrust, bottoming out. You cry out, wet enough where it didn’t hurt, just raw pleasure. “Oh fuck—!” You choke on your own words. Dae-Ho barely gives a moment to adjust as he starts ramming into you at a fast pace. Pumped full with adrenaline, you didn’t mind at all. It almost felt like having sex for the first time. But you’ve never felt Dae-Ho’s thrust so desperately before. He had his hands on your hips, pushing you further down on him to meet every thrust. You were seeing stars, almost drifting away from the feeling. But then, you hear a,

“I love you.”

Dae-Ho was looking at you with a deep sincerity. You gaze into his eyes. Of course, now you remember, you were fighting. Your heart grew so full. You cup his face, and lull him closer.

“I-I love you too!”

You both kiss lovingly, now out of pure passion and love for each other, than out of lust. His rhythm struck slightly out of order, and you knew he was close. Before you could even hold out for him though, you come undone. You cry out his name, your head arched toward the ceiling. Dae-Ho sped up, his thrusts sloppy, but yearning.

“(Y,n)… (Y,n)…! Shit…!”

He lets out a held back roar, finishing inside of you. You cling onto him, whining with broken gasps. Your hands drift from his back to his shoulders as the two of you calm down.

Panting, Dae-Ho rests his head against your collarbone. You weakly rub his head, closing your eyes. He slowly comes out of you, creating a light squelching sound.

“Don’t be mad…I love you.”

His tone was soft, hesitant. You recognized this vulnerability from him, and slowly wrap your arms around him. “I love you too…” You say sincerely. Dae-Ho doesn’t say anything back, but he does scoop you up bridal style in his arms.

You’re carried back to your bed, and he lays beside you. It was late, and you were more than happy to get some rest after that. You can safely say you’re no longer angry. To double check on that, Dae-Ho mumbles,

“I’ll do the dishes in the morning, I promise.”

He gently pushes a strand of hair from your face. You scoot closer, signaling your boyfriend to embrace you in his open arms. He plants a kiss on your head. You listen to his heartbeat, the way it beat so fast.

“I’m sorry…”

“…I’m sorry too…”

The two of you lay there together, drifting off into a well needed slumber. But for the first time in awhile, you felt like your relationship with your lover was secure. And how, that’s one way to get out of doing dishes.

[ratmonky]

Tide of Turmoil (Chapter 3)

word count: 5.3k

warnings: non-con, suicidal thoughts, self-harm, blood, obsession, manipulation, power imbalance, ptsd, past sexual assault, sexual assault, cannibalism, forced pregnancy, breeding, miscarriage, tw munkey content

ao3 link

Time passed weirdly while you were in there. You could sometimes tell. There were some clues, such as Beam leaving for work. He always arrived at the office a bit after you did back then, so it had to be close to nine in the morning when he left.

By the time he returned, you would be sleeping in the cold but it wasn’t as cold as before since you had covered the air vent. You were never too sure about when he returned though, it could be minutes, it could be hours. They both felt the same. In the end, you always greeted him like a dog waiting for its owner. 

You were relieved that he was there and you weren’t alone.

As if he didn’t put you here.

To your disbelief RELIEF, he didn’t touch you much. You tried to make sure to sleep with the blanket over your head and against a wall in the corner where he put the bed but he always managed to sleep right next to you. During your restless sleep, you would wake up a couple of times to find Beam humping you in his sleep, his teeth deep in your shoulder. Although you were scared of him getting it infected, you kept quiet. That was another thing, he bit you a lot. You kept bleeding nonstop and it hurt like hell, each time the wounds managed to close a little he would tear the flesh again with his sharp teeth. Biting was something he did that you first thought to be to make you weaker but soon you realized that he was just acting on his instincts. Devils were weird.

When he finally returned, Beam didn’t bring the things he promised he would. You were able to get your hands on a small pillow and a thin blanket which would do nothing against the brutal cold air of the bunker. It would make it a bit more comfortable to sleep now though, you couldn’t deny that the pillow he brought would let you sleep without hurting your neck. 

“Here,” he said, holding out a trash bag towards you. Once you put down the pillow and wrapped yourself in the blanket, you took the trash bag from him to check what was inside. There were clothes inside. Work clothes. Pencil skirt, button-down shirt, and a blazer. You thought at some point that he was mocking you but Beam probably thought you only wore work clothes. Nonetheless, you had some new clothes you could wear. 

“Thank you,” you said with a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “Can you bring me other clothes too? I am not working right now and these clothes are for work only.”

He seemed a little hurt but nodded rapidly. “Beam will bring clothes.” He got closer like he wanted something. From the way he was tilting his head, you knew what it was.

Patting his head, you praised him. “Good job.”

He smiled, showing you his sharp teeth, “Beam is good!” He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his hot body. You melted into his touch because of the warmth and hugged him back, desperate to get warmer. His mouth which was buried in the crook of your neck started rubbing against the bite mark he had left. It hurt and when you winced, he tightened his arms around you. 

Panicking, you let out a squeak, “Beam…”

The hot and wet feeling of his tongue made goosebumps erupt all over your skin, you tried pushing him away but his arms were preventing you. He was growling like an animal. He was nothing like what he used to be like at work, he was becoming more and more unpredictable, you wondered if that was because your contract with Makima was over. You felt him trace the bite mark with the tip of his tongue and he kept applying pressure into one spot. 

“It hurts,” you whispered, your mind going hazy from the warmth and the pain preventing you from relaxing of not being cold anymore. 

His arms didn’t loosen around you but he forced you against the wall, his mouth didn’t leave your neck for a single second. As he was pushing your back against the wall, you could feel his hard erection pressing against your stomach. Whether it be from the cold making you sensitive to feeling anything, the sudden rush of warmth was overwhelming, you could feel him throbbing. Placing a hand on the wall, he rubbed himself against you with a frustrated groan. 

You gasped in fear, all the memories of the night where he left you bleeding and bruised coming back to you. Squirming, you anxiously and hurriedly spoke to yourself in an attempt to prove that this was all nothing but a nightmare. You didn’t wake up in your bed though, you were still in the arms of the fiend who kidnapped you. A sudden sob left your lips, you were going to relive everything, weren’t you? 

Beam let you go as you started crying hysterically, he must have been surprised by your strange outburst of emotions. He took a few steps back and mumbled something you didn’t hear. When you calmed yourself enough to look around, you saw that he had left. 

Well, at least you knew that he couldn’t handle you crying.

Did you really want him gone?

What if he was gone for good?

You had to be careful if you wanted to get out of here.

Time didn’t pass in the next moments, you tried sleeping but it was too cold to even with the blanket you had gotten. The air vents were cruel, blowing the coldest air inside constantly. You turned to look at the pile of clothes and an idea struck you. 

In the next moment, you were climbing on the table after putting a chair on top to reach the vents with a few pieces of clothing in your hand. You tried using the clothes to cover the vent by stuffing the small grills with them. To your surprise, you were able to cover them and the vent wasn’t blowing cold air in full force anymore. 

You got down to try to sleep again, you wanted to save some energy while also distracting yourself from hunger. It wasn’t long before you started feeling wrong. At first, you thought it to be from the cold or hunger but soon later you realized that your stomach was burning and your throat was aching. Rushing to the bathroom, you started vomiting full force, all that came out was water but the acidic taste of vomit lingered in your dry mouth.

Washing your face and mouth, you returned to your spot to sleep after drinking more water. The bunker wasn’t as cold anymore and you were grateful that you would be able to sleep without waking up from the cold from now on.

As soon as you put your head down on the pillow, the water you drank made its way up, this time you covered your mouth to run to the bathroom but the vomit dripped from the gaps of your fingers and onto the floor. 

You could slowly feel your energy and strength leave your body as you gagged continuously, heaving and vomiting whatever was left. Coughing, you washed your face and returned to the bed without drinking any water. This time you didn’t vomit but you could feel your heart palpitating, your cheeks were warm and you were scared. Were you going to die?

From what exactly? You haven’t been here for long and you didn’t eat anything weird-

The vivid image of the dirty water coming from the kitchen sink flashed in your mind, you then understood one thing: the water you had been drinking from the kitchen sink wasn’t safe. 

You started sweating while thinking about all of the possibilities of what would happen now, Beam wouldn’t be able to take care of you if you were sick. Fuck. 

You forced yourself to sleep while your stomach churned without any rest, and you tasted vomit in your mouth even hours later. However, it was unbearable to sleep when hunger took over all of your senses. That was when you tried eating a protein bar. It took seconds until you gagged and covered your mouth to get up and run to the bathroom but your body wouldn’t move, and you ended up vomiting on the ground. Humiliating, the stench was too acidic and it was right by your face, pooling under your chin and neck. 

Poisoned? Or was it just unfiltered water bacteria? Were you going to die? 

Pathetic sobs started leaving your mouth as you called out for Beam’s name, fear was overwhelming your senses, you felt wrong, and it was almost like you were going to die. What if you died right now? Then what? Would he just leave you here, throw you somewhere, or continue to keep you as his pet?

Pfft, so pathetic to die from drinking water. Can you imagine Beam finding your dead body covered in vomit and piss? He would probably mourn you for a second before ravishing you. Would it matter to him if your body was going cold? Would he prefer it warm? Well, you knew that he was unaffected by the cold, his own body warmth might warm yours.

Whatever the outcome, you wouldn’t be conscious to know your fate.

Fuck.

You were so hungry.

Meat. Yeak, steak would be nice.

Although you ate well-done steaks, the steak that you imagined in front of your eyes was rare, with blood dripping from the center and as you cut the meat, it was tender. 

Covering your mouth with your arm, you hoped to stop daydreaming of food. However, it didn’t help. The smell of meat was close. If only you opened your mouth, you could taste it.

You could taste it.

Drool dripped from the sides of your mouth as you opened your mouth and took some of your flesh in. Your teeth sank into the flesh without hesitation and the pain wasn’t there. Were you dreaming?

No, you weren’t.

Grinding your teeth, you could feel the strings of muscle and flesh being torn apart from the skin. The blood tasted so good. It was just like a steak.

You chewed. It was so chewy. But God… It tasted perfect. You swallowed and were about to take another bite.

Eating steak and-

You weren’t eating steak.

You were eating your own flesh.

You froze and stared at your furiously bleeding arm. Death was inevitable now. With the way you were bleeding, it would only take a few hours until you lost enough blood to suffer from the consequences.

Why had you gone and taken a bite of yourself?

Fuck. You pressed your hand against the bleeding wound. 

Some of your strength returned and to your surprise, you didn’t vomit again. 

You lied on the rough floor and stared at the wall. 

Were you going insane?

Was it because you were stuck here or was it because the only thing keeping you alive was Beam?

Why did your flesh taste so good?

Time passed. You weren’t sure how long it had been but it must have been hours. Because your blood had dried on your arm and your breathing became uneven, you were weak and felt like seconds away from death.

Until Beam came to find you next to a pool of vomit and blood. 

“(name)!” he sounded worried, his warm hands grabbed your shoulders and turned you around.

“Beam,” you whispered as he took you in his arms, “Take me to a hospital.” It wasn’t a request.

Shaking his head to deny your demand, he took you to the bathroom. Against your protests, he walked you into the shower. Which broke the promise of never using the shower, especially while he was there. It had to be okay, you thought to yourself. You were sick and terribly weak.

As he was undressing you, sobs let your lips but you held onto him, hoping that you wouldn’t fall down. Your hands on his strong shoulders could feel the muscles move under your palm, oddly it was the only thing you could focus on while he continued fiddling with the shower. He finally turned on the water which was warm to your surprise. Yet, his arm around your waist that was helping you stay up was warmer. 

Once you were fully nude, he got closer to hold the shower head over your face. His naked chest against yours felt nice. You had to be going crazy to admit this. 

He was gentle as he let the warm water wash the dust, blood, and vomit off of you, his hands caressed your cheek so softly that you thought it was warm water running down your face. By the time he was done, you asked for water and food. Better food would be nice or a toothbrush because you could sort of guess that eating nothing but protein bars could harm the teeth the same way eating too many sweets would. Or your own flesh.

“Yes, yes!” A deep frown was on his face, he looked unsure if you were actually sick or if you were messing with him. While he was trying to put you in the new clothes he had brought with him, you noticed that these were just random clothes, possibly things he stole from someone’s drying rack. Although the thought of sharing a stranger’s underwear was a distant idea, today it was real. You couldn’t object as Beam put someone’s underwear on you and dressed you in their clothes. 

Then he scooped you in his arms and you wrapped your arms around his neck in surprise to not fall. He would never drop you.

He walked back into the bunker and you saw that he had prepared a spot on a corner. There was a makeshift floor bed. After grabbing the blanket, he wrapped it around the two of you and kept you close to him as the two of you laid down on the floor bed, you didn’t protest and fell asleep in his arms.

The next time you opened your eyes, he wasn’t there but there was a plastic bag next to the bed on the floor. You sat up to check what it was. There was some food in a container with someone else’s name on it, bottles of water, and a toothbrush. No toothpaste. Though, you weren’t complaining.

You felt a bit better but you were scared of eating anything for a while. You didn’t want to vomit or go through that again. Yet you were too weak to do anything anyway. You laid in the bed and didn’t try to get up. 

Beam woke you up, it had to be evening time from the way he looked. What you could see of his face was covered in dirt and he had dried blood on his chest. He held your head up and made you drink bottled water carefully, it tasted weird.

“Medicine,” he said with a grin when he noticed your scrunched nose. “Stomach medicine!”

You thanked him for at least trying to take care of you while you were sick. He was kind and gentle. Maybe this wasn’t as bad of a situation.

What the fuck?

He helped you take the medicine and let you lay down again. He didn’t get in the bed with you but instead sat next to the bed to watch you. His warm hand started petting your head like you were a scared animal. In a way you were. 

As he kept petting your head and carded through your hair with his fingers, you found yourself falling asleep. In your sleep, you wondered why he was being so nice but your thoughts then shifted to the time he showered you. His body against yours and his soft touch. The way he held you up and carried you, he was so strong.

Strong enough to rip off the wheel handle of the bunker’s door. 

He could easily hurt you if he wanted but he didn’t.

He will.

When you woke up in cold sweat, he was there, lying next to you with an open mouth. From the looks of it he was sleeping, you took your time to study his face. Facial hair was growing out of his face, meaning he was shaving his face daily but didn’t do it here. Did he have a second home? Or did someone do it for him when he was at work?

The top half of his head was smooth, a sharkskin that wasn’t slimy yet it wasn’t completely dry either. You lifted your hand to touch him, the skin felt nice under your fingertips, soft and smooth. His hair had gotten longer, you didn’t know if he got it trimmed or anything. His facial skin was also smooth except for where the facial hair was growing. You retrieved your hand and continued staring. You didn’t know how he was able to see but you didn’t think about it too much. Your eyes landed on his body, he was very muscular and you could guess it was because he was swimming nonstop and every day. From what you could tell, he was around your age. Could be a lot older but it was impossible to tell because of the way Beam acted.

There was a distant thought in the back of your mind, something you wondered ever since you met him. What did the person who he took over look like before him? Was he an ordinary office worker? Perhaps a funny guy who worked at a local bar? Or a person who worked several part-time jobs to make a decent amount of money? Whatever he was before, it didn’t matter. He was a fiend now.

The first thing you did was to reach for the plastic bag by the bed and grab the food container. You managed to eat everything inside the lunch box, you didn’t even remember what it was that you ate but you knew it was the most delicious thing in the world at that moment. It was a blessing to finally eat real food, it sort of helped you regain some energy. It wasn't enough to help you recover your strength. You were better, you weren’t sick anymore.

A sudden cramp made you wince, hurriedly you got up to get to the bathroom. On your way, you noticed how damp your bottoms were and you saw blood. Lots of blood. It made you panic even more. You checked your arm, it was-

Fully healed?

Huh?

What was going on?

Were you having your period now? Come to think of it, when was the last time you had your period? Had you been here for a few days, weeks, or months? Things were getting too hazy at the moment. You sat on the toilet to think and avoid bleeding any more into your bottoms. 

This would be a problem. Beam didn’t know about menstruation nor would he be able to bring any pads to help you. Were you going to spend your entire week on this toilet now? Fuck. 

The images of your used pads flashed vividly in your mind. They were right there. He clearly knew what pads were and what they were used for, right? Ugh, what if you had to reuse those pads? 

You gagged at the thought and something fell out of you.

…

You heard it hit the shallow water in the toilet.

What was that?

Standing up after pulling your bottoms up, you stared at the bottom of the toilet. 

Blood.

Flesh.

Flesh?

What?

What was that?

It had a shape, weird. Was that a large blood clot? Was that the piece of flesh you ate? Or something like- WHAT THE FUCK-

You watched the thing move and screamed as you lost your balance and fell on the floor. Beam rushed to your side almost immediately, looking concerned. 

“What? What happened?” he asked, face flushed red as he took in your bloody appearance. He sniffed the air, his concern growing.

You kept stammering, unable to speak, and pointing at the toilet.

Beam’s attention was fully on the toilet as he approached it, there was something off. He was acting weird. Inhuman. Moving strangely too. Like a frightened cat.

When he stood above the toilet, staring down at the bottom, his shoulders slackened with a soft whimper. He whispered something. 

“W-what?” you asked.

He leaned down into the toilet bowl and you let out another scream in disgust. Yet, he seemed unaffected, he reached down and grabbed the thing. He held it so gently in his claws. He turned to you with a frown, lower lip trembling. “Dead,” he whispered. 

“Dead?” you sounded confused. What was dead? What was he talking about? Ugh, why did he have to reach down like that? It was so disgusting. 

“Our baby.”

What?

The sudden realization and shock froze you in place as he loomed over you, his face obscured by the dim light. He held his hand out toward you, showing you the monstrosity. You didn’t speak immediately and instead stared at the weird creature. 

Freak of nature. Not natural at all. Devil-born. Monster.

Have you been eating yourself because of this thing?

The claws of the failure were more visible in Beam’s hand. How could it be this big already? When Beam assaulted you, it was only a few weeks ago. Was it because he was a fiend? 

Did it matter?

“Get that thing away from me,” you spat through your teeth.

Beam’s frown deepened. “You killed it.”

You slapped the hand he was holding towards you in anger, “Get it away from me!”

The bloody thing fell out of his gentle hold, smacked against the grimy tile floor of the bathroom, and bounced somewhere away in a wet plop. Growling in frustration, Beam bared his teeth. 

The inhuman sound he made and the way he slowly moved as if he was a predator ready to pounce on its prey, you knew that he was going to kill you now.

In a single, desperate burst of strength, you kicked on the floor, using it as a springboard and ran out of the bathroom.

He moved faster. You were barely able to make it out of the bathroom when you felt him tackle you on the ground. Wrapping an arm around you, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, where the bite mark was. You felt him roughly tracing over the bite with his lips and licking the wound. You weren’t sure if he was going to rip your throat out but when he pressed himself against your ass and you then had something bigger to worry about. You gasped when the rock-hard erection poked your clothed cunt.

“Stop!” you screamed but he wasn’t being as gentle anymore or listening to you. 

Beam wrapped his arm tighter around you and breathed into your neck. Your hands went to his forearm that was pressing against your chest and his hand that was around your neck, he was keeping you firmly right where he wanted you. With your cheek pressed against the cold concrete, you huffed all the dust, coughing and crying. That fucking thing was right there next to your face too. That bloody thing. Fiend baby.

“Stop,” you managed as he moved his hips to hump you over his clothes. Pressing his mouth next to your ear, he grunted while he aimlessly thrust. You just had to bite it and let him finish humping you because you could never outpower him. As long as he didn’t eat you or kill you. As long as he doesn’t fuck me, you thought. Dry humping was fine even if it hurt because of how desperately he was humping you.

Beam rolled his hips forward in a way that made you conscious of his size, in turn, your body started to heat up. He let out noises that made you feel something. Your chest tightened with each pant and soft moan. You were about to lecture yourself about how you needed to stay sane but the feeling of a cock stretching your pussy threw you out of your thoughts. You hadn’t noticed him take off any of your clothes or his.

A quivering moan left his lips, he had been waiting for this. You mewled in pain as he shoved himself deeper. Your hands went to your groin to try to push him away or pull your clothes up. He slid out of you and thrust into you in full force, forcing a scream out of you while your hands found the waistband of your pants. You realized that you were fully clothed but he still was able to fuck you.

Then you felt tears coming as the realization set in. He was fucking you through the clothes using his ability.

“Ssssstop!” you hissed but he cut you off with his abrupt thrusts. 

“Beam must do this!” he said, his claws digging into your skin and drawing blood. “(name) must have another baby!”

The thought alone made you retch and you struggled even if it hurt your insides. He was continuously fucking you regardless, his pace only got faster as you tried trashing around. It fucking hurt. 

So that was why he hadn’t touched you? Because he thought you were bearing that monstrosity? Did he bring you here to his nest to take care of you? That sick and stupid bastard. Fuck. You wanted him dead.

He moved his arm away from your neck and you took the opportunity to bite his forearm with all your strength. His cock twitched as your teeth drew blood from his forearm. You could taste the fiend’s blood, it tasted saltier, a bit less watery like blood clots. Like a corpse’s. You bit harder in an attempt to stop him but it only made him more excited and his teeth sank deeper into your neck. 

You were the first to stop biting. A pained yelp left your lips.

Beam didn’t waste any more time and mounted you completely while still biting your neck. His cock pounded into your pussy with ease, you weren’t sure if it was because you had been bleeding or not but the gross squelching sounds were echoing in the bunker. It was too much. You wanted this to end. You wanted him dead and-

Beam slammed his hips into you so hard, stealing your breath and the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. 

You couldn’t even finish the thought.

He slammed into you with brute force, tearing a scream out of you. He started to fuck you frantically almost immediately. You could feel the filling pressure in your tummy with every single thrust. Crying under him, you tried to crawl away. You were getting flashbacks of the night he assaulted you back in your apartment and the horrific image of that monstrous miscarriage was enough to make you start screaming. His cock relentlessly slid in and out of your cunt as he shifted his position to put more force behind his thrusts and to effectively stop your squirming and screaming. 

He groaned into your neck when your pussy clenched around him, the way your walls tightened around his cock was almost perfect, the pressure threatened to make him spill all of his seed inside you right then and there but he wasn’t done with you yet. 

Beam fucked you like the animal he was, the perverted fiend was obsessed with breeding you. He had done it once and he would do it again. His pace picked up speed and strength, each thrust was more unforgiving and made you lose yourself. 

“Beam will take care of family. Beam promise!” he could barely speak in between breaths and thrusts as he pulled his mouth away from your bleeding neck. The erratic pace staggered, and he couldn’t keep up anymore. “Our home together forever.”

That was the final nail in the coffin. 

He surged his hips forward, you felt his cock throb as his seed poured from the tip of his cock and into your womb. 

Tears stained your face and his blood in your mouth tasted gross. 

He fucked his cum into you for a few moments longer and his hands petted you over the clothes. When he finally pulled out of you, it was a strange sensation, he phased through all of the clothing and left them soaked in his cum as the bodily fluids gushed out of your pussy and seeped into the fabric. 

Neither of you spoke.

You didn’t move at all and stayed exactly where he left you. 

He phased through the ground and appeared in front of your face with only the top half of his head showing. “Beam go to work,” he said. “Will bring more food later if you be nice.”

With that, he was gone and you were alone with your thoughts and the monstrous failure a few inches away from you.

That thing was the reason why you had ended up here. This place. You could never escape. He was delusional and just so stubbornly stupid. You understood now that he would never let you out of here. He wanted to keep you here like a fucked up housewife. That was what you were to him, right? A mate? A wife? Whatever he thought of you was the only reason why he bothered with keeping you alive. You had to make sure he didn’t change his mind about you or you would rot in here with that devilish spawn in you eating its way out of you.

Yet even if you did everything right and kept him happy, you would always stay a prisoner. Could you call that a life?

There was a small chance that you could get out and you wanted to live until you got that chance.

What if Beam died?

Could Beam die? Makima had mentioned that he was expendable. If he died during a mission then you would never know and rot here without anyone knowing that you were ever here to begin with. He possibly couldn’t die. He wouldn’t die... Right?

In a world where devils existed, God had to exist too. You prayed to God that Beam stayed safe and returned home.

This was your home?

Beam had to return.

He was the only thing that could keep you alive. He was the only thing who could get you out of here. He was the only thing that knew where you were.

If he died then-

You didn’t want to think of the possibility. He was a fiend, he wouldn’t die.

You worked with devil hunters before. They killed devils. 

That made you shiver. All you could do was hope and pray.

Sitting up, you placed a hand on your tummy, if he had claimed you as a mate he would most likely return to take care of you. He had promised to bring you food if you promised to be nice. See, he wouldn’t just leave you to die.

Crawling to a near wall, you leaned back to rest. It happened to be right next to that thing. You stared at it with disgust but your furrowed brows slowly softened when you realized it was practically useless to get mad at something dead. 

You lifted your gaze and stared at the bunker’s ruined door. 

Maybe your only way out was to kill yourself. Your hand went to your arm that you had bit before. The flesh was perfectly healed. Had that spawn given you some of fiend's abilities of healing? If that was what happened then you wouldn’t be able to die. You didn’t bother with killing yourself. At least not yet.

Though a terrible wave of anxiety washed over you. How long had it been since Beam left? Why wasn’t he back yet? Had he left you?

You sat there staring absently at the door. Bottoms soaked in blood and cum, mouth full of fiend blood, and neck bleeding as you waited for Beam to return.

Beam didn’t return.

Tide of Turmoil

Word Count: 4.6K

Warnings: non-con, blood drinking, stalking, obsession, biting

AO3 Link

Keep reading

[elalfywhore]

jana x bimbo reader🎀

•she’s so sweet and tries to be understanding

•she’s not used to people being as ditzy as you so she tries to be calm and cool through her frustrations

•she helps you do you’re homework, even after she comes home from a grueling practice. if you are struggling she’ll sit with you for as long as it takes

• “i don’t wanna do it anymore jana” you whine, you’re both exhausted. you two had been trying to finish your project for the last two hours. “i know, habibti i don’t either but it has to get done.” you had tried to hurry and throw your laptop back into your backpack before jana opened the door, knowing she wouldn’t let you stop until it was done, it was due the following morning and well you lagged a bit on it. “if you would’ve stared this when you got assigned it we wouldn’t be up right now.” a bit of her frustration comes through, making a hallow shell in your stomach. the look on your face makes her soften. “i’m sorry habibti, we’re almost done then we can get in the bed, okay?”

• she loves to watch you sit and do your makeup, something about you getting all ready for her makes her melt

•you’re a yapper, you constantly try and keep her up at night to listen to your little dumb ramblings and billion questions

• “baby, would you still love me if i was 6’5?” you ask laying on your side facing back sleeping jana. “habibti, i’m 6’5.” she mumbles. “well yeah but what if we were the same height? or even if i was taller than you? are you into girls that’re taller than you? do you feel like i’m too short-.” you’re cut off by a groan, “habibti, you’re not too short. id love you no matter what height. can we sleep now?” you pout and with a sigh you pull the covers up your body. “no, i’m not into girls taller than me. do you think i’m too tall?” jana softly smiles, turning on her side to face you making you giggle.

•she loves it when you come to her games!! especially when she can see you cheering her on from the side, draped in her jersey.

•she always carry’s stuff for you, you’re a bit clumsy and she doesn’t want you to drop whatever it is you’re holding.

• “i got, jana! really i can hold it.” you were feeling especially independent today, it was paige’s birthday and you two were tasked with bringing the cake. you had baked it and decorated it to perfection. a heart shaped pink cake, with cherries around the rim. “are you sure habibti? i can hold it just until we get to the car.” worry lacing her voice but also not wanting to break your good mood. “mmmm, nope! i got it, thanks baby.” you smile but your mood is quickly soured as you step, almost falling straight on your butt. jana grabbing your waist, stopping the fall and saving the cake. your eyes dough as you look up at her, “okay maybe you should hold it.” as you hand it to her. “it’s okay habibti, you’ll still be able to light the candles and cut it.”

•forehead, neck and kisses on the back of your hand are her speciality!!!

18+ below!!!

• she’s so dominant there’s not many nights where she bottoms

• tribbing is one of your guys’ favorite!!

• “feel good habibti?” she pants, reaching down to pinch your hard nipple. you guys had been at it for what felt like hours, your left leg pressed all the way up and back against the wall by her big hand. with tangled legs your clits rubbed against each others, all the wetness making the motion swift. “mm’ feels the best ever baby.” you whine out, one of your hands going to touch her toned stomach. “yeah baby?” she slows down a bit, leaning down to press a sensual kiss to your lips, you moaning into her mouth. you feel her strong hand snake around your neck, lightly squeezing. “yes, s’ good, please don’t stop.” you cry as she sits back up, the hand leaving your neck. she’s quick to put her thumb in her mouth and pull it out with a pop before moving it to rub your clit and speeding up her hips again. “not gonna stop habibti don’t worry.” she groans, staring down and where you two connected.

•she can have you sitting in her lap making out for hours, usually it only stops when either your lips get sore or you guys have to get ready to go somewhere.

•she always smacks your butt when you walk by or bend over she just can’t help herself

• she always jokes about you giving her a “three finger combo” but she’s not joking…

• “fuck baby, just like that.” she groans, her stomach tight, mouth slightly opened and head rolled back. she’s sat up on the couch, you on your knees in between her legs, three knuckles deep. “just like that, mommy?” you manage to detach your mouth from her clit long enough to get those words out before going back to continue sucking on it. “like that baby.” she pulls her head up to look down at you, taking your hair into both of her hands to pull back.

•oh my gosh her strap game is soooo strong!! so addicting!!!

•your favorite one she uses on you is pretty and pink with sparkles. it’s long and semi-thick about 8 inches with the belt of it being the prettiest light pink on her skin

• “fuuuuuuck.” you drag out, you look and sound like something out of an erotic porno. your whines mixed with the sound of skin slapping together and your wet pussy was music to jana’s ears. you’re in your shared bed taking it missionary, the comforting feeling of jana on top of you enhancing the experience. “love youuuu sooo much baby, feels s’ good, please don’t stoppp.” you blabber out, arms around her neck. her face goes down in between your boobs, kissing your chest. “not gonna stop baby, love you too much for that. love you and this pussy so much” she promises, her hard thrusts send jolts through your body. your whines and blabbering continue on especially when she takes your nipple into her mouth, gently nibbling on it. “gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” you warn, reaching up to rub her nipple. “gonna cum, huh baby? gonna cum for mommy, huh?.” her thrusts speed up and she talks to you how you like it. the bed creeks as she reaches up and pinches your cheeks together, forcing your mouth open before leaning down and spitting in it. your eyes roll back, her actions pushing you over as you cum all over her silicone dick. she leans down, muffling your moans with her mouth, letting you suck on her tongue.

•is the type to always want to shower after sex but leaves it up to you if you wanna join or not

•either way she’s always holding you again before you fall asleep<3

[cod-indulgences]

Poly!tf141 x female!reader, gangbang, free use, public humiliation, rough sex, dom/sub vibes

Poly tf141 gangbang anywhere they want it. Home base? You're getting bent over Price's desk and fucked stupid before he lets the boys have their turns filling you up, leaving you so sloppy and wet with come there's no point putting your clothes back on, so why bother princess? Everyone knows what you got up to with all that screaming you just did. Go on, go shower, it's just down the hall- no, no clothes, we just told you. Now get cleaned up or we'll just hose you down outside- there you go, good girl.

You get parked in a safe house on a mission and when the squad comes back amped up, smelling like gunpowder and explosives, you don't even get a chance to ask if they're all okay- Soap throws you down on the bed and tears your panties off, throwing the scrap of broken elastic and cotton away, barely getting his cock out before slamming into you so hard you white out for a moment. He knows he's fucking you bloody like this, but you're clawing at his shoulders and moaning, and isn't this what you're here for anyhow? You belong to them, and however they want you, and when he finishes and Gaz steps into his place you moan and let Ghost tilt your head back, work his cock into your mouth, taking them both so well, so tight and wet, we know you missed us baby. Ghost holds his cock in your throat so you'll clench down on Gaz, milk the come out of him, let Price spread you open and play with the slippery mix of come and slick between your legs. He fucks you as Ghost comes down your throat, your choking a beautiful counterpoint to the wet slapping sounds.

On the transport home there's other soldiers, other men staring at you, their own cocks out in their fists, aiming stripes of come your way. You barely even register them, your squad a knot of muscle and skin around you, each moving in turn to fuck up into your ass and cunt, Ghost and Price sharing you with their foreheads pressed together, Ghost's mask lifted just enough to lick at each other's mouths. Soap and Gaz fuck you between them, rocking you back and forth as they rub their cocks together inside you, only a thin layer of flesh separating them. Hands pinching your nipples and stroking your tongue, whoever isn't inside you fitting their cocks into your hands like toys, moving you where they want to be teased. Gaz and Price, Soap and Ghost, each taking you until you lose track entirely, only the pleasure covering your mind in a haze, drooling openly as you're fucked and fucked and fucked, until your body is so ruined that when they're finally finished Price has to carry you into base, lay you down into a bed that smells like them, let you drift out of consciousness with their come still drying down your legs, across your belly, your pussy and ass stretched open and tender.

The next morning of course, is when you get to thank them for treating you so well- and they did treat you well, remember love, how you cried and came for us over and over, begging for more? What better way than on your knees in the mess, swallowing your breakfast of come, your cunt still sticky and swollen? It's what you deserve, being so good to us.

[ateezscupid]

ATEEZ MASTERLIST / REQUEST

"I'm sorry," Yunho whispers, one hand on the back of your head and the other grasping your hip, his hips ever so slowly thrusting back and forth. Your eyes squeeze shut tighter, and your nails dig into his back. "I need you baby. Please,"

"Yunho," you moan, your voice strained with a mix of pleasure and pain as he continues his rhythmic movement, your bodies intertwined on the bed. His touch is tender yet insistent, his breath warm on your neck. The room is filled with the scent of your combined desperation and the faint sound of your heartbeats syncing to the rhythm of your passion. The soft rustle of the sheets is the only sound in the quiet apartment, a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling within you.

Every emotion you've kept bottled up since your breakup began to bubble. It felt like a dam getting ready to burst. You clawed at his back, your moans growing more desperate with each stroke. "I need you too," you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. Your body responded to his touch in a way that was both terrifying and exhilarating. You've missed this feeling, missed him, missed the way he made you feel alive.

Yunho's eyes searched yours, looking for the answer he so desperately needed. "I missed you." The words hung in the air, raw and unfiltered. He kissed you gently, his hand caressing your cheek. His touch was a balm to the wounds of your past, smoothing over the jagged edges of your doubt.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. "I missed you too," you admitted, your voice shaky. His kiss grew more urgent, as if he was trying to convey every unspoken word and every lost moment through the pressure of his lips against yours. Your bodies moved in harmony, a silent conversation filled with longing and regret.

He started to move his hips faster, his hold on you tightening, never wanting to let you go. Not like before. He wasn't going to lose you. He pushes his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, feeling the warmth of your skin. "I won't let you go," he murmured against your ear, his voice thick with passion.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek as his words echoed in your mind. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. Your moans grew louder, mixing with the sound of his ragged breaths. The intensity of his love washed over you, breaking down every wall you had built up since he had left.

The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the sensations of his touch. The feel of his skin against yours, the way his hands gripped you like you were his lifeline, the taste of his mouth as he kissed you hungrily. It was as if no time had passed at all, as if you had never been apart.

With a final, desperate thrust, you both reached the pinnacle of pleasure, your bodies shuddering with release. You held onto him tightly, not wanting to let go, not even when your breathing began to slow and your hearts stopped racing quite so wildly.

Yunho pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes with a vulnerability that made your heart ache. He wasn't able to get a word in before you started crying, your whole body shaking with the force of your sobs. He held you closer, his own eyes misting over with unshed tears. "Don't cry," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I'm here. I'm not leaving again."

You buried your face in his neck, clutching at him as if you were afraid he would disappear. "I'm sorry," you choked out between sobs. "I'm just so happy. I-I couldn't get myself to call you or anything and I-" He rubbed circles on your back, whispering soothing nothings as you cried out all the pain and fear you had been carrying around since he left.

"I'm here, baby, I'm here." Yunho's voice was a gentle whisper, his embrace a safe haven. You felt his warmth seep into your bones, soothing the ache of your soul. He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your eyes, tasting the salty tears. His touch was a promise that you hadn't allowed yourself to believe in for so long.

After what felt like an eternity, your sobs began to subside, leaving behind a trembling mess of emotions. He pulled away just enough to look at you, his gaze filled with a mix of love and concern. You reached up and wiped the tears from your face, feeling embarrassed by your outburst. "I'm okay," you murmured, trying to force a smile.

"Can we try again?" Yunho's voice was soft, hopeful. You nodded, sniffling, the warmth of his body comforting you like a well-worn blanket on a cold night. He leaned down and kissed you again, more gently this time, his thumbs wiping the last traces of tears from your cheeks.

[strang3lov3]

Fever Dream

Roman takes care of you while you’re sick, and you have intense fever dreams about fucking him.

Tags - stepdaddy!roman, smut, unprotected piv, fever dreams, cunnilingus, leg humping/thigh grinding, pussy job, outercourse, teasing, lowkey edging daddy. dirty talk. daddy kink. liiiitlest bit of dubcon, but everyone is into everything, i asked them myself. Fluff adjacent - daddy takes care of you while you’re sick, cleans up your mess. Typical Roman banter. Emetephobia warning - there’s descriptions of vomiting/nausea but it’s not terribly graphic (coming from a person who also has emetephobia) 4.6k words. A/N - hey hey! Been a while since we’ve seen daddy, huh? He missed you, babygirl. @beefrobeefcal and my dear L, thank you for betaing.

stepdaddy!roman masterlist

Something’s…off. 

You’ve been in bed for hours now, not sleeping. Just kind of…passing time. Watching the little red numbers of your digital clock blink, taunting you - it’s now 2:37 AM. The minutes drag like hours, and each second serves as a mocking reminder of just how awake you are. 

You scroll through your phone as you try to distract yourself from the awful, gnawing feeling in your gut, the way your body violently vacillates between hot and cold. If you focus too hard on how terrible you feel, you’ll spiral. Nothing seems to pull your attention away from it, though, and you find yourself trembling, humming rhythmically to soothe yourself. You just wanna sleep. 

Your mouth waters in that sickening, unmistakable way, a sharp twist of your gut has you sitting up straight - it takes you half a second for your brain to process what your body already knows is about to happen. 

You quickly fling your blanket off and sprint to the bathroom, but you don’t make it to the toilet in time. The first violent heave of the night overtakes you, and the sick splatters on the floor and down your front. It’s completely awful in every way, and you’re powerless to fight it. You’re just a slave to that horrible bodily function. You have just a moment to fumble with the lid of the toilet before it’s happening again, sweat dripping down the back of your neck. 

Roman’s been sleeping peacefully in his room, but the muffled sounds of your retching and gagging and sobbing wakes him up. He’s groggy and he’s confused, but his concern for you propels him to get out of bed. It’s his intrinsic sense about you, his unending worry. He paces quickly to your room and calls your name, making a beeline to your bathroom. 

“Hey - oh, fuck.”

Roman turns on the harsh, fluorescent light and the scene punches him in the gut. There you are, on your knees and clutching the toilet bowl as you puke, the acrid smell lingering in the air. You’re a mess, and so is the floor you lie on.

You turn your head just enough to see Roman standing in the doorway, his brow pinched in worry as he takes the sight in. “Get the fuck out, Roman,” you choke out through a raw throat, before it takes over again. 

“What?”

“I don’t want you to see - fuck–” The sentence dies halfway as your body betrays you once again, but Roman knows what you’re trying to say. 

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbles, carefully tiptoeing around your mess to meet you at the toilet. He gathers your hair in one hand and holds it back as you empty your insides into the toilet, rubbing your back with the other hand. He can hear you sobbing, and it breaks his heart to know how much pain and discomfort you’re in. 

“I don’t–”

 “Shhh, you’re okay,” Roman whispers. “Just…let it happen. It’s almost over, sweetheart. You’re almost done.”

It’s almost over. His words not only comfort you, but they ring true, as well. The last of it happens, and then a little dry heaving. The hollow ache in your stomach. You flush the toilet and slam the lid shut before Roman can see your mess, then hover over the sink to rinse out your mouth and nose. When you’re done, you try to leave. 

“Hey - no. Don’t get up,” Roman tells you, grabbing you by the shoulders to gently ease you to the ground. He sits you on the plush bath mat and leans you against the wall, “Just stay right there.” 

“Roman,” you whimper, sniffling. God, you feel horrible, and you must look even worse. You’re covered in lingering sweat and tears as well as your own mess from earlier, and your head is heavy and achy. Nose and throat burning like they’ve been rubbed raw. You can’t help but to cry freely, feeling completely at the mercy of your own body. 

Roman doesn’t flinch. Instead, he turns on the bathroom fan and cracks the narrow window open, where the cool, nighttime breeze hits your flushed cheeks and soothes your hot skin. He turns around and opens the door of your bathroom closet, pulls out a couple of wash rags and some other things, you’re not sure what exactly. You’re not paying super close attention.

Roman dampens a rag before approaching you, crouching down to your level. He holds your chin between his thumb and pointer finger as he wipes your face gently, cleaning away the mess and your tears. “What the hell happened to you, huh?” he asks softly, sympathetically. “You’re a fuckin’ mess, kid.” 

“Just don’t feel so good,” you whisper, unable to meet his gaze. 

“Yeah, just don’t feel so good, huh? Are you sick, or what?”

You shrug weakly, lips pouting as you ignore the question. “You should go,” you tell him urgently.

“Oh, I should, should I?” Roman snorts. “Well, that sucks, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

You roll your eyes and smile a little, and it makes Roman smile, too. That’s a good sign. 

“Do I smell like vomit?”

“Oh, god, yeah. Horribly,” Roman deadpans, and his honesty makes you laugh. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, still chuckling. “I’m so gross.” 

Roman pushes a bit of hair out of your eyes, his touch so profoundly tender as he notes how warm your skin is, rubbing your cheek softly with his thumb. “Yeah, you are. Just kinda disgusting, honestly. Ew.” 

“Yeah,” you whisper, smiling a little. You pause, then take the rag from his hands and move toward the mess on the floor, but Roman stops you. “Ah, no. I’m taking care of this,” he says, outstretching his arm to keep you against the wall. “Just fuckin’ sit still, will you? Will you do that for me? Jeeeesus,” he exaggerates, laying his sarcasm on thick to ease your insecurity.

Too tired to argue, you raise your palms in surrender - just a slow, weak flick of your wrists. With a soft grunt, Roman stands up then. He goes back to the closet to grab a thermometer and sits back down in front of you, his knees cracking as he bends them.

“You sound old.” 

“Ha-ha. Shut up.” Roman turns the thermometer on and puts it between your lips, wriggling the tip under your tongue. He cups your cheek and you lean into his palm, feeling relief at the way it cools your skin. He rubs your temple and watches your eyes gently close - how utterly exhausted you are. 

Finally, the thermometer beeps. Roman pulls it out of your mouth and grimaces at the big number on the tiny screen. “Oof, yeah. You’re very sick,” he grimaces, then shows you the number. “Gotta get that fever down.”  

Roman turns around and slides the shower door out of the way, drops the drain-stopper and turns on the water. He tests the temperature with his palm, frowning while adjusting it to slightly warmer than lukewarm. As the bath fills, Roman comes close to you again. He carefully helps you out of your soiled clothes, moving your heavy limbs for you. You don’t protest his help. 

He ushers you into the tub, sits you down gently. You rest the back of your head against the cool, ceramic tiles, then turn to watch Roman. He moves around the bathroom with ease, gathering soiled clothes and rags into a hamper, pulling out different cleaning supplies from the closet. “Oh,” he says, then reaches for the trash can next to the toilet. He sets it right next to the tub, “You know. If you need to puke again, or whatever. Hurl into this baby.”  

It’s quiet as you listen to Roman clean the bathroom, save for the occasional squirting of a Clorox bottle and the running water at the sink. You watch him wipe up the mess, and he does so silently. No look of disgust on his face, which surprises you. No shitty jokes or snarky comments. Just Roman, quietly taking care of the task at hand.

“You’re like, surprisingly good at this.”

“Surprisingly good at what?”

“I don’t know. Dealing with all of…this, I guess,” you murmur, gesturing to the mess. “Like, doesn’t it gross you out?”

“Sure,” Roman replies, tossing the dirty rag into the hamper before grabbing a clean one. “I mean, puke’s puke. It’s gross. But I don’t know, it doesn’t really bother me.” 

“Puke doesn’t bother you?”

“It’s not fun, if that’s what you’re asking. But it’s just different when it’s someone you l–” Roman catches himself before he can finish the thought. “I mean, don’t know. It’s just…yeah. I don’t - don’t know what I’m saying. It’s fine,” he mumbles, shaking his head a little. “Don’t worry about me, alright? I’m fuckin’ - I’m fine. You are not. How are you feeling, anyway? Better, worse?” 

You shrug. “Cold,” you tell him. “I’m cold now.”

“Well, that’d be your fever,” Roman says matter-of-factly, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. You gaze at him with big, sad, tired eyes, a pout on your lips that tugs at Roman’s heart. You’re so small, so stripped, and he’s carefully holding you in the palms of his hands. It’s not lost on him, the rawness and vulnerability of this moment. The peacefulness. You’ve been sharing more and more of these moments with him, having more good days than bad together. Leaning on him, letting him in. It could always be like this, if you wanted. It’d be a good thing, he thinks. For both of you.

Roman drains the bath and helps you out of the tub, dries you gently with a soft, clean towel. You brush your teeth and rinse with mouthwash as he picks out pajamas for you - a large t-shirt and a pair of panties - then dresses you wordlessly and tucks you into bed. You’re gone in two minutes, and Roman bends down to kiss your forehead. “Night, kid.” 

You wake up in the later morning, still feeling off, but not like you’re on the verge of vomiting. Just…a different sort of wrong. You’re sad - Roman’s not in bed with you, but then, why would he be? He’s not - you know, not really supposed to be there. 

You left your phone on the nightstand. The battery’s low, and there’s a couple notifications. Forty-seven minutes ago Roman texted you to text him when you wake up, so you do. 

A few minutes later, Roman gently nudges your door open with his foot. “Morning, sunshine.” His arms are full of different things - a plate with some toast and a banana, a large bottle of Gatorade, a large bottle of water, Tylenol, that same thermometer from last night. He sits on the edge of your bed and places everything on the nightstand, and first takes your temperature. It’s lower than it was last night, but still too high. 

Roman opens the bottle of Tylenol and rattles out two pills, then hands them to you. You place them in your mouth and reach for the Gatorade, but struggle to twist off the orange cap. 

“Oh, come on. Really?” Roman arches a brow and chuckles, taking the bottle from you. “Need a big, strong man to take care of it, huh?” 

Roman twists the small bottle, but the cap fights him too, and his bravado crumples as he strains against it. Scrunching his face a little, gritting his teeth together. It makes you laugh quietly.

“We both do, I think,” you quip. The pills taste bitter in your mouth. 

Roman scoffs. “Okay, no. You got your sweat all over it with your fuckin’ clammy hands, sickie, so fuck off. It was rigged.” He covers the cap with the blanket, then successfully twists it off. “Voíla. Little sips,” he reminds you, handing you back the bottle. Roman keeps you sipping on the Gatorade, insisting that the last thing he needs is you being dehydrated on top of everything else. 

Your tummy growls loudly, eliciting a snort from Roman. He had figured you were hungry, so he came prepared with a light snack. “Here,” he says, handing you the plate with toast. Roman takes care to peel the banana for you, then puts it next to your toast. “Brat diet. Perfect for you.” 

“Brat?”

“Yeah, it’s for spoiled brats like you, sweetheart. No, it’s uh… fuck. Bananas, rice, something with an A…I don’t fuckin’ remember. Or care. And toast,” he adds. “See? Brat diet. It’s just light shit for your delicate little stomach to have when you’re sick.”

You eye the food suspiciously. “What if I don’t keep it down?”

“Gotta try, though, right? Just a couple bites. See how you feel.”

With Roman’s encouragement, you take a small bite of your plain toast, then another. It always feels…odd, just sort of uncomfortable to eat after being sick. But the food is helping, and you can feel how badly your body needed it. 

After eating, Roman has you drink some more water. He takes your plate back to the kitchen as you use the bathroom, wash your face and freshen up a little. Just making yourself feel human again. You get back into bed and Roman comes back, takes your temperature again, and gets into bed with you. He doesn’t have to ask to know that’s what you want.

The curtains are drawn, the light in the room is low, and it looks almost black and white. You lie on Roman’s chest, drawing little patterns into his t-shirt with your fingertips as you listen to the quiet TV. 

“You know something? I should have quarantined you,” Roman mumbles softly, kissing the top of your head a couple of times. 

“Hm?”

“Should have quarantined you. Locked you up, left you to fend for yourself. But I’m the sucker who’s taking care of you, and it’s just occurred to me that I’m gonna be sick after this.”

“Maybe,” you reply quietly. You nuzzle your face into his neck, the wiry hairs of his scruff scratching your skin. Roman tightens his arm around you as you close your eyes. 

“Not maybe. It’s inevitable. Give it a day or two and I’m gonna be puking and shitting everywhere and you’ll have to deal with it,” he says. Roman rubs your back and you feel yourself drifting off, his voice sounds distant. You feel so warm, so safe in his hold. “Little taste of what’s to come when I’m senile, huh?”

“I’m not gonna take care of you.”

“No?”

“Mm-mm,” you sigh. “Gonna put you in a nursing home. One of the abusive ones.”

“Oh, that’s perfect, actually. I’ll have a pretty young thing do my sponge baths. Lift her skirt with my cane,” he jokes, smiling at your humor. “Yeah, lookin’ forward to it, sweetheart.” 

 When you don’t reply, Roman looks down at you. Your eyes are gently shut, lips all plump and pursed as you breathe rhythmically, already gone. “Going back to sleep, kid?”

On autopilot, you hum, and it makes Roman chuckle. “I’ll be here.” 

 Sensations come one at a time, and touch is first - hips are pounding against your ass, and hands on your waist, fingertips bruising you. You feel foggy, but you feel good. The next one is sight - crumpled sheets and fabric close to your face, close enough that you can see all the fibers and threads. But it’s blurry, pulsing in and out of focus. When the hands on your waist slide around your torso - one splayed between your breasts, the other on your stomach - and pull you up and back, you feel the familiar warmth of his torso, hear the broken breaths and noises of pleasure that Roman makes, and you know it’s him.

If you close your eyes, it’s only the feeling of being fucked by Roman. He’s whispering filth in your ear, kissing your neck as he pounds into you. You wrap your hands around his and tilt your head back, relishing in the intensity of it all. His arms clutching you close to him, nearly forcing the breath out of your lungs. You could suffocate like this and so be it, you decide.

But if you open your eyes, you can see it, and you can see it so fucking bv clearly. Like you’re looking in a mirror, or a movie, maybe. You can watch your bodies move from a distance, see the way you writhe and bounce with the way he fucks you. It’s dark, nothing else to look at but you and Roman. You can zoom in too, see his face next to yours. His crooked, smug smirk that you love so much and his dark, lust-blown pupils. 

You’re not sure where or how it begins, but you blink and you’re on your back. Roman’s got you folded in half, relentlessly pounding into your cunt. His neatly trimmed pubic hair grinds into your clit, the friction so deliciously pleasurable. You rock your hips to match his thrusts, moaning his name. God, he’s so utterly, completely fucking gorgeous. The perfect line between his brows. The freckles dotting his nose, freckles that you could count if you wanted to. His dark lashes, reddened cheeks, wet lips.

Roman’s rock hard and a little miserable, but he’s pleasantly amused. There’s a damp spot on his leg from where you’ve soaked him, and he feels the damp warmth radiating from your cunt. You’re gripping his torso with a bruising pressure as you grind yourself against him, whimpering his name, broken by moans. He grips his cock tightly, pressing his thumb over the weeping slit as he watches you dream of him.

He’s filling you with his come then, cock pulsing, painting your insides. It feels so warm and delicious, that lovely sensation of his spend dripping between your thighs. You’re limp as Roman pushes your thighs apart and toward your chest, your swollen, worn pussy on display for him. 

And then he’s eating you, savoring the taste of your combined arousal. The mess you made together. You’re tugging on the graying strands of his hair, tugging on his t-shirt in reality. Grinding your clit against his knee, rocking against that perfect nose of his in your mind.

It’s all shaping up to be the most intense, mind numbingly powerful orgasm you’ve ever felt. It’s a slow build, with the pleasure increasing almost exponentially. 

It’s gone like that - and it’s as elusive in its end as it was in its beginning. You come to, and you’re a little sweaty. Roman’s still underneath you, he’d held you the entire time you slept. How many hours passed? You’re not even sure. It’s still dark in the room, could be mid-afternoon, early evening, you really don’t know. You shift a little, pausing when you feel the fucking pool of arousal between your thighs, dripping through your panties and onto Roman’s leg. 

“Hey, horndog. Had a good dream there?” Roman teases, voice a little gravelly and raspy.

It takes you a minute to gather yourself, and you don’t even bother replying to Roman’s taunting, with one thing only on your mind. You just grind against him, running your palm up and down his warm torso, sliding your hand beneath the elastic waistband of his pants. The head of his cock is sticky and wet, throbbing under your touch. “Need you,” you mumble. 

“Need me, huh? Strong word.”

“Yeah.” 

You tug his sweatpants down a little, attempting to free his cock from the confines of the fabric. Roman puts his hand over yours and squeezes, “Mmm,” he hums, pulling your hands away from his body. You’re so weak and so pliant, it’s too easy.

“Please, Roman. I need you to fuck me.” 

Roman looks at you and pouts mockingly at your expression. God, how needy you are. Biting your lip, pupils darting left and right as you silently beg him to make you come. Shamelessly grinding your pussy into his leg. He inhales deeply, then wears a small smile. Roman shakes his head and oh, how he shatters your heart. Your face crumples, and you look like you’re about to cry. “Nope,” he says softly, “I am not going to fuck you, sweetheart. Sorry.” 

“Why?” you ask, voice all sad and broken. 

“Because, you fuckin’ sex addict, you’re gonna get all like, motion sick or whatever and puke on my balls or something. That’s the last thing I need,” he says, rubbing his thumbs over your hands, riding every dip and raise of your knuckles. “It’s just not happening. My condolences.”

You whine loudly, so frustrated with Roman. He’ll jump at any opportunity to fuck you and what, now he won’t? He won’t take advantage of you being all sick and fuzzy-headed? That should be right up his alley, the fucking freak. 

“Hey, I’m a victim here, too,” Roman adds. “Look - look at this, look at what you did–” Roman pulls his cock out and grips the base of his shaft, squeezing as he slides his palm up his length. “You started moaning, ‘Roman this’ and ‘Roman that’ and look, I’m hard as a fuckin’ rock, thanks to you. And I can’t do shit about it,” he grumbles. “Yeah, instead, I have to be the adult here and hold your ass while you infect me with whatever fucking virus you’re riddled with.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Woah,” Roman laughs, a little taken aback. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you,” you repeat.

“Alright, yeah. Fuck me. You wish,” he goads.

Roman smirks at you, prompting you to glare at him and god, if looks could fucking kill.

“Tell you what,” he says. “What’s the fuckin’....temperature of a human being again? Do you know?”

“It’s 98.6,” you answer. “I think. I’m pretty sure.”

“No, yeah. That sounds right,” Roman says. “So - when you’re back back down to 98.6, I’ll fuck your brains out. Okay? Deal?” Roman holds up a thumb, turns it up and down as he waits for your answer. 

You pull his hand down. “I fucking hate you sometimes,” you mumble, once again grinding on his thigh. 

“Yeah, let me have it,” Roman says, now resting his hand on your back again. He tugs up your shirt and slides his hand down the waistband of your underwear, squeezing the flesh of your ass as you roll your hips against him. “Get it all out of your system.” 

“I mean it,” you say. “I hate you.”

“Yeah? You hate it when Daddy doesn’t give you his cock?” Roman mocks. “Poor thing. You’re so neglected. Abused, even. What am I gonna do with you?”

You roll your eyes, then slowly lift up. Roman watches in amusement to see what you do next - could be anything. Maybe you’ll reach into your nightstand drawer for your vibrator, maybe you’ll keep grinding on his thigh. 

You slide off your panties and take off your shirt which, honestly, Roman thinks is good for you. It’ll help you cool off a little, bring that fever the rest of the way down. You straddle Roman and reach between your bodies for his cock, then line it up with your entrance, the blunt head prodding against your dripping hole. Roman wraps his hand around yours and pulls his cock away before you can sink down on it, and you land flat on his shaft. 

“Daddy,” you whine, dragging out the last syllable. “Please.” 

“Ooh, nice try. Really - good manners, very polite. It’s still not happening, sweetheart.”

You huff and try to wriggle his cock back against your pussy, but Roman won’t let you get very far. He sighs in pleasure as you stroke him, but he stands his ground when you try again to fuck him. 

“You suck.” 

“I know, honey.” 

You sit on Roman’s lap, quietly pouting as you contemplate your situation. Nothing’s stopping you from reaching into the drawer of your nightstand and breaking out that little vibrator. Using it right next to Roman, making him suffer and grapple with the fact that he isn’t the one to bring you pleasure. Or, you could use your own fingers. Whatever pisses him off the most. 

Roman’s dick twitches then, right against your dripping seam and oh, that could work. It’d be a real tease, too. If he wants to fight dirty, then so can you. “Fine,” you say, situating yourself a little better on his lap. His cock is achingly hard and resting against his tummy, you tug his shirt up around his ribs. You slot his length snugly between your lips, clit throbbing against his leaking head. 

You clutch his shirt as you begin rolling your hips, grinding your clit against his length. You love the way that touching him feels like home, how your palms fit against his shoulders. “Fuck,” you whisper, guiding yourself up and down. Your swollen, sensitive clit catching on his tip. You roll your hips in slow circles, sway them side to side. 

“Ohhh, clever,” Roman purrs, smirking at you. Fuck, his gorgeous smile. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sick, there’s still a chance that maybe he won’t catch your stomach bug too. “This is your cheat code, huh? Your little work around to still come on your daddy’s cock?”

“Kinda,” you moan. Roman wraps holds your hips as you fuck yourself against him, holding you tighter when you lean down. You bury your face in his neck, your chest and tummy pressed against his. His slender fingers trail over your spine as he feels you move, your arousal dripping down his cock and down his balls.

“Mmm…you’re naughty, sweetheart. Very, very naughty.” 

“Help me,” you whimper. “Help me come.” 

Roman laughs. “Nope. I’m not enabling this,” he murmurs, pressing his lips against your cheek. “This is aaaallllll you. You are on your own.”  

You whine in complaint, but Roman ignores that. He wonders if you notice how he is in fact helping you a little bit, thrusting his hips a little to match the way you rock yours, guiding you with his hands. His breath is hot against your skin, making it feel a little damp. 

You let out soft noises of pleasure, gripping tight the tensing muscles in Roman’s biceps and shoulders. You love the way his cock feels against you. Feeling the same veins you’ve traced with your tongue and your fingertips now with your cunt, clit pulsing against his gently throbbing length. 

Roman listens to your moans becoming louder, and how they suddenly go quiet. You must be close. “You gonna come?” he whispers, “You gonna come on Daddy? C’mon, baby girl.”

You glide yourself along his length for a couple more moments, rutting against him until you feel your orgasm begin to take over. You moan into his skin as you come, nipping at his neck as Roman coaxes along your release, rocking his hips when you no longer can. You gush on his cock as you come, and there’s no overstimulation, nothing more than him letting you come down from it gently, perfectly satisfied with what he’s given you. You gently flop down next to him, tucking yourself between his arm and his side, already shutting your eyes to drift off again and sleep off the rest of your illness. 

Roman holds his cock, tapping it impatiently against his belly. “Do I have to stay here and keep holding you? Can I go like…jerk off? You kinda left me hangin’ here, you know.” 

“Don’t care,” you murmur, reaching for one of his hands. 

“Yeah, I know you don’t. Whatever. Go back to sleep, you fuckin’...you’re already out. Cool. That’s - that’s nice.” 

Roman rolls his eyes, tucks himself away and rubs your hand with his thumb, absentmindedly spelling out the three little words he’s been itching to tell you. 

-

If you enjoyed, please lmk ♡ i love when you reblog and send me asks. It means the world to me to be able to discuss my fics with you all ♡

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[ch0llies]

KISS IT BETTER | CHRISTOPHER STURNIOLO

oneshot - toxic!reader x toxic!chris

You and Chris have been trapped in a cycle for years. Fighting, breaking, making up, and doing it all over again. Every time you swear it’s the last, every time you tell yourself you’re done, he finds his way back to you and kisses it better.

story warnings: oral smut (fem receiving), fighting, pet names (ma, mama, baby), angst, toxic relationship (teetering on the edge of abusive), If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 5k

“Fuck you, Chris!”

The plate leaves your hand before you fully realize what you’re doing, shattering against the kitchen wall, ceramic shards exploding like fireworks. Your chest is heaving, your hands trembling, but it’s not fear that fuels you. It’s fury. It’s exhaustion. It’s the same goddamn argument, the same back-and-forth that neither of you knows how to stop.

Chris ducks just in time, eyes wild with rage. “Fucking leave then!” he yells, voice hoarse from all the screaming, all the wasted words. “Get out! No one’s stopping you.”

The laugh that rips from your throat is sharp and humorless. “Me?” You throw your arms out, gesturing around the apartment, the place where every fight, every reconciliation, every tangled mess of love and hate has played out. “This is my fucking apartment. You get out. You miserable, useless piece of shit- get out!”

You reach for another plate, yanking it from the open dishwasher, but he’s faster this time. His hands close around your wrist, rough and unyielding. “You crazy bitch,” he growls, shaking your arm until the plate slips from your grip, clattering to the floor.

Your breath is ragged. His is worse. For a second, neither of you move.

His grip tightens for a beat too long before he lets go, shoving your wrist away like even touching you is infuriating. You rip your arm back, rubbing the spot where his fingers left their mark, your pulse thrumming beneath your skin.

Chris runs a hand through his hair, pacing the small kitchen like he’s trying to hold himself together. You can see it in the way his chest rises and falls, in the way his fingers flex like he wants to punch a hole in the wall. But he won’t. Not yet.

“You’re fucking insane,” he spits, shaking his head. “No wonder everyone leaves you.”

The words slice deep, but you don’t let them show. Instead, you smile. “Oh, everyone?” You tilt your head, voice saccharine. “Guess that makes you an idiot for still being here, huh?”

His eyes flash, and you know you’ve hit the mark. He hates when you do that. When you turn the knife back on him, make him feel like the fool for always coming back.

Because he does.

No matter how many times you fight, no matter how many times you scream and throw things and tell each other that this is it, that this is the last time, you know he’ll be back.

Even if he walks out that door right now, he’ll be back.

Maybe it’ll be tomorrow. Maybe it’ll be a week from now, when the silence becomes unbearable, when the ache of missing each other outweighs the resentment. Maybe it’ll be two in the morning, when you’re both drunk and angry and lonely, and he calls, and you answer, and suddenly you’re in your bed again, pretending you don’t know how it always ends.

You do know.

But knowing doesn’t stop you.

“Fuck this,” Chris mutters under his breath, storming past you, shoulder bumping yours as he moves toward the door.

And for some reason maybe out of spite, maybe out of habit, maybe just because you need him to hurt the way he hurts you, you push him again.

“That’s right, run away,” you taunt, voice dripping with mockery. “Just like you always do.”

He stops.

Slowly, he turns, and when his eyes meet yours, there’s something dangerous in them. Not physical. Chris has never hurt you like that. No, his violence is different. His is in the way he knows exactly what to say to tear you down.

“You act like I’m the only one who leaves,” he says, voice low, steady. “But tell me, where the fuck were you last week when I needed you?”

Your stomach clenches. “That’s different,” you snap.

Chris lets out a sharp laugh. “Right. Of course it is. Because when you do it, it’s different. When you disappear, it’s justified. But when I do it, I’m the fucking asshole.”

You cross your arms over your chest, jaw tight. “You are the fucking asshole.”

His lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile. “Yeah? And what does that make you?”

You don’t answer. Because you know.

You’re just as bad as he is. Maybe worse. Because you’re the one who keeps letting him back in. You’re the one who keeps answering the phone, who keeps opening the door, who keeps pretending that this time, it’ll be different.

It never is.

Chris exhales, dragging a hand down his face. He looks at you, really looks at you, and for a split second, there’s something softer beneath all the anger.

But softness is dangerous. Softness means giving in.

So you glare at him, at his stupid freckled face, at the stupid bags under his blue eyes, at the stupid mess of his brown hair. You hate him. You love him. You don’t know where one feeling ends and the other begins.

“Don’t come back,” you say. It’s a lie. He knows it.

Chris studies you for a moment longer, something unreadable flickering across his expression. And then he turns, yanking the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Your hands are shaking. Your pulse is racing.

You sink onto the kitchen floor, surrounded by shattered pieces of the life you swore you’d never let yourself fall into.

It’s no surprise that hours later as the sun is setting, and the world is going quiet that your phone buzzes. It was like clockwork.

You stare at it, the screen glowing in the dim light of the kitchen. You should ignore it.

But you don’t. You never do. You never have.

The first time you fought, it was over something stupid. It was years ago and you were drunk at a party, slurring your words as you accused him of something you don’t even remember now. Some girl. Some look he gave her. Something that, in the grand scheme of things, didn’t matter at all. But in the moment, it felt like the end of the world.

He had laughed, sharp and bitter, running a hand through his hair as he glared at you across the room. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

You had shoved him, not hard, just enough to make him stumble back a step.

You hated him then. You hated the way he could make you feel so small with just a few words. Hated the way his anger was never loud, never reckless. It was always just controlled enough to make you feel like you were the problem.

And yet, later that night, you ended up in his bed. Your arms around his neck, his lips on your throat, moaning each other's names, both of you desperate to take back every cruel word without actually saying sorry.

That was how it always went.

Your phone buzzes again.

You don’t pick it up right away. Instead, you stare at the shattered plate on the floor, at the tiny fractures in the tile where it hit. At the reflection of yourself in the broken pieces.

You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

With a shaky breath, you reach for the phone.

You answer, pressing it to your ear without a word.

His breathing is heavy on the other end.

“Open the door,” he says.

Your eyes flicker to the door. Your fingers tighten around the phone.

“No.”

Chris exhales sharply. “Ma.” His voice is softer now. Worn out. Tired. “Don’t do this.”

You swallow hard. “You slammed the door first.”

“You told me to.”

You don’t have a response to that.

Because you did tell him to. You tell him to leave every time. And every time, he comes back.a

Just like you knew he would.

The fights got worse as the years went on.

They stopped being about stupid things like parties and jealousy and miscommunication. They became bigger. Real.

Chris had walked into the apartment one night, the smell of whiskey clinging to his clothes, his knuckles split open. You were already waiting, sitting on the couch with your arms crossed over your chest.

“You were supposed to pick me up,” you said flatly.

He had exhaled, running a tired hand over his face. “I got caught up.”

You stood up, shaking your head. “You forgot.”

“It’s not a big fucking deal, Y/N.”

You had laughed then, cold and bitter. “Right. Not a big deal. Just like every other time you’ve blown me off.”

Chris had rubbed his temples, exasperated. “Jesus Christ, are we really doing this right now?”

You had shoved him then, harder than before, enough to make him stumble back. “Yes, we’re doing this right now. Because this keeps happening, and you never fucking care.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m here now.”

And that was what made you snap. “Yeah, and that’s the fucking problem. You only show up when it’s too late.”

He had left that night. Slamming the door so hard the walls shook. You told yourself you wouldn’t let him back in. You swore, this time, you meant it.

And yet, a day later, he was at your door, his pretty eyes wet and tired, his voice rough. “I’m sorry.”

And, like always, that was enough.

You unlock the door and go back to sitting down in the kitchen.

Chris doesn’t come in right away. He hesitates in the doorway, looking at you on the floor, surrounded by the wreckage of your latest disaster.

He steps over the broken pieces and crouches in front of you.

His hands find your knees. “You okay?”

You huff out a laugh. “Are you fucking serious?”

Chris sighs, dragging a hand down his face. “I hate this,” he mutters. “I hate fighting with you.”

You scoff. “Then stop.”

He looks at you. Like really looks at you, like he’s trying to find something in your expression that he lost a long time ago.

His fingers brush your cheek. “Where were you last week?”

Your stomach clenches.

You shake your head. “Chris…”

“No.” His jaw tightens. “I needed you. And you weren’t fucking there.”

You close your eyes. Because you know. You know.

You had ignored his calls, turned your phone on silent, locked yourself in your apartment and pretended you didn’t hear him knocking and banging and nearly kicking down the door.

Because you were exhausted. Because you were sick of being the one who always stayed. Because you wanted to know if he’d break without you. He did.

And when you finally answered, two days later, his voice was cold but so sad. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You remember the way your chest had ached at the sound of it. The way you had opened your mouth to apologize, but the words never came.

Now, he’s looking at you like that again. Like he’s still waiting for an answer.

You don’t have one.

Chris exhales, pressing his forehead against your knee. “I don’t wanna do this anymore.”

Something in your chest tightens. Because neither do you. But you both know you will.

So you let him pull you into his arms, let him kiss the top of your head, let him whisper all the things you need to hear.

It had been a month.

Somehow, against all odds, things had actually been good.

After that last fight, after the broken plates and slammed doors and the inevitable collapse into each other’s arms, you both seemed to tread more carefully. There were fewer arguments, fewer nights spent staring at the ceiling wondering when the next disaster would hit.

Chris started coming home earlier. He made dinner for you sometimes, even if it was just burnt pasta. You stopped ignoring his calls. You let yourself believe, just for a little while, that maybe things were different this time.

And then came Boston.

Chris had been excited to take you home, to visit his parents, to spend time with his brothers. “They love you and miss you so much,” he had said, fingers threading through yours. “I just want them to see how good we’re doing.”

And for the first few hours, you were good.

His mom hugged you tight. His dad cracked jokes that made you laugh. Matt and Nick filled the house with their usual chaos, and for a little while, you let yourself forget about the way things used to be.

Until she walked in.

Madisyn.

His ex from high school. The one you had never met, the one he never really talked about, but the one whose name had always felt like a ghost in the back of your mind.

She looked good. You hated that she looked good.

“Oh my god,” she said, smiling wide as she wrapped her arms around Chris like she still belonged there. “It’s been forever.”

You didn’t move.

Chris laughed, squeezing her back before stepping away. “Yeah, it feels like forever, hasn’t it?”

You stared at them.

You hated that he hadn’t told you she’d be here. You hated the way she said his name like she still knew him.

But you didn’t say anything.

You just went quiet.

Chris noticed.

At dinner, after Madisyn left, when everyone was laughing, when you were talking to his parents and brothers but barely even looking at him, he noticed.

“Ma,” he murmured under his breath at one point, nudging you. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” you said.

Except it wasn’t nothing. Because when you talked to his mom, your voice was warm and full of life. When you joked with Nick and Matt, you were animated and laughing.

But with him?

Cold. Quiet. Distant.

And it was driving him crazy.

At one point, his hand found your thigh under the table, squeezing in warning. “Perk up,” he muttered. “You’re being weird.”

That made you seethe. You had every reason to be pissed, and he wanted you to just sit there and smile and pretend everything was fine?

So you ignored him. You smiled at his mom, at his dad, at his brothers. You talked to everyone but him.

And by the time you got in the car to drive home, the air was suffocating.

The second the doors shut, it exploded.

“What the fuck was that!?” Chris snapped, slamming his hands on the steering wheel before peeling out of the driveway way too fast.

You didn’t even look at him. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m starting.” His voice was sharp, furious. “You gave me the cold shoulder all fucking night, and for what?”

You scoffed, staring out the window. “Are you seriously that fucking dense?”

Chris let out a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus Christ. Are you jealous right now?”

That made you snap. “Oh, fuck you, Chris.”

He barked out another laugh, gripping the wheel tight. “No, seriously. You’re pissed because Madisyn was there? That’s insane.”

Your hands curled into fists. “I’m pissed because you knew she was gonna be there and didn’t fucking tell me. I’m pissed because you spent all night pretending like I was the one acting crazy instead of acknowledging that maybe just maybe you should’ve fucking prepared me for that.”

Chris gritted his teeth. “I didn’t know she was gonna be there.”

You turned, finally looking at him, eyes burning with rage. “You think I fucking believe that? You weren’t even surprised to see her? Have you been seeing her??”

Chris’s grip on the wheel tightened. “You know what? I don’t fucking care if you believe it or not. You embarrassed me tonight.”

Your mouth fell open. “I embarrassed you?”

“Yes! You were so fucking weird the entire night! My parents asked me if we were fighting. You made it so fucking obvious that something was wrong, and you just, what? You thought that was fine?”

You laughed, sharp and cruel. “Oh, I’m so sorry I didn’t perform for you, Chris. I’m so sorry I wasn’t your perfect little girlfriend, smiling and nodding and pretending like everything was fine.”

Chris’s jaw locked. “You were being a fucking brat.”

That did it. Without thinking, without processing, your hand shot out, grabbing the wheel and yanking it to the right.

The car swerved, jerking hard toward the shoulder, and Chris yelled, his hands fighting for control as he slammed on the brakes.

The car skidded to a stop. Silence. You were both breathing hard. Your heart was pounding. You were lucky you were the only ones on the road.

Chris turned to you, furious. “What the fuck is wrong with you!?!”

You yanked at the door handle, trying to get out, trying to escape the fire burning between you. But it didn’t budge. You tried again. And again.

Chris had child-locked the doors.

You turned, eyes wild. “Unlock the fucking car.”

“No.” His voice was low, dangerous. “Not until you calm the fuck down.”

You pounded a fist against the window. “Chris, I swear to God-”

“No.” His voice was sharp, commanding. “You’re fucking insane, you know that?”

Your vision blurred with rage. “And you’re a fucking liar.”

Chris laughed again, bitter and cruel. “This is why we don’t work. This is exactly why. Because no matter what I do, no matter how much I try, you always find a way to turn me into the fucking villain.”

You ripped at the seatbelt, breathing hard. “Unlock the car.”

Chris leaned back, running a hand through his hair. He exhaled through his nose, gripping the wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

And then he whispered, “I don’t even fucking like you anymore.”

It felt like a slap. Your whole body tensed.

Chris swallowed, rubbing his hands over his face, like he wanted to take it back, like he knew how much that would hurt.

But the damage was already done.

You turned away, staring out the window, blinking back tears.

Chris’s grip on the wheel tightened so hard you thought he might snap it in half. And then-

BANG.

His fist slammed against it with a force so violent that the entire car jolted. You flinched, but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t look at you. Just let out a sharp breath through his nose, nostrils flaring, jaw locked so tight you swore his teeth might break.

And then he sped off.

The tires screeched as he veered back onto the road, the speedometer climbing. The tension between you was suffocating, thick with regret, anger, and something else. Something even worse.

He had said it. He had fucking said it. “I don’t even fucking like you anymore.” And he hadn’t taken it back.

Neither of you spoke the whole drive home.

The only sounds were the engine, the wind against the windows, and the occasional sharp inhale from you, trying to keep yourself from falling apart completely.

Chris never reached for your hand. Never tried to fix it.

The car pulled into the parking lot of your apartment, jerking to a stop.

Chris didn’t turn off the ignition right away. His hands stayed on the wheel, fingers gripping and flexing like he was still holding onto something he had already lost.

You stared straight ahead, your eyes burning, your hands clenched into fists in your lap.

Seconds passed.

And then-

Click.

He unlocked the doors.

The moment you heard it, you bolted.

The door flew open, and you were out, your sneakers pounding against the pavement as you sprinted toward the apartment entrance.

You knew what he had just done. You knew that saying those words out loud had fucking wrecked him, but you didn’t care about how he felt.

You didn’t care because he had let it happen. Because he had looked you in the eye and said something he could never take back.

And now, you were going to lock him out.

Just like you had that night last week. Just like you had done before, hoping and praying that maybe this time, he’d take the fucking hint and leave.

But Chris wasn’t stupid. He knew what you were about to do.

You heard his car door slam, the sound of his footsteps against the pavement as he chased after you.

You reached the door first, hands fumbling with the keys, but he was right there, his body closing in on yours as you shoved the key into the lock.

Just as you pushed the door shut, his hand slammed against it, shoving it back open.

You shoved with everything you had, every ounce of rage and heartbreak fueling you, but Chris was stronger.

You knew he was stronger.

And it fucking killed you.

He pushed forward, the door flying open as he stepped inside and slammed it behind him, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths.

You snapped. Your hands fisted in his shirt, and before you even realized what you were doing, you swung.

Your fists hit his chest, one after the other, a furious, broken rhythm of rage and despair.

“You! fucking! asshole!”

Chris just stood there.

He didn’t stop you.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t grab your wrists or shove you away.

He just took it.

Your punches weren’t hard enough to hurt him, but they were hard enough to shake through your whole body. Your vision blurred, your breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps.

And then the tears came.

You hated him. You loved him. You hated that you loved him. You didn’t know where one feeling ended and the other began.

Chris swallowed, his hands twitching at his sides, like he wanted to touch you, to pull you into his chest, to fix this.

Your fists slowed, the fight draining out of you, leaving nothing but exhaustion and grief in its wake.

Your sobs were wrecked, broken, gasping for air between every sharp breath. “You can’t-” Your voice cracked. “You can’t just fucking say shit like that and then sit here and act like-”

You couldn’t even finish. The words got stuck in your throat, tangled with every time he had ever left, every time you had ever let him back in.

Your legs felt weak, unsteady beneath you, like the fight had taken too much, left you with nothing but trembling limbs and a heart that couldn’t take any more.

And then it happened.

Your body just gave in.

One second, you were standing, hitting, shaking with rage and crying.

The next, you were collapsing into him, sobbing so hard you could barely breathe.

Chris caught you instantly, arms wrapping around you without hesitation. His hold was tight, solid, like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

And maybe he was. Maybe he always had been.

Your hands fisted into his hoodie, your forehead pressing against his chest as the sobs wracked through you. “Take it back,” you whispered, voice shattered. “Take it the fuck back.”

Chris sucked in a sharp breath, his fingers pressing into your back, his grip almost desperate.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice rough, full of something wrecked, something you weren’t sure you wanted to name. “I didn’t mean it. You know I didn’t mean it.”

But it didn’t matter. Because he had said it.

And that meant, for at least one second, maybe longer, he had felt it.

You shook your head against his chest, gripping his hoodie tighter, like you could force him to undo it, to erase the moment completely.

“Just-” Your voice broke. “Just take it on back.”

Chris exhaled sharply, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair. “I swear to god, I take it back.”

“Do what you gotta do,” you whispered against him, your voice barely there. “Just- just fucking fix this.”

Chris held you tighter, like he could pull you into his chest and keep you there forever. “I don’t know how.” His voice cracked, something rare, something raw. “Tell me how.”

You didn’t have an answer.

Because if there was a way to fix this, you would have found it by now.

All you could do was cling to him, feel his breath against your temple, his heartbeat slamming against his ribs.

He was just holding you, letting it happen, letting you sob against his chest like he knew he deserved it.

But it wasn’t enough. His arms around you weren’t enough, his whispered apologies weren’t enough, the way he was pressing his forehead to yours like he could will this all away wasn’t enough.

It still hurt. It hurt inside when you looked at him, when you saw the guilt in his eyes, when you knew that no matter how much you hated him for saying it, a part of you believed it.

That was the worst part. That little voice in the back of your head that whispered what if?

What if he meant it? What if he didn’t like you anymore? What if all of this, every fight, every bruise left on your hearts, every time you clawed your way back to each other was just stalling the inevitable?

Chris cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming, his eyes dark, desperate. “Baby,” he whispered. “Tell me what you need.”

You let out a sharp, shaking breath, gripping onto him like he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. “What are you willing to do?”

His whole body tensed. He knew what you meant.

His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but nothing came out.

Because what was he willing to do?

Was he willing to stop fighting? Was he willing to fix this, to finally choose something that wasn’t self-destruction wrapped in a love story?

Or was he just willing to do the same thing you always did?

Fix it the only way you knew how.

Chris’s fingers traced down your jaw, then lower, ghosting over your throat, down to your collarbone. “Let me fix it,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched.

This was how it always went.

“Chris,” you whispered.

“I got you, ma,” he breathed, his lips brushing against your temple, then your cheek, then lower. “Let me kiss it better.”

It wasn’t real. You knew it wasn’t real. But fuck, you needed it.

You tilted your chin up, letting him press his lips to yours, slow at first, hesitant, like he was waiting for you to pull away.

You didn’t.

Chris deepened the kiss, his hands sliding down your back, pulling you flush against him. The tension between you hadn’t disappeared, it had just shifted, turning into something equally as dangerous, equally as intoxicating.

You were both still burning. But this time, you were burning together.

Chris hoisted you up effortlessly, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you through the dark apartment.

Your lips never left his.

The backs of your knees hit the mattress, and then you were sinking down into it, pulling him with you, his weight pressing you into the sheets.

Within minutes his lips were everywhere.

On your mouth, your jaw, your throat. Pressing into every inch of skin like he could rewrite the last hour, like he could erase everything he had said and replace it with something softer, something sweeter.

His hands trembled as they slid over your body, gripping you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Like he was terrified of losing you.

“I didn’t mean it,” he whispered against your collarbone, voice rough, wrecked. “I swear to fucking God, mama, I didn’t mean it.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, forcing him to keep going, to keep proving it. Because words meant nothing in this cycle you’d built.

But this. This you could believe in.

His lips moved lower, his hands slipping under your shirt, skimming over bare skin like it was something holy. “I like you,” he breathed, dragging his mouth back up to your jaw. “I fucking love you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, turning your face away. “Don’t.”

Chris pulled back slightly, his breath heavy, his forehead pressing into yours. “I do,” he insisted. “You know I do.”

And you did know. But it didn’t change the fact that he had said it. That he had looked you in the eye and let the words leave his mouth in the first place.

Chris kissed you again, harder this time, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress. “I’m sorry,” he murmured between kisses. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers digging into his shoulders. “You always are.”

His lips dragged over your pulse point, sucking just hard enough to make you gasp. “And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.”

That was the problem. You did believe him. Every single time, you believed him.

And that was why you were still here, tangled in him, letting him worship you with his hands, with his mouth, with every breath he had left.

He knew exactly how to undo you.

His hands slipped lower, gripping your thighs, pressing kisses down your stomach. “My poor hurting baby,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin as he looked you in your eyes. “I know it hurts inside. I fucking feel it.”

You bit your lip, staring up at the ceiling, willing yourself to hold on to the anger, to the hurt. But Chris was so good at making it disappear. So good at making you forget.

His hands slid up your legs, slow, reverent, fingers brushing over every place he had ever touched before. Like he was trying to carve himself into your skin.

Chris kissed his way back up your body, mouth tracing over your ribcage, your throat, your jaw. “I’ll do anything,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours. “Tell me what you need, ma. I’ll fucking do it.”

You knew that wasn’t true.

You knew that in a few days, maybe a few weeks, you’d be back here again. Shattered, screaming, tearing each other apart just to put the pieces back together.

But right now, it felt true. Right now, it was enough.

So you pulled him closer, legs tightening around his waist, nails digging into his back.

Chris’s hands were shaking as they pulled at your shirt, his fingers desperate, reverent- like he wasn’t just undressing you, but unraveling you. Like peeling away the layers of fabric would somehow undo the damage he had done.

His lips followed every movement, trailing soft, worshipful kisses down your body, as if he could replace every bruise on your heart with the heat of his mouth when he took your pants.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against your skin, voice rough with desperation. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wanted to tell him he was right.

You wanted to tell him that sorry wasn’t enough.

But then his mouth was lower, his hands pressing your thighs apart, and fuck, this was how he always did it. How he always made you forget.

He kissed the inside of your thighs like they were something sacred, his fingers gripping you like he was afraid you’d disappear beneath him. “Let me make it better,” he breathed, lips dragging over every inch of bare skin he could find. “Please, mama.”

His voice cracked, raw with something wrecked before he showed you how sorry he really was.

His hands held you open, his mouth finding your core in the way he knew you needed. Like he was trying to earn back every ounce of your love, like he was starving for your forgiveness.

You gasped, your fingers threading into his hair, your back arching as he devoured you.

Chris groaned into you, like this was the only thing keeping him alive, like he couldn’t breathe without you, without this. His hands tightened on your thighs, his tongue moving in the way he knew would undo you, like he wanted you to break, like he needed you to.

You tugged at his hair, pulling him closer, forcing him deeper, and he whimpered at the way you used him.

“Kiss me better,” you whispered, breathless, trembling.

Chris was on his knees for you, his mouth relentless, his hands gripping you tighter like he was afraid you’d take this from him. Like he needed to prove himself with every flick of his tongue, every desperate gasp against your skin.

The apologies didn’t stop.

“I love you.”

“I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I’ll never say that shit again.”

He was starving for you, for your forgiveness, for something that felt like redemption even when he knew he didn’t deserve it. His mouth moved over your clit, his hands trembling as they held your thighs apart even further, pressing his lips to the places he knew made you gasp, made you shudder, made you forget just who you both were outside of this.

You tugged at his hair, yanking him closer, and he whimpered against you.

Chris had never been like this with anyone else. Never been this desperate, this willing, this completely wrecked for someone.

But as soon as he heard you moan for the first time tonight, he knew he had you.

His hands gripped you tighter, holding you there, keeping you from escaping even though you had no intention of going anywhere. He was everywhere, tasting, kissing, worshipping like he had something to prove. Like every movement of his tongue was another apology, another please don’t leave me, another way to say I love you without words.

Your back arched, your head falling back against the pillow, your breath coming out in ragged gasps as moans left your pretty parted lips.

Every time you tugged at his hair, he groaned like it physically hurt him. Every time your body tensed beneath him, he whimpered like he was the one unraveling.

Like this wasn’t just for you. Like he needed this just as much.

“Fuck, mama,” he murmured between kisses, pressing his lips to your inner thigh, his fingers tracing slow, dizzying patterns over your skin. “I’ll stay here all night. I don’t care- I don’t fucking care. Just- just let me make it better. Let me kiss it better.”

Your breath hitched, your fingers fisting into the sheets, your body trembling from the way he was pulling you under. “Chris…”

“I know,” he breathed, his voice completely and utterly wrecked. “I know, baby. I got you.”

And God, he did. You couldn’t think anymore. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t remember why you had ever been angry, why you had ever thought you could walk away from this. Walk away from him.

Instead of apologizing with words, he was apologizing like this. With his hands gripping your hips, with his tongue moving in ways that made you gasp his name, with the soft, desperate I love yous pressed into your skin between every kiss.

Your body was on fire, your mind spinning, your hands clutching at him like he was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

And maybe he was.

Because you knew love wasn’t supposed to feel like this. But you didn’t know anything else. You wanted it. You needed it.

And so you let him worship you.

You let him kiss it better.



for @mattsobvimyfav 🧡

[fanbasetwo]

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK HEADCANONS!!

001. SFW SECTION

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who stumbles over his words when expressing romantic feelings, but if someone messes with you, his protective side kicks in effortlessly.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! prefers subtle acts of love, like slipping a handwritten note into your bag or making sure your favourite snacks are always stocked.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s serious about his goals but always makes time for you, scheduling “you time” into his busy life like it's the most important appointment of the week.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who's extroverted streak will surprise you with random road trips or impromptu café hopping when he’s feeling energetic.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who might suggest studying together or working on personal projects side-by-side, motivated by the idea of growing together.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s secretly trying to master cooking your favorite dish so he can impress you during cozy home dates.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who might overanalyze texts or gestures, worrying he’s not doing enough for you, even though you’re perfectly happy.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves doing things for you, like fixing something in your room or helping with errands, but gets adorably flustered if he messes up.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves cuddling while binge-watching your favorite shows.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who keeps little mementos from your dates—movie tickets, pressed flowers, or even random doodles you gave him.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who believes saturdays are reserved for coffee shop mornings where he orders for both of you.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who randomly gets into motivational speeches when you’re feeling down: “you can definitely do this. remember how you aced that last thing? you’re unstoppable.”

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who will attempt to fix your tech issues with all the confidence of an IT professional, only to accidentally open a hundred tabs and sheepishly admit defeat.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who will write a cheesy song inspired by you but refuses to sing it in front of anyone except you. Bonus: it’s actually good.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who comes home after the gym and lifts you up like a dumbbell to show off, giggling the whole time.

002. NSFW SECTION

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who's a bit grey when it comes to morals because most of the time he would just want to speed up, eventually making the neighbors jealous from the sounds of your coupling.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who believes that a relationship should always be 50/50: him leaving lots of hickeys on your body while you scratch your name with your nails on his back.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who would most likely moan “you’re my fuckin’ girl.” “all mine.” while pumping multiple loads of cum inside your pussy.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who starts a slow kiss with just the intention of relieving some stress, soon turns it into an aggressive make out session while you both moan in each other's mouths.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who when missing you, clearly shows with the way he fills you with his cum while repeating “missed you s’much” over and over again til he's done.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who loves to tease you by holding your face down on the bed with your ass up in the air as he only rubs the head of his hard throbbing cock (making you beg for him to start.)

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who slips his fingers back in after you've both finished and then tells you to “open up” so that you can taste both of you.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who forces you to keep the eye contact with him while his dick twitches deep inside you.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who kisses your back while in doggy style.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who grabs your hips when you're on top of him and helps you bounce on it.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who prefers to take you in ‘cowgirl’ because he loves to see your tits bounce.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who’s most likely to grab your hips, bend you over, and eat you out from behind.

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who makes the make out sessions slow and sloppy followed by whispered praises, “my pretty baby”, “you’re so beautiful.”

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who fucks you so good that you get wet the next day just thinking about it. (because how could you forget the way he left kisses on your pussy after making you cum?)

BOYFRIEND GUNWOOK ! who won't let you go until you finish too because that's what gentlemen do.

join my taglist by sending an ask or commenting here <3

© 2025, all rights reserved to fanbasetwo !

[antinousletmehit]

˚₊‧꒰ა Chapter 23 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

୨୧┇pairing: Telemachus x reader

୨୧┇warning: hold them down happens, WRITTEN PRE ITHACA SAGA‼️⚠️‼️

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

The dim candlelight bathed Y/N’s room in a soft glow, the silence between her and Antinous nearly suffocating. She sat cross legged on the bed, fiddling with a loose thread on her tunic, while Antinous leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, his face unreadable. It was one of the rare moments where the tension between them wasn’t outright hostile—yet.

After what felt like an eternity, Antinous exhaled deeply, breaking the quiet. “So… you and Telemachus,” he started, his voice surprisingly even. She froze, her fingers stilling. She glanced up at him cautiously, waiting for the inevitable eruption. But it didn’t come. Instead, he just stood there, watching her with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“What about it?” she asked, her voice soft but defensive.

Antinous rubbed the back of his neck, clearly trying to keep his composure. “I just don’t get it, N/N,” he muttered, using the nickname he only ever said when he wasn’t trying to start a fight. “Of all people, why him? You know who he is, what his family represents.”

She narrowed her eyes, sitting up straighter. “What his family represents? You mean what you think they represent.”

Antinous pushed off the wall, his voice low but sharp. “Don’t act like I don’t have a reason. He’s Odysseus’s son. That name alone should be enough for you to understand. You know how I feel about Odysseus, how I feel about Telemachus’s titty sucking ass.”

“Because he’s in the way of your stupid plans to court Penelope and play king?” She snapped back, her voice rising slightly before she caught herself. She exhaled and softened her tone. “Antinous, it’s not a competition.” She watched him carefully. “This isn’t about me and Telemachus, is it? It’s about your pride. It’s always about your pride.”

Antinous turned to her, his jaw clenched. “You don’t get it,” he said, his voice tight. “Do you know what it’s like to be so close to something, to have a shot at power, only for some brat who doesn’t even want it to cockblock your way? Telemachus doesn’t deserve what he has. And now you’re… involved with him?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re making this about you when it’s not. Telemachus isn’t Odysseus, and he’s not trying to take anything from you.” She paused, her gaze softening. “And he’s not some power hungry maniac like you’re making him out to be. He’s kind. He cares about me.”

Antinous scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, he pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly fighting to keep himself calm. “Look, I’m trying to be civil here. I don’t want another fight.”

She blinked, caught off guard by his admission. “You’re… trying to keep the peace?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he muttered, glancing away. “I just… I can’t watch us keep tearing into each other every time that brat comes up.”

Her expression softened further. For all his bravado, there was something vulnerable in the way he avoided her gaze. “Antinous,” she said gently, “I know you hate him, but he’s not your enemy. And I’m not choosing him over you.”

He finally looked at her, his expression conflicted. “You already have,” he said, but there was no venom in his tone this time—just exhaustion.

They sat in silence for a moment longer before Antinous sighed again and straightened up. “Just… don’t let this ruin you,” he said quietly, before turning toward the door. “And if it does, don’t expect me to clean up the mess.”

With that, he left, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

——

The air was tense in the great hall, where the suitors had gathered under Antinous’s command. They lounged with feigned ease, but their eyes betrayed the simmering chaos bubbling beneath the surface. Antinous stood at the center of the room, his sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered men. His tone, calm yet deadly, sliced through the air.

“You’ve all seen it,” he began, his voice commanding. “None of us could string Odysseus’s damned bow. That woman,” he spat the word, referring to Penelope, “thinks she can toy with us. But we will not be humiliated any longer.” He slammed his fist onto a nearby table for emphasis. “We take control. Today.”

Eurymachus, lounging lazily in his seat with a goblet in hand, raised an eyebrow. “And what’s your grand plan, Antinous? Try and string the bow one more time?” His tone was laced with mockery, though a flicker of nervousness passed through his eyes.

Antinous smirked darkly. “No. Forget the bow. Forget the axes. We don’t need Penelope’s little games. The real threat is her son. Telemachus.” He paused, letting the name sink in. “You all know it as well as I do. He’s her favored one. If he returns to Ithaca alive, we’ll never get our chance. She’ll prop him up as Odysseus’s heir, and we’ll all be tossed out like yesterday’s scraps.”

The room filled with murmurs, the suitors exchanging uneasy glances. One of them, Ctesippus, leaned forward. “What are you saying, Antinous?”

Antinous’s smirk turned cold, his voice low but forceful. “I’m saying we end this. When Telemachus’s ship docks, we ambush it. We’ll overwhelm his crew, hold him down til the boy stops shaking, while I slit his throat. Then we cut him down into tiny pieces and row him down to the great below. When anyone asks where the prince is, only we’ll know.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. the suitors intrigued. Eurymachus leaned back in his chair, regarding Antinous with a mix of curiosity and excitement. “You’re talking about killing the prince of Ithaca,” he said slowly. “Do you have any idea what kind of firestorm that would unleash?”

Antinous glared at him. “Who’s going to stop us? The people? They’re too spineless. And Penelope? She’ll have no choice but to submit once her precious son is gone.” He sneered. “In fact, once we’ve dealt with Telemachus, we storm her room. Hold her down while her gate is open, while we get a taste, while we share her spoils. I will not let any part go to waste!”

The words hung in the air, heavy and menacing. the suitors nodded in agreement, their greed and desperation clouding their judgment. Eurymachus broke the silence with a sardonic laugh. “You’re bold, Antinous. I’ll give you that. But do you really think Penelope will just fall into line after we kill her son?”

Antinous shot him a withering look. “She’ll have no other option. The people won’t rise for a dead boy, and she can’t rule alone. She’s a woman. She’ll have to accept one of us, or Ithaca will collapse.”

Ctesippus, emboldened by Antinous’s confidence, stood and raised his goblet. “To Antinous’s plan, then. Let’s finally end this game and take what’s rightfully ours.”

The other suitors hesitated for a moment before raising their goblets as well, some with enthusiasm, others with clear reluctance. Antinous’s smirk grew wider as he watched them fall in line. “Good,” he said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Prepare yourselves. When the ship docks, we strike.”

As the suitors dispersed to ready themselves, Antinous remained in the hall, his gaze dark and unyielding. He had waited too long for this moment, and nothing—not Telemachus, not Penelope, not his sister, not even the gods themselves—would stand in his way now.

——

Y/N stood frozen in the shadow of a column outside the great hall, her breath caught in her throat. She had only meant to pass through unnoticed, but her curiosity got the better of her when she heard Antinous’s voice cutting sharply through the room. Now, she wished she had kept walking.

Her heart pounded as she pieced together the plan Antinous had laid out. The ambush. The murder. The body thrown to the sea. Her lover—Telemachus. Dead. Her stomach churned violently, and she pressed her trembling hands to her mouth to keep from gasping aloud. She could barely hear the rest of the suitors’ laughter and agreement over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. He can’t mean this… He wouldn’t— But then the venomous tone Antinous had taken about Telemachus echoed in her mind.

Odysseus’s son. The one standing in his way.

She had long known her brother’s ambition, how his hatred for Odysseus extended to Telemachus. She knew his anger festered like an open wound. But to plan an outright murder… to take her love from her… Her legs felt weak, and she leaned against the cold marble for support. Just when she thought she couldn’t stomach more, the conversation shifted, and Antinous spoke of Penelope in a way that made bile rise in her throat.

“Then we’ll hold her down while her gate is open, while we get a taste, while we share her spoils. I will not let any part go to waste!”

The words burned in Pandora’s ears. This was the same man—her brother—who had fiercely shielded her from these same suitors’ leering gazes and vulgar comments. The same man who would break their noses for even hinting at touching her. And now here he was, speaking of Penelope, another woman, with the same callous disregard. As if Penelope’s worth was nothing more than her ability to secure his ambition.

It made her sick.

She took a shaky step back, her thoughts spiraling. Antinous had always been her protector, her fierce shield in a cruel world. But how could she reconcile the brother who had fought for her with the man standing in that hall? The man who would talk about Penelope like property, who would murder her love without a second thought?Her throat tightened as the memory of Telemachus’s laughter echoed in her mind, of the way he’d held her before sailing away. Her hands clenched into fists, and she wanted to scream. Wanted to march into that hall and demand to know who this man was pretending to be her brother?”

But she didn’t. Not yet. Not while her heart still ached, torn between the Antinous she loved and the man plotting the destruction of everything she held dear. She turned and hurried away, silent tears streaking her face. If Antinous thought she would stand by and let him do this, he was wrong. She wouldn’t let him destroy Telemachus, Penelope, or her. Not without a fight.

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[snickerer]

I've started a Little Women inspired Azriel x Archeron!reader, if anyone is interested. This is my first time posting on Tumblr, so let me know if I'm missing something. I would love to hear your thoughts!

_____________________________________________________________

After abruptly putting down your pencil, you scrutinize the man lazing across from you.  As your sketch lies abandoned in your lap, you notice that his hair is slightly mused.  Likely due to the autumn wind that signified summer slipping away.  

“When are you going back?”  You finally ask as worry begins to work its way into your chest.  You quickly shove it back down.

“Soon,” Azriel replies simply, and you can’t seem to stop the exasperated sigh that slips out.  

“You’ve been saying the same variation of that for the past month, Az.  I’m not sure if ‘soon’ qualifies as an answer at this point.”

“Short answers keep me from saying the wrong thing.”  

“Rhys has been expecting you for weeks.  Why not just go and save yourself  the trouble?”

“Perhaps I’m looking for trouble,” he offers while quirking an eyebrow.  Despite the slight smile creeping its way onto his face, his eyes are assessing.  You find yourself playing with the picnic basket in between both of you and glance down at the drawing in your lap.  

“You are the trouble,” you reply blandly.  

“I would only cause issues if I went.”  His words seem to linger in the air and seconds pass before Azriel decides to continue, “I’d be a burden.”  The last words come out raw, as if they had caught on a wound that had not been given proper time to heal.  

“You’re not a burden,” you reply firmly before you even realize what you were saying.  And you subconsciously shift closer to him on the blanket.  

“Then I suppose I should stay here and not burden you for a little while longer.”  You bite down on your lip to stop an unlady-like grin from lighting up your face. If your mother could see you now.  As a cooling shadow snakes its way up your arm, it is almost indistinguishable from the charcoal smeared along your skin.  Promptly, you take a moment to wipe off the charcoal enveloping your hands onto your dress- completely staining the pristine cerulean fabric.  

Azriel leans forward and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.  His hand lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he speaks again.  

“Honestly, I’m beginning to think that you enjoy my company,” Azriel adds.  You feel your eyes widen slightly at the comment and shift away from him.  As your eyes flicker across his face while you quickly distract yourself by picking up your sketch and getting back to work.  

“What are you doing?”  You ask, suddenly, not bothering to look up as a wave of annoyance flares up in you.  

“Looking at you.”

“No, I mean what are you doing?”  You ask again and try to push down the bubbling anger that was threatening to rise to the surface.  Your brows furrow as you add, “You can’t avoid them forever.  They’re your family.”  

“What do you want me to do?” 

“This isn’t about what I want, Az.” You bite back.  Then, taking a long pause to rub your temples soothingly at the aching pain before continuing, “But you should go home.  Work.  Do something with yourself.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to tell me what to do,” he responds.  Azriel’s face was more guarded than before.  More conflicted too, if you were to wager a guess.  

“I never said that.  I said this isn’t about what I want.”  You answer as a wave of guilt begins to build.  Were you too harsh?  Your eyes lock as you study each other and the air around you begins to grow tense.  

“Here.”  You say, breaking the silence, and hold out your sketch to him. 

[kteezy997]

threesome with timothée but like f,m,f

This is just a smutfest with no real plot.

Timothée could hardly believe it. He was headed back to his hotel room with two women.

They were a couple of fans that he had given tickets to for the A Complete Unknown premiere. And they were really cute and sweet, so he invited them to the after party as well. After a couple of hours and a few drinks between him and the girls, he asked them if they wanted to leave with him. They immediately said yes.

They were whispering back and forth and giggling the whole way. Once he opened the door with his key card, they moved quickly to take turns kissing him.

He shut the door and put an arm around each of them in a swift movement. The blonde would touch his chest, his arms, while the red head would tug on his jacket and run her fingers through his hair. Fuck, he needed this.

He grabbed the woman to his right by the back of her head, swabbing his tongue deep into her mouth.

The woman with her lips suctioned to his neck stopped for a second to ask, “What do you want us to do, Timmy?”

He pulled away from the pair of lips he was devouring, thinking, “Take off your clothes.”

……

He had them both laid bare on the bed in front of him as his undressed. His chest heaved with anticipation with each drop of an article of clothing.

Their little giggles were like music to his ears as he approached them. Climbing over them both, he kissed the red haired woman first, reveling in her plump lips. Soft, eager hands roamed all over his body. He parted from her lips, holding her jaw possessively as he turned to the blonde.

She moaned his mouth as he captured her lips, vibrating his tongue. His cock was hard, starting to drip with precum. He knew he was leaking drops onto the women’s bodies, and it turned him on even more.

The red head moved boldly as he made out with the other woman. She held his cock, squeezing gently, moving her hand carefully up and down, as she collected the precum at his tip for lubricant.

He parted from the pair of wet lips to hiss sharply in pleasure. “Fuck.” he moaned softly.

Next, he touched each woman’s pussy. Both hands occupied, he slowly rubbed their clits. He felt how wet they both were as their moans filled the hotel room. They succumbed to a blur of whimpers and cursing under their breaths.

It was quite erotic as he slid his fingers into them. Both sat up on their elbows, giving him ‘fuck me’ eyes as he pumped his fingers inside of them. “Oh, Timmy.” cried the blonde, collapsing onto her back as he increased his pace. The red head kept her composure, but her eyes rolled back in her head as she trembled.

“Fuck, I wanna taste.” he said, removing his hands, and diving mouth first between the redhead’s thighs.

“Mmm.” she moaned as his tongue danced all over her clit. She shoved her fingers into his hair. As he began to suck and nibble, she cried out, “Oh my god, Timmy!”

The bed shifted slightly, the blonde girl moved over, smoothing his hair back as well.

Timmy looked up from his post between the pair of legs to see the two women kissing. He held the redhead down more fiercely, moaning on her clit.

“My turn, Timmy. Please.” begged the blonde.

Obliging, he let go of the redhead, giving her one last long lick. Then he got up, making the blonde get on all fours, she was eager to please and did what he wanted quickly.

He bent her over, arching her back to his liking. Spreading her cheeks, he stuck out his tongue, dabbing over her clit. She started to moan and her hips wiggled, so he held her still with his hands on either side of her ass.

She whimpered into the plush comforter on the bed. Timmy could tell she wanted to keep still for him, but just couldn’t control herself, her hips shaking, as he lapped between her folds.

The redhead surprised him by maneuvering between him and the blonde to put her mouth on his cock. The thick head of his cock slid between her lips effortlessly with how much saliva she used on him. She slurped and bobbed her head like a pro.

Timmy stood up from the bed, and blondie joined in, running her tongue along his shaft in time with the redhead. He held their heads on either side of his cock, letting them glide their tongues and lips on his length.

“Fuuuck.” He trembled at both the sensation on his dick and the sight of two naked, eager women on their knees for him, tasting his cock.

The blonde went on suckling his balls, whilst the redhead jerked his now slippery cock, alternatively using her mouth as well. Hearing their moans as their mouths were filled with him, made him hard as stone.

Their hands on his thighs, his lower stomach, their lips on his cock, lipstick smudges, running mascara, it was all too much. He needed to penetrate. “Okay, who’s first?”

“Me! Please Timmy.” cooed the blonde, drool dripping from her lips.

“All fours, then.” he instructed.

The redhead insisted on lying underneath the other woman as Timmy mounted her from behind. The two women resumed kissing, he watched as their tongues roamed shamelessly around one another’s mouth.

He slid into the blonde woman’s wet pussy easily, he grunted as he felt how tight she was. Gripping her hips, he rutted his own against her.

She squealed against the lips of the redhead. She cried out a string of curse words as Timmy’s cock pierced through her.

As the minutes drew on, he rammed her harder and harder, and he began to really sweat. His hips smacked loudly against her ass. The blonde moaned and whimpered as his balls clapped onto her clit rapidly.

The blonde would tremble, holding onto the red haired beauty under her for dear life. She pacified her overwhelmed nature by suckling on the large tits of the other woman.

………

Later on, the redhead was still on her back, but she was the one with Timmy’s cock inside of her. The blonde squatted over her face as he was between her legs.

His cock pounded hard into her, as she lapped and lapped hungrily on the blonde girl’s pussy. She moaned on the wetness, smacking the other woman on the ass as she ate her out.

The redhead’s pussy was so wet around Timmy’s cock, it was sloshing, practically squelching.

“Fuck, this is heaven.” cried Timmy. He and the blonde were facing each other, both perched on the redhead’s body as they all pleasured each other. He grabbed the woman by the bleached hair on her head, kissing her deeply, not caring how sloppy they got.

…….

The blonde now sat on Timmy’s cock, cowgirl style and the redhead mounted his face this time as he lay flat on his back.

Both girls steadied themselves with clammy hands on his sweaty chest, the only relief they could get was kissing each other as one bounced on his dick and the other moved to and fro on his mouth.

The redhead giggled and moaned as his tongue zipped along her folds with her movements. At the same time, the blonde cried out, “Ah, your cock’s so big.”

“I know!” agreed the redhead, “I could feel it in my stomach.” Then, she gasped as his mouth attacked her clit. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” was the only thing she could muster.

A few moments later, Timmy had them both kneel as he jerked his cock. They waited, panting in anticipation, so animalistic, like dogs begging for a treat.

The ladies took turns licking and kissing the tip of his leaking cock and running their moist lips over his full balls.

He finally let out a guttural groan, pumping his hand fast as his cum shot out onto their faces.

January 21, 2025

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